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The monsoon does not arrive. It is announced daily for three weeks and then turns up on the one day you left the windows open.

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The eight people at every Nepali picnic

They are always the same eight, regardless of who was invited. The one with the speaker. Arrived first. Has a plan for the day and a playlist. Will be ignored on both counts. The cook. Does ninety per cent of the work, refuses all help, complains about the lack of help. The assistant to the […]

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A Nepali queue is not a line. It is a working agreement about who arrived first, enforced entirely by eye contact.

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‘Ali ali’ is not a measurement

It means “a little”. That is the dictionary answer and it is almost useless, because ali ali is not a quantity — it is a position. Asked how much chilli you want: ali ali means “some, but I am signalling that I do not want to be a problem”. You will receive a normal amount. […]

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Everything that happens when the internet goes down for ten minutes

Everyone notices within four seconds. Nobody says anything for thirty. The first person says it out loud. The room is grateful. Four people simultaneously turn WiFi off and on, as a ritual rather than a fix. Somebody switches to mobile data and announces it, like a rescue. The router is looked at. It is a […]

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Nothing in Nepal is thrown away. It is moved to the roof, where it becomes the roof’s problem.

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Every Nepali kitchen has a Horlicks jar, and the chances of it containing Horlicks are not good.

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How to give directions in Kathmandu, in eight steps

Establish a landmark. It must be a building, never a road. The building should ideally no longer be there. Everyone will still know it. Give a distance in minutes, walking, at a pace nobody has ever walked. Say “seedhai” — straight ahead — while making a turning motion with your hand. Trust the hand. Mention […]

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A power cut ends the moment you have finished lighting the last candle.

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The plastic chair is the national furniture. It attends every wedding, every funeral and every rooftop, and nobody owns any.