When is democracy a threat to culture?

The last Shangri-La, Bhutan. The country is taking its first very hesitant steps into democracy. The monarch recently dragged the country kicking and screaming into the 20th century - they will continue to be in a bit of a time warp, even with democracy and the advent of television. The people are not sure democracy is a good thing, and the recent changes have left them uneasy. They worry that their way of life is being threatened. After all, government policy has been guided by Gross National Happiness for the last century or so.

Props to Current TV and Christof Putzel for doing this piece.



I'm hopefully back after the unintentional blogging break. The last month has been busy work-wise, but also S and I have been looking for a new place to live. Happily, we have now found said place, but the always untantalizing task of moving still remains.

In which we see a sailboat

In the month of November last year, this vessel sailed on Lake Llanquihue at the foot of volcano Osorno.

The fog and the setting conspired to evoke thoughts of the Marie Celeste, which excited considerable comment a little over a century ago. The facts of that case can be found here.

Escape to the Eiger

Hinterstoisser Traverse. Swallow's Nest. Death Bivouac. Traverse of the Gods. Higher, past these hazards, the White Spider awaits the next climber. This is one of the most feared faces in the world, the North Face of the Eiger. Considered unclimbable for a century, it holds a very special place in climbing lore.

I saw it for the first time exactly a year ago. Directly below the North Wall stand the four or five buildings that make up the village of Kleine Scheidegg. One of these buildings is the Restaurant Eigernordwand (literally, Eiger North Wall), while another is the grand old Scheidegg Hotel. Once upon a time, a telescope sitting on the patio of the restaurant was the only relatively reliable way to keep track of climbers on the Face. Sitting on that patio, reading White Spider and seeing that Face looming over me every time I looked up, is one of the most unforgettable experiences I've ever had. A great memory and to me, one that would not have been possible without "being there" reading.

If you're a "being there" reader, please leave a comment and share your stories.

More reading: Guardian's Great Escapes, Part 1, Guardian's Great Escapes, Part 2.

Related posts: White Spider.

Sympathy in Kliptown

This story is from a week ago, when Clayton took us to Soweto. We stopped in Kliptown to visit SKY's (Soweto Kliptown Youth) community center. This is one of the poorest sections of Joburg, the housing is all informal. The people live in tin shacks (sheets propped up against each other), there's no running water, the "shops" are part of a room in the houses where you can buy one matchbox at a time (because the average person in the community cannot afford to buy a dozen of them). There is no sewage system, of course - so there are open drains everywhere. There are banks of broken down toilets distributed in the community that are emptied once a week.

As he walked us through the community, showing us around and introducing us to people occasionally, our young guide told us: "Yes, we're a poor community. Thank you for coming to visit us instead of stopping at the bridge, taking pictures and driving away. I do want to tell you one thing: please visit us as friends, because that gives the community hope. We love having visitors. But don't feel sorry for us because we're poor, we're rich in love. We feel sorry for you because you have George Bush as president".

The world is a very small place.

Warm Rain

It's raining in Joburg today. Not too heavy, but the rain brings thunder and lightning with it. It is making the phones unreliable, the traffic is snarled (although that might be a regular feature of Joburg and nothing to do with the rain). Feels like monsoon season at home. I've missed warm rain all the years I have stayed outside India. This brings back many wonderful memories.

Somehow tied up with those memories are reflections on the levels of poverty and need in this country. Again, just like home. I listened today to stories told by 18 and 20 year olds about how they planted kitchen gardens to feed the little kids they were teaching because the local merchants couldn't afford to donate anything to the feeding programs. Conditions here are desperate, and some of the conversations we have with people are wrenching. On the other hand, there is so much hope. It is inspiring to see these young people talk about building their country and "building a better South Africa" and really and truly trying to do something for their country instead of waiting to be helped. I wondered briefly whether this is what the 50s must have felt like in India. Sadly, none of my grandparents are around so that I can ask them.

I stood on my balcony for a long time watching the rain come down. I wonder, but I have no answers.