Kathmandu Letter: Nepalis woke up a week ago to good news. The Himalayan mountain kingdom's 10-year Maoist insurgency had ended. Maoists had agreed to join a transitional government by December 1st, 2006, while putting their arms under UN supervision
The largely rural insurgency, which had claimed 13,000 lives and involved kidnappings and extortion, was over.
A fast-paced sequence of measures was unveiled in the capital, Kathmandu. The present assembly will be expanded to take on 73 Maoist members, only two fewer than the biggest existing party.
And the future of King Gynanendra, already stripped of his powers, is to be decided by a new assembly to be elected by next June. So when my Nepalese friend picked me up at Kathmandu airport on Wednesday evening he was happy.
"Now many good things can happen," he said.
The road up the hill to the Summit Hotel in the Kathmandu suburb of Lalithpar is steep, with many twists and turns. It passes a large UN compound, where UN secretary general's representative Ian Martin played a pivotal behind-the-scenes role in bringing about agreement between Maoist leader Prachanda and Nepal's seven-party alliance.
Many who come to trek in the Himalayas use the Summit Hotel as a staging post on arrival, or to recuperate afterwards. It stands in its own leafy grounds, with swimming pool and comfortable chairs to lounge in. A bed costs as little as €30 a night.
On a clear day you can get a glimpse of the snowy mountain peaks which lure climbers from all over the world to Nepal.
This week the Summit offered a kaleidoscope of views of a country in the grip of rapid change.
As the week began, negotiations between the seven constitutional political parties and the Maoists entered a crucial phase. The Maoists brought their troops to town for a "victory rally". Families in Lalitpar received letters telling them to offer food and shelter to up to 10 "soldiers of the revolution". They were aghast. Custom insists that the traveller be given hospitality.
My friend said: "I told them we could feed them, but there was no room for them to stay." So the Maoists called them off, but not before some activists took to throwing stones at their would-be hosts a few streets away from the hotel.
As the weekend came, guests left and others checked in. Development agency Concern's week-long conference for managers working in the region, chaired by regional director Anne O'Mahony from Cork, ended on Saturday morning. This conference included people who had been in the frontline of the Asian tsunami and Pakistan earthquake relief.
In Nepal, Concern works with local groups to improve water supplies and sanitation for the rural poor, particularly the Dalits, who suffer the double disadvantage of extreme poverty and being seen as Untouchables by their fellow citizens.
At the hotel entrance security staff were joined by soldiers in fatigues. Others in blue uniforms and de Gaulle caps took up position in the trees around the swimming pool.
Enormous white Land-Rovers with UN on the doors climbed the narrow road and swung into the car park. A building to one side of the main block was the focus of activity. Something was happening, but what?
Meanwhile, guests came and went, sat in the sun, swam in the pool and ordered snacks.
On Sunday morning, more soldiers appeared. Concern people checking out saw familiar UN faces, but the owners had little time for chat. Mobile phones were pulled out, calls made and as quickly ended. I heard the phrase "negotiating session".
Then a black Land-Rover bounced into the hotel compound, filled with thin, jumpy young men in fatigues, four across the front seat, four across the back, eyes darting this way and that. And this was followed by a large ministerial Mercedes, low on its springs, probably armoured, windows darkened.
The Nepalese guards stiffened as they looked in the faces of the Maoists, wondering if they had killed or maimed their comrades.
The delegations went into meeting rooms, minister, aides, Maoist militias. They emerged a couple of hours later, and the soldiers withdrew. Subject and outcome undisclosed, but the peace process was back on track.
Until the next blip. One came this Wednesday. Reports from west Nepal say when the Maoists returned to their strongholds they began forcing more than 400 young people to join their 35,000-strong army - some schoolboys as young as 15.
Nepali newspapers reported the peace agreement fully, with much probing and analysis. "Peace at Last" proclaimed the Himalayan. The Kathmandu Times had very strong front-page coverage and inside reports, but also found space to tell readers that there were fresh doubts about the drowning of Rolling Stone Brian Jones in 1969.
The fashion pages proclaimed the return of the hippy look. Given Kathmandu's past - it still has the notorious Freak Street, haunt of Western drop-outs and hippies in the 1960s - that has to be good news too!
Journalist Kieran Fagan travelled to Nepal with Concern as a volunteer communications consultant.