My Final Days

I cannot believe that I will be on a plane headed back to the U.S. in less than 72 hours.  It's a bittersweet departure for me in many ways.  When I traveled to Mexico, I always knew that I would return again. With Nepal, it's hard to know whether I'll ever return. I want to, of course, but time and money constraints will inevitably make it hard.  Do I like Nepal enough to focus my studies and future career on it? Maybe.  It's hard to say at this point. I believe that I am here for reasons larger than just research and preparation for my second (and final, thank God) year in my Master's Program. I've learned more and have grown and changed in ways I would never have predicted.   And after three months here, I finally feel at home, which makes it even harder to pack up and say goodbye to friends yet again.  Nonetheless, I cannot wait to see everyone at home and eat real, delicious and fattening American food again.  It will be nice to be back on U.S. soil. 

I returned on Saturday night from a 6 night 7 day trek in the mountains of Nepal.  The trek was by far the most physically and mentally challenging thing I've done here - some days we walked for up to 10 or 11 hours in cold monsoon rains.  Each day had different challenges and completely different scenery - huge waterfalls, steep landslides, flat grasslands, steep green hills... it was breathtaking. And it wasn't like we just spent 6 days gradually climbing up - each day involved us going up and down several times a day, following the curve of the mountains.  I'm also pleased to report that I managed to hold my own with three Nepali guys who go trekking on a regular basis. That in itself was a huge accomplishment and also quite an adventure.  I've never seen anyone eat so quickly in my life.  

I did manage to upload some photos from the trek, so enjoy. Clearly I never was able to upload many others, but I'm sure you'll all be stuck looking at the ones on my computer every time you see me in the next year. 

And with this, I am signing off for good.  As of Thursday evening, my U.S. phone is back in business. Thanks for reading and for all your support. 

Love always, 

Lisa

The team from right: Sunny, Sanjay, me, Sidhi.  This is the four of us at the highest point of the trek - 4500 meters above sea level (a little under 15,000 feet). To put it in perspective: this is higher than any point in the U.S. except Alaska. 

As it turns out, I'm considerably faster going UPHILL than I am going down.  Who knew?  This photo is taken before I discovered a huge leech on my foot.  So lovely. 

"Action" shot. Every time we were tired, Sanjay would start singing some famous American rock song and we'd all start laughing.  Such a fun trip.  

Oedipus Rex goes Nepali

Yesterday, one of my coworkers invited me to attend a theatre performance on environmental conservation with him and two other staff members.   I'm not one to turn down the prospect of attending a theatre performance with three attractive and single Nepali men, so away I went. 

Kumar and I arrived first to the theatre, purchased tickets, and waited for Angel and Sidhi to arrive.  While waiting, I realized that I never asked the name of the performance we were going to see - all I knew was that it was about environmental conservation. I inquired, and Kumar paused, then responded “Oedipus Rex.”

Yes, Oedipus Rex.

Greek Tragedy. Written by Sophocles in 429 BC.

“What does Oedipus Rex have to do with environmental conservation?” you might ask.  That, my friend, is an excellent question, and one that I cannot answer. 

It turns out that the guys had originally thought we were going to another play, but when they discovered that only Oedipus Rex was showing, they decided to go anyway.  Of course, no one told me this.  I mean, I still would have gone, but I would have at least refreshed my knowledge of the play before we arrived.  (Sorry Mom, I read it 11 years ago). “Oh well. Surely I’ll remember it when I see it.” I thought.  Wrong, very wrong.

There was nothing Greek about this performance (with the exception of the wavy permed hair of the lead actor), because I am pretty sure that they did not have gongs, kimonos, or tai chi in ancient Greece.  It was like a Chinese interpretation of part of Sophocles's play, but spoken in Nepali. I was completely lost the entire hour and 15 minutes. Thankfully, Kumar wrote me notes on his business cards every so often to help me along with the story line. Had he not, I would have had no clue who the main actors were.  The messenger from Corinth, for example, had dreadlocks and a Russian hat.  I mean, maybe the Corinthians did dress that way and we've just gotten it all wrong. I didn’t live during that time, how would I know?

Nonetheless, it did seem like a good play.  All three guys enjoyed it, though none had read it before.  I was surprised at first to discover that they hadn’t read any of the same Greek plays that I had in school, until I realized that growing up in Asia meant their history lessons were very different than mine. While we learned about the ancient Romans and the Greek, they learned about the Chinese, the history of Hinduism, and other things more closely linked to their lives in Asia.  This all makes sense, but it was a new revelation for me.  It’s very different to grow up in a culture steeped not in European history, but in Chinese and Indian culture. 

In other news, this past Sunday was a holy day for Hindus in Nepal – the day of the year where the snake is worshipped in hopes that it will provide protection from poisonous snakes and other evil throughout the year. This day on the lunar calendar is also supposed to mark the end of the monsoon and the beginning of winter.  The monsoon, however, is far from over.  It arrived really late this year, and the rains are just now heavy enough to wash the city clean of trash.  The Bagmati River is much cleaner now than when I first arrived, but is also seriously flooded.  The people living along the river will soon find their houses underwater and will have to flee for the streets of Kathmandu.  13 people died Sunday alone from mudslides across Nepal.  The major highway that runs east to west across Nepal through the hills is also closed in many parts due to mudslides.  The diarrhea outbreak continues to spread, and many people have been diagnosed with cholera. 

In political news, the vice president of the country is being called to resign because he took his oath of office in Hindi, not Nepali, and is now threatening to “take on” the Supreme Court to make sure he stays in power.  The coalition government, which broke apart before I left the U.S. has yet to officially form because no one seems to agree on anything.  And the minister of health, in the middle of the diarrhea and cholera outbreaks, left the country to attend a seminar on capacity building and financial management without informing the President.

Strikes also continue to take place at irregular intervals.  Last Thursday, Maoist youth protestors lit a microbus on fire in Kathmandu with people inside. Though all escaped, protests by the transportation companies demanding repatriation shut down the city on Friday and Sunday. Although I live near the government compound, protests rarely take place there.  Protestors in the Kathmandu Valley always strike in the most congested parts of the city where they can cause the most delays in traffic.  The schools (both public and private) are closed again, this time for a 5 day teachers strike.  That’s all well and good, except that I’m supposed to be participating in a workshop for principals and teachers on Friday and Saturday this week, and have no idea whether it will still take place. Several of the universities have postponed their exams as a result of all the strikes, so students close to graduating will have to wait up to two more months to finish up. 

Some days I'm impressed that anything gets done around here. 

This past weekend, I went to Pokhara for three days with Prachet, his wife Mita, and his daughter Palistha.  Though weather prevented us from paragliding, we did fit in a number of other great activities: boating on Phewa Tal lake, visiting Devi’s Falls – a beautiful waterfall named after a Swiss woman who fell in while bathing and was carried away, climbing down into an enormous cave below the waterfall, and visiting several beautiful temples. My favorite part by far, however, was waking up at 4:00 am and driving to Sarankot, a neighboring town high in the hills, to watch the sun rise over the Himalayans. Absolutely breathtaking.

I have 14 days left in Nepal and so much that I still want to do and see.  I am leaving on Sunday for a 6 day trek to Gosinkunde Lake (4500 m above sea level – part of the Langtang trekking route) with a couple of guys I work with.  I’ve never been trekking before and am really looking forward to the challenge – monsoon, leeches, and all.  This trip has taught me so much about myself and the way I live, and I think the trek will be a nice way to end my time here.  When I return, I’ll have a final “debriefing” at work, submit my final report, say my goodbyes, then make my way back to the States. 

I’m hoping to post some pictures tomorrow when I go to the tourist district of Kathmandu. I’m such a bad blogger and still haven’t posted photos from a month ago.  I think the internet gets worse here every day, and I am tired of fighting with it.

If nothing else, expect another post or two before I return.

Love,

Lisa

The Heart of the Matter

Several of my Nepali friends commented to me yesterday that they had seen the photos that I posted on Facebook of the pollution in the Bagmati River.  I could tell that they were slightly concerned about the way I was choosing to depict their country.  It’s challenge for me to share my experiences with you in a way that correctly represents Nepal.  I don’t want you to think that everything here smells bad and is dirty. But it’s also not all weddings and elephant rides either.

At the end of the day, the reason that I’m here is to work with and learn from those most in need.  The people who have nothing. And I don’t think I’ve necessarily done a very good job of articulating what I've seen and what I'm learning in the two months that I've been here. 

A few weeks ago, I spent several hours playing at an orphanage that is home to 24 children – 12 of whom are under the age of 4.  All of these children come to this home because they have been abandoned – in the trash, in the street, in police stations.  They have no past.  And in all reality, they have no future.  The orphanage will put them in school, cloth them, and feed them (though many are still malnourished).  But will they make it to Grade 10? Pass their exams? Go to college or find a good job? It’s not out of the question, but it’s unlikely.  When they misbehave, they are often beaten.  When they cry? If there’s a free hand, they may get a hug. But they're generally left alone. 

I also spent time at a child care center for children whose parents are laborers and are too poor to afford to pay to have someone care for their children while they work.  A number of these children come from abusive homes and have very little.  Several suffer from mental or emotional problems.

I'm not trying to criticize the orphanage or the parents of the children in the day care center: that’s not the main point of this post.  Poverty often causes or forces people to make terrible decisions that they never would have made had their situation been different.

The point that I am trying to make is that none of these children chose this life – they were born or forced into it.  And most will never be able to escape it. In direct contradiction to the American belief that if you work hard enough you’ll get what you deserve, is the reality that many people will work their whole lives and never have enough food to eat, clean water to drink, or the opportunity to decide their future for themselves.

I’ve seen a crippled man pulling himself down a busy street, trying to beg enough money to eat. I’ve seen children with leprosy, with missing limbs, with stomachs swollen from hunger, covered in feces and disease.  I’ve seen children digging through the garbage, looking for bottles to sell or food to eat.  Using the ground as a bathroom because they have no toilet. Drinking from polluted streams because they have no clean water.

As the rest of the world is fixated on the swine flu, Nepal has been hit with a diarrhea epidemic. More than 100 people, mainly children, have died in the past few weeks directly as a result of diarrhea.  There’s no access to clean water, no toilets, and no hygiene education in many parts of Nepal. The hospitals are overcrowded. There isn’t enough medicine or medical staff.  And the disease continues to spread.  This isn’t an unknown medical condition - it’s diarrhea. Not only is it curable but it’s preventable. So many lives lost to such a simple, treatable disease.

I’m not writing all of this to say that if we just try a little harder, we can heal the world.  You know just as well as I that no matter what we do, children will die of disease, of thirst, of violence.  There will always be conflict, there will always be poverty, and there will always be pain.  All I’m trying to say is that the more I see in Nepal, in Mexico, and around the world, the more that I am convinced that it is possible to do something.  And to do nothing is not just irresponsible, it’s wrong.  To do nothing is to say that you feel that you deserve clean water, an education, and a bright future more than any one of these children merely because you were born with the opportunities that they were not.   Because we have the resources to prevent diarrhea and they do not.  It’s their world just as much as it is ours. And what we do does make a difference in the end. 

Getting Married in Nepal…

Before I left the US, I promised my grandfather (Hi Pop!) that I would not bring back a husband when I returned in August.  I fully intend to keep this promise, though I am slightly in love with Nepali weddings.

Before this leads any of my family members into panic mode, I am going to take the focus off of me and discuss Nepali weddings.

My coworker Ram got married all this past week. He met Merina at ECCA several years ago and they’ve been dating for some time. She moved to Singapore for school hree years ago.  When Ram found out that he’d been accepted into a Master’s program in Singapore last month, his parents and Merina’s met and officially agreed to an engagement. That happened on June 25.  Less than three weeks later, the wedding process began. By July 22, they’ll be living in Singapore.  It’s an incredibly quick process. Though some engagements last up to three or four months, many couples are married relatively quickly after becoming engaged.

I can in no way adequately describe the wedding process. I’ve participated in two weddings now, and still have so much to learn about all of the rituals and customs.  Weddings here also differ considerably depending on which ethnic group you belong to and which caste level the bride and groom are within the ethnic group. 

In the beginning, once the parents of the bride and groom have agreed to an engagement, the astrological signs and birth and lunar details of the bride and groom are compared to find the auspicious time for the wedding.  This means that a couple could be married at 3 am on a Wednesday, or 11 pm on a Friday or any other time based on the lunar cycle and their birth details.  (Often, a couple’s birth dates must be compatible prior to an engagement even taking place.  If they are not, this is reason enough for them not to marry!). Luckily, in Ram and Merina’s case, the best time was on a Monday afternoon.  The other wedding I attended took place at 2 am in the middle of the week (I didn't watch that part, clearly).  

Then, the groom and his family initiate the marriage process by sending baskets upon baskets of sweets, fruits, fish, and other symbolic gifts to the home of the bride as an offering of marriage.  The gifts of clothing and jewelry are kept by the bride if her family accepts the offer, and the food is sent back to the groom’s house to be displayed later by the bride’s family as a show of their wealth. The bride’s family will then host several receptions for her friends and family.   The ceremonies here are almost always separate for the bride and groom’s family and friends.   

I went to a wedding reception for the groom’s family and friends (though I think Merina’s family was there as well) on Sunday night, which was mainly just dancing and dinner for 400 to 500 people.  This was an opportunity for his family and acquaintances to come by and congratulate the couple.  Then on Monday, I went to Ram’s house with maybe 20 or so of Ram’s close friends and family. From Ram’s we traveled by bus to Merina’s house in the hills to “retrieve” the bride.  Several ceremonies then took place at her home prior to her return to Ram’s house.  Here are a few of the events that took place:

• The groom’s shoes are stolen by the bride’s family and his family must bargain for them by offering money and gifts
  
• The groom must be blessed by the oldest married woman in his family
  
• The bride must be fed specific food by her family elders and the priest, including egg, alcohol, and dried fish
  
• The bride must be carried to the marriage car by her uncle, who must circle the car three times clockwise prior to putting her in the car
  
• The bride and her family must cry in public to symbolize the pain of her leaving the family
  
• The priests (each family has one) must offer specific blessings to the couple for their marriage and health.  These blessing ensure that the couple stays together through seven reincarnations.
  

The bride is then taken back to the groom’s house, where another ceremony is performed outside the house prior to her entrance into the family (in this case, it was definitely in the middle of the street).  Then, the bride is kept mostly separate from the groom for the rest of the day while he celebrates with his friends and family.  In Ram’s case, he visited Merina often (three of the other girls and I stayed with her most of the evening – painting our nails and eating snacks and chatting), but the only thing we did with the rest of his family and friends was to eat during the Newari (ethnic) reception.

Attending these weddings has been so interesting and a lot of fun. I love the traditions and rituals used in each part of the ceremonies, and it's fascinating to learn about the meaning behind many of the customs. My Nepali friends were all very surprised to hear how short and relatively simple American weddings are in comparison to Nepali ones. While we have many traditions, equally elaborate wedding receptions, and months of pre-wedding parties and showers -  U.S. weddings still pale in in comparison to the ceremonies in Nepal. Nonetheless, I prefer the American freedom to choose your marriage partner and plan your own wedding (instead of having everything already planned for you). I also think maybe Nepali weddings are a bit too long (Monday's event was 12 hrs, for example) and expensive for my personal taste (I assume that my parents are sighing in relief at this point). But they are really beautiful. 

I have beat the system today, and actually have been able to upload a few photos of the wedding! I have many other good ones that are on other cameras – I’ll either post them here later or put them on facebook. 

Also, if I can manage it, my next post is going to be all the photos I’ve been trying to post since I went to Chitwan. We’ll see if I’m successful. 

Love,

Lisa, who promises to stay unmarried for the next five weeks

At the reception on Sunday night with the happy couple - Ram and Merina.  Anita is on the left and Suchita is on the right.  My little Nepali sister, Palistha, is on the far right.  I absolutely adore my sari, but was not, in any way, comfortable in it. It's really hard to walk, let alone dance, in.  But it is by far the prettiest thing I've ever owned. 

Suchita, Gyanu, and Pratibha at the Groom's house on Monday morning, prior to retrieving the bride.  I had so much fun with them.  Suchita, Pratibha, and I worked together a few weeks ago at one of the camps. 

For those who are curious, the red on their foreheads is called a "tika" and is a blessing of good luck.  Ingredients include red dye, rice paste, sugar, and curd (yogurt).  Eating it is not advised, however. I kept knocking mine off because I'm still not used to it. 

With Sushil.  Lilian - he looks nice in a tie, no? The long shirt I am wearing is called a kurta. My pale skin is greatly admired here - completely opposite of U.S. preference for tan skin.  

Some of the ECCA guys relaxing at Ram's house. From left - Bikash, Kumar, Sidhi, and Anup. They sang love songs the entire bus ride to the bride's house. 

Following the band up the hillside to the Bride's house. It was quite a hike in heels.  Gorgeous view, though. 

How awesome is this poster? I definitely want one for my wedding. 

With Sagun. He's an ECCA counselor and also the bride's brother.  When he puts his sunglasses on, he definitely looks like a movie star.  (He has a very nice girlfriend - no speculating on my behalf) 

Ram and Merina in the afternoon ceremony where they are officially married. 

The bride being carried to the marriage car by her uncle.  She looked absolutely beautiful, though she told me that the fabrics she has to wear are incredibly hot and heavy. 

Ram is a married man! He's being led to the marriage car by his father.  He has two different things around his neck - one is a blessing from his family, one is a blessing (and welcome) from the bride's family. The bride also gave him a gold ring - though they don't wear wedding rings here like they do in the U.S. 

Thanks to the Cows Here, I'm Craving Steak

I’ve been trying to post for a week, but the internet has been absolutely terrible and I’ve had no luck getting any photos up on the blog. Anyway, I have to give up on the photo thing for now because otherwise I’ll never post again.  Hopefully, I’ll make it back into the tourist district soon, where I can get a better internet connection and also real coffee – a nice two for one deal. 

As I wait for my photos to load, I am sitting at my desk watching my coworkers debate about the soccer shirts they’ll be wearing on Saturday for the big soccer game between the older and newer ECCA counselors.  It’s infinitely more interesting than the work I’m doing at ECCA this week – researching the types of U.S. funding available for the organization.  Though this is the agreement I made with ECCA as part of my internship experience, it’s by far my least favorite part of my time here.  I am thankful, however, that this work is not the norm for me here. Most days I am traveling to schools or attending workshops or working on various projects.  I’m also taking some time off from ECCA once or twice a week to visit the work sites of several of the Canadian volunteers that I traveled to Chitwan with.  Tuesday, I visited another orphanage on the outskirts of the city – an experience that was heartbreaking and maddening – and tomorrow I am spending half of the day at the day care center that I wrote about earlier.  I’m also going to be visiting another orphanage and several other centers for malnourished or conflict-affected children. 

I am looking forward to Saturday’s soccer game (I’m watching – I can’t imagine that my complete lack of soccer experience would be useful to either team) – but it’s still amazing to me that everyone is willing to spend their one day a week that they have “off” with each other at various events.   Last Saturday there was a tree planting campaign, this Saturday is the soccer game, and next Saturday is “ECCA Day,” where they celebrate 22 years in operation.  There’s no such thing as personal time here, but everyone is okay with it except for me, the foreigner who definitely needs her space.  One of my coworkers is getting married this week (it’s a process that basically takes a full week), so I’ll be spending several evenings with everyone at these events as well.   I’ve always thought of myself as a social person, but this can definitely be draining, though less so, when you don’t speak the language well and thus, aren’t expected to participate in most conversations.

I’ve lost track of how many weeks I’ve been in Nepal, but I have just about a month left before the adventure ends and I return back to my “real” life in the U.S.  Though I continue to adapt and love the experience, I’m a little worn out from the heat, the rain, the load shedding, and the effort it requires to get things done around here.  What’s more, about a week ago, my stomach decided that it disagrees with Nepali food. How fantastic! The last five or six days, I haven’t been able to stomach anything remotely related to rice or curry.  This means that I’ve raided the grocery store near my work for anything with an English label, in hopes of forcing my stomach to recover by eating familiar foods.  Unfortunately, the selection of American options is less than ideal. However, this has not in any way stopped me from purchasing the following items:

Pringles Potato Chips, Lays Potato Chips, Movie Theatre popcorn, Macaroni and Cheese, Nutella, Peanut Butter, Cup a Soup, Nescafe, Cereal, and Sprite

Of course, my stomach doesn’t exactly love these foods either, but it’s the lesser of two evils at the moment.  Hence the reason I’m having a peanut butter and nutella sandwich and a Cup a Soup for lunch today, instead of dal bhat.  My coworkers are amused and also slightly disgusted. Also, thanks to the huge number of off-limits cows that are roaming the streets of Kathmandu, I've never wanted a steak so much in my life.  

I feel as though this blog post is kind of everywhere today, so I’m going to end it here.  I have a lot more that I could write, but it’s so much easier to write about it when you have pictures to illustrate what you’re talking about.  

Love, Lisa

*Also, Happy 4^th of July! I was planning to celebrate the 4^th in Nepal by going to a bash at the U.S. Embassy, which advertised “barbeque, fajitas, desserts, and drinks.”  Because nothing says Happy Day of American Independence like Mexican fajitas, right?  I didn’t end up going, but I still celebrated by eating ice cream and playing badminton, which is about as close as you can get.  I hope you all had a wonderful day with family and friends and ate a lot of fantastic American food!

Guess Who Went Bungee Jumping Yesterday?

Answer: Five Canadians.

Also, me.

Question: Guess who went twice???

Answer: Two brave Canadians.

Also, me.

!!!!

The option of bungee jumping has been brought before me several times since I arrived in Nepal.  Each time I’ve brushed it off as something that is “not my thing.”  Eventually, I started asking myself why in the world it’s “not my thing.” Do I have any other reason besides that I’m scared? 

So when my travel plans for Saturday-Sunday were postponed, I decided to join my Canadian friends on their day-long excursion to Bhote Kosi, one of the top 5 best places to bungee jump in the world. It’s located about 12 km from the Tibetan border in a beautiful river gorge. The bungee jumping and all activities in the area are run by Last Resort, a beautiful resort and spa with hot springs, canyoning, and so much more.  It’s absolutely gorgeous.

The bridge with the bungee jumping is 160 m in the air, which is about 550 feet from the river bed.  The bridge actually freaks me out considerably because it’s a suspension bridge and moves really easily.  We were initially divided into two groups based on weight.  My group was scheduled to jump before lunch, and the other would jump after.  It was a large crowd of jumpers – at least 40, I would say.  I was one of the first people to jump based on weight, and managed to make quite a graceful dive off of the platform. I actually got a number of compliments from strangers who described the dive as swanlike and very graceful. So, thanks Dad, for the two years of diving lessons. They clearly paid off, in a very weird way.

The dive itself is both exhilarating and terrifying.  There’s nothing in the world like it.  I kept my eyes open the entire time and loved the feeling of the wind rushing around me and the river rushing below me. It’s indescribable.

Four others in our group dove after me (the rest of the Canada group went canyoning), then we hiked back up the hills in the pouring rain over waterfalls while following a steep, poorly marked path filled with plenty of leeches eager to suck my blood.

Motivated by our bungee jump, two of the girls and I decided to go ahead and try the “swing.” While you dive headfirst for bungee jumping, with the swing you jump feet first. Instead of being attached at the ankles and hips, you’re attached at the waist and chest.  It’s the largest swing in the world –you fall for 7 or 8 seconds then swing across the river gorge.

So after lunch, three of us signed up to jump again with the afternoon bungee group.  Both bungee and swing jump from the same place, but unlike with the bungee, you can do the swing in any order regardless of weight.  Of course, I volunteered to go first out of the entire second group (I KNOW! I have no idea where this courage came from.)  Unlike my bungee dive, however, I was considerably less graceful on this jump (flailing arms and legs = not so graceful). Also, I had an awkward scream.  The swing is so cool, however, because you fall much closer to the river and then swing back and forth across the river valley. It’s an amazing view.

Anyway, I survived to tell you about it. I can’t imagine this bravery will last through my return to the U.S., so don’t start making any plans to take me sky diving or anything when I return.  There will be a video of my dive, but I can’t pick it up for a few days. So here’s a photo of the valley to tide you over.

In other news, I spent Wednesday through Friday in Bhaktapur at a camp for 31 students from 10 schools in the Kathmandu Valley, and will be returning tomorrow to teach a session at a camp for ECCA counselors.  Next weekend I’m heading to Pohkara for a few days, and then I have just one month left in Nepal! So crazy how time has flown by, and how much I still have left to do.  The monsoon rains have also started here, which has cooled off the city considerably.  It’s a nice change, but we’ll see if I’m still happy about it after days and days of rain.

I miss you all!

Love,

Lisa, bungee ballerina 

A view of the river from the top. 160 meters, my friends. That's over 550 feet. 

The bridge itself.