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It’s not often I find myself in Scot­land at the right time—festival time that is! August is the main festival month in Edinburgh and a time when the majority of the city’s residents like to head out of town and out of the path of the thousands of descending tourists. As a previ­ous resident, however, I loved the festive atmosphere and attended as many events as possible. Now that I find myself back in Scotland for the summer, it’s time to reconnect with both the city and festival...The name is itself a bit of a misno­mer, as what we call the Edinburgh Festival is in fact a collective term for many festivals which take place in the summer. These festivals are unrelated to each other, and put together by different organizers. Yet to us visitors they are many sides of what is the largest annual cultural event in the world.

You may ask, what are these dif­ferent festivals? The largest are the Edinburgh International Festival and the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. But there is also the Edinburgh International Book Festival, the Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival, the Edinburgh International Film Festival, the Edinburgh Art Festival, and the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo; plus a host of smaller event that take place during the period June to September.

The ‘main’ Edinburgh Interna­tional Festival and the Edinburgh Fringe—which is sort of the scruffy little brother with affordable prices and street events, and which has over the decades become a career starting point for many perform­ers—run from August 3 to 27. It is for these two festivals that the majori­ty of visitors flock to Edinburgh at this time of year. The other festi­val, which is guaranteed to be sold out and is a huge tourist attraction, the Royal Edinburgh Military Tat­too, runs from August 3 to 25. This year the Tattoo has the slogan ‘The Sky’s the Limit’, embracing Scot­land’s Year of Young People. This is, as the name suggests, a spectac­ular show of military talent. Not a demonstration of military force a.k.a Pyongyang or Beijing, but a display of the talents of military bands, military animals (dogs, hors­es), and all things military from around the world. The sight and sounds of Scottish bagpipes and the nightly colorful fireworks displays are regular and much loved features of the Tattoo.

The Edinburgh International Fes­tival is not a recent affair. It was first held in 1947 with the idea of pro­viding ‘a platform for the flowering human spirit’ by bringing people and artists together from different countries. Rudolf Bing, an Austri­an impresario who had fled Nazi Germany, was supported by Henry Harvey Wood of the British Council, and the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Sir John Falconer, and thus Edin­burgh became home to this unique event. During the first festival, eight uninvited theater groups turned up, which spawned the Festival Fringe, which has now in turn developed its own unique footprint and followers. The same year, the forerunner of the International Film Festival was born, followed shortly by the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo.

Today audiences can see theater, music, comedy, acrobatics, mime, opera performances, and much, much more (in 2017 the Fringe alone saw 53,232 performances of 3,398 shows in 300 venues). Shows run from early morning to late at night. But be warned—the later the hour the more raunchy the performance. Think Pussy Riot and the like! But there is also plenty for children during the day time.

For example, free street per­formances have always been a major feature of the festival, add­ing to the carnival like atmosphere prevailing through the Old Town, Royal Mile and around university buildings. The finale of the festival is an impressive 30-minute fireworks display lightening up the impos­ing vista of the castle which looks down, like a custodian, on the city below. This is Edinburgh at its best. For further information https://www.eif.co.uk

“Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find your office.” We have all heard this excuse. And how can we argue with this? With no street signs, no house numbers, and many offices not having prom­inent signboards it can be a frus­trating job either finding the place we want to go to or trying to explain to someone how to find our office or home. Having spent 15 minutes last month looking for an office, I was confident this time round that I knew exactly where it was. Only to be taken aback to find out they had moved to a new location. Yes, they sent a map but has anyone else noticed Google seems to have made up the names, and often the location, of streets in Kath­mandu? And damn, these maps make it look easy with their clean, crisp lines indicating roads. What is missing is the street vendors blocking entrances, new construc­tion spilling onto the roads, and dead ends that do not appear on the maps.

This makes it impossible to count… is it the first or second turn off after the mandir? Not to worry, you have the phone number right? You can phone for directions right? Well then it starts to get interesting. First of all you need to explain where you cur­rently are. Errr, what is the name of the mandir? And how do you pronounce it anyway? Then you need to interpret what consti­tutes a ‘small’ road to the person on the other end of the phone. Do they mean this British sized B road, or do they mean that gullie over there?

So you ask the standard question, “left or right”? Now various sites on the internet put the number of the global population who cannot tell left from right at 20 percent. But if I think how many people I ask, how many taxi drivers I tell, on a weekly basis, this figure is surely much higher for Nepal. It seems more like one in two people I ask or tell directions to cannot tell the difference between right and left. And it’s not just a language thing; I can ask in Nepali too, to no avail. Eventually finding the cor­rect road, why do offices not have prominent signboards? Don’t they want business?

When the shoe is on the oth­er foot and people are trying to find my house, I despair. These are computer literate friends, who want me to send a map of my location and a snap shot does not satisfy them. Aside from me being technology challenged, we are then back to relying on those maps which show only certain roads, and tiny shops you never knew existed on your street.

I find it easier just to tell them “follow the river, turn right at the first driveable bridge, walk for 100m.” You would think those are easy directions to fol­low—but no, seemingly not. Quot­ing non-scientific figures again, I can say 90 percent of foreign friends can find me by this meth­od. Only around 5 percent of Nepalis achieve this. When I am told some workman (usually the internet provider) will need to come over, I shudder.

I need to give a day when I know I have a lot of free time to go hunting in the neighborhood for the guy who is well and tru­ly lost. I never order food from Foodmandu. I saw a Foodmandu delivery man waiting for a pick up recently and asked him, hopefully, if they had an app to find locations. No. But the first time I placed an order and the delivery man finds me (right!) he would tell all his fellow delivery men so that in the future they could easily locate me. Big pinch of salt. Better have some tequila with that salt as cer­tainly dinner ain’t arriving any time soon!

So I find myself at the Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival with some of the finest jazz and blues talent from around the world. Rang­ing from boggie-woogie to blues-rock, from samba to swing and soul, this festival has it all! The venues themselves are spectacular, from the opulence of the Festival Theater to hip jazz clubs and unique venues such as the Spiegeltent. Highlights of the event include artists (among many more) such as Carol Kidd, The Average White Band, Jools Holland, Rumba de Bodas, Blind Boy Paxton, Maggie Bell, and Bachelors of Jazz. A particular favorite of mine, Earl Thomas, is one of the most import­ant blues figures of this decade. This year he brought his new ven­ture—gospel music—for the very first time. Using the enthusiastic Edinburgh crowd as a ‘sounding board’, Thomas was moved to tears when the crowd gave him an ongo­ing standing ovation. This brought home that his gospel combined with blues would go down well in his upcoming concerts in the States.

On stage with Thomas was an international band, including Amer­icans and Scottish musicians. In fact Thomas weaved an interesting tale of how his grandfather several gen­erations back was a Scottish slave-owner, while is grandmother was a slave, and together they had 18 chil­dren. A story of love across the-then very dangerous color divide.

My thoughts turn to the music scene in Kathmandu which ranges from jazz, rock, western orchestral, to eastern classical, to Nepali pop, and a version of Korean pop. Those of you who are regular readers of the Annapurna Express will be well aware of Sunny Mahat’s excellent reviews of the music scene in the country.

But keeping on the jazz and blues theme: when Jazzmandu first started, some 16 years ago, few Nepalis came along to this week-long jazz festival involving interna­tional and local musicians. Word soon got out, however, and with the opening of the Kathmandu Jazz Con­servatory in 2007, jazz came of age in Nepal. Unlike in the West, there is no pretentiousness among young Nepali music lovers. If they like it, then they will listen, and appreciate. And many do indeed love jazz.

Today Jazzmandu (this year on November 1-6) has grown into a large and vibrant event attracting audi­ences from all walks of life. And, like the Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festi­val, Jazzmandu has something that will suit the musical tastes of most. In addition, Jazzmandu retains its Nepali heritage and offers a musical flavor of Nepal and encourages vis­iting musicians to join hands with local traditional musicians in a cele­bration of Nepali culture.

Before then however will be the Kathmandu Blues and Roots festival on September 29 in Tangalwood, Kathmandu. This third event will again help raise money for those in need. This year participating bands, including The Midnight Riders, Spirit X Illusion, Newaz, Mukti and Revival, and from the US, The Well, will be joined by a local band from somewhere in the country.

Through uploading on the Blues and Roots Facebook page, bands will be judged through the number of likes, with final input from the organizers and judges. The winner will be given the opportunity to be on stage with these musicians during the festival. Included in the winning package is an all-expenses paid trip to Kathmandu (for those outside the valley) and a record deal with Skathi Records. Skathi is owned by Satish Sthapit, one of the found­ing organizers, along with Roshan Kansakar, of the event.

So, while listening to jazz and blues with the backdrop of the spec­tacular Edinburgh Castle, I’m look­ing forward to listening to similar sounds within the Kathmandu Val­ley this autumn when the Roots and Blues Festival and Jazzmandu once again transcend cultural boundar­ies, spreading the message of peace and compassion through music.

Hands up who did not watch the World Cup this year? Or Wimble­don? Or even the British Golf Open, held in my home town of Carnoustie in Scotland? Perhaps you were dreaming instead of the next summer Olympics, set for 2020 in Tokyo? Perhaps, even, you are one of the men I have seen around Kathmandu, who are in training for the swimming events…I have been doing quite a bit of swim­ming this summer and have noticed a strange phenomena. There are a remark­able number of Nepali and Indian men who consider themselves to be Olympians in the pool. They approach the pool with a swagger that equals that of Captain Jack Sparrow, eye the water as if looking for Moby Dick, then either throw themselves in or do a clumsy dive. Having discovered none of these guys are Asian Michael Phelps, every time that happens I hold my breath. Not in anticipation of the gigantic tidal wave coming towards me as a result of this. No, I hold my breath because the deep end of the pool only comes up to my chin. This means it cannot be more than five feet deep. Surely that is not deep enough for an amateur swimmer to safely dive in to?

Once in the water, the would-be Olym­pian causes geysers of water to rise as he flaps about in whichever style he chooses. With great gusto he swims half the length of the pool then stands, panting, with a look of accomplishment on his face. Being that hotel pools in Kathmandu are not particularly long, certainly not the standard 50-meter Olympic pool, he has probably covered eight meters at most. Then he will, always, float face down, arm outstretched, in a manner similar to that taught to a small child on their first swimming lesson.

He may even attempt another eight metre dash, spluttering as he goes. That done, he will remove himself and his goggles, and perhaps even his waterproof speakers and earphones, from the pool and collapse exhausted on the recliner chair. With his masculinity assured among any watching friends, the recovering macho-man will head off out of the pool area around 12 minutes after arriving.

Four minutes in the pool, eight minutes to recover, seems to be the standard. If there are more than one Phelps in the pool, god help us. They may even stretch to six or seven minutes as they try to outdo each other in a way teenage boys might do. Or they might just stand around in the water chatting to each other. The way teenage girls might do.

Meantime I am taking my time, doing my 30 minutes up and down without touching bottom, in a sedate, relaxed manner. More marathon than sprint. Yes, I am considerate of other swimmers, and no, the water does not form waves.

My friend wanted to check out Booze Belly, which opened in February across from Roadhouse, Jhamsikhel. The main reason being in the evening the upper floor is lit in such a fashion that she assumed it was a large bar. And, of course, the name itself implies as much.  When we got there at 5.30 on a Tuesday it looked much less interesting. The heavy wooden front door was shut and we wondered if the bar was closed.

On entering there is a less than welcoming square hallway. As it was our on first visit we had no idea where to go but the most obvious was stairs leading to the assumed rooftop bar.  However, the first floor was not a bar but a terrace on two sides of a glass enclosed area with black sofas. We did not check if it was air-conditioned (which would be nice) because it was not appealing in daylight. Back downstairs we found a lovely outside space, which had a bar at the back. The rustic wooden sofas and tables were very welcoming and well spaced out so it’s possible to have a private conversation without being overheard.

On further investigation I found a cosy little library with old items such as one of the owners grandfather’s TV (circa 1980s in Nepal but 1950s elsewhere!) and old cassette recorders. Another long, narrow room housed a large aquarium and very small dining tables. My suggestion would be long tables so this could be for friends or family to come together, particularly in the winter.

On talking to the owners they said their target audience was ‘everyone’. For this reason there are so many types of furnishing in the different areas. But overall they say they are going for a rustic feel.

As it was World Cup time, they had a Special Events Menu with limited snacks and drinks.  We ordered the Vegan Combo (which it was not, due to the mozzarella sticks). This was a great combination of mushroom chilli, peanut sandeko, onion rings, chips chilli and French fries. More than enough for two or three people for under Rs 1,000. The non-veg option was basically the same price with chicken, sausages, pork, and potato sandeko. Wanting to try BBQ items we ordered pork BBQ (Rs 500). The portion was big enough for two and the pieces very generous. 

The taste was wonderful! Needing some carbs we tried the veg pizza on the special menu, which was heavily cheesed, very much to our taste! From the limited special menu we ordered a bottle of Sol de Chile. Under Rs 2,000, we thought value for money.

Looking around we noticed the other customers had ordered from the main menu.  However, I was told this was an interim menu and the final one would be mainly focussing on Mexican food.

My recommendation would be not to try and reach ‘everyone’ but to focus on one theme.  Once the new Mexican menu is up and running it will fit very well with the rustic theme of the outside (covered) area. The library is cute, encouraging people to come for coffee and pick up a book. We didn’t like the upstairs area much. We had to climb through plants to reach the toilet as the space is narrow. 

The central, glass enclosed upstairs area—I’m not sure who that’s attracting. Not me.   When we left and I looked back, the lights indeed made it look like a bar, and perhaps they should convert the first floor into a proper bar, in-keeping with the name. Regarding the name, despite having a lovely outdoor area, suitable for children, the name does not sound very family friendly. Yes, I am a bit confused on what they are trying to achieve, but overall we really enjoyed our evening at Booze Belly!

Name: Booze Belly Restro and Bar

Location: Jhamsikhel

Contact:  985-1174522

Opening Time: noon till 10pm

Breakfast: No

Live Music: Yes

Ambiance: Relaxing

Cost: Lower to mid range

Service: Polite and friendly but lacking knowledge (7/10)

Overall value: 8/10

It’s approaching the time of year when there is a change-over in expats. Every summer, or mon­soon if you wish, expats come to the end of their work contracts in Nepal and move on to their new postings. And every September or so, new people arrive. It’s exhaust­ing. Which is why I really don’t get to know the new arrivals too readily. It’s just, as I said, exhausting and heart-breaking. But it’s an annual migration and one I’m quite used to. However, over the past couple of years there has been a massive exodus of foreign residents leav­ing Nepal. Partly this is because of the earthquake. Not that many left directly after the quake—there was just too much help needed to aban­don ship at that point. Interestingly, I’m not aware of a real increase in numbers leaving the following year either. But since 2017 I cannot even count how many friends, includ­ing those who have been here for considerable time, have left. And suddenly, it seems not just foreign­ers but locals too. There are sev­eral contributing factors of course, safety (aftershocks still going on), pollution (health being affected), politics, and just plain having had enough of inflationary prices not matched by incomes or services.

I feel like I am being left on the ship while others are swimming for the life rafts. Of course the log­ical thing to do is go out there and meet those newcomers. Easier said than done. Those foreign res­idents who have been here for a number of years ‘know’ the coun­try and its people. The newbies are dazzled by what is in front of them—the glass shopping malls, high-rise apartment blocks, zillions (its seems) of cars and bikes on the road, fancy restaurants, and expen­sive night clubs. They don’t know the history of the country, haven’t lived the history of the country, and don’t know the complexities of the people. Yes, most likely they will learn some of this, but by then their time is up and off they go. Again, leaving the rest of us, who imparted some of this knowledge as well as our time and energy, feeling used and exhausted.

When I first moved to Kathmandu there were very limited places to meet people. Even Thamel had very little to offer. I used to hang out in Lazimpat at Gallery 9—owned by nine Nepali friends interested in, or involved in, the arts. When not at the gallery, we used to meet up in the Lazimpat Gallery Café across the road, which held regular music nights which attracted foreigners as well as locals. The Sterling Club at the British Embassy was open to expats and Nepalis alike, serv­ing lunches, dinners, and drinks every day. It also had regular social gatherings such as Scottish ceilidhs (dances), amateur plays, quizzes and even, at one point, Bollywood dance lessons.

The result of there being fewer places to go—for example Jham­sikhel did not have the restaurants, bars and cafes it has nowadays—meant people gathered in four or five places. Thus, it was easy to meet new, interesting characters, either like-minded or completely off-the-wall. For it is true that Nepal attracts the more unusual types from around the world—from the hippy, Buddhist, wannabe sadhu, poet, and artist, to those who want to save our souls or are looking for their own salvation.

Today there are a plethora of places to socialize in, which of course dilutes the pond so to speak. And being quite introvert anyway, I find it hard to break the ice with people—especially if I know they are going to leave in a couple of years. So what is the solution? Answers in the comment section please!

Space is launching its first album entitled ‘Eye/I’. Quite an unusual name, you may think, but then Space is an unusual band. Describing their genre as ‘rock’ or ‘post-rock’, their music ranges from the soothing, right through to the jarring in a style Mit­shushi Shahi, the vocalist, calls ‘screaming’. Featured on two numbers, Space and Abstrophone, Shahi brings a metal-like expression of frus­tration to the audience. In this way, the album will appeal to metal lovers and rock lovers, as well as those who like more poetic lyrics and gentler sounds. Their other vocalist, Nikita Shres­tha, has a strong and expres­sive range, particularly on her favourite track, I, which she describes as ‘soothing’. With the topic of hope, this track was about Shrestha’s own personal experiences and her struggle to overcome hardships. It should be noted that while the majority of the band members play in other bands, Shrestha performs solo at times and has been involved in such events as Sofar.

Space was formed in 2016 when friends came together through their love of music. The current line-up has changed a little from those days and now also includes Rabindra Maharjan on flute, Bikee Bajra on drums, and Ritavrat Joshi on bass.

Completing the line-up is Riken Maharjan and Rojib Shahi, both on guitar. The name—Space—came from an EP of the same name put together by Maharjan. The name remained but the genre changed from elec­tronic to its current rock/experimental style.

One friend missing from the line-up is someone who used to jam with the band before it took shape as Space. The track Abstrophone is ded­icated to his memory. The music had been composed at that time, but the lyrics have been specifically written to commemorate his short life and that friendship.

Talking about Space on his radio show, radio jockey Ray­mon Das Shrestha said “there is only one word to describe (Space)—amazing! I am ready to buy their album and put it on repeat mode. The new gen­eration is experimenting and coming up with new sounds.”

“We are so lucky to be able to launch our album at ‘25 Hours’ this week. This is a self-funded album so it means even more to us,” says Shahi. With Space’s new tracks and the other acts on the stage, namely, ASM, The Act and Kamero, can you afford to miss it?

Tickets are limited and only available at the following out­lets: Tone Music Store, Calm, Beers and Cheers, Planet Music and Namaste Coffee. Rs 400 or Rs 600 with Space’s new album. No door sales. Eye/I will also be available for sale on the night and as a download in the near future.

(Launch at 3:30 pm Satur­day, June 30 at 25 Hours Rock Nights, Tangalwood)

A few weeks ago my colleague wrote about the potential opening up of Thamel 24/7. As the time approaches for the powers that be to give a decision on this, let’s look again at what this means for the party animals among us! Firstly, didn’t they try this whole 24/7 opening of Thamel a couple of years ago? If my memory serves me correctly this was the same year or the following year of the earthquake. Which might have been the reason behind this being an enormous fail. Of course the timing of this potential 24/7 opening fits nicely with the tourist off-season; just like remak­ing the roads in Thamel began to coincide nicely with the start of the tourist season this year.

Is there really enough to keep us occupied for 24 hours in Thamel? I read one young person saying it would be great if they could stay up in bars, restaurants, clubs all night because they cannot go home at 2am and expect someone to unlock the door. Nor do they want to pay for a hotel room. Two things here—locks work both ways (gates can also be unlocked from both sides with the right kind of lock: amazing right? But then we all know it’s not really the lock that’s the problem; it’s the parents), and if you cannot pay for a hotel room, shared between the four or five friends you always hang out with, are you going to the con­tributing to the economy sitting over one beer between the hours of 9pm and 6am?

There are a few clubs that have a special license that enables them to stay open until 2 or 3am. And recently the Marriott Hotel started a late night buffet available from 11pm till 3am. But I guess right now there is nowhere to go from 3am until public transport starts running around 6 in the morning.

From the tourists’ perspec­tive—few are coming to Nepal, even Kathmandu, for the night­life. Better nightlife can be had in their own cities and in other part of Asia. On the whole they are com­ing, as we all know, for trekking, climbing, and to experience nature, wildlife, and culture. While they certainly enjoy eating and drinking until late evening, after an exhaust­ing trek do you think they really want, or are able, to stay up all night? Again, after being out in the mountains, or jungle, or experienc­ing the spirituality of Pashupati or Boudha, do you think they really want to listen to cover bands for 12 hours? And personally I wouldn’t really want to do my souvenir shop­ping at 1am.

Having lived in Edinburgh a cou­ple of decades ago, I do remember wishing there was somewhere to go for coffee after coming out of the pub at 1 or 2am. Of course now there are plenty of places open in Scotland’s capital serving coffee throughout the night, but in those days, apart from clubs, there was not a lot open after 1am. Aside from needing a coffee fix, I wasn’t heart­broken I couldn’t party until it was time to go to the office. I survived with partying within the given time!

While many business owners might be attracted to the idea that they can make money all night long, they will also have to employ more staff to cover the extra opening hours. They might want to sit down and do the maths.

And let’s not forget, 24/7 means open 24 hours, 7 days a week. Not just on Fridays when Thamel is at its busiest. Of course venues can choose their own timings. No one is going to force them to open 24 hours a day for 12 months a year… or are they? Will we now see police at 3am, on seeing someone pull­ing down the shutters, telling them “Open up! Right now!” Stranger things have happened!