Some Final Shenanigans

It was a slow but still eventful final week in Kathmandu. Mostly, the week passed hanging out with volunteers and eating delicious food. But I don’t want to bore you with details. There are three main events that took place that I think are worthy of blog-posting, so here they are.

My uncle Lelei happens to know multiple people from every country. It was of no surprise to me when he sent me the email address of a man named Christian who worked for UNICEF in Kathmandu. Christian sent me an email asking me if I wanted to go “hashing” with him on Saturday afternoon. I tentatively accepted, quite unsure if this person Lelei had set me up with had a drug problem.

I had little to worry about. Christian and a friend picked me up and we drove to the north rim of the Kathmandu valley and parked amongst a bunch of other cars. Apparently two guys from the hashing group had made a trail of finely shredded paper dots earlier that morning. We were split up into two groups, walkers and runners depending on personal preference, and then were to follow the trail. There were false trails set up, and check points where the path could go multiple directions and we would have to scout which way the real path went. So for two and a half hours we were bushwhacking up and down hillsides, through rice paddies and random back roads. By the time we had followed the paper trail back to the cars, I was exhausted and extremely dehydrated.

BUT, there was beer to be drunk. A BIG cooler of it too. I thought it would all be casual consumption, controlling your intake and such, but I was wrong. Since I was a “hashing virgin” I had to be initiated. So I stood in the middle of the circle with two golden/brass mugs filled to the brim with beer, one in each hand to keep my hands out of my pockets, and was interrogated about where I was from, what I was doing in Nepal and World Cup football. Then, while the circle of about thirty people sang and chanted, I had to drink the beer in my hands…all of it. Anything remaining went on my head.

Needless to say, by the time I was dropped off in Thamel to meet up with volunteers for dinner, I was well on my way and waved sloppily to Christian as he drove off. That’s what you get for not drinking at all in Nepal…and then chugging the equivalent of 5 or so beers after 2.5 hours of running and dehydration. On the bright side, Christian ended up being extremely nice, and as I found out, he didn’t have a drug problem at all, just possibly a minor drinking one. But let’s be honest, who doesn’t?

The second event to be noted was rice planting. Since it is the “monsoon season,” there are lots of little festivals for the planting of rice, since it occurs during this time of year. A group of us volunteers went out to help a family plant their rice. We probably did more harm than good. Since there was no rain (the monsoon is very late this year) we were pumping water from a well with a generator. The generator, like most things in Nepal, broke, so then we were confronted with the task submerging the entire paddy in several inches of water manually. Then the well ran out of water. So we just had a big mud fight. Literally, faces pushed in mud, bodies tackled, all out mud wars. It was awesome. Oh, and we planted a couple rice seedlings in a small area that had been successfully watered.

Then our director Sajani suggested we go rinse off in the river. The “river” ended up being an 18-inch wide cement canal with a little water running through it. We didn’t get very clean, but the family still treated us all to a Nepali meal for our efforts in the field. I felt a little guilty eating it.

The third and final event worth noting was a Fourth of July festival that I attended on the third of July here, so the second of July in the States? It was at the American Club…an extension of the Embassy. All you had to do was show your American passport and you were allowed past the massive walls with barbed wire and armed guards.

The grounds were clean and very westernized. There was a huge grass field with a baseball diamond and a soccer goal. Two large tents of red, white and blue provided ample space for people to eat and drink in the comfort of shade. There was a full-fledged BBQ going on: hamburgers, potato salad, the works. My friend Jerene and I got ice cream (which is never really good in Nepal, not much flavor and always half melted when you buy it, but hey, it was the Fourth) and wandered around talking to other people. I was amazed at how many families there were and how American they looked. Little kids in American flag dresses, women with the ridiculously patriotic looking broaches and hats and men with beer in their hands. It was interesting to hear what these people were doing in Nepal and see that they were actually raising a family in this place.

Jerene and I were not too old to get our faces painted, henna tattoos on our hands, enjoy a watermelon-eating contest and play some Frisbee. It was a very different way to celebrate the Fourth of July. I would have much preferred the Columbia River back home as usual…and fireworks…but it was an experience all the same.

Well, now I’m in the Hong Kong airport on a layover and headed back home! It is technically the Fourth of July now back home, so I think I will treat myself to a REAL hamburger (those don’t exist in Nepal) and a beer from Burger King. Yes, the Burger King here sells beer. It’s awesome.

Thanks for following the blog, hope you got some enjoyment out of it! Maybe you all want to travel to Nepal now? Maybe you don’t want to travel to Nepal anymore? Either way, can’t wait to see you all back in the grand state of Washington.

Into the Himalayas

Finally back from trekking and glad to say that I survived my walk in the woods with minimal diarrhea, only three leeches (one of which I had to remove with an open flame), and only a few blisters. It was an amazing experience that was totally different from anything else I had done thus far in Nepal.

Pokhara is a beautiful city that is about an 8 hour bus ride (although only 200km, maybe) northwest of Kathmandu. It is in the mountains on a lake and jutting above the green hillsides at a vertical height much higher than expected, strut the majestic Himalayan peaks. I can’t describe them any other way, besides the fact that they were absolutely MASSIVE. And I’ve grown up around mountains, so these must be impressive.

We spent a few nights in Pokhara, meeting with our guides, packing, and buying things for the trek. I hiked up a small mountain as a “warm-up” the day before we left to a big, white, Peace Pagota/statue that overlooked all of Pokhara, the lake, and the surrounding hills and mountains. Some little boys tried to guide us up to the top and then demanded money. They got very angry when we only gave them water and sunscreen. Little kids can be scary in groups.

Our planned trek was to do the left half of the famous Anapurna Circuit. This would take us up into the Lower Mustang area, with terrain and culture very similar to that of Tibet. Coming back, I was planning on going off for two extra days of trekking with one of the guides to go into the mountains more (instead of around them) and see the view of the Anapurna range from the famous Poon Hill.

DAY 1: We were planning on bussing to our starting point and getting in about 4-5 hours of trekking this day, but our bus broke down. We were stranded in a hot, dusty town called Kusma for over 3 hours. This was really trying on our Nepali patience. We ended having to bus all the way into the town we were originally planning to hike into due to the delay and the fading daylight (for this half of the circuit, there are really bumpy dirt roads connecting most of the towns. The Anapurna circuit is not a very secluded place. There is even a little airport in one town along the way). The ride into Ghasa that night was pretty terrifying. The old bus bounced precariously close to the steep, eroding cliff sides that dropped about one hundred plus feet into a milky, churning river below. Even as the darkness settled in, the bus driver kept the pedal to the metal and only used his headlights sparingly to save on electricity. We were laughing, we were so nervous. Alex made a comment, “My butt is still sweaty and it’s not even hot out anymore!”

DAY 2-3: We made our way up north from Ghasa towards Muktinath, our final destination in the Lower Mustang area. The surroundings changed dramatically from lush green valley to the dry, treeless, sculpted mountains of the Lower Mustang. We saw peaks called Machhapuchhre (meaning Fishtail), Dhaulageri (only a couple hundred meters shorter than Everest) and Niligiri. Our usual routine consisted of rising at 6am for some Tibetian bread and then trekking until 11 for a dhal baat lunch on the trail. We would usually arrive at the next tea house by 3pm and spend the remaining hours of the day reading, writing and playing cards. Not a bad life.

DAY 4-5: We arrived in Muktinath in the middle of the fourth day of trekking. That morning, we gained about 1,000 meters in elevation, so for the second half of the hike, we were instructed to go slowly to avoid headaches. We were now at 3,800 meters. I did feel myself loose my breath a little faster, and my legs burned much more easily. We spent the second half of the day acclimatizing.

Muktinath is famous for it’s temple on the hillside above the town. It is a green oasis of trees surrounded by a white, stonewall on the brown hillside. There are Buddhist monasteries and Hindu temples within the grounds. Buddha’s parents were Hindu, so this “combining” of the two religions is not uncommon. In fact, the monks of this temple promote the “coming together” of the two religions. That afternoon, we witnessed a procession of monks and pilgrims carrying fire and chanting as they marched down from the temple through the town of Muktinath. A local told us they did this once every couple of months and it was to honor all religions and the procession would go from town to town and bless people wishing to be blessed.

We stayed for the fifth day in Muktinath. We hiked up to the temple and bought cheap strings and trinkets to take into the Hindu temples and bless. Our guides did this for us, as we didn’t feel comfortable going into the temple while people were praying, and we didn’t know the proper praying rules and techniques. When they emerged from the temple, they gave us the blessed bracelets and necklaces for good luck.

While we wandered around the grounds, we came across 108 showers on three walls forming a nearly complete rectangle. The water from each shower was spouting out of stone dragonheads and it was ice cold. 108 is a significant number in Buddhism. When you walk around Buddhist stupas and pray, you carry a necklace of 108 prayer beads and move one for each lap you complete. 108 pops up all the time in Buddhism. We took water from each shower with our right hand and touched it to our foreheads for purify or cleanse our soul of any sins. The water was so cold; I had a genuine brain freeze by the time we got to number 108.

After we left the temple/monasteries, we hiked up towards the Thorong-La pass. This is the pass people have to come over when they are doing the whole Anapurna Circuit. It gets up to an elevation of about 5,300 meters. We hiked to a little above 4,000 meters for the day and then turned around and spent the rest of the day doing little hikes around Muktinath.

DAY 6-7: We headed back the route we had come up via jeep and bus. We spent the whole 6^th day getting back to Ghasa this way (the village we started in). On day 7 we hiked down to Tatopani (“tato” means “hot” and “pani” means “water,” so you can guess that there were some natural hot springs here). The hot springs were ridiculously hot, but it was nice until a bunch of local Nepali’s came and were just staring (about half of Nepali men have a terrible habit of staring at white women shamelessly. This is why we rarely wear shorts, and this situation was particularly uncomfortable because we were in swimsuits).

DAY 8: Kaji, one of our guides, and I hit the trial by 6:30am and spent a grueling 6 hours hiking up about 1,600 meters to the village of Ghorepani. “Ghore” means “horse,” so this town literally meant “horse water.” Kaji explained this was because back in the days when there were no roads from Tibet to Nepal, traders traveled on horses to and from the countries and always stopped in Ghorepani. We stayed in a nice teahouse with a beautiful view of the valley we had just hiked up. We saw some peaks like Anapurna 1 for the first time.

Unfortunately, that night it rained pretty hard. When we woke at 3:50am to hike the 45 minutes up to Poon Hill to see the sun rise over the Anapurna range, there were ominous clouds in the sky. Sure enough, we were disappointed with about 10 or so other tourists who had chosen that particular morning to make the ascent to see the range. I did however, have reception up on top, and I was able to call my Dad and wish him a Happy Father’s Day from 3,200 meters with no view of the Anapurna Range. He still thought it was pretty cool though.

We returned to the teahouse and headed out by 7:30am on the long trail down to Nayapul, the village where we would catch a bus back into Pokhara. The hike started our bitterly for me (I was upset to have not seen the whole range, and I was probably cranky from getting up so early) until Kaji pointed out that I had seen all of the mountain peaks in the range individually, if not all together. That, along with the beauty of the green woods and the roaring river we were hiking by lifted my spirits. After about an hour of hiking through this valley, we suddenly came out on the edge of a very steep, very green hillside that dropped maybe a thousand meters into a valley with another river. Villages were perched snugly on the hillsides. The peak of Machapucharre showed itself for the first time that morning. We made a terribly painful descent down into the valley via the dreaded Ulleri Steps. These are 3,000 irregular, slippery stone steps. It was probably the most unpleasant experience of the trek for me with my backpack on and bad knees. I was very relieved to get back into Pokhara that night to meet up with Suse and Alex and relax and eat.

We spent the rest of the week in Pokhara, eating and relaxing and reading and writing. We also watched World Cup games every night on big screen TV’s in bars and did lots of shopping during the day. We spent one night at our guide’s house (and by house, I mean, a 10x10ft room with two twin beds and two gas burners, meant to house Kaji, his wife and their three kids). He made us some spicy dhal baat and we brought his family chocolate. Another day, I met up with a Nepali family whose daughter works with my mother back in Washington. They treated me superbly and stuffed me with food. The parents spoke little English and laughed politely and encouraged me when I attempted to use the little Nepali I knew. Their son is 23 years old and has a Bachelors in Biology from the University of Northern New Mexico, so he spoke fluent English and facilitated the conversations. And, he and I could talk science together! This was very exciting for me.

We spent, many hours at a private pool in this Castle Resort a short hike up a hillside overlooking Pokhara. It cost 1 Euro a day to use the pool. The resort was opened by an Irish man, whom we occasionally talked to as he strutted around with his plaid shorts, penny loafers and pipe. We also ate every morning at a tiny Nepali restaurant out of the city centre on the lake. We could get their special breakfast on their menu, which included fresh juice, a cup of any kind of tea or coffee, a small bowl of muesli fruit curd, BIG pieces of toast with jam/honey/butter, fried potatoes with onions and peppers and two eggs in a veggie omelet for only 130rs…that is less than 2 dollars.

Overall, it was a very strenuous 9 days out in the mountains, followed by a fat, relaxing couple of days in Pokhara. Now we are back in Kathmandu and I have a few other plans involving soccer, white-water kayaking, and Monsoon festivals before I leave in one week. I will keep you posted.

The DMD Boys

This week concludes my final days at the DMD centre. I am very sad to say goodbye to the boys, but the excitement of trekking just around the corner takes some of that painful edge away.

My experience at DMD was a much different volunteer experience than I thought I would have. While I thought I would be spending time in a hospital, learning medical facts and terminology and procedures, increasing my knowledge in terms of information and facts, I got something quite different. And I believe something more important.

To be born white and in a western society is something that is easier to say than to fully comprehend its meaning. I don’t know how many times I have said while I’m here, “I am so lucky.” Not only was I born white and western, I was also born healthy and relatively normal. I can’t say this for any of the boys at DMD.

Not only were they born into a world of poverty, they were born disabled. They can’t run around like other boys, they can’t even go to the bathroom by themselves. Just lifting a TV remote or itching their nose requires much effort from both arms. For some it is barely possible. I wonder what they think of other, healthy boys. I wonder if they experience jealousy when they see them walk down the streets on their own two legs. Or if they feel like the world is extremely unfair. If they do, most of them sure don’t show it at DMD. I wonder what they think of me, the privileged white girl who only has 2 months of time in her life to give to them before going back to her already easy and upscale life. Unlike them, I get to leave this place. But they will come to the DMD centre every day for the rest of their short lives.

Some of them seem to understand their situation and have checked out of life entirely. I have never seen such lifeless eyes as in a boy named Sujan. He stares off at corners and cracks in the walls, and his face is completely expressionless. He has never made eye contact with me. He has never spoken to me. To him, life is a terrible, arduous thing that is a complete pain and bore to get through everyday. I think he just wants to be done with it all at the age of 19.

Then there are boys like Suraj, Anish and Rohit. They are filled with such life and energy. Rarely do they have bad days. Rarely can I not steal a smile out of one of them. Little Anish is only 12 and he smiles constantly. He has the longest lashes and the most beautiful brown eyes. His face alone steals the hearts of volunteers instantly. He is originally from Gourka, a small town 6 or so hours away from Kathmandu. His mother, father and brother moved to Bhaktapur with him several years ago so that he and his brother, who also had MD, could get proper treatment from a daily physiotherapist. They live in a 10-foot by 6-foot makeshift room where a bed takes up over half of the space with a tiny kitchen and an old, dusty computer in the corner for Anish to play games on. A year ago, Anish’s brother passed away. He was just too weak to breathe and suffocated. His brother was 14, and Anish and him are apparently of identical body types; weak, small and only skin and bones. I fear Anish’s time is short. I try to get him to whistle a lot to strengthen his diaphragm. But there’s only so much that will do. I wonder what Anish thought of his older brother, in the same situation as him, passing away. I wonder if he knows he is headed down the same path. I wonder how he can smile so much.

Rohit is a big, 16-year old kid, but his muscles are weak. Lifting his arms at all is near impossible with all the dead weight he has. His arms almost permanently lay in his lap for this reason. His back is giving him constant pain, but he rarely complains. He likes to talk to me about pop culture (he loves Avril Lavigne), movies (anything but love stories) and football (his favorite player is David Beckham and he wants England to win the World Cup). He always has a goofy smile on his face and will tell me the truth when the other boys are trying to give me a hard time or get away with something.

Suraj would have been a very mischievious and troublesome 16-year old kid had he not been confined to a wheelchair. But he is the strongest of the group. He can take his shoes on and off and inch himself out of the wheelchair onto the stretching bed. He almost always wins when we bowl with plastic pins and lightweight balls. He knows four languages, including Newari, Nepali, Hindi and a little English. He loves games and competition.

Being together for anywhere between 2-7 years at DMD, these boys have an incredibly tight bond. They are all in the same boat and their families have come together, moved from all over Bhaktapur and Nepal, to bring them together at the DMD centre. The centre is run with love, and that is very apparent by the carefully and cheerfully painted walls. The families put so much time an effort into making it a fun and happy environment for their boys. They also actively involve themselves in fundraising and networking within the MD community worldwide.

In my first week at DMD, I met a woman who stopped in briefly one afternoon to visit the boys. She was a nurse from LA who was traveling all around the valley making various stops at medical facilities, monasteries and private centers like DMD. The boys painted with watercolors every afternoon to practice their fine motor movement and put the painting produced on calendars, which the centre sold to raise money. The nurse, Lillian, donated enough money to buy the boys decent canvases and more expensive oil paints and brushes so that their work could have more value. Now, a young aspiring artist comes in every afternoon for an hour and a half to help the boys with their oil paintings. He instructs them on techniques and helps them choose colors. Each boy produces a beautiful painting in 3 to 4 days, depending on their strength. In October, the painting will be taken into Kathmandu to be sold. All the money will go back to the centre. It is nice to see that DMD doesn’t rely entirely on money just being given directly to them. They have pride in their boys and their cause and like to be somewhat self-sufficient.

Everyday that I’ve spent with these boys has taught me something, inspired me in some way, or changed the way I view my own life and fortune. Everyday, I walk away feeling relieved that someday I can go back to my easy and comfortable life back in Washington state. This feeling of relief is immediately followed by a feeling of immense guilt. Guilt that I can escape and they can’t. But that is what every day in Nepal brings.

Tomorrow morning, my friends Suse, Alex and myself head up to Pokara and begin trekking on Sunday. We will be out in the Himalayas for 10 days, so the blog will not be updated until my return. Until then, enjoy the World Cup!

Royal Chitwan National Park

This last weekend was a long and hot one but I definitely got to know an animal I rarely have ever thought about as being particularly awesome. Organized by Projects Abroad, 18 of us volunteers headed out on a hot bus ride to Chitwan National Park, located about 5 hours southwest of Kathmandu. Once you get out of the Kathmandu valley, the humidity and heat are absolutely stifling with temperatures sometimes reaching 40 degrees C. But Chitwan is a lush and peaceful rainforest, and we each dropped an extra 500 rupees to get rooms with AC (but only during sleeping hours). This was quite a treat, as none of us had felt AC since arriving in Nepal.

Some of the activities our guides set up for us included forest walks, canoeing, jungle walks/excursions, elephant bathing, elephant safaris and bird watching expeditions. We crammed this all into the one and a half day we spent at the park.

During the canoeing, we were able to get within 5 feet of crocodiles lounging in the water and see lots of cool birds. The jungle walk was kind of disappointing; the only thing I saw was a porcupine quill that a guide picked up off the path. Some of us have a feeling he knew the walk was going to be a dud and pulled the quill out of his pocket to spice it up for us. The second most exciting thing was a fellow volunteer getting a leech.

Luckily, the elephant bathing experience was enough to satisfy any desires we had in making the long, hot journey out to the park. Elephants are such large and strong but gentle creatures. I always knew they were big, but I never really grasped their true size until I was standing right next to one and letting it grip my hand with its trunk. These weren’t even African elephants; they were the smaller Indian elephants! In the river, we could either climb up on the elephant’s back while he was sitting down or, with the more fun approach, we could mount the elephant from the front by grabbing onto its ears and putting our foot on its trunk. This position triggered the elephant to hoist us up onto its head with its trunk. One time, it was a little too powerful and I was catapulted onto the elephant’s back! Once a couple of us were on the back of the elephant, its trainer (each elephant has a trainer that stays with it for life) would shout out commands and the elephant would use its trunk to spray water at us from over its shoulder, or dunk its head into the water or finally sit down and almost roll over to fling us off its back entirely. We got to play in the water with two elephants for nearly an hour!

That evening, we went on a jungle safari on the back of our new favorite animal. Ten minutes into the safari (we weren’t even to the jungle yet), the monsoon struck in full force and down poured on us. We dismounted the elephant and ran for cover. Luckily, rain here rarely lasts more than 20 minutes, so we were back on the elephants in no time with the sun warming our drenched bodies. It was actually the perfect temperature for the rest of the safari.

The wildlife we were able to see on the safari was spectacular. It is quite an experience to see the jungle from such a different point of view, too. We were able to see herds of white spotted deer with antlers, wild boars, more crocs, birds and wild rhinos! The rhinos were very impressive with their armor-like skin and soft round ears. I made a crack about Jim Carey coming out of one of their butts, but apparently no one in my group was familiar with the movie Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls.

All in all, it was a weekend of firsts. And it was great to get away from the dust and noise of the valley. It was also the most green I had seen in a long time. The only thing I am bummed about is not seeing the great and elusive tiger; an animal that definitely exists in Chitwan National Park. Maybe next time.

Namobuddha and other Thoughts

Last Thursday happened to be one of my favorite days in Nepal. A group of us volunteers took the day off to visit Namobuddah, the largest Buddhist monastery in the Kathmandu valley. Namobuddah lies on top of the hills about an hour’s bus ride out of Banepa with its golden roof and shiny red paint dazzling brilliantly in the sun. From the top of the hill you can see the terraced hillsides of the surrounding land and the curving valleys will villages spanning lazily within. The trees around you are draped with curtains of prayer flags, some of which are very faded from their years in the brutal rain and sun.

Upon entering the “lobby” of the monastery, we removed our shoes and made our way up a stone staircase to the main room. It was really a spectacular sight to behold. I tried to imagine the most ornate design or tapestry or Candyland board I had ever seen, and none of them came even close to this room. It was completely overdone and colorful and ornate in every way. There was a main aisle that led to a golden throne with lavish pillows upon which sat a golden-framed picture of the Dali Lama. Behind the throne sat a massive golden statue of a smiling Buddha. There were 6 more Buddha statues of similar size lined up on either side of the central Buddha. Skylights were strategically placed above to make all of this gold sparkle and give it a very majestic appearance. There were also pillars on either side of the main aisle with large cylinders of colorful cloth hanging in between. All of the pillars were decorated with similar colorfully designed cloth and tassels so that no bare patch of wall was left. Even the outside walls of the room were in the process of being painted with the most intricate scenes, most likely depicting some sort of story associated with Buddha and the history of Buddhism. Facing the main aisle were long rows of low tables with flat, carpeted benches next to each one.

After 15 minutes or so of completely awestruck faces with our eyes desperately trying to capture all of the details of the room, we were rattled out of our hushed trance by a loud drum sounding just outside the room. A monk in the standard crimson and gold robe was summoning the other monks for prayer! Not quite sure what to do, we stood awkwardly (and as out of the way as possible) in the back of the room, looking ridiculously out of place and retarded, as over a hundred monks filed into the room in crimson waves, each performing a ritual where they did some hand signals and touched their foreheads to the ground 3 times before taking their seat on a bench. One of the monks came up to us after most of the monks had entered the room and smiled as he motioned for us to take a seat at some vacant benches in the back corner of the room, past a sign that clearly said “No Entry.” Honored, we hurried back and took our seats as the prayers began.

The next hour and half was one of my favorite times in Nepal. The monks chanted and swayed rhythmically with their deep voices so rich and strong they mesmerized you. I tried to think of a tangible object that could describe the way their voices sounded when I closed my eyes, and images like mahogany wood and swirling marble stone came to mind. Their voices would rise and fall together, swelling the room to where it felt like it could burst at the crescendo. I hadn’t felt so at peace since I had been to Nepal. The dust, the noises, the smells, the inappropriate men, the heat, the food had all been getting to me in the past couple of weeks, but all those annoyances, all of those nagging instances, were completely exiled in my clear mind and such fulfilling and productive thoughts were filling my mind. For the first time in over 6 months, I was inspired to write poetry again.

All of this being said, the atmosphere was beautiful but at the same time light, happy and content. The monks would whisper to their neighbor during prayers and nudge each other. Some of the younger ones actually fell asleep and stepped out of line a bit by being too rambunctious and not focusing on their prayer. When they did so, one of the elderly monks pacing the rows would either pour water on them or flick their foreheads, bringing a smile to their neighbors face. Halfway through, some monks carrying large brass pitchers came down each row and filled a bowl in front of every monk with Tibetan tea. They brought us “white men cups” (aka, cups with handles) and graciously poured us some steaming yellow tea. It was a very kind gesture, but I will only have Tibetan tea once. It is made of salt and yak butter and it does taste like you are literally drinking a butter stick.

During all of this, an interesting thought came to my mind. When listening to their chanting, it could sometimes seem offbeat or slightly disorganized, but when I closed my eyes, their voices seemed to melt together. I wondered if this beauty and fluidity and connection and grace came by closing my eyes, and in a sense, not looking so hard. I wondered then, if this could be translated into how I view Nepal. Maybe sometimes I search too hard to see how it all works, and how life can actually have happiness amongst all of the pain and struggle and suffering. Maybe it is there, just as a part of everything as everything is a part of life. Maybe the toothless smiles from women in the fields, or the laughter of school children in their dirty uniforms or the twinkle beneath the rim of a Nepali hat in the leather face of an old man is all that I need to see and understand that happiness exists here. And, as disorganized and trouble-ridden as Nepal seems, it works, it moves, it grows and it too can be happy, even without all of the “blessings” and “comforts” of a Western society.

Little Experiences

Here are some random little stories of events from the past week:

1. A group of us volunteers were on a morning walk with Lok, our host father, through the countryside of Banepa. On our return home, we saw a man chasing a dog across a field to a bunch of knee-high shrubs where he finally caught up with the cornered pup. Wielding a brick, he proceeded to stone the dog to death. The most awful sounds came from the dying dog with each strike of the brick before the man was able to entirely kill it. Appalled, we all turned away as Lok asked the man why he did it. Apparently the dog was killing his chickens. I know we punish misbehaving dogs sometimes with violence, or in severe cases, put them down, but I think I will always remember this scene just because it was such a primitive, abrupt way to end a life.

2. One day last week I stayed home from work to take care of my sick roommate. While she was taking a nap in the middle of the day, I decided to head out on the familiar hike to the tower on top of the mountain behind our house. This is a hike we normally do as a group 2 to 3 times a week in the morning hours. With everyone at work, I was on my own this time, but it was the middle of the day, so I didn't think much of going solo.

I got to the top and noticed four boys, probably 15 years in age, monkeying around the top of the tower. I decided to take my rest on the top of the hill instead of up in the tower with them, and stood looking out at the hazy valley. Seeing me, they immediately descended the tower and came up to me. The "leader" of the group started talking to me. He asked me if I was single. I was unsure if he was asking if I had a boyfriend or if I was alone on this walk; either way, I responded No. He turned to his friends and said something in Nepali and they all chatted and laughed. Then he asked me if I had a camera and pointed out to the valley I was looking at. I told him that I had been up here many times before and didn't need a camera. I pulled out my cheap Nepali mobile phone from my pocket, also to show him I had some sort of contact with people at that point in time, and said I didn't have a camera on it either. He and his friends talked more in Nepali and laughed more. I thought they were going to leave me alone then, but then the leader boy approached me again and held out his hand and said, "Give me your mobile." I told him no. He repeated the statement and I asked him why. He kept getting closer and closer each time and he and his friends were laughing. I decided to turn and head back down the hill. Behind me, I heard more chatter in Nepali and then he started yelling, "I will kill you!" Some of the other boys were yelling it too. "I will kill you!" "Give me your mobile!" "I will kill you!" I just kept walking. Then, there was a whoosh by my head as a liter sized water bottle filled three quarters of the way with water sailed narrowly past my ear. I turned around in disbelief and now the boy who threw it was acting like he had an invisible gun in his hand and was smiling and yelling, "I will kill you!" He then leaned over and picked up a jagged CD on the ground and chucked it at me. I continued walking down the hill, now with a little more pace. He followed me to retrieve his water bottle and threw it at me again. This time, I was expecting it and was able to easily avoid it. He followed me again and threw it again. Luckily his aim was shit and I figured if it was his only weapon, I wasn't in any danger. Still, it pissed me off that he thought he could steal some white person's phone just for shits and giggles. I wanted to turn around and run up the hill and snap his tiny frame in two, but I also didn't know if he or his friends had any other weapons that they might pull out if provoked. So I just played the boring, unfazed prey, and I guess it worked since I'm still alive now and he lost interest in me quickly. Either way, I'm not doing that hike alone again. The next set of boys could be a little more ballsy.

3. We went mountain biking this weekend with Project Abroad around the Kathmandu Valley. It took us most of the day to do a 45 km route up to several villages in the hillsides and by lots of temples. We stopped at random tea houses for Mango Juice boxes, biscuits and tea, and had lunch on a hillside in the shade. The going was rough, literally no pavement, all rocky, dusty, sandy, silty earth. At one point, we had to take off our shoes and pick up our bikes and wade across a miniature river that had flooded the path we were on. We felt pretty badass until a man in flip flops with an 8x5 foot wooden cabinet on his back (supported by fabric and rope wrapped around his forehead in true Nepali load carrying style) made the crossing with absolutely no hesitation.

It was great to see a softer, greener side of the Kathmandu area. The quiet villages in the hills and simple farming life the people lead up there seems so pleasant. Children happily run around in the fields and play in the mud while adults move about slowly but purposefully as they tend to their crops and chores. Smiles and hellos and namastes were constantly thrown in our direction. We must have been an entertaining parade of white people with ridiculously rainbow colored helmets and cameras, covered in sweat and dust with our fair skin already burning under the scorching sun. Overall though, it was a great but tiring day.

Buses

Everyday I take the local microbuses between Banepa and Bhaktapur for work, and on the weekends into Kathmandu. Bus rides are unique and always an experience in themselves, so I figured it was appropriate to explain this aspect of Nepali life in a little post.

First of all, these are OLD buses. From China or somewhere else in Asia, made in early 1900's (slight exaggeration) and most of them look like they've been though several wars. They normally have extravagantly colored tassels hanging from the front window, with Hindu beads and Shiva or Ganesh bobble-heads on the dash. Seats are torn and covered in dirt and there is never any AC. Oh, and they blast AWESOME Nepali music. Sometimes though, if you're lucky, they'll be rocking some "American" music. One morning, much to my delight, the bus driver played "As Long as You Love Me" by the Backstreet Boys. He pretty much made my day.

Anyway, the horn of the bus is the most common background music of the Kathmandu Valley. They rang from short little toots to long, series of beeps and honks ranging in pitches and length to create the most annoying 10 second tune you've ever heard. The buses are independently run; it's like a group of dudes went to a junk yard, picked one up, and then made a little business transporting people via various routes in the Kathmandu Valley to earn a living.

There are always 3 guys working on the bus at all times. There is a driver and two bus boys. The bus boy's job includes hanging out the open door of the bus as it flies around the windy roads and yell out it's destination to people standing on the sides of the road that look like they're waiting for a bus (there are no bus stops, and no bus schedule). This bus boy also tells the bus driver when to stop and let passengers off or when to start moving again. They do this by banging the aluminum side of the bus, once to stop, two to go ("Zam Zam!" means "Let's go!" in Nepali) The other boys job is to go around and collect money from people on the bus. Cost of the bus depends on how far you are going and if you are white or not. Luckily, we have volunteer passes, so we get a discount and pay more what a Nepali would pay.

It gets interesting when the bus fills up. People stand in the aisles, but when there is no room there, people go to the top of the bus. This isn't really legal, but buses that are outside of the main Kathmandu area (like from Banepa to Bhaktapur) can usually get away with passengers on top. The top is just a metal rack, with maybe a little rail around the outside about 3 inches high. You are definitely holding on tight up there. The bus boys have to get up top to collect money from the passengers. To do this, they sometimes climb out the windows of the bus or just up the side of it, all while the bus is moving, always in flip flops. You'll be flying along, wind in your face, dust in your eyes, squinting out at the blurry trees and colorful fields of the valley when all of a sudden a greasy bus boy will pop up out of nowhere 2 inches from your face demanding 10 rupees.

Animals and large sacks of potatoes are allowed on the bus as well. Goats either ride on top (don't ask me how they even stay on) or are shoved in the trunk. Chickens can come on the bus as well. Lots of people get sick on the bus, be it motion sickness or something they ate or a combination of the two. I've seen many people spew out of bus windows, and if you are sick, just tell the bus boy and he'll move you to a window seat and open the window up. It's nice they don't kick you off.

Now, because the buses are independently run, they are in a constant race with other buses on their route to pick up more people and make more money. When a bus pulls over in front of them to pick up some passengers, they swerve around them into the other lane, rarely checking for oncoming traffic, to get ahead of them and get the next group of roadside people. When picking people up, some bus drivers don't really come to a complete stop, they just roll so they don't lose precious time. So an old woman might have to do a Jason Bourne-style move to hoist herself into the bus successfully.

Riding on buses in Nepal requires Nepali patience. Sometimes, during strikes or demonstrations or heavy traffic in Kathmandu, the bus driver will decide to go off the beaten path and take a "short cut." In all my experience here, this has happened to me twice and never been even remotely successful. No matter how long anyone has lived or driven in Kathmandu, there is no way they know every road and route here. The bus drivers always end up getting lost or getting stuck in worse traffic in the narrow (we're talking, both sides of the bus inches from solid buildings) back streets. One time, we were at a complete standstill for nearly 45 minutes on one of these short cuts. Nepalis on the bus didn't yell or complain, they just took a nap or sat there patiently, not even looking annoyed. People outside the bus even stood there to watch the scene of a massive bus attempting to scrape its way through such narrow streets and get stuck for three quarters of an hour. That's just the Nepali way: there is always time and you should never be impatient with its passing. Things will get done eventually. I tried to imagine this scenario in a Western setting. I think we can all guess how that would go.

Anyway, my recommendation is, if any of you ever come to Nepal, ride a bus. It's something you really have to do to say that you've fully experienced Nepal.

Pashupatinath and Dead Bodies

Ok, enough about sicknesses...I'll tell you about a place I went to this weekend that has quite a lot of interesting Hindu culture and facts intertwined within it's crumbling walls.

Three other volunteers and myself took a taxi to Pashupatinath in Kathamandu on Saturday afternoon. Pashupatinath is Nepal's most important Hindu temple and stands on the banks of the holy Bagmati River (to quote Lonely Planet). Now, don't let the word "holy" deceive you. This is by far the most disgusting excuse for a river I have ever seen (I hope I am not struck down by Shiva for saying this). It has stagnant, gray, murky water and there is litter piled from it's shallow depths to forming little islands on the waters surface...so dense in fact that cows and dogs were walking aimlessly about on them. The stench was almost intolerable and as I was staring at the nasty water, I saw what looked like a bunch of raindrops indenting its surface everywhere. I looked up but felt no rain. Looking back, I realized they weren't raindrops on the water's surface, but bubbles! Apparently, lots of little bacteria and other revolting organisms were releasing foul gases from the unimaginably disgusting depths of the holy Bagmati River.

Lined up along the river bank were a series of evenly spaced stone platforms; about maybe 8 feet by 6 feet in size. These were the platforms that the bodies were burned before the ashes were stirred into the Bagmati River (yet another ingredient to add to its delightful stew). We looked to our left, up the river, and saw a bunch of people gathered around a large, human-sized lump covered with a red blanket on a bamboo-like stretcher, tilted at an angle on the river bank so the feet were only inches from the water. It was someone who had passed away and whose ceremony would begin once all of the relatives had arrived. The ceremony involves a lot of detailed rituals that probably vary from family to family and caste to caste, but for the most part, they almost always involve pouring water from the Bagmati into the mouth of the deceased. This is to, unbelievably, purify the body and soul. Some people do come to Pashupatinath before they actually pass on, because it gives them comfort to die here. And sometimes those people perform this "cleansing" ritual before they die, which in turn, makes them die sooner. No surprise there.

We spent an hour wandering around the grounds, fending off eager tour guides looking to make a hundred rupees or two by throwing facts and information at us, were openly stared at by every Nepali around (which is quite normal) and lounging on benches over-looking the whole scene. Here were some other facts we acquired about this holy temple:

1. Husbands and wives sometimes come to bathe in the Bagmati River (something I think could be a valid challenge on Fear Factor) because doing so ensures their connection together into the after-life and for all eternity. As Zach, another volunteer pointed out, you had to really want to spend eternity with your wife to do that. I pointed out the same went for wanting to be with your husband. It was a sacrifice either way.

2. It costs approximately 5,000 rupees to be burned at Pashupatinath, and it wasn't even until 2001 that the lowest caste was allowed to be burned there.

3. The highest burning platform upstream is reserved for the Kings, and lower castes/people are burned sequentially further and further down the river.

4. Buddhists may also be burned at Pashupatinath, but a Buddhist and Hindu many not be burned on the same day.

Anyway, it was a lot of thoughts about death for one afternoon, and the four of us left for Thamel tired and somber. Luckily, there were plenty of other volunteers around that night in Thamel to have a good dinner with and give us some laughs.

Knocking on Wood does a Person Good

Since my last blog update, I have had the wonderful opportunity of visiting one of the many run down hospitals here in Nepal. As a patient this time.

Apparently the antibiotics that I took for my infection the week before was not strong enough. Strong enough to get me by for a couple of healthy days (during which I had much fun, if you read my previous post) while the bacteria festered and grew in my stomach and bowels until it was ready to strike again.

And strike again it did, with force, on Monday night of last week. Sorry to be graphic, but after hours of everything inside of me coming out of both ends, some of the volunteers and my host father Lok decided to take me to the Banepa hospital in the middle of the night.

Being a patient there was as terrible as I had imagined. The beds were dirty and had a single sheet on them, no pillow, no blankets and they don't ever provide any either. You have to use your IV-free arm as a pillow if you want one. They had me walk through the maze of dirty rooms in the hospital to use a toilet that had no toilet paper to collect stool and urine samples. When they put in my IV and collected blood samples, the doctor didn't wear gloves. He handed over the open blood vials to Lok, who wasn't wearing any gloves either, and told him where to take them. Flies were landing all over the hand with my IV and I had to continually swipe them away. And I felt miserable. Luckily, one of my good friends/roommate Suse came with me and stayed the several hours at the hospital with me while the tests were run. We found out it was just bacteria, and they got me on some better antibiotics, and mercifully let me go home to my bed.

The week of antibiotics was up and down but now I've almost fully recovered (knock on wood) and hope that I can escape a similar experience for the rest of my time here in Nepal (knock on wood again, just to be sure).

A Weekend of Adrenaline

Finally, my first really adventurous weekend in Nepal! Projects Abroad sent about 20 of us volunteers out to a place called The Last Resort near the Tibetan border. This is a tiny little paradise, with green lawns, open air bars with pillows and seats for lounging and reading and relaxing. You stay in what are known as "proper" tents: tents that are very spacious and have a floor and beds and nightstands and such. Oh, and I should mention, this place is most famous for the tiny, Swiss-designed bridge that spans the narrow canyon (with a beautiful blue river raging 160m below) to the resort. It is from this bridge that people come from around the world to do the world's third highest bungy jump and the world's highest canyon swing...with a free fall of over 100m.

Naturally, that's what we were all signed up to do. But Saturday proved to be a busy day for the resort, and not all of us were able to bungy. A small group of 7 of us volunteers went canyoning that first day instead. Canyoning involves repelling down waterfalls and sliding down slippery rocks and jumping into rock pools. We had a great afternoon, with four entertaining and funny guides. They were impressive to watch as they literally ran forward like Spiderman down the slippery rock waterfalls, parallel to the ground, with alarming speed. In the distance we could hear the screams coming from the bridge back up the canyon...most likely from our friends jumping or swinging to their deaths.

We spent the evening lounging and swimming and eating. It was nice to get away from the horns and dust and noise of the cities we all lived in. The stars came out in amazing numbers, but it was early to bed, like most other nights here in Nepal.

The next morning, I was careful to not gorge myself on the delicious breakfast. After two bowls of muesli with curd and fresh fruit, I felt ready to jump. We were weighed and marched out onto the swinging metal bridge. My Swiss friend did not seem convinced of her own countryman's capability to construct a stable and safe bridge.

The key to bungy jumping is to not think. Sing a song and don't look down. Until that moment when your toes are over the edge, and you are staring at the rocky river below and the jump master has counted down to one and you have no choice but to dive into the freedom of the air. This complete lack of any sort of control is what makes free falling so terrifyingly cool. Total separation from the earth.

An Initiation...of sorts

They say part of the experience of Nepal is getting food poisoning, and I can proudly say that I have successfully encountered and endured this "right of passage" and can now claim to be a true traveler of Nepal.

Last Saturday in Thamel, we were celebrating the end of the strike with many of the volunteers that had gathered there. We went out and had a delicious dinner, and I made the mistake of ordering some fresh veggies (everyone else was doing it). But I drew the short straw along with some bacteria that probably clung to my carrots or tomato or cucumber.

Luckily, food poisoning doesn't strike for 12-24 hours here usually. So Sunday morning, I was able to semi-enjoy a visit to the BIG Monkey Temple in Kathmandu called Swayambu. It rests all golden and shiny on top of a huge hill in Kathmandu. There are prayer flags hung from all the trees and temples up there, sometimes in such large numbers that the blue sky is nearly blocked by a rainbow of colorful fabric. And there are monkeys...everywhere. They are mischievous little buggers and I saw one snatch an orange Fanta from a parched looking man and gleefully run behind a fence before consuming it on top of this steeple for all to see. Other monkeys would catch you looking at them, and if you got too close, they would suddenly make a movement like they were going to lunge at you and they would open their eyes wide with this terribly intimidating look on their face. But it was always just a fake out. I think they got some sort of sick, twisted amusement out of seeing us jump, squeal and run away.

But then the nausea started to hit me, and then the fatigue, and I spent the afternoon on a public bus trying to get back to Banepa to a bed. The ride was extremely long, hot and bumpy. Because of continuing demonstrations by the Maoists (remember, the strike had only ended a day earlier, and some of Maoists were still pissed about this because they had traveled long and far and left their families to come to Kathmandu to strike) our bus driver had to take a route through the back roads. He was clearly unfamiliar with the route, and people were shouting directions at him and he was on his cell phone and I was the only white person on the bus and had no idea what was going on. For some terrifying moments I let my imagination get away from me and figured the bus driver was probably being paid off by the Maoists and was taking us to a large gathering of Maoists where we would all be stoned to death. This, of course, was my delusional brain thinking.

I finally made it back to Banepa and was laid up for nearly three days. I've never felt so weak in my life! My temperature was nearly 40 degrees C Sunday afternoon, and one volunteer (who was pre-med) said that if it went any higher, I should go to the hospital. This scared the shit out of me, because I had seen the hospitals in Nepal and under no circumstances would I want to spend time those fly-ridden, grungy hospitals with sick people all around me. But luckily, my fever went down in the night and I was able to eat some food and retain some water for the next couple of days before I got my strength back. I consider myself lucky, but by no means out of the woods. Anything and everything can give you food poisoning here, and especially with the weather getting hotter as we approach the monsoon season, bacteria and bugs are festering everywhere in stronger numbers. I oftentimes feel sorry for my immune system here.

The Strike is Over!!!

The Maoist strike ended last night at 10pm!!! Hopefully things are back to normal now. Most of us move back to Banepa tomorrow and tonight we are spending in Thamel (tourist area of Kathmandu) with lots of other volunteers to make the most of our almost wasted weekend.

Other random updates and Nepali culture notes:

1. I got my first leech today. I went on a 5am walk with my host family to a temple on this mountain, and after we reached the temple, we decided to bushwhack our way up to the very top of the mountain to the Monkey Temple (women can't touch the Monkey God because he respects them and he remained unmarried his whole life, I almost screwed that one up by reaching for his feet, they just looked so pretty). Bushwhacking in Nepal leads to random tea houses (which are good), lots of dogs and leeches.

2. I forgot to mention before...let's say you're walking down the street and suddenly hit by a motorbike or other crazy vehicle (trust me, very possible). The person who hit you has to pay for your hospital bill. Now, this can oftentimes be a very hefty sum of money (which most Nepalis don't have) so what sometimes happens is, the person who hit you will kick it into reverse and run over you again because a funeral costs less (and sometimes they don't even have to pay for a funeral at all). Scary.

3. Married women here normally wear red. If you are widowed or your father/mother dies, you have to wear white for the rest of your life. Most Hindus cut this down to somewhere between 1-3 years. This sounds dreadful to me because I know how difficult it has been to keep my whites any shade of white here.

4. If you sneeze here, it means someone is thinking of you. I told my host family I didn't think I sneezed enough then. They asked me what we thought sneezing meant. I told them we always considered it to be an evil spirit leaving the body. They asked me why I have evil spirits in my body in the first place. I found this a hard one to explain.

Maoists, Dhaal Baat and Beautiful Boys

Well, since my last post, a lot has happened here in Nepal. We are now into the 6th day of the Maoist strike against the Prime Minister, and still he has not resigned. Things have taken a turn for the worst. We noticed after a few days, the mobs in the streets started carrying large sticks and we had a rock "jokingly" tossed our direction when a bunch of us were walking by. As every day passed, the tension seemed to build.

Projects Abroad decided to move 7 of us volunteers from Lok's lovely home in Banepa to Bhaktapur and Kathmandu. I moved to Bhaktapur with two other volunteers, since this is where our work is. The morning of the move was a little tense; we were the only car on the road, and the only reason we were allowed to drive though the mobs was because there were white people in the car. In fact, even with the words "Tourists Only" on the van, a PA representative (she's white) had to ride out with our driver because he alone could not get through. The mobs just stared at us threateningly as we drove through. But no stones were thrown.

Three of us are now in Bhaktapur at the house of a lovely man named Ramesh. The other four went to Kathmandu, and being in the last couple of weeks of their time here in Nepal, decided to fly home early with the strike escalating and volcanoes still erupting in Iceland. Ramesh and his family have a very nice house, but the schedule here is a little different from Lok's. We eat dhaal baat (which is basically white rice, lentil curry and spicy, soggy veggies) for breakfast and dinner. I don't know how they do this their whole life. But most Nepalis do. And then you ask them what their favorite food is and they reply, "dhaal baat." Odd. They really should try pizza, I bet that would rock their world.

Everyday, myself and Suse, another volunteer from Germany, walk to a Muscular Dystrophy center for boys. It is basically a tiny one room building next to a bunch of homes where parents bring their boys with MD to hang out with each other for the day. There is one large bed, some basketball hoops, balls, paints and a TV with Wii (for when the power is on). In the morning, Suse and I take several hours to stretch each of the boys (she is a trained physiotherapist and gives me instructions so I can help her now and pretty much perform the whole routine myself) and then in the afternoon we play with them and hang out. These boys are incredible. It has only taken three days and they are already comfortable with us. They yell my name, joke around, smile and we whistle a lot together (songs like Jingle Bells) because it helps build their stomach muscles. They are really beautiful kids, and it is so sad to see their current states. Their ages range from 11-19 and some of them are very weak and have terrible contractions (I think this is the word Suse was translating in German for me) in their hips and knees and ankles, to where they can't extend at these joints. Suse says they look terrible compared to MD kids of the same age in her country, just because the treatment here is so poor. It's sad to think that their state could have been prevented with a little more knowledge and care. But for now, we try to help them as best we can, try to make them smile, work on our Nepali vocabulary and talk about their idol, Spiderman, quite often.

Right now, we are taking it a day at a time. We come home every day after work and watch the news, but things have only been getting worse. Last night, even though the news was in Nepali, we could see video of trucks being stoned in Kathmandu and crashing into buildings, angry riots, lots of policemen and a Prime Minister still not willing to resign. The Prime Minister's followers, called the Youth Force, is anti-communist (so anti-Maoist) and they say that they plan to be entirely peaceful and will not use violence. I guess we will see. I know many tourists have been evacuated from Nepal already and the US Embassy advises US citizens in Nepal to not leave houses or hotels unless absolutely necessary. Apparently, Nepal has a current danger rating of 3.8 out of 5. I didn't know such a scale exists, but if that gives you some kind of idea of the uncertainty and instability here, then there you go.

So to wrap it all up: still safe, still striking, trying to make boys smile, and wondering each day if I will be forced to go home tomorrow.

Peaceful Mobs to Violent Riots?

As most of you devout blog readers probably already know from my previous write-ups, there is some political tension in the air here in Nepal. The Maoist party, who used to be in power here (but currently is not), has conducted a nation-wide strike against the Prime Minister. Apparently, the prime minister cheats the country out of a lot of money and people don't really like him. In fact, a couple weeks ago, a famous yoga guru came through Banepa on the same day as the prime minister, and everyone went bonkers over the yoga guru and pretty much looked the other way when the prime minister did his drive through. So he's not a really popular dude.

Anyway, the strike means that transportation comes to a standstill. Nepalis dressed in red and carrying Maoist flags march through the streets of Banepa chanting and we can watch these processions from our rooftop and kitchen window. They converge on the central road of Banepa (which is the main road between Kathmandu and Tibet) and block any traffic coming through. Stones sometimes get thrown at cars that don't obey. From 6pm-8pm is supposedly a two hour period when the strike relaxes and cars are allowed to pass and stores are allowed to open so that people can get food and other supplies. Still, we can't get to the clinics (which are in a neighboring village) and are stuck in Banepa. And the streets are quieter than usual without the cars, buses and motorbikes beeping and with all the shops closed. Kathmandu is in complete lock down.

The main concern is that this situation will mirror that of Thailand, which as you guys might know, has broken out into a full-fledged civil war. If the Maoists can't get the Prime Minister to resign here, they might get pissed off and things could get violent. For now though, we wait, try to stick together, and hope for the best. We will get out, even if it means hiking out, if we have to. Side note, I was flipping through a Nepali newspaper in an internet cafe, and saw a big picture of a bunch of white tourists taking photographs and standing together. Since the writing was in Nepali, I asked a worker there to translate the title for me. It said something along the lines of American, European and Australian countries are advising tourists in Nepal to be very careful. Cool.

But anyway, enough of that for now, I will try to keep you updated with the political happenings of the country as best as I can. But,. to end on a lighter note, here are some more random Nepali facts that I forgot to put in the last entry:

1. Nepali men and women openly pick their nose in public. I think it's great that such gestures aren't so socially frowned upon here. Anyway, they just dig in whenever, even looking right at you.

2. Shiva is the big man in the sky here in Nepal, as Hinduism is the most common religion. The story goes, put quite bluntly, that Shiva created the world by stirring the milk from a cow with his penis. So cows are sacred here too, and cannot be killed. If you accidentally hit one on, say, a motorbike, you go to jail.

3. They do have cheese here, but only really in restaurants. And the cheese to choose from is either Yak, Buffalo or Goat. Now, if you go to a supermarket to buy some cheese, it's totally fake. In fact, it's not even kept in a refrigerator. I don't eat that. One morning, my Swiss roommate jumped out of bed when there was this horrific smell wafting up from the kitchen area and exclaimed that it smelled delicious and she suspected cheese was being made! I told her it most definitely was NOT that, and we found out later the smell came not from the kitchen, but the street, where some sort of carcass was burning.

That's all I can think of for now, take care, I'll try to post again soon.

Some "Facts" about Nepali Culture

1. Men hold hands here. Walking down the streets, openly, interlocking fingers, in half-embraces. They aren't gay, it's just acceptable for them to do it here. But apparently they are homophobic as well. Sometimes I wish American men wouldn't be so reserved and would just show affection like that towards one another. Who cares, ya know?

2. Everyone here rides motorbikes. If there is a person riding behind the driver, they NEVER have a helmet on. I found out recently it is a Nepali law that the "pillow" (backseat) rider CAN'T wear helmets. This is because, in the past, there were lots of drive-by shootings where the person on the back would shoot people as they drove by, and when they were wearing a helmet, the police were not able to identify them. Well, shit.

3. Another crazy law here, that was only changed 4 years ago or so, was when a woman was widowed by her husband, she was considered to not be able to live without him, and was killed. Just like that. Good incentive to keep your husband healthy and kicking. But, like I said, that's changed now.

4. Leisure is not something many Nepalis seem to understand, at least not like we do in America. Everything they do is just practical. I asked this nurse that I work with what she did for fun when she wasn't working and she looked confused. Maybe it was the language barrier, but then I offered the word cook, and she smiled and said, "yes, yes, just cook." Women don't seem to play sports here very often, and I am trying to figure out what it is they do, besides cook, in their free time.

5. White people are like celebrities here. Especially out in Banepa, where there aren't as many tourists. When we go on walks through the back streets, there are kids playing all around their houses, in the gardens and the fields. They always yell at us from down the street, "Hi!" or "Hello!" When they get a response from us, they immediately giggle, and then try it again and again. The kids follow us and smile and adults break from their work and smile and say "Namaste" with their hands in the prayer position. I honestly don't think I've ever felt so popular in my life. It's going to be hard coming home and walking down the street and have people ignore you and bump into you like you don't even exist.

6. Nepalis strike about a lot of things. Right now, there is a huge strike going on. There is this political group called the Maoists who used to be in power, but apparently aren't really anymore. A constitution has been worked on for the past two years, and is supposed to be signed the month of May. The Maoists are wreaking all sorts of havoc now as this is going on. Yesterday, we were riding into Bhaktapur from Banepa for work, and we got stopped by a road block. An officer came on board and was searching the bus, for weapons we assumed. Later, we found out that grenades had been found on local buses coming into Kathmandu. We are going to leave the city this morning to go back to Banepa where we should be safer, but for now, we are staying away from large crowds. Luckily, Westerners are NOT at all the target. In fact, they don't want to hurt us because we bring money into their economy with tourism and they really don't want to piss off our governments by killing their citizens. We are just hoping a civil war doesn't break out and we all have to leave before our placements are over.

7. Men can't cut women's hair and women can't cut men's hair. The only day that men really touch women in public, at least that us volunteers have seen, is on the New Year, which just happened 15 days ago or so (Nepal has an entirely different calendar than us, in fact, it is currently the year 2067 here, I believe. You can imagine my surprise when I passed a school that said "Established 2058.").

8. When a Nepali is agreeing with you or saying "OK," they do what we call the Nepali "wobble head" where they bob their head back and forth like one of those wobble or bobble-head dolls that we have. We have kind of found ourselves doing it after a while.

9. Nepalis are some of the friendliest people I have ever met. But have you ever been invited over for tea and potatoes? Just boiled potatoes, peel the skin, dip it in some chile and you've got a replacement for biscuits with your Nepali tea.

Namaste from Nepal

Namaste. And welcome to Nepal.

I have been given the great privledge of traveling to this beautiful, culturally diverse and wonderful country to offer my limited services in medical clinics in the Kathmandu area. For those of you curious about this foreign country and culture, I'll do my best to pass on my tiny but growing knowledge of this absolutely amazing country. My journey started in Kathmandu on a dark and exhausting night...

After almost 48 hours of traveling and no sleep, I touched down in the Kathmandu airport. A representative from Projects Abroad (the organization I am traveling and volunteering through) greeted me at the gate and took me through a maze of windy, bumpy brick streets and dropped me at my motel at 12:30am. My first impression of Nepal was not a good one, the streets looked tiny, broken, dark and trashy.

Luckily, the next morning, the streets exploded with color and energy and life. Colorful posters and signs dangled from rooftops and colorful clothes and purses and trinkets spilled into the narrow streets from their nighttime barracades. People and motorbikes and cars fought for space on the roads. Heaps of trash were piled everywhere. Mangy dogs scratched their furless ears. This place was incredible.

After a few days in an area of Kathmandu called Thamel (generally considered the "tourist" area) myself and a couple other new volunteers headed out in vans to our placements in the country. I found myself at a very tiny and run down hospital called Dr. Iwomura Memorial Hospital. This is located in a town called Bhaktapur. Here, I would start offering my services in these dirty halls, filled with flies and sick Nepalis.

The hospital is exactly what one would expect in a third world country. The beds are hardly clean, the windows are open to keep it cool but the flies get in as a tradeoff and land on the lifeless hands and faces of shriveled women curled in balls and heavyset men sinking into their beds who are too sick or in too much pain to notice. The nurses wear flip flops and no gloves. Everything that can be is used and reused and reused again. And everyone is speaking Nepali around me.

Luckily, I can escape to my homestay. It is a 35 minute, sometimes more, bus ride away to a town called Banepa. When the buses are full and crowded, we are allowed to sit on the top, on tiny metal racks that is not intended to carry people at all and you have to hold onto to keep from falling off. The bus flies around windy mountain roads and since there are no "lanes" on Nepali roads, we are constantly staring at a bus of equal size and equal speed clamboring head on at us before narrowly swerving back to the left side. Exciting, and exhillerating, especially as you look around you and see the beautiful green of the hillsides and people working in crops and the color and life of the country-side. I fall in love with the country again every time I take this bus ride.

My homestay, like I said, is in Banepa. Here I stay with a kind man named Lok who owns a rice factory. He hosts 9 or so other volunteers, and we are each given a large room with bed and a lock of our own. We all return from work, shower (since this is the only time the shower water might be warm, it is solar heated on the roof. ANY, and I mean ANY, other time, it will be cold) and then sit down, normally by candlelight (since there are rolling blackouts and we have no power for most hours of the day) to eat and talk the rest of the night. We have a wonderful rooftop that we hang out on together if we have freetime. It is perfect for tanning and reading during the day and drinking at night...none of which we really have much time for anyway.

Our days start at 5:30 for morning walks in the hills or yoga and normally ends at about 9 at night. It is the Nepali way to rise and set with the sun, as they don't have power and its a dark world when the sun goes down. It is a good and simple life we live, but entirely fulfilling, for the timebeing, at least. The other volunteers are from all over the world: Switzerland, Holland, Ireland, Israel, England, Wales, Canada and one other American besides myself. They are all around my age, and very interesting, laid back, intelligent and fun people. I guess that Nepal in general attracts these kinds of travelers (not trying to categorize myself in there).