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 http://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!

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.

View the best of my Kathmandu, Nepal Photography

Fruit Vendor

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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.

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.

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.

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol. 8
9/8/08

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!

Innocence

Dhal Bhat Days Vol 7
9/5/08

To view snapshots of Barbot – click here! (opens new window)

To view the photography of Nepalese village life – click here! (opens new window)

What the F have I done? Just when I was starting to settle in – I agreed to turn my little village world upside down again. I think the Dhal Bhat is making me crazy. I’m traveling through some of the worst conditions for the past 8 hours. Maybe it is more mental than anything physical, but after the 6th hour of sweating profusely, feeling disgusting, and now trekking in the complete darkness up a trail that I cannot see – I started to cry. You know that feeling, tears welling up in your eyes, throat tightening; on the verge of letting it all lose. However I soon realized that it would get me absolutely nowhere. It wouldn’t even make me feel better. In fact, it would make me feel worse.

It was that moment that I realized I was not on any ‘organized’ trekking outing or tour where there was a leader responsible for taking care of me and my safety; someone that knew tourists were different than locals; our cultures are vastly different. I realized that I had absolutely no choice but to keep going – keep following in the dark. I had surrendered to the fact that when we arrived at our destination there would still be no one to talk to, no shower, no clean clothes, no comfortable bed, no sort of ‘visitor’s welcome’. Instead there would be more people staring at me in an environment where I am a complete oddity.

The Principal and I

Let me back up a bit, the principal of the school in Puma, Naba Raj, invited me to visit his village, Barbot. I was honored by the invite, but I actually had to stop and ponder this for a bit. This was not simply an invite to come across town and have dinner with his family. This was an invite for a journey down the mountain to Besisharha, to a local bus to another town, then yet another trek back up a different mountain. Naba does this every Friday to get to his home and it takes him 3 1/2 hours taking very steep shortcuts that I knew I couldn’t handle. So in my head this was more like a 6 hour journey if I was lucky. To top that off, in some weird way I had just become ‘comfortable’ with my little existence in Puma; the sleeping conditions, the toilet, the food. Did I really want to turn my little village world upside down again? Naba did not speak English very well so I knew that it would be a very solitary trip once again.

I decided to go. I felt like I was up for the challenge and I didn’t really have anything else to do, so what the hell. I decided in the name of photography and the Ottsworld blog I would accept his invitation.

The way to Barbot

I packed something to sleep in, my first aid kit, a pair of flip flops, my sleep sheet, toothbrush, soap, towel, and of course my camera and lenses. I didn’t have hiking boots, and decided to trek in my water sandals since the trails are normally wet and we frequently have to go through streams. These aren’t the ideal shoes to be trekking for 6 hours in, but it was really my only option. I tried to tell Naba that I was very slow and couldn’t walk as fast as him when climbing and descending. The Nepalese are like Kenyan marathon runners; fast beyond my comprehension. They wear cheap, plastic sandals that don’t fit and practically run up and down the steep stone trails that are typically wet and slick. I told him I preferred to stay on the jeep trail when possible as the other trails were the ones the locals used and were simply a vertical incline of stone steps. He obliged and we slowly made it down the mountain to the town of Besisharha. I was exhausted by the time we made it down as the sun was out and it was very hot. My clothes were soaked through with sweat. Naba had to stop at the education office in Besisharha so I simply sat and waited in an office. I found it amusing being inside an ‘office environment’ in a small town in the hills in Nepal. I compared their office with the cubicles that I was so used to in America. There were no computers, instead there were shelves and shelves of binders and stacks of papers. There were a number of ink stamps and a two hole punch that the women would use when they put another set of papers in a binder. I felt like I had stepped back into the 40’s.

We left the office to go catch a bus, but Naba soon learned that there were no buses running any longer due to mudslides. However, that story quickly changed when he talked to other people on the street. Actually, the story seemed to change every few steps, so we went to the bus area and waited. At this point I was at a mental and physical low, I was hot, sunburned, and hungry. I stupidly didn’t pack sunscreen, and I didn’t want to eat as I knew we would be on a bus that would turn my insides upside down; instead I had a coke and tried to imagine the sudden influx of sugar in my system energizing my mind and body. Soon Naba told me to follow him onto a crowded bus. We squeezed into a seat in the back near the window where the sun was beating down. I got out my pashmina and tried to drape it over me so that my sunburn would not get any worse. I squeezed into the back seat with 4 other people and my knees were crammed against the seat in front of me in a very uncomfortable fashion; I could not move an inch of my lower body. I said to Naba “The bus is running?” and he said that we wait here to see if it goes; it could be 2 hours before it leaves. I immediately started a mental panic….2 hours crammed in this seat in the sun going nowhere? I really wasn’t cut out for this. After about 45 minutes and 10 more people cramming on to an already full bus we left. I wasn’t sure if I should be happy or scared…so instead I just tried to shut my eyes and find a happy place. I surrendered in my head; gave up; I was just a puppet at that point and would do and go wherever anyone told me. We kept stopping to pick up more people who sat up on the top of the bus and after 1 ½ hrs of bumpy travel on paths that shouldn’t even have the honor of being called a road – we made it to our destination. Ahhhh – but this was not our final destination; we still had to climb up the mountain again for another 3 hrs.

Curiosity

We took a short break for a coke at a market stand and sat down. A crowd of people gathered outside to see the ‘foreigner’ drink her coke. I was a rather popular attraction and apparently word traveled fast. We took off along the jeep trail again and I felt a bit revitalized; Coke does wonders. After about an hour we stopped at a colorful little village for a break; Naba’s brother lived here so he welcomed us with a glass of milk. I was a bit intestinally apprehensive about drinking the milk, but they had boiled it so I thought that it must be ok. As we sat and drank warm milk, the crowd started to gather to come look at me. I was beginning to get used to this celebrity status. However it was already 5PM and it gets dark around 7PM, so we took off again, however this time there was no jeep road. Instead we had 2 hrs of steep uphill climb ahead of us that I don’t think I was mentally prepared for. I started off ok – but soon I was soaked with sweat, breathing heavy, and blisters had started to form on my feet. After an hour and a half, it started to get dark and that’s when I hit my ultimate low and started to cry as I was following Naba. My tears didn’t last long and Naba was aware of them because I realized that it did me absolutely no good to cry – no one was coming to rescue me, I just had to deal with it.

Naba's House

We arrived at Naba’s house and I dreamed of having a shower, a big hamburger and beer and then falling asleep in a comfortable bed, but I had to settle with washing my feet and hands, changing out of my wet shirt, having rice and beans for dinner, making my way to a new outhouse in the darkness, and then going to bed on a mat with no padding and various rats hanging out in the ceiling above me (thank God for ear plugs). Sleep came fast to me that night…but I can’t say that it was a good, relaxing sleep. The next morning when I could actually see my surroundings, I surveyed the area a bit and then they started coming, the family, the friends, the kids – it was as if I was an attraction at the zoo. They would all come and stare and talk to each other about me. I know they were talking about me because they would all talk a bit, and then look at me, then start talking again and look at me. This didn’t bother me too much, as every so often I would try to ask Naba what they were talking about and he would try to give me an explanation of sorts. I had to accept the fact that I was an oddity to them; this wasn’t a village on the tourist trekking route.

Drying the Dhal

Naba and I spent the day walking from village to village around the area and I was able to photograph much of the daily life. Everyone wanted their photo taken, I was bombarded at times with photo requests. They would laugh in glee when I would show them the photo on the screen as if it were magic. As we would walk around it was as if I were the ice cream truck, everyone would come running. Kids would yell at their parents and soon everyone would come out and take a look at me. Naba had kindly arranged for me to talk with a few of his teaching colleagues that knew English rather well; this was really the nicest ‘gift’ anyone could give me besides a hot shower! These conversations were the highlight of my time there as I was finally able to ask some of the questions that I had been saving up for a couple of days. One man even had a masters degree in English so we talked about Nepali and American culture, politics, the role of women; it was delightful.

Seeing another village and staying with a different family provided me a different perspective. I realized that even in village living there are vast differences in quality of life. If I were giving labels – I would say that the family putting me up in Puma (Didi and Ama) were upper class and the Principal and his wife were middle class. Both well off in Nepali standards and well respected in their small communities; but there were subtle differences that I noticed in food quality, sleeping pads, size of home, clothing, size of kitchen and toilet. Little did I know, but I was living quite the ‘high’ life in Puma.

A beautiful smile

Even though I was enjoying my time in Barbot, there was something nagging me in the back of my mind…how hard was the journey back to Puma going to be. I dreaded the idea of having to do another 8 hr journey up and down the mountain and on a bus that may or may not be running. Naba had suggested that we go a different route back to Puma the next morning; one where it didn’t require a bus or the steep up and down, but the downside was that it would be a longer to trek and he warned me that there would be leaches. Wow…what a toss up….strenuous climbing and bus of death vs. leaches…what to do, what to do? Considering I hate doing the same thing twice – even if it is something that is known, I generally take the new path…so I opted for the leaches. After all, how bad could they be? Naba makes the trek to Puma via leach country in 4 hours, so I mentally prepared myself for a 7 hr. journey for my slow, old body.

The next morning, after many more photos (I seriously think the government of Nepal could employ me to simply go around and take family photos of village communities and make a directory) , we departed. Naba kindly provided me with a walking stick and carried one of my heavy bags. I think he did this in hopes that it would move me along a bit faster! The walk was hot and challenging at times, but I was doing fine and actually enjoying it until we reached the cold side of the mountain. Naba informed me that leaches congregate on the cold side of the mountain…a fact that I never really cared to know before.

Naba, his wife, and I

Sure enough it was as if the leaches could smell the foreign white skinned person plodding slowly along and they took the opportunity to pounce on me. Over the last week I have become a bit more comfortable with the occasional leach – no problem; but 5 at a time did not make me comfortable. It was difficult to keep up any decent pace when I had to constantly stop to pull the leaches off my shoes. Eventually I just gave up and tried not to look at my bloody feet and just keep walking until we got to a clearing where I could take off my shoes and pull them off and try to wash off the blood. After 90 minutes of this, Naba decided to tell me that there is a plant that is supposed to keep leaches away and heal the wounds. He picked some and I happily rubbed it all over my feet and put it in my sandals as he suggested. I would have been willing to pee on my own feet if it would make them go away…so a plant seemed pretty harmless.

We had a final push up a steep section and finally arrived in Balugpani, the village only 30 minutes away from Puma. I was so focused on trying to climb that I didn’t even realize that we were close, but was relieved when I knew that I had actually made it back. As I trekked into Puma, I was greeted by my students who came running to me to say hello – a ‘welcome home’ of sorts. It actually felt good to get back to my familiar surroundings and see familiar faces in this small foreign village. A feeling that took me completely by surprise.

Nepalese Shower

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol. 6
9/4/08

I think it’s happening – I’m settling into my travel life a bit more. I’m not fighting all of the change as much, and starting to accept. However, the key to all of this was to have some people to talk to. Today was a good day – I actually found some English speaking folks in the next village (about 30 min. walk away). At last, some conversation; it’s just what the doctor ordered! The Principal of the Puma primary school where I teach offered to take me over to the secondary school in Balungpani. I decided that I was up for an adventure, so I agreed to go along.

However, I started my day by finally overcoming my confusion and ‘fear’ of going to the public bathing area in the village to finally clean up a bit. I was feeling very gross after 3 days and I really couldn’t take it any longer. Luckily there is only one small 5×7 mirror in the house I am living in – so I don’t have to look at myself too often. I took my soap, shampoo, bucket, and towel up to the bathing and washing area and simply did the best I could dressed in running shorts and a tank top. I have no idea if I offended people or not – but at least I had clean hair – which improved my mood at least twofold. By the time I finished bathing I had a whole crowd of people watching me which felt a little strange, but I’m starting to get used to being the entertainment of the village.

When I came back to the house Didi had brought me a lungi, a traditional Nepalese wrap skirt, for me to wear today. She also came and provided me with a Hindu blessing placing some red coloring and rice on my forehead. She basically dressed me all up and sent me off to school. Even though Didi and I can’t communicate too much, we have been getting by and I feel like my presence here is certainly welcomed.

My goofy boys!

Today I taught the kids about body parts, and at recess I taught them hop scotch and we did a round of hokie pokie once I figure out what right and left was in Nepali. I personally think that the goofier I act the more the kids like me – they seem to get a kick out of the goofy foreigner with blonde (clean) hair. After school today the principle and I went for a trek to the next village where I was able to get the best therapy anyone could offer…actual English conversation…full sentences at last!!! The principle of the secondary school in Balungpani was a dream come true to me – he was fluent in English and we sat and talked about all the questions that had been burning inside of me for the last week. He drank tea and I had a Coke…oh joy; my first coke in a week! I think I was high from the sugar rush and the conversation! We even talked about politics. It was rather amazing that in a village with sporadic electricity he had seen Obama’s acceptance speech and I hadn’t. Once again – I was reminded that the rest of the world loves the US democratic party. He was pro-Obama all the way.

He took me on a tour of the secondary school and I was very impressed with what they had been able to do there thanks to many donations from various organizations. It was exactly what I needed to see – things that made a difference. It sort of renewed me in a way. They had just built a new 2 story building thanks to donations from the UK.

Balungpani Secondary School - Built with Donations

The principal, Bill, had networking down to a science; he did a great job of raising money for his school. The secondary school was attended by kids over the age of 10 from many villages around the area. Puma kids went there after they were 10 yrs of age. There was another volunteer there from the UK teaching English for a week. He was young and going back to University in a week, but I can’t tell you how elated I was to talk to a native English speaker – someone to sort of commiserate with. I literally felt like I was tripping over my words I was so excited!

Me at the village 'stoop' with my constant crowd of onlookers. This is what it's like to be Angelina Jolie - kid's everwhere! PS - yes - I know the picture is blurry...but I had to try to teach someone to use 'the magjic' (how they referred to my camera)!

We came back to Puma and hung out on the stoop in the village (a lookout area that you can see down the mountain over the rice fields; the gathering place for people to sit and talk). In some strange way I was starting to feel as if I was myself again in this strange environment. I was interacting with people on various levels and that’s what was most important to me. Later that evening Didi and I looked through her pictures of her family and had our typical choppy conversation. However, it is to get easier now.

As much as I hate this process of reconditioning myself, I also love it. The rewards are plenty.

Barber of Barbot

I thought I would give you all a break from the writing and present my photography from the villages I visited. This is the ‘best of’ the village photography.

 View my Nepal Village Photography at my Global Photography website!

Fee free to browse around and remember that I sell these prints!  If you are at all interested in adding some art to your walls, or simply supporting me, please click on that shopping cart!

Kids of Puma

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol. 5
9/3/08

I hit a low today. I think it was due to many different things; but what affects me the most is not being able to have any type of conversation with anyone. I’m not simply sitting here silent – I am trying to form together a few words whenever I can, but it is very hard to get a question out or a sentence out when you really just know the words for rain, good, small, big, eat, house, leach, you, my, tomorrow, mother, sister, father, I and water. Great if I want to say “you eat tomorrow” or “I eat leach” or “mother rain water”…but you can’t do much more than that with my limited Nepalese vocabulary. I’ve been writing down my questions in the hopes that when someone does come by that knows any English, I can start to ask them all of my questions.

The day started like normal, I woke up to the sounds of a rooster and the smell of cow shit. As a side note, I think that me having to sleep over the cow barn is the universe’s way of payback. When I was a kid, we’d take family vacations and when we went by cow barns, I would profess to love the smell of the cow barn. I would sniff loudly and say how good it smelled; leaving my brother and sister utterly disgusted. Actually I’m sure that I didn’t really like the smell – but what I did like is that it pissed my brother and sister off. When you are the youngest you will do anything to make your brother and sister mad. If they liked something, I didn’t. If they hated something, I liked it. So, I hope my brother and sister are reading this as they should be happy now that karma has come my way in the village of Puma as I sleep over the smelly cow stall.

Children in the village

I got up and went to the bathroom as my bladder was about to burst since I would push my bladder to the limit by not getting up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Else I would have to go outside in the pouring rain, pitch dark, and brave the leaches and huge spider; instead I would just hold it. I went to the outhouse and spotted Charlotte (I had to give the spider a name so it would seem less intimidating), and that’s when I noticed that Charlotte had invited a friend into her home (my bathroom) –another huge spider. Seriously – was I being tested? So I named this one Wilbur and did my business. I remembered to check my feet for leaches afterward and washed up a bit.

My intention today was to finally take a ‘shower’. However this wasn’t as easy as one would think. First, with no plumbing, there is no shower. Instead there is a pubic wash area where the water flows. Everyone goes to this area and washes clothes, their bodies, and gather water for their home in huge metal jugs. You can imagine my concern when I was trying to figure out exactly how to go about this public bath. Do you bath with your clothes on? Did you ‘shower’ under the spout or take a bucket with you and do the ‘bucket shower’? Is there a line? What is the bathing etiquette? I had millions of questions but no way to really ask them. Sure, I tried charades, but that didn’t get me too far. So I decided to go one more day without a shower in the hopes that I would find someone that I could ask my questions to. I put on some baby powder instead.

I taught all day today and it went fine, yet it was challenging as usual as the kids vary in their abilities. Plus they are like me learning Nepali; they know vocabulary words, but don’t know how to put them together in a sentence. They love to watch me and mimic me though; that can be hours of fun. After school I said goodbye to the kids and arrived back at my house and hit a low. I sat there and was completely frustrated that I couldn’t talk to anyone in a complete sentence. Plus, what seems to piss me off more is that every time I am trying to recall a word in Nepalese, the Italian word pops into my head. Hell, I couldn’t seem to remember the Italian when I was trying to learn Italian a year ago, but now it seems to just come back to me – when it does me absolutely no good. In fact I lay awake at night and think of a bunch of Italian words and I can normally remember them with ease. I think my brain is misfiring.

Didi's Nephew

After trying once again to have the conversation with Didi about the ‘public’ shower and how to go about it, I was defeated. I had decided that I would wear my running shorts and jog bra up there if I had to and figure out how to do it regardless. As the night began to fall, two kids came over to the house. They were older teenagers and nicely dressed. Didi explained that the kids were her niece and nephew (when I say explained…I mean more like somehow said the word sister and kid and I put together the rest). This was her way of providing me some answers to my charade questions. She had her niece and nephew come by who knew more English then she did. After all, the youth of the world typically know more English then their elders. It wasn’t as if conversation easily flowed – but we got through it and I have a better idea of how to go about bathing now. In addition I was able to get through a number of other questions that I had such as will the spider in the bathroom pounce on me? They assured me that the spider will not bite me. However, the most important thing is that for the first time, I was having a conversation – and I could laugh and feel a bit human again. Thank god for youth.

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol. 4
9/2/08

For snapshots of Puma – click here!

It rained last night like I’ve never experienced before in my life. I now understand the meaning of Monsoon season. Sure, maybe it was amplified in my mind as it sounds worse when you are sleeping under a tin roof; it echoed through my little barn room as if someone was dumping gravel from above. At one point I did actually consider that the whole mountain might float away. It was better to think of that rather than the huge spider that I saw above my bed before I fell asleep.

The rain means more leaches, which somehow like to attach to me. It’s kind of like how bees seems to flock to one person…I am the leach magnet; I think I am also the laughing stock of the village because of it. Or maybe the leaches just like my lily white skin. I must have gotten this one when I got up and went out to the outhouse bathroom. I was so concerned about the huge spider that lives out there that I must not have paid attention to the leaches…priorities. I know, I know – you are probably wondering why a person that is not comfortable with spiders is living in a remote village in Nepal. I’m comfortable with regular spiders – not huge hairy spiders in my ‘bathroom’ the size of my hand and lightening fast. I mean really – is anyone comfortable with that? Yes…the people in the village Puma are.

Ama

Most of my day is spent observing. Since I can’t really effectively communicate with anyone here, that pretty much just leaves observation. Yet the observations leave me with many questions unanswered. Sometimes I will take 20 minutes to simply try to look up how to ask a simple question like “Who is that woman” or “What is in all of the jugs”. But most of all, it has left me with questions about Didi (older sister in Nepalese and Hindi). Didi is name I call the woman who is boarding me. I don’t really know her name, as people don’t really use names here much. I do know that she has the largest house in the village, she is the village community chairperson, is clearly well respected among all, and she lives with her mother, Ama (mother in Nepalese). She also has 1 dog, 1 little skinny kitten that I’m in love with, 2 water buffalo (that’s very impressive in village culture), and 5 chickens. She’s amassed quite a good life here in Puma.

Did in traditional Gurung Dress

Didi speaks very little English, but we get by when we have to. I am unable to have long conversations with her, but we have exchanged the sentences such as “Are you married?”
”No, I am not married” I said
“I not married” she said. She then asked me “Why no married?”
Oh how I could write a book on this answer….but I had to remember my audience…she didn’t know English words or concepts like “independence”, “freedom”, “waiting to find the right person”. So instead I said “Me no like marriage”. I asked her “Why you no married?”
She replied, “Me no like marriage” and laughed as we had found some sort of bond in our lack of ability to hold a conversation.

This specific exchange left me with many additional questions that I wanted to ask, but could not. This is one of the first women I have met in Asia within a rural area that is clearly powerful, smart, independent and isn’t married. So the obvious question is why doesn’t she like marriage? I’m absolutely fascinated with this. She is a very strong woman – the other night she heard a rat in the kitchen and got a pipe and went looking for it by candle light. I was a bit intimidated.

Baby Doll

When I travel I get asked if I am married all of the time; when I say no, the next question is ALWAYS “Why?” I’m left trying to explain that my parents haven’t abandoned me and that in Western culture it isn’t that unusual to be unmarried. People always look at me as if I am a lost cause and they still blame my parents for not trying to find me a mate. On top of all of this shocking discovery, I found out that she also doesn’t like babies as evidenced by her carrying a big stick and waving it at the kids to go away. I can only imagine what the kids think of her! So, I have finally encountered someone from an Asian culture that isn’t married and doesn’t want kids, but I’m left here dying to know more. How the tables have turned.

Putting aside relationship status, there are many other observations that I have taken in. I have determined that even though there are bugs, rats, leaches, and the ‘houses’ are a step above a shack in our western eyes; the women here keep the place spotless. They spend a great deal of time cleaning up…which is quite a feat considering there is no running water in the house. They have to walk up the mountain to get to the water (a waterfall) and then fill big metal containers that weigh at least 30 pounds and they carry them on a basket on their back with a strap around their forehead which bares all of the weight. There is a whole system to the water usage that I’ve started to figure out. What they use for drinking and what they use for washing are different. The water inventory is closely watched and it’s clearly first in first out. I’ve tried to figure out a method to the way they wash the plates, glasses, pots and pans – it is so thorough and it involves at least 3 different pots of water that all seem the same to me but leaves me thinking that they must be different. Regardless I know that the items are clean even though they aren’t using soap. They sweep the house at least 4 times a day and no shoes are allowed past the porch.

So I continue to observe and slowly try to form sentences that ask burning questions that aren’t open ended. It’s amazing how long the days are when all you do it sit around and observe.

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol 3
8/31/08

Stairway

Snapshots from this day of the journey can be found here!

Photography from Nepalese Villages – click here!

Today I arrived at the village of Puma where I will be staying for 2 weeks. It’s pretty much what I thought it would be in my ‘prepare for the worst’ expectations. Yet I don’t know that one can ever be prepared to pull big leaches off their body.

Khadgo leading me to Puma

We got up early in Besisharha And Khadgo went to inquire about taking a Jeep to the village of Puma – up in the mountains about 1 hour away by Jeep. “The road to Puma is very poor.” This is what Khadgo told me, and he’s Nepalese; when a Nepalese person says something is bad – then it is worse than bad in my mind. We wouldn’t even call it a drivable road in America. With all of the mud slides and rain from the previous day, he wasn’t sure if the Jeep could even make it through. He came back to me while I was eating breakfast and broke the news to me – the Jeeps can’t make it through, we would have to hike to Puma. This was ok with me for three reasons; I would have been terrified of being a passenger anyway as the ‘road’ was steep and narrow, I thought the exercise would be good for me as I love to trek, and I wasn’t in any hurry to arrive at the village due to all of my fears about being there anyway.

Unfortunately, if I had known this, I might have packed a little differently…like much, much lighter! I took my big pack and Khadgo took my other two packs with computer and camera and we took off. I loved the trekking. It was definitely challenging as I’ve never had to carry a pack that big while trekking before. Normally porters carry the bags, but I was my own porter today.

The home of my hosts in Puma

It took us 3 ½ hours to make it up the mountain to the Puma village. The last part of the hike we went through muddy/watery rice fields as a ‘short cut’. That is when it happened…the leaches. I of course didn’t know this until I took off my sandals after we arrived at my guest house. I had 3 big leaches and 2 small ones on my feet. I pretty much freaked out. They told me that there could be leaches here, and I’ve had them before, but they’ve been small, not like these big ones that were happily attached to me. I tried to stay calm, but I’m sure that the panic on my face was a give away that this is something that didn’t happen regularly in NYC to me. In NYC I just go for pedicures, the little pedicure ladies are the only ones that touch my feet – not leaches.

Khadgo quickly took his chewing tobacco (unused) and put it on the leaches and then he pulled them off. See, I learned something today – if you want to remove a leach, have chewing tobacco, they come off much easier and less painfully than pulling them off. Apparently salt and lemon also work. Tuck that info in your survival handbook just in case you find yourself in a similar situation. After they were pulled off blood started gushing everywhere…those little suckers work fast. Seriously, I’ve never had something bleed so much before. It’s worse than nicking yourself shaving – it’s like they drill into a vein or something! We cleaned it off with water that is undrinkable for me, and the situation was handled.

The walk to my outhouse

The house that I was staying in was big in village terms. But for those of you out there reading this, it wouldn’t be a house to you, so don’t get some vision that it has 2 bathrooms, carpeting, and a living room. Instead it is a concrete/mud structure with a porch that you sit on, an outdoor fire pit and an indoor fire pit (2 kitchens…practically a mansion) and an upstairs room where the family sleeps. It has electricity, but no plumbing. The women fetch water from the many waterfalls around the village. The ‘bathroom’ is an outhouse with a squat toilet and a bucket of water. Overall, there were no big surprises to me, until I went into the outhouse and saw the HUGE spider that is also in the outhouse. There’s nothing better than doing your business in the dark a huge spider to jump on you. Can I just give up now?

Trust me – I did consider giving up…but there was no real way to do that either…so I had to survive and go on.

My room above the buffalos

My room is not in the main house, in fact I have a little room all to myself just off of the house; over the cow stable. Can you imagine the smell? It also has a host of spiders in it, after all, it is a barn. I’ve tried my best to make peace with all of the spiders; they have their space and I have mine. Hopefully we won’t intrude on each others space; .at least I pray that’s the case. The room isn’t too bad, you get used to the smell and honestly it’s about what I was expecting. Yet when I woke up in the middle of the night and heard the rats, I started wearing ear plugs after that.

What I wasn’t expecting is that there is no one here to speak English with at all. According to my volunteer company, there was supposed to be a man that lived in the village that is to be my ‘contact’. A person that can speak some English and looks in on me, answers questions, is my contact back to the modern world, etc. However, I got here today and we found out that his father-in-law has taken ill so he is away and no one knows when he will be back.

My Spider...I won't miss her...

After depositing me with my ‘host family’ Khadgo had to leave me. So here I am – all alone with no way to communicate. When Khadgo left I had to fight back tears as I really felt like I was being abandoned. Sure the woman and her mother that I would be living with seemed nice for the 5 minutes I spent with them, but they didn’t speak English and I was all alone up here on the hill – 3 ½ hrs from any sort of civilization. I felt like I was about 7 years old again; completely helpless. Before he departed, Khadgo said that if there is an emergency that I can call on the family’s cell phone. I talked myself out of the tears, I had to. My image of myself was coming crashing down, and I couldn’t let it plummet any further; I couldn’t give up, that’s not who I am.

Before Khadgo left, he took me on a quick walk around the village where we went to go see the school. The school is very minimal and there are about 20 children in all. The principle at the school speaks minimal English and the other two teachers speak even less. I’m not at all clear on how the school operates and what and when they want me to teach, but that’s my cross to bear tomorrow. Today was just for learning how to remove leaches…one day at a time, one day at a time.

Dhal Bhat Days – Vol. 2
8/30/08

For snapshots of the muddy journey – click here!

Mudslides abound

Today was the day the surrender happened; surrendering to my new environment. I believe this to be the first surrender, I think there will be many more. I met my ‘guide’ Khadgo in the morning in Kathmandu and we set out to go catch a ‘minibus’ to the village of Puma an approximate 6 hr journey. Khadgo was not really my guide, but more of the delivery man. He was supposed to deliver me to the village and then leave. We went to the ‘bus area’ of Kathmandu which was really more of a mud pit with various size buses and minivans packed full of people way beyond any safe capacity limit. I realized that this I was going to be riding one of these mini-vans and that sort of put the fear of God in me. I hadn’t quite made the transition to easy going vagabond yet – that honestly takes a few weeks after coming out of a comfortable Western culture…but I was getting the crash course in culture shock over the last two jet-lagged days and I had to stop fighting it. Khadgo negotiated a place for us to sit in the back of the minivan. He told me to sit by an open window as fresh air had to help in this situation. These are the mini-vans that I had sense tons of times around the world; Africa, Malaysia, Indonesia, Morocco, and India. The vans that were crammed full of people (and sometimes livestock) with people peering out at me riding in my taxi; looking at me as if they were begging me for help silently saying “Get me out of here please” with their eyes. Now I was going to be one of them.

Polluted Travel

In any western culture, this van was not meant to seat more than10 people max. We started with 15 people in the van. Granted – this van shouldn’t have even been running by western standards…bellowing out black smoke, clunking in idle as if a bolt were rattling around somewhere, no shocks, and I just prayed the breaks worked. The only thing that I knew worked for sure was the horn…the horn always works because you couldn’t even get out of the parking lot without a horn in Nepal.

By the 3rd stop there were 18 passengers. Then just when you thought there is no way they can fit more people in this death trap, we stopped again and let two more people in …and a refrigerator. I’m not kidding, they hoisted a medium size refrigerator on top and secured it down along with the other luggage up there (including my backpack). I had my camera and my small backpack with my computer in the van on my lap and Khadgo’s lap. So – with 20 people in the van, me in the far back corner of the van head out of the window and high on Dramamine…we took off. The driver, a young Nepalese boy, thought that he was in Nascar. In between dozing off (thanks god for Dramamine) and being painfully lucid, I watched the boy act as if he were Luke Duke driving the General Lee at breakneck speeds. We were going around hair pin turns so fast and hard that he would hang his head and upper body out the window when he was turning right and then move his whole body left when he was turning left. I think it was an upper body workout for him; the passengers were bobble head dolls. We’d weave in and out of oncoming traffic narrowly avoiding other trucks and buses. Don’t think that he was the only one doing this…this is how everyone drives.

My vantage point in my microbus

At one point there was a murmur on the bus and Khadgo leaned over and told me that a truck just went over the side of the mountain…I said “What?!”, hoping that I had lost something in translation. He proceeded to point to the area of the plummeting truck as we rounded another turn. You could easily look across and see that a huge truck just plummeted to it’s death. I told Khadgo “Please don’t tell me this stuff, it freaks me out.” I took another Dramamine hoping to drug myself enough to get through this ride. I thought about my family and friends and said a silent goodbye just in case though.

Muddy crossing

All I could do was laugh…this was my first surrender; surrendering my patience. I strangely was ok with all of this (maybe because it was safer than riding in the minivan), or maybe I had just realized that this is what happens in developing countries…you just have to roll with it. Nothing is surprising, or out of the ordinary, you just have to be patient and let things happen.

Unfortunately I wasn’t really dressed or packed for a 5k trekking outing in which we would have to be wading through water, mud, and rocks. I rolled up my pant legs, changed into my water sandals, and strapped on my 50 pound pack (including camera), and we took off. All I can say is that it is a good thing that I am moderately in shape else it would have been a disaster.

We walked for an hour and a half through mud, waterfalls, rocks; about 6 different mud slides in all. I was drenched with sweat and hungry, but I didn’t want to eat anything for fear of getting ill in the next bus. So I settled on a coke and we kept going until we reached the buses at the other side. It was a pilgrimage of sorts and we had made it.

View from Besishahar - Puma is up there on the mountain in the clouds

We reached Besishahar about 3 hours after we had originally anticipated therefore we were unable to go any further to the village that night – we had to stay in Besishahar. After I had a shower and a beer, I felt good about the day. I felt like it was my first step to surrendering to my surroundings. Yet I knew there would be many more steps to come as I was still terrified about staying in the village. But at least I was one step closer to coping with it all. I lost a bit of ‘America’ today – and that was good; that’s exactly what needs to happen for me to get through these 2 weeks here.

 Dhal Bat Days -  Vol. 1

8/30/08

New Cultures

Oh my God – what have I done? I kind of feel like it’s my first week at college again where I miss my friends and my comfortable life and wonder how the hell I’m ever going to make it.

I arrived in Kathmandu after 27 hours of travel from NYC to Nepal…My body and mind felt like mush, on top of it I had cramps.  I was excited to be in a new country again – yet a bit intimidated to be doing this all by myself.  When I left on my around the world travel 2 years ago, I left with a group of friends who I could talk to and in some way that could comfort me and ease me into the solo adventure.  Plus – I went to a country where I was taken care of by a friend who lived there; once again preparing me gently for what was to come.  It was a nice transition. 

However, this transition was anything but nice; in fact the whole thing has been terrifying to me.  Maybe I got to cocky and thought that I was tougher than I really am.  Maybe I got too soft in the US where life is easy.  I’m not sure what it was but this transition has knocked me on my ass and has left me freaking out thinking “What have I done?”   Going from shiny, bright, clean, NYC, the epitome of western culture, to Kathmandu Nepal felt as if I had left this planet and traveled light years away. Nepal is like India. I’m not sure why I hadn’t realized that before I stepped off the plane, but I didn’t. I was thinking that it might be a bit more developed than India…but trust me – it isn’t. In fact, in some ways – it’s harder than India. Delhi had pockets of calm and of places you could go to get some western pampering…but I’ve yet to find anything like that here…then again I haven’t been looking too hard either I suppose. The streets are terrible and the traffic is crazy – beyond crazy; trying to walk down the muddy ‘street’ is a death wish. It’s monsoon season so it’s muddy and wet and you share the road with bikes, people, motorcycles, cars, buses, cows – it’s a massive mess where every step is possible death – or at the very least a severe injury. I remember India like this, but for some reason it seemed a bit more civilized there – maybe because there seemed to be more open space. Here it’s a 1 ½ lane road surrounded by buildings with no where to go to get out of the way. It’s dirty, it smells, I have no hot water, I’m just waiting to get sick, the bed is a foam pad. Sure, I’ve dealt with all of these things before, but not after I had spent 8 months of easy living in America. I had normally come from one bad condition to another…so it never seemed that shocking before. This time I was shocked.

Holy Men

I all of a sudden was flooded with memories of what I left behind and thought why did I do this to myself? I’m all alone in a challenging situation and regret starts slipping into my head….but I can’t let it….yet it really, really wants in.

I met with the man that runs the volunteer organization. I knew this would be very different from my last volunteer experience. When I volunteered in India with a US organization, I knew I would be taken care of well, doted on even – after all – the cost was $3000 – which was really because they had staff to completely support us. This volunteer stint that I as doing in Nepal was $340 – so I knew that you get what you pay for…and I thought I could handle that. Yet now I’m really wondering if I can. Once again – on top of it all I am reminded that I’m on my own, which can make a difficult situation ever more difficult. Let’s just say that there isn’t much support here…it’s ok while I’m in Kathmandu, but once I get to this village – I’m terrified. In fact, the more I hear about the village I get even more terrified. I think I‘m tough – but I am currently doubting that right now as I sit in my lonely room awake thanks to jet lag.

In the ‘orientation’ that I was put through, I learned that I will be eating rice and beans every day for 2 weeks; a type of real life Survivor. They told me that I should expect to get sick at some point too thanks to all of the new bacteria waiting to invade my virgin western stomach. In order to get to the village, there is a jeep that runs but the road is quite poor and steep; they told me that if I was scared, I should just tell the jeep to stop and I could get out and walk. First I should learn the Nepali word for ‘stop’ I suppose. Oh yeah – and I also found out that there will be a community bathing area in which I will need to bath in front of everyone from a large bucket of cold water. Then I was informed that the village that I will be living in has many leaches, but I simply have to pull them off. Mind you, leaches were never in the brochure. Yet, maybe the most terrifying thing to me is that I will be completely shut off from the outside world. No internet, no friends, nobody to converse with in English. My two days of Nepali language class while I was severely jet-lagged isn’t going to get me through any meaningful conversation besides ‘my name is Sherry’.

On top of this – I have to figure out how to teach…I honestly don’t know what to worry about more, eating beans and rice for 15 days, bathing in front of everyone, leaches, having diarrhea, falling off a cliff, or teaching kids everyday. It’s all a toss up.

Bhuddist Prayer Wheel

I’ve been trying to remind myself that the first few days in a new country/city are always like this – very shocking and very scary; but eventually you get used to it and ease into it. It never seems as bad as it first did when you arrived. So I’m really hoping that that feeling takes hold and this immense load of worry that I’m carrying on my shoulders goes away. I know that at some point your brain just gives up and resets itself – much like when I was climbing Kilimanjaro. You stop fighting it and just give in to your surroundings. Unfortunately, I haven’t stopped swinging yet…

This whole process has made me totally forget about my fears of Vietnam for now, yet it is there in the back of my head. What if I can’t live like this? What do I do?

To top things off tonight, I wanted to get some stories posted that I had been working on – and I wanted to check email before going into the hell that I have subjected myself to. Little did I know – there’s a daily power outage in Kathmandu and as I was writing my email to my friend in the hopes of feeling better getting some of this off of my chest – the power goes out and the whole city is black. I am writing this by candle light right now. My cell phone doesn’t work – and the fact that I’m completely cut off makes me want to cry; but I won’t. Why won’t my brain just give in? Maybe it would if there was someone to talk to about all of this…to laugh about it…to commiserate with…but there is no one. Just me and this keyboard. Instead – I didn’t even get to feel like I could say goodbye for two weeks. I just hope that I persevere and make it though.