I wake up with the morning Sun, and try to go to bed with it. In between, I try living. In Kathmandu, you don't live-- you attempt. You succeed sometimes, you fail other times-- but you move on.
It's a battle everyday. You have to fight for the water to cleanup in the morning, and then for the precious electricity to cook your food, charge your cell phone, and maybe use internet if the gods of the webs and the lights are kind enough. You go to get the groceries and realize there's been a 20 percent increase in the price of everything overnight. You pay without complaining-- and run up to the work.
Navigating the streets of Kathmandu is an art form. The rules of the road seem to be optional-- and one must learn to dodge and cut short the public buses hurtling straight towards you. And when the big mean buses get away, there's the murderous pedestrians. They carefully dodge the sidewalk, or any walking space whatsoever on the street, and get straight in the projected motion-path of your vehicle/legs. The buses may or may not get you, but the pedestrians will make sure you end up either in the emergency unit or the block.
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