Hong Kong New Year!

I heard the announcement, “Luggage service will commence a 4:30” over the loudspeaker as I looked around at the people starting to pile up around the luggage carousels. I was at the Hong Kong airport yesterday when the baggage handlers decided to go on strike, causing a myriad of issues at one the world’s largest airports.

I had just made it through immigration and went to look for my luggage, when I arrived at the carousel it promptly stopped and I heard that message. I didn’t really know what was going on, but I knew that it probably wasn’t going to get solved quickly, so I sat on the floor and waited. Waiting is something I’m used to in Vietnam, so this didn’t seem like a stressful situation for me even though in all rights it probably should have been! Two hours later my luggage arrived, by then I had graded some school papers, made friends with the people around me and generally sat there and waited rather content with my new found patience.

I stayed in HCMC for Christmas last week; I paid my dues and stayed there alone for the holiday and worked, so now it is time to have fun. I’m meeting one of my dear friends, Veronique, in Hong Kong for New Years. Last time I saw Veronique was in NYC when I left; I had a million other things on my mind trying to get ready to leave, so this time I’m ready to actually kick back and enjoy myself; food, drink, art, shopping (well, window shopping!), public transportation…I’m in heaven! I’m staying at my friend Lynn’s home and enjoying her REAL Christmas tree; it actually feels like the holidays here.

I started today by going on a 5 mile run in this wonderful cool weather (60 degrees) enjoying the views of the skyline. I have a love for this city much like my old love of San Francisco – it’s stunning. It’s NYC and San Francisco molded into one with an Asian flair; I’m determined to live here one day. However, for now I’m content just visiting my friends and soaking it all in.

Happy 2009!

Running through the Angkor Temples

For a photo journey of the race - click here!
For Siem Reap Candid Photography - click here!

There are a few places in the world that everyone should see, Angkor Wat is one of them. As most of you know, I am someone who hates to do what everyone else it doing; so I took it a step further last weekend. I didn’t just see Angkor Wat, I ran through it. My sister had participated in the Angkor Wat Half Marathon and 10k a couple of years ago and raved about how much fun it was. Since I found myself only a short 50 min. flight away from Siem Reap, I thought I better run on over there and check it out myself.

The first problem was that I had to train up to 10k in order to run the race. This normally wouldn’t be a problem for me as I’m a lifetime runner, but living in Ho Chi Minh City presents some running challenges. The biggest challenge is that there is no where to run in HCMC. I promise you that I’m not being overdramatic when I say that. Besides the fact that there are very few small parks in HCMC, there are also no sidewalks that aren’t occupied by parked motorbikes, people eating Pho, or simply people driving on the sidewalks. Like the rest of Asia, Vietnamese life spills out of their homes and into the streets. A sidewalk in front of your house is not considered public walking space, instead is your own private patio where you gather with friends. After you get by the issue of where to run in HCMC, next the issue of how to breath comes into play. With 6 million motorbikes, the pollution is terrible.

Angkor Wat

Ah – but this post isn’t about Vietnam – it’s about my adventure in Cambodia! My visiting friend from San Francisco, Colleen, and I took off from HCMC to Siem Reap to meet my sister, her husband and her other running friends. My sister had promised me that the weather would be cooler than the normal HCMC 90 degrees and high humidity; I was skeptical, but when I stepped off the plane and felt a cool, fresh breeze I was in heaven! At last, something under 85 degrees!

As we rode into town to our little hotel to meet my sister and friends, I was immediately lost in my own little world of memories. I had been here before, 20 months ago during my around the world travels. This was one of the first places that I had come back to and it felt strange to me. I was overcome with the feeling of longing for my past travels. Once again I’m reminded of how much you ache for something when it’s gone. Much like old loves, Siem Reap threw me into a spiral of memories that I wished I could have back. At my core, I really dislike going back to someplace I’ve been before, and maybe this is why.

Carbo Loading!

Siem Reap felt so different from HCMC, it was a small town, quiet, slow, and simple. I didn’t know how much I had missed that until I was here in the middle of it again.
We met up with my sister, Cyndi, and my brother-in-law, Frank who were both planning to run the half marathon. The marathon started early the next morning at 6:30am to take advantage of the sunrise and cool temperatures. Luckily Frank is not a procrastinator like me, so he had everything all set up for the next day including our tuk tuk rides to the race.

Now there aren’t many organized long distance races in SE Asia for a reason, because not many SE Asians run. This fact meant that the numbers in the race would be low and the organization of it would probably be sub-par compared to the well oiled machine of New York Road Runners Club that I was used to. The run was sponsored by a charity – specifically it was a “run to bring artificial limbs to land mind survivors and save youth from HIV/AIDS” according to the brochure, so I was ok with paying the $50 entry free. They were expecting about 2,300 participants for all of the events arriving from over 40 countries.

Running through Angkor Thom

At the early hours of the morning under a sheet of darkness and a slightly cool breeze (probably about 75 degrees), runners arrived via tuk tuks drinking their Gatorade, and looking for the nearest bathroom. A loud, tinny speaker blared out instructions in Cambodian, and were followed by a difficult to understand version in English. Even my well trained ESL ears couldn’t make sense of the English instructions so I gave up on trying to understand where I was supposed to be and simply followed the crowd. There appeared to be about 1000 people running the half marathon and about an equal number running the 10k – a small, laid back race. The half marathon was filled with tall Caucasians and short Japanese runners; people from all countries, but not many Cambodians!

The half marathon started first and Colleen and I cheered them on as we stood at the foot of the bridge leading to Angkor Wat – a surreal felling. Next it was my 10k start. The 10k was full of Cambodian students and a mixture of nationalities, and even a guy dressed in a monkey suit. It’s nice to know that there are crazy mascot wearing runners everywhere in the world. I nodded acknowledgment to the monkey and set my watch.

On the home stretch!

I had decided to bring my point and shoot camera with me to the race. After all, when would I ever have the chance to photograph runners racing through ancient temples at a World Heritage Site? This really felt like a special experience that I needed to digitally capture. As the race started and I passed the slow untrained runners and I was immediately conflicted. My competitive side and my artistic side of my brain were battling each other in a major war in my head. Do I kick it in and really race the 10k and possibly place in the event, or do I sit back, have fun, and capture the pictures for my website. Hmmm – what to do, what to do?

Art won out over sport. I put myself in low gear and enjoyed every moment of the race. I even would run backwards to go back and take a picture that I liked! My favorite part of the race was seeing and interacting with the spectators. They looked at all of us with a confused curiosity…silently watching us run by. Colleen cheered us on as our own personal cheerleader; I think the locals were more mystified by her antics than the runners coming by! The water stops were run by young kids in their teens, handing out bottles of water to all the runners coming by. The younger kids would then follow you until you dropped a water bottle which was akin to dropping a $1 bill on the ground to them…recycling means money…even in Cambodia. Some kids would stand out in a line and hold out their hands for ‘high fives’ from the foreign athletes; a true cultural exchange.

Spectators - click to enlarge:

Gathering Bottles

Bag of Bottles!

Silent Spectators

As I came up on the finish line, I stopped one last time to take a picture; somehow I still managed to come in under an hour and take about 30 photos…now that’s talent! Everyone in my brood finished well and had a wonderful time telling stories of how great the route was. We spent the afternoon drinking beer and touring around the temples at a slower pace, while trying to avoid stairs. My first international race was one to remember, and one that I would definitely recommend to any runner out there with a penchant for travel and exercise!

Trip Details:
If you are interested in making a trip to SE Asia to run this unique race next year, you can find more information here - www.angkormarathon.org
Lodging: La Noria Hotel - www.lanoriaangkor.com
Bars: FCC - the best cocktails in Cambodia! http://www.fcccambodia.com/angkor/
Restaurants: Pub Street for cheap food and people watching.
Transportation: Tuk Tuk…they are the best and cheapest way to get around!

Post Race Euphoria!

Nepalese Secondary School

Dhal Bhat Days – vol13
9/15/08

While in Nepal I heard from my old students in India; they wished me a happy teacher day via email; it took me completely off guard, and shook me up a bit . It had been a year ago that I was there living in Delhi teaching my wonderful group of young adults that I become so attached to. While in Nepal I heard about the bombings in Delhi and emailed each of them to make sure they were ok and their families were safe. They all wrote back with positive responses letting me know they were fine. However, one note stuck out to me, a note from one of my favorite students, Ashish.

Respected Ma’am,
Thank you! for encouraging me and the credit for all this improvement is your hard work with us and the dedication you have to improve our life. Today’s world nobody wants to help other but you did it. It is really nice to hear that you are going to teach students, i now you will do it excellently. Yes nowadays I am working with an U.K based charity organisation ( MKC - ROKO CANCER ) as a computer operator and where i have to use English to mailing and communicate with my colleges.I have to use my Internet Browsing, and Website Designing Skills in our website. Now we can keep in touch because I have freedom to check my mails regularly. The most important thing is that I am enjoying my job, even they are paying me a lot less which I actually have to get. I hope you are well and having fun…
Even now I am working but I still need your concern and guidance forever….

This is why I do it. This is why I brave leaches, spiders, rats, cow shit, and no communicating…for a moment like this which is absolutely priceless to me. I would pull off a thousand leaches for the feeling that runs through my body when I read this.

Granted, my volunteering experience in Nepal was vastly different than my experience in India, but I know that I made some sort of impact; whether it was teaching English or simply cultural exchange.

Sun-kissed fruit for sale

Nepal was breathtaking and infuriating at the same time. A small country that is rich in tradition and culture, but economically poor. My old vision of Nepal was Mt. Everest and mountains; a tourist rich area that was well known around the world. However, my departing impressions of Nepal doesn’t really have anything to do with mountains or terrain – it has to do with people. People eager to learn about others, people satisfied with very little, people who live a simple life. The tourists who travel to Nepal are hearty and strong, they have to be, as Nepal is not a place for the weak. You can’t come to Nepal just to look, you need to become involved in Nepal. If you are not willing to become involved with the local people and interact, then I say, go to Switzerland and look at the mountains. However, if you are willing to put yourself out there and meet the locals, interact with the culture, then you’ve really succeeded at traveling in Nepal.

Nepal shocked me into the space I needed to be in for my move to Vietnam and for that, I’m grateful. All of these challenging experiences prepare me for the next, and the next, and the next.

To learn more about the Hands for Help Nepal NGO that I volunteered with, please check out their website at www.handsforhelp.org.np/
Hands for Help is doing a great job at really making volunteering work rewarding. For them, it’s less about the vacation and more about the volunteering, which is exactly what I was looking for. However, even though it was no posh vacation, it was filled with cultural experiences that I will never forget! Check them out if you are looking to do something meaningful and see another part of the world!  They have a variety of great programs ranging from short term to long term.  They are a great bunch of people!

Nepalese boys saluting me

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol 12
9/13/08

For all Kathmandu Photography - click here!  (opens new window)
For all Kathmandu snapshots- click here! (opens new window)

After a refreshing, civilized stay in Pokhara for two nights, I arrived back in Kathmandu with a new outlook; it was no longer scary. I was reminded again of just how powerful time is. As I’ve noted before, I think time is one of the most important resources in the world. Forget pining away for youth…I just want more time. I’m a time whore. It makes everything better.

This was my chance to explore the innards of Kathmandu. With my new outlook I was ready to embrace the muddy, crowded, loud capital city. I was amazed I could walk around the same streets that I had been on 2 weeks prior with a new confident, happy manner. Smiling at people I passed, snapping photos. Quite a turn around from when I first arrived where I was as jumpy as a dog in a thunderstorm. I trusted no one, I was terrified of walking on the streets, I hated being dirty and not understanding the chaos going on around me. Now I was accepting it.

I had a lot of ground to cover in Kathmandu in a day and a half, seeing some of the main sites and capture the city life on film (ok – digital ‘film’). I first stopped at a few of the famous temples. Nepal is a mixture of religions but it is mainly Hindu and Buddhist which isn’t surprising considering it’s neighboring countries are India and Tibet. We (a guide and I) went to the stupa at Swayanabath, on a hill on the western edge of Kathmandu. A stupa is a Buddhist religious monument consisting of a hemispherical base, and a square top with a pagoda-style roof. This temple was also known as the Monkey Temple, due to the troops of monkeys living there waiting to harass you. Situated high on a hilltop, it was a great place to get some perspective on just how sprawling Kathmandu was.

The Seeing Stupa

Next I went to see the most famous Nepalese stupa of them all, Baudha. It’s one of the largest in the world and locals and tourist circumvent is all day long offering and receiving blessings. It’s the center of attention surrounded by shops and a circular path. The all-seeing eyes peer down at the masses of people coming to visit.

The next stop I knew very little about, Pashupatinath, a temple dedicates to the Hindu God Shiva. Hindu pilgrims and sadhus (holy men) come from all distances to Pashupatinath. In addition to the live people, dead people also come to Pashupatinath since it is the most auspicious place to be cremated in all of Nepal. I decided that investing in a guide at this site would be money well spent – so I hired someone to take me around and explain what I was seeing; lord knows there was a lot to see. There were funeral pyres lining the river bank as ambulances pulled up with bodies wrapped in golden cloth. Mourning families poured out of cars with the deceased and had small ceremonies around the pyre before the body was set ablaze. This was a first for me. I stood there mesmerized by what was in front of my eyes – an actual cremation.

Family gathers by the river before the cremation

My guide walked me around the whole complex explaining the sadhus, Shiva, and the funeral process to me. Most of the time I stood there listening to him overwhelmed by what I was seeing. The temple complex was beautiful, however I was fascinated with watching the families of the deceased. The Hindu culture is built on karma, and this was a wonderful example of how karma works. As I watched the families go through their ceremonies I was struck by how calm and accepting everyone was. They all knew that their loved one was coming back in some other ‘form’. I’ve always found the Asian culture to be more accepting of death than our western culture, and I believe that Karma has a lot to do with it. Pashuspatinath was a fascinating place to see and wonder around for an extended period of time, I was happy that I spent the extra money for a guide so that I could better understand it all.

After a relaxing a bit at my hotel and some cold lime juice I was ready to go out again and explore the streets of Kathmandu. The same streets that terrified me a few weeks ago now were my backdrop for some photo shoots. I made my way to the most famous spot in Kathmandu, Dubar Square. As I walked down the muddy, narrow street I stopped along the way and interacted with the locals taking photos and asking them questions when possible. I wandered into stores and took my time really looking at my surroundings this time.

Video of the what it’s like to walk on the streets of Kathmandu - a bit chaotic!

I arrived at the square and was of course accosted by a ton of people that wanted to show me the square for a fee. I swatted them away and went about exploring on my own. The square is a complex of ornately carved temples and monuments including the old royal palace. It feels like the central nervous system of the city with people, bikes, cyclos, cars, and animals darting about with horns blaring. The Times Square of Nepal.

Dubar Square

Locals come to sit on the oversized stairs of the monuments and watch life slowly roll by and tourists come to see the chaos. Little outdoor markets surround the perimeter of the temples and monuments where people hawk their fruit and vegetables, flowers, rice, and beans. I thoroughly enjoyed wandering around the markets making connections with the various vendors. They may seem stand-offish at fist, but eventually I would get a smile or a laugh when I pointed my camera at them. Hopefully I was able to capture some of jubilation that I witnessed in these Nepalese shopkeepers.
I took my seat on the oversized stairs and watched life roll by for a while. Soon I had one of the tour guides come and sit next to me and strike up a conversation. His English was good and once he understood that I wasn’t going to hire him for tour, we actually just sat and had a really great conversation that didn’t include “buy from me”.

A shot of modern Nepal, a young boy displaying his western attitude

My final stop was for payback; payback of the hospitality that I received.  Mr. Badri, the head of Hands for Help Nepal (the organization I was volunteering through) took me over to a tour agency where I had the pleaure of meeting Didi’s younger brother, Giriraj.  He lived and worked in Kathmandu and spoke very good English.  He worked at the university by day and ran a tour agency at night.  I wanted to meet him as I had spoken with him on the phone while I was staying with Didi a few times.  I think she wanted to make sure that I had someone I could speak English to periodically , so she would call her brother and have him speak to me!  I sat and shared a coke with Giriraj and Badri and talking about Hands for Help and how they could continue to bring in volunteers from the US, and we talked about Puma.  I left a big envelope of hundreds of photos with Giriraj to take back to Puma and share with everyone.  I was excited for them to have their own photos as I knew it was a unique treat for them to have pictures of themselves. 

I exchanged contact information with Badri and Giriraj in the hopes to continue a relationship with them.  Finally, I wandered to a place for dinner and wasn’t even surprised when the electricity went out for a few hours. I had become accustomed to the electricity being off more than it was on. I treated myself to an apple tart for dessert and sat satisfied with my new outlook on Kathmandu.

Fruit Vendor

Or go directly to my photography website at www. sherryott.smugmug.com to see all of my global photography!  If you see anything you like, feel free to purchase!

Did and I

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol 11
9/11/08

I thought I would be more excited about leaving Puma considering my living conditions for the last two weeks, but surprisingly, I wasn’t. In fact, it was a bittersweet. I was excited to get to some sort of civilization (yet I had started to question if civilization actually existed anywhere in Nepal), but I was sad to leave my new friends in Puma. They took excellent care of me in the best way they could. The morning of my departure was filled with tears as we took final pictures, said final goodbyes, and I promised to come back and visit again. Didi and Ama draped me in khatas and insisted that I take the lunghi and Gurung jacket that they dressed me in the day before. I accepted their gifts graciously, but in the back of my head I wished I had something to give them. They had so little material things, and here they were giving some of it to me; it felt wrong. However I knew that the wrong thing to do would be to not accept the gifts, so I took them and plotted how I could repay them in my head.

Naba, the principal, had graciously agreed to accompany me on the 2 hour trek down the mountain into Besisharha and deposit me on the correct bus to Pokhara. I had planned to travel to Pokhara, a 6 hour journey by local bus by myself, to see another part of Nepal. Everyone had told me that Pokhara was a lovely town; clean, good food, proper hotels, all surrounded by a lake and snowcapped mountains. I was cautiously optimistic about this place called Pokhara. I didn’t want to get too excited about it as I’ve spent the last 2 weeks resetting my Nepal expectations. However, I have to admit, I was fantasizing about bathing properly! My cautious excitement was overshadowed by the task ahead of me – the journey to Pokhara alone. I didn’t really have a choice, but I knew it would be a challenge. Prior to this, I always had someone with me, they didn’t always speak English, but they could at least understand what was going when they told us to get off the bus due to mud slides.

The first problem was that I had a big, heavy bag and electronics to haul down the steep, harrowing mountain. I opted to throw money at the problem and hire a porter. For a moment I felt a bit guilty about being lazy and not carrying my own stuff, but when I realized it would only cost me $4 for a porter to carry 60 lbs of luggage, I instead considered it as helping the economy. Seriously, $4…that’s all he wanted. Actually, he wanted $3…I gave him $4 and a t-shirt and a coke when we got to the bottom.

Didi and Naba at the edge of Puma

The principal, Didi and I left Puma together and Didi accompanied me to the edge of the village which made me even sadder to leave her and my ‘family’ in Puma. Sure, we didn’t have long, meaningful conversations, but she took care of me, she fed me, she did her very best to speak to me in broken English, and she was the perfect host; what more could I ask for. She watched and waved as the principal and I took off into the clouds blanketing the mountains in a somber mood, which matched my mood.

We made it to Besisharha and my knees were relieved to reach some flat ground for the first time in two hours. At the market, my porter sat waiting for me (he took a steep shortcut). He smiled through the smoke of his cigarette as he saw me. My ego dropped to the dusty ground as I thought about the fact that I was dripping in sweat and exhausted, while he was about 10 years older than me, had just carried my 60 lbs of luggage down the mountain, beat me there, and had time to smoke a cigarette or two.

Naba husteled me through the town to the bus area. We found that there were no ‘fast’ mini buses that traveled to Pokhara, instead, my only option was to take a local bus. I guess I was used to this by now, yet that didn’t exactly make me happy about it. In fact, the prospect of riding a slow, hot, loud, dirty, crammed bus for 6 hours was enough to make me walk back up the mountain to Didi’s and simply stay in Puma. Then the vision of a bathtub came to mind; I had to get on that bus. Naba and I shared our last Coke and he put me on the right bus making sure that I knew to get off on the last stop. He sat there and watched me until the bus pulled out of sight. We waved and my eyes welled up with tears yet again. He was a good man, a very good man. My safety net was gone…I was now on my own traveling in Nepal.

I had my usual Dramamine and tried to listen to my ipod as the bus shaked and rattled its way slowly down the poor roads stopping every 3 miles to pick someone new up. They would all stare at me at first wondering who the foreigner was. I eventually dozed off. After three hours of gut wrenching, near death driving, we came into a town where we promptly were caught up in a traffic jam; I imagined there was a herd of goats stuck in the road or something. The bus driver decided to turn off the bus and just wait it out. He got out to stretch his legs and other passengers followed to take a bathroom break, or whatever. I wasn’t going to move an inch…there was no way I was getting off that bus for fear of not finding it again, not understanding that this was a short stop, not being able to speak to anyone; I had a myriad of good reasons not to get off that bus…so I sat there, hot, sweaty, full bladder, and sore from the uncomfortable seat. Yet I was used to this by now…right?

There was a commotion and the traffic drain was unplugged – things started to move again as everyone hopped back on the bus; except for the man that was sitting next to me for the last three hours. The bus started to move and I looked at his bag sitting in the seat next to me and thought…he must have known what he was doing…he/s probably going to catch the bus again in a second. However the bus started speeding up and it was clear – they had left this man behind! I wasn’t really sure what to do, but in my best charades, I tried to tell the young conductor boy that this was not my bag and they left someone behind. This came out something like “Bag no mine!!” They didn’t seem to care too much. Five minutes later and about 10 k later, the bus comes to a screeching halt and the missing man gets back on yelling at the boys running the bus. He had hitchhiked a ride and overtook the bus in order to stop it and get back on…impressive. I looked at him and tried my best to give him the look that said “I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen”. I remained misunderstood.
View a short video of my bumpy bus ride!
The bus lumbered onwards on a slow, sticky, aching path. After traveling for 5 hours, the bus stopped yet again to pick more people up. I was in a bit of an ipod daze, listening to music and trying to let it take me to another place where I wasn’t dripping with sweat and feeling nauseous. A young woman stepped on the bus dressed lovely and looked at me with big eyes and mustered up the courage to speak to me. I was intrigued with what was going to come out of her mouth; this is what I heard, “Please, I prefer window”
“What?!” That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear. In fact it took a second for it to register, she was actually asking me to move from my window seat because she preferred the window seat. At first I was rather excited that she had gotten the confidence to speak to me and use English that I could understand – I was impressed. However, the impressed feeling quickly disappeared when I actually digested what she was asking of me.

Let me get this straight, she wanted me to move from my window seat that I had been sitting in suffering for 5 hours just so that she could have it. Ahhh – let me think about that…yeah…no f’ing way was I moving for this lovely girl just because she could form an English sentence (oops…maybe I’m not really cut out for teaching!). I had earned my way into this seat and no one was going to move me. Ok – maybe the heat had gotten to me more than I knew – but she might as well have been asking me to poke my eyeballs out – I was appalled.

My low blood sugar response went something like this, “I prefer window too.” Said with my best New York ‘don’t mess with me’ stare.
She looked at me with a really hurt, confused expression which made me feel bad for 2 seconds – then she moved towards the back and found a different window seat. International crisis diverted.

Somehow I made it to Pokhara without losing my mind or hurting someone on the bus. Needless to say, I was relieved to be somewhere that sold Diet Coke…heaven. Didi had provided me with the name of a friend to contact when I arrived in Pokhara that was in the tourism industry. She assured me that he would help me get a room. I took a taxi to his office in the tourist area of Pokhara and he sent me to a guest house that had a queen size bed, air conditioning, a bathub and western toilet – minus any huge spiders. He said he’s give it to me for a deal since I was a friend of Didi’s. $12 a night. I thought about it for about half a second and said – I”ll take it!

That night I had pasta, a cold beer, and gelato for dessert. There’s no better feeling than when you come out of a difficult situation and survive to eat gelato again. I stopped at a digital photoshop and dropped off about 100 images to be printed. This was my solution for how I could ‘give something back’ to the people that took such good care of me – my photography.

Didi and Ama on the stoop of the house in Puma

That night after one of the longest baths in my life and a much needed leg shaving, I fell asleep, thinking about my friends in Puma. I wondering what Didi, Ama, and my friendly spider Charlotte were doing. Actually – I knew what they were doing – I knew the routine well. The electricity was off as usual and they were cleaning up the dishes from another meal of Dhal Bhat, but tonight, they didn’t have to try to speak any English.

The school, elders, teachers, and children on my last day

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol. 10
9/10/08

To see all of the snapshots of the ‘last day’ activities - click here! (opens new window)

Time is very powerful. In fact, I think it’s the most powerful thing in this universe. Time heals feelings, it causes us to forget, and with time; everything gets better. My time in Puma felt like it moved slowly, especially at first. I agonized about how I would ever survive the two weeks living in conditions that were completely foreign to my mindset. Then time arrived. Over time, I began to accept my new surroundings and even grow to appreciate the hardships and the simplicity. Time made me forget my old expectations and allowed me to set new ones. Because of time, I survived this challenge; as I do all challenges. Now I find that it is time to leave Puma and my little school high on the hill nestled between snow capped mountains; thanks to time, I’m finding it hard to go.

Today was my last day at the Puma Primary school with my kids that I have come to love. I got up early to try to catch the sunrise on the stoop of the village. I was hoping for an amazing photo opportunity of the sun rising above the mountains, but instead I got a game show. What’s behind door #1? However, there were no doors, instead it was big, fluffy clouds and behind them somewhere are magnificent snow covered mountains towering to heights of 20,00 to 24,000 ft. Sometimes Mother Nature would be kind and give me a little glimpse and I would look in awe thinking “this was here the whole time and I didn’t even know it.” I realized that the whole village of Puma is surrounded by these mountains, yet I never saw it with my own eyes; I had to take the local’s words for it.

I went back to the house and had my breakfast snack of popcorn and tea. As I ate the rain started to fall cooling everything off a bit and bringing the leaches. I fantasized about having M&M’s with the popcorn but was thankful for the popcorn regardless! Despite the rain, I had to head to the local ‘watering hole’ and wash my hair. Seemed kind of silly in the rain – but no more silly to me than having to go bath in public with my shorts and tshirt on. As I washed my hair at the water spicket dumping cold water on my head, I suddenly looked up and realized that I was attracting a crowd. 3 young teenage girls sat there and watched me unabashedly. They didn’t look away when I caught them staring - they just kept their fixed gaze. It’s a strange feeling to have people watch you bath, but I had gotten used to it by now. One of the girls even went as far as pointing out some soap I missed when I was rinsing; how very kind of her.

Me in traditional Gurung dress

I arrived back to the house where Didi used me as her American Girl doll; well, actually a Nepalese Girl Doll I suppose. She brought me a lunghi (wrap skirt) that was trimmed in gold and a traditional jacket that had as many ties as a straight jacket. Next came the jewelry – bracelets and a very long green necklace – the traditional outfit for a Kumari woman. Finally, she topped it off with a tilak, a mark of auspiciousness. It is put on the forehead with sandal past, sacred ashes or red tumeric. I had been transformed for my last day of school.

As I walked the school all of the kids stood on the wall and held flowers welcoming me with the chorus of Namaste’s. Yes, I already had that familiar tightening of the throat and tears welling up in my eyes. But it was too early for that; I had to get it under control.

I brought all of my electronics that day – 2 cameras, and my laptop. This was the most electronics that Puma had ever been exposed to. For many of these children, this was the first time they had ever seen a laptop. I put it on the desk and proceeded to show them pictures of my family, my friends, my home, my (former) cat, and pictures of America. They all crowded around, pushing each other to get a glimpse of a world that they had never really seen. They watched the screen magically move through photos with background music; and I watched them. I watched their faces display utter amazement; it was a touching feeling to think that I was exposing them to something that is so normal to most of us. I watched them push, kick and fight their way closer so they could see. Next I showed the photos of them that I had been taking for the past two weeks. They screamed in glee when they saw themselves. The touching thing is that the adults/teachers were just as mesmerized by the children. Today, I had helped the world become a little more global – a good feeling.

Students receiving their pens and notebooks

After teaching in the morning, the afternoon was left for special festivities. Thanks to the donations of international charities, all of the school children in Puma received a pen and 12 notebooks. This was a big event and the local politicians were even invited to be a part of the ceremony! The various chairmen/women of the village attended the festivities and handed out the notebooks and pens to each child individually as well as provided each one with a tilak. At the end I topped it off with giving each of them a pencil. It was like Christmas morning for these kids, the gifts were enthusiastically received!

The Principal tying my khata

They asked me to come back and stay longer, but mainly they asked me to never forget Puma. Lord knows thee is no chance of that ever happening! The gratitude was overwhelming for me. With my neck weighted down by flowers, the Principal gave me a a final gift, a khata.   A khata is a white, silk ceremonial scarf symbolizing goodwill, auspiciousness, and compassion. It is given during special occasions and welcomes and departures. It was a beautiful gesture and the whole thing took me by surprise. The kids sang songs and we all took pictures. I was moved by the outpouring of blessings that I felt and the personal accomplishment of making the absolute best of a challenging situation.

Didi, I, and my massive flowers

The main reason why I was in Nepal was to volunteer and make a cultural connection. Unbeknownst to be this adventure also came with spiders, leaches, and hardship. However it was worth every moment, ever breakdown, every struggle, every charade for the feeling that I’m feeling now.

Building a toilet in Puma

Here’s a link to my latest article on the Indie Travel Podcast.  It’s about my recent Nepal adventure and intestina foritude. 

• Sherry Ott explores the idea of adventure travel for the digestive system. She recommends Nepal as the ultimate place for a journey for the gut.

Once you’ve read the article - browse around the site, it’s full of great travel informaoin, videos, and podcasts for the independent traveler.  Craig and Linda have been on the road now for over 2 years!

Didi eating with her hands

Dhal Bhat Days – vol. 9
9/9/08

During a break at school one afternoon, I noticed a big crowd in the village. I asked the children what was going on and they said “buffalo kill”. The village was slaughtering a buffalo and from my vantage point it looked like a lot of work as they were hacking away at various parts with an ax and knives. Had I known this earlier I would have grabbed my camera; but I missed the opportunity because I was teaching. That night while we were eating Didi asked me “Do you meat?” It took me a while to figure out what she was trying to ask out of these cryptic words as I didn’t have the luxury of spelling the word ‘meat’/’meet’ – then I finally realized that she wanted to know if I was a vegetarian or not. In my excitement of finally understanding the question, I quickly said , “Yes, I love meat!”

Butchering a goat - to be used for the whole village - including me.

As soon as the words came out of my mouth I knew I was in trouble. Now I love a good burger, steak , or pork chop; but that’s not what you get when you order meat in Asia…you get all of the parts that we generally discard…mixed in with bone and fat. Crap, I knew that I had now set myself up for having to eat meat; a luxury for village life in Puma; a luxury that would be extremely rude to pass up. Sure enough the next week I had different people from the village bringing me various slaughtered animal parts. Joy.

Nepalese food and eating habits really were quite fascinating to me. The staple food is dhal bhat; boiled white rice and beans/gravy poured over the top. Generally there would be some sort of vegetable that they would put on the side. I’m not exaggerating when I say – they ate this same meal EVERYDAY. There really wasn’t a variation to it, the same boiled rice and beans served at 9AM and around 7PM; only two meals a day. They would normally have a tea time around 3PM with some type of snack accompaniment. The snack consisted of biscuits (cookies to you and me) if you were well off or roasted corn on the cob. The corn was particularly good; cooked over an open flame and then you pulled the kernels off and ate them like nuts. On a special occasion Didi made me popcorn! I was so excited the first time I heard the popcorn sound coming from the kitchen, I leapt up to go see here popping corn in a frying pan with a lid over it…the original Jiffy Pop. Occasionally I would get one other snack variation, fried dough. Well, at least I thought it was dough until I watched Didi make it and then realized that it was rice mixed with a little sugar and pounded into a pulp and then deep fried. I never knew rice could be used in so many ways.

Cooking in a Napalese kitchen

I observed the Nepalese eat, and I was enthralled. For being such a laid back culture, they eat with passion; which is a nice way of say it was barbaric! Utensils are not used; instead your fork, spoon, and knife is your hand. Didi always had a spoon for me which I was thankful for as I couldn’t imagine picking up the heaping handfuls of hot rice and beans with my fingers. The Nepalese ate as if it were a race and they were trying to win a gold medal. I’ve never seen people eat a 4 cups of boiled rice so quickly before. They would slurp it all up and then look at me with my slow little spoon and say, “lazy”. I had to try to correct that that “slow” was the appropriate word to use as ‘lazy’ was a blow to my ego! They would seldom drink with dinner, but after they were done with their platter of rice, they would take a pitcher filled with water and drink directly from the pitcher pouring the water straight down their throat and never touching their lips to the pitcher. I was impressed with this ability as I would have the water all over my chest if I tried that. After the eating frenzy, they would sit back and then proceed to do everything we were taught not to do, belch loudly and spit. All of the ‘forbidden’ things that Miss Manners would cringe at were a part of normal Nepalese culture. It took me by surprise at first, but it was completely explainable based on how fast they shoveled food in and the amount of food they would eat at one sitting.

A plate of dhal bhat - the portions were HUGE!

Each night I would always have a pile of rice left over as my stomach couldn’t eat 3 cups of boiled rice in a sitting! I always felt terrible leaving any food as food is a precious commodity in Nepal. So when they started bringing me one of their prized possessions, meat, I felt like I had to eat it. We would eat in the kitchen sitting on the floor off of plates that looked like big pie tins. Most of the time it was rather dark in the kitchen as the electricity was off more than it was on in Puma. I sat and stared at my little dish of buffalo meat I realized that this not the meat that I was accustomed to, instead it was a mixture of fatty meat, grissle, stomach and intestine. I had no options of politely refusing, I had to eat it. I gingerly grabbed a piece with my fingers and chewed, and chewed, and chewed, and chewed; trying to be appreciative of the protein that I was giving my body. When I did get the rare piece of eatable meat, it tasted like jerky and was actually quite good; but the jerky pieces were few and far between. The next night it was chicken; as I nibbled on my various chicken parts and feet, I wondered who the lucky person in the village was that was nibbling on the chicken breast!

Didi also treated me to the occasional ‘Nepalese beer’. Wipe away those visions of a cold, frosty mug of amber colored beer; and replace that with some cloudy, fermented rice at room temperature. However, alcohol is alcohol – and I rarely meet alcohol I don’t like. Plus, it helped me sleep through the night without waking up to the rat and buffalo noise!

I also found that different villages had different variations to the standard dhal bhat. When I was in Barbot with the principal, they would milk the cow, then boil the milk, and pour it over the dhal bhat turning it into gruel. However, the variation was welcomed and a little dairy in my body had to be good for me. Prior to this moment, I don’t think I’ve ever had fresh milk; I mean really fresh, 5 minutes from milking to drinking.

My favorite little kitten loved to sit by the 'stove'

Just as I wondered if I could take one more day of rice. I was treated to one of my favorite meals in the world; rice pudding. The principal and his wife cooked up some of the best rice pudding I’ve ever had; fresh milk, sugar, rice, butter and coconut. The best part was this wasn’t desert, it was dinner.

I think the hardest part about eating was realizing that eating wasn’t an event as it is for us in the West, instead it was for sustenance. The lack of variety didn’t seem to phase the Nepalese. So for two weeks, I changed my perspective on food. I adapted and happily ate my dhal bhat, goat inards, and corn and was thankful to have boiled water and the occasional beer.

The Primary School surrounded by mountains

To see snapshots of the school and the kids - click here! (opens new window)

To view all Village Photography click here! (opens new window)

The whole reason I came to Nepal was to volunteer and teach. In some way I was trying to recapture my rewarding experience that I had in Delhi last year I suppose. When I arrived however, I quickly realized that the teaching was a bit secondary to my culture shock that I was experiencing. Considering my new living environment in Puma, teaching was really the least of my concerns. I think I was so caught up in my own fears that I didn’t really put a lot of effort into worrying about teaching the children. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t put a lot of planning and thought into it, I certainly spent hours on the porch planning my lessons for each class the next day, but the teaching seemed secondary to me for some reason. I fell into a good groove with the teaching and it was very rewarding. A typical school day went something like this…

The kids awaiting for me to arrive

I go to school at 10am, and as soon as I start getting close to the little school high on the hill, I hear it. It is faint at first, but gains volume with each muddy step I take past the buffalos.
“Miss….Miss…”
“Namaste Miss”
“Miss, Miss, Goohd Moating!”
The kids gather in the yard and eagerly awaited my arrival. There’s a part of me that simply thinks they like watching me try to navigate my way through the steep rocks, the buffalos, the buffalo shit and the mud. Today, one of the boys came to my rescue and ‘shoo’d’ the buffalo out of my path as I was a bit scared to walk by a buffalo that was staring me down; that’s not an everyday occurrence for me and simply telling them to go away doesn’t quite work.

After greeting all of the kids with Namaste’s and ‘How are you?”, I take a seat inside with the teachers for about 20 minutes and I ask the principle what periods I can teach that day. Today he surprised me and said “No teach today.”
“What? No teach?” I reply a bit dazed and confused
“Yes, no teach.” He repeats
I look at him with a puzzled look wondering if I’ve done something wrong or if I just am misunderstanding him which is the typical situation
He takes the Nepali calendar (which is lunar) off the wall and points to a day on the calendar which I cannot read and says, “This today” then he moves his finger to some fine print in Nepalese script on today’s date and says “today for games”.
“Game day? What is that?” I reply in a surprised manner wondering if Bob Barker was going to show up with his prize wheel.

Only the boys showed up during Teej

As a side note, I really shouldn’t be surprised at all about game day. Since I’ve been here there have been 2 holidays and now one game day – this is all in the course of 1 ½ wks. It seems to me there is not a ton of school going on. The two holidays were special festivals for women…sounds great…right? Not so much. As I inquired more and more about Teej, I learned that it was a holiday celebrating women, but it was less of a holiday that celebrated women, and more of a holiday that celebrated women’s commitment to men. Red flag! What? I had to pause and try to put my western views aside; I tried to bite my lip as I inquired more about this subservient festival. Apparently, no on worked or went to school that day and instead the women dressed in red and visited the temple making offerings to the various Gods (sorry, there are really too many for me to keep up with the specifics), and the women fasted all day. Call me crazy, but fasting doesn’t sound like any type of holiday to me. These acts were to show the women’s devotion to their husbands and brothers. Two days after the fasting, the women once again had to go to temple and fast in the morning. This Theet Part II took me by surprise when only the boys showed up to school. The principal was once again left trying to explain why I wasn’t teaching that day. Instead of coming to school the women in the village did chores, cut buffalo grass, fetched water, watched the buffalo/goats, worked in the rice fields, etc.
Here’s a bit more official description:

“Teej” is the fasting festival for women. It takes place in August or early September. The festival is a three-day long celebration that combines sumptuous feasts as well as rigid fasting. Through this religious fasting, hindu women pray for marital bliss, well being of their spouse and children and purification of their own body and soul

When we did have class, I typically taught for an hour for each class. There were three classes of children; age 6/7, age 8/9, and age 10. Each were at different level of English, which basically meant the 10 yr olds knew more vocabulary than the younger kids and they could read the Roman letters better. The youngest kids really had to start at square one and we focused on colors, drawing, songs, and body parts.

I had to be rather inventive as the classrooms were bare; and the kids had minimal supplies (sometimes a pencil and paper). The only items in the classrooms were an old chalkboard with pieces of chalk that were no larger than ½ inch in length. I learned quickly that the teaching periods were very, very lose; nothing was very structured at all – at least in my western eyes there wasn’t a lot of structure.

The game of Cat and Rat!

Game day turned out to be a lot of fun. They taught me Nepalese songs about buffalos and rice fields. There was even a song about some man who was divorcing his wife, yet I’m a bit suspicious that I might have misunderstood the translation of that one! After the singing, we started to play organized games. First we played musical chairs….yet I looked around in confusion as there were no chairs. Soon the children were all running around gathering big stones; the substitute for chairs. Now the next hurdle was music…there’s no electricity at the school, so I wasn’t quite sure how they were accomplishing the musical part – but they brought out a drum and someone pounded on the drum as we all went around from rock to rock in a circle. I didn’t fare too well in the game as I’m not very good at running in flip flops whilst the kids were very adept to running in their bare feet – I didn’t stand a chance!

See video of the kids singing Nepalese songs for me - this one is about water I think!

The next game I had a chance at winning because it was in English! The principle drew a big circle in the dirt with a stick and we all gathered around it and played In/Out. The principle would say ‘in’ or ‘out and we would follow the instructions jumping in and out of the circle. Eventually he would trick someone and they would be out of the game. I stayed in the game until the last 5 kids and was eliminated; maybe I would have done better if it was in Nepalese. My lack of conversation in Puma has obviously impaired my English!

See video of the kids playing a game of tag!

Finally they played a game called Cat and Rat. I loved the fact that they used the term rat instead mouse. It was a type of tag and I sat that one out as I had more fun taking pictures of it! I taught them how to play hopscotch and the Hokie Pokie…in which they all stood there and stared at me at first as I ‘shook it all about’..but eventually joined in! Thank god as I was feeling rather silly! The principle handed out prizes and the kids went home early that day.

How can you resist these faces?!

I stayed around and talked to the teachers for a while. The main teachers room was full of stacks and stacks of books that had been donated from World Vision and other organizations. I asked the principle what they were going to do with the books and he referred to putting them in the library.
“What, there’s a library?” I remarked
He got a key and took me to the room next door and showed me a newly painted room in red, blue, green and yellow. He told me that this is to be the library. I was rather impressed and asked him where all of the furniture was and when it will be completed. He explained that the shelving, tables, and remaining items were down in Besisharha and that they didn’t not have the funds yet to bring the remaining furniture up to Puma via Jeep. I asked him how expensive it was to have the Jeep bring up the furniture and he said that is was 2,000 Rupees ($30 US ).

I went back to Didi’s that night and thought a bit about the stacks of books and the unfinished library. After living in Puma for 1 ½ weeks, I was a bit disappointed that I didn’t get as much time as I would like to actually teach the children due to festival schedule, game days, and trips to other villages. I counted up my Rupees and decided that I would provide the funding to get the last load of library equipment to the school. I felt like it was a way to provide more help considering I hadn’t done as much teaching as I originally thought I would. It doesn’t take long for the kids and the people of Puma to occupy a piece of your heart in this environment, and I wanted to provide as much as I could for them.

It seemed like the logical thing to do. After all, $30 is 3 mixed drinks in NYC and giving these kids access to books is much more important to me than martinis!