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.