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!