Yesterday saw the opening of the 25th International Folk Music Festival here in Kathmandu. My employer HPL assists this festival in cooperation with the Royal Norwegian Embassy in Nepal. This year, for the first time ever, the authorities had agreed to open up a part of the Durbar Square compound which is normally off-limits to all except those working on preserving this remarkable location. Here's a video of what it looks like from the inside:
Now, there are representatives from Palestine, South Africa, Malawi and Norway attending this festival. They were all going to give a short demonstration of their skills. Here is one display from a Nepali group of performers:
It somehow fitted the surroundings well to have this display here. Now, I'm not particularly inclined to folk music in any shape or form. I still have to say that hearing a flute being played solo in these surroundings triggered the odd spot of goosebumps on my arms - in fact, it so consumed me that I completely forgot to take any video or picture.
The thought that lingered most in my mind after leaving was not about folk music though. It was about my secondary-school teacher who is still going strong and who has a passion for music in general and folk-music in particular (to the tune of spending months in remote locations in Europe to study and learn more about this particular niche). I'm thinking to organise a "march of dimes" or similar among all his former students to pay for him to partake in the festival next year. That would be a suitable retirement-gift from all those who have benefitted from his dedication to the teaching profession over the years.
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