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.
Monday, May 31, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
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.
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).
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).
Monday, May 17, 2010
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, May 7, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, May 3, 2010
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.
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.
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