When the strike was supposed to start at noon yesterday, people just didn't shut their shops or get off the roads. I guess that they know when failure to comply with a strike order will result in violence or destruction of property and when it won't. I gather that the votes were counted last night anyway, because we were warned that there could be a strike today if the losing party objected to the results. Happily, there was no strike today either. So it looks like I am off to Chitwan tomorrow, will have on last day in Pokhara on Saturday, and will then head back to Kathmandu on Sunday. Of course, this is Nepal, so I can't be sure what will happen next. If things go according to plan, I'll be spending a lot of time on buses during the rest of this week, but at least Mike, one of the other volunteers at the orphanage in Pokhara will be going to Chitwan with me. I can't believe that I am already so close to the end of my trip.
That's all I have time to write today, but I'll do more when I can.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Strike Two
A strike is starting in Pokhara in just under one hour. Of course, it is "indefinite", so I have no idea how long or short it will be. The previous strike was related to an ethnic group's fight for its rights, which I was actually planning to write about today. This strike is because there was some kind of student election on March 19 and on March 20, vote counting stopped because of a dispute between the student unions, which are extensions of political parties. One of the parties called a strike to push for the resumption of vote counting. About 8,000 votes were cast and roughly half have been counted.
We are hopeful that this dispute will be resolved quickly and the strike will not last long. Apart from the fact that it may disrupt my plans to go to the tourist part of Pokhara tomorrow and then to the Chitwan forest on Wednesday, however, even an extended strike will not be as bad for me as the last one. I am not in a remote area this time and I am with people who speak English well. Also, I understand that, if necessary, I should be able to leave Pokhara by taxi and possibly fly from Pokhara to Kathmandu, so that I am not in danger of missing my flight out of the country on April 13. I hope it will not come to that as I really want to visit the Chitwan forest and spend some more time in Kathmandu before I leave, but I'll just have to wait and see what happens.
I walk into town to use the internet and assume that I will not be able to do so during the strike. If I leave for Chitwan on Wednesday, however, I'm not sure whether I will have internet access before Saturday or Sunday anyway. I will post an update as soon as I can.
We are hopeful that this dispute will be resolved quickly and the strike will not last long. Apart from the fact that it may disrupt my plans to go to the tourist part of Pokhara tomorrow and then to the Chitwan forest on Wednesday, however, even an extended strike will not be as bad for me as the last one. I am not in a remote area this time and I am with people who speak English well. Also, I understand that, if necessary, I should be able to leave Pokhara by taxi and possibly fly from Pokhara to Kathmandu, so that I am not in danger of missing my flight out of the country on April 13. I hope it will not come to that as I really want to visit the Chitwan forest and spend some more time in Kathmandu before I leave, but I'll just have to wait and see what happens.
I walk into town to use the internet and assume that I will not be able to do so during the strike. If I leave for Chitwan on Wednesday, however, I'm not sure whether I will have internet access before Saturday or Sunday anyway. I will post an update as soon as I can.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Catching up: Art Projects/Alex Toys Narti
I owe an enormous thank you to Alex Toys, a company that makes a broad line of arts & crafts supplies and activities for children. In response to a blind letter from me, Alex Toys generously donated two bracelet making projects (beaded braceletes and metal bracelets that kids personalize with stickers, colored pens, and glitter glue) and 12 paint and canvas sets for the girls at Lawajuni. Not only did the girls really enjoy these projects, but also they made a huge difference during the strike -- helping to fill days when school was closed and there wasn't much to do. In addition, the language barrier made it impossible for me to have substantive conversations with the girls, but the art projects helped me to connect with them. My experience at Lawajuni would have been quite different if I had not brought these projects with me.
The first project that we did was the metal bracelets. I started by giving them out to a few girls who were in my room one day, but word spread quickly and suddenly all of the girls were there asking for a bracelet. I thought that this project would take only a few minutes, but I was surprised to find that they spent a long time choosing and coloring in the stickers and somehow the project went on for hours. Thirteen year old Mina was so happy that, upon finishing her bracelet, she ran to her room and came back with a necklace for me. Words cannot express how touched I was by this gesture. I hated to take her necklace from her, but I understood that she really wanted me to have it so I accepted it and decided to pass it on to Sita when I return to Kathmandu. Later, I learned that another volunteer had given the necklace to Sabita (the didi who takes care of the girls) and Sabita had given it to Mina. I am continually amazed at the generosity of the people I meet here. They have almost nothing, yet they always have something to give.
Next we painted. We had 6 canvases that had a picture of flowers in a vase on them and 6 canvases that had a jungle picture on them. The flowers were much more popular, but when we ran out of flower canvases, the girls graciously accepted the remaining jungle canvases and painted all of them. At first, some of the girls told me that they weren't interested in painting, but others were excited about it and eventually some minds were changed. We did half of the canvases one day and the next day girls were begging me to give out the rest of them. At the end of the first day of painting, I was asked several times what I planned to do with the canvases -- was I going to take them back to America? I was surprised by this question, but I was even more surprised by their reaction when I told them that the paintings were going to stay with them at Lawajuni: Some girls jumped up and down excitedly, some thanked me profusely, and some just beamed million dollar smiles. One would think that I was handing out cell phones or MP3 players rather than their own artwork. When I relayed what happened to Cam, he told me that previously another volunteer did some sort of art project with the girls involving cloth and had then taken their artwork back to Australia to try to sell it and raise money for them. Knowing this history and seeing how much joy being able to keep the paintings brought to the girls, I am extremely grateful to Alex Toys for making it possible for me to do this for them.
On the day that we did the beaded bracelets, I again started with just a few girls and soon had all of them lining up for their elastic, beads, and threading needle. It is really amazing how quickly news spreads there. I cut pieces of elastic for each girl and handed out the needles. I assigned Karmu the job putting a knot at one end of each piece to stop the beads and I asked Barsa to take tape off of each of the little cases of beads. As the girls received their supplies, they broke off into little groups to work on their bracelets. I was again surprised at how long this project kept them occupied. Some girls just randomly beaded their bracelets, while others sorted the beads carefully and worked out the patterns that they wanted. Sometimes they didn't like the bracelets that they created and they took off all of the beads and started again.
The bracelet projects came in 54 plastic boxes the size of a videotape. The boxes were mostly empty, so I emptied them and condensed the supplies to transport them to Nepal. I realized, however, that the boxes were perfect for holding things like hair accessories, jewelry, and photos and I thought that the girls would enjoy painting them with the paint that was leftover after the canvases were done. I couldn't bring them all and I suspected that most of them would break in transit, but I decided to bring as many as I could and hope for the best. I was glad that I did because the girls wanted them. Most of the lids broke off and the girls were clearly disappointed by this, but when I apologized for the fact that the boxes were broken, they said "No sorry. Thank you." I wish that I could have brought one for every girl, but I gave them out sort of randomly as girls requested them and somehow, I never had to say no to anyone. I hoped that they would personalize the boxes with their own drawings, but they all painted the same thing: A particular flower, the words "WELCOME NEPAL", and sometimes their names and/or Nepal's flag. I also encouraged them to paint the walls of the hostel and, to the extent that they did this, they painted the same things there as well. Learning in Nepal is based on rote repetition (if you walk by a school, you hear kids chanting their lessons) and copying and it seems that children are never encouraged to be creative, which is too bad.
Finally, on the morning that I left Narti, I gave out another round of metal bracelets. I was really glad that I had saved enough bracelets to do this because it made the girls very happy on an otherwise sad day. It also kept them busy while I finished packing. I spread the bracelets out on my bed for them to take and also put the pens, stickers, and glitter glue at the foot of my bed. When I told them to take the bracelets, the girls asked me whether the decorating materials were also for them and were very happy to hear me say "yes". They also inquired about a pile of extra paints, palettes, and playing cards that I had left in a stack on the floor. Previously, I had given out a box of colored pencils with two coloring books and one of the younger girls, Sabrita, had been working on one of the coloring books for several days. She had finished coloring almost everything in the book, but when I was packing, she brought the coloring book and pencils to me and asked if I wanted them back. Nobody takes anything for granted here!!
The art projects meant more to the girls than I ever could have imagined and also enabled me to have wonderful experiences that I would hate to have missed. Thank you, Alex Toys!!!
The first project that we did was the metal bracelets. I started by giving them out to a few girls who were in my room one day, but word spread quickly and suddenly all of the girls were there asking for a bracelet. I thought that this project would take only a few minutes, but I was surprised to find that they spent a long time choosing and coloring in the stickers and somehow the project went on for hours. Thirteen year old Mina was so happy that, upon finishing her bracelet, she ran to her room and came back with a necklace for me. Words cannot express how touched I was by this gesture. I hated to take her necklace from her, but I understood that she really wanted me to have it so I accepted it and decided to pass it on to Sita when I return to Kathmandu. Later, I learned that another volunteer had given the necklace to Sabita (the didi who takes care of the girls) and Sabita had given it to Mina. I am continually amazed at the generosity of the people I meet here. They have almost nothing, yet they always have something to give.
Next we painted. We had 6 canvases that had a picture of flowers in a vase on them and 6 canvases that had a jungle picture on them. The flowers were much more popular, but when we ran out of flower canvases, the girls graciously accepted the remaining jungle canvases and painted all of them. At first, some of the girls told me that they weren't interested in painting, but others were excited about it and eventually some minds were changed. We did half of the canvases one day and the next day girls were begging me to give out the rest of them. At the end of the first day of painting, I was asked several times what I planned to do with the canvases -- was I going to take them back to America? I was surprised by this question, but I was even more surprised by their reaction when I told them that the paintings were going to stay with them at Lawajuni: Some girls jumped up and down excitedly, some thanked me profusely, and some just beamed million dollar smiles. One would think that I was handing out cell phones or MP3 players rather than their own artwork. When I relayed what happened to Cam, he told me that previously another volunteer did some sort of art project with the girls involving cloth and had then taken their artwork back to Australia to try to sell it and raise money for them. Knowing this history and seeing how much joy being able to keep the paintings brought to the girls, I am extremely grateful to Alex Toys for making it possible for me to do this for them.
On the day that we did the beaded bracelets, I again started with just a few girls and soon had all of them lining up for their elastic, beads, and threading needle. It is really amazing how quickly news spreads there. I cut pieces of elastic for each girl and handed out the needles. I assigned Karmu the job putting a knot at one end of each piece to stop the beads and I asked Barsa to take tape off of each of the little cases of beads. As the girls received their supplies, they broke off into little groups to work on their bracelets. I was again surprised at how long this project kept them occupied. Some girls just randomly beaded their bracelets, while others sorted the beads carefully and worked out the patterns that they wanted. Sometimes they didn't like the bracelets that they created and they took off all of the beads and started again.
The bracelet projects came in 54 plastic boxes the size of a videotape. The boxes were mostly empty, so I emptied them and condensed the supplies to transport them to Nepal. I realized, however, that the boxes were perfect for holding things like hair accessories, jewelry, and photos and I thought that the girls would enjoy painting them with the paint that was leftover after the canvases were done. I couldn't bring them all and I suspected that most of them would break in transit, but I decided to bring as many as I could and hope for the best. I was glad that I did because the girls wanted them. Most of the lids broke off and the girls were clearly disappointed by this, but when I apologized for the fact that the boxes were broken, they said "No sorry. Thank you." I wish that I could have brought one for every girl, but I gave them out sort of randomly as girls requested them and somehow, I never had to say no to anyone. I hoped that they would personalize the boxes with their own drawings, but they all painted the same thing: A particular flower, the words "WELCOME NEPAL", and sometimes their names and/or Nepal's flag. I also encouraged them to paint the walls of the hostel and, to the extent that they did this, they painted the same things there as well. Learning in Nepal is based on rote repetition (if you walk by a school, you hear kids chanting their lessons) and copying and it seems that children are never encouraged to be creative, which is too bad.
Finally, on the morning that I left Narti, I gave out another round of metal bracelets. I was really glad that I had saved enough bracelets to do this because it made the girls very happy on an otherwise sad day. It also kept them busy while I finished packing. I spread the bracelets out on my bed for them to take and also put the pens, stickers, and glitter glue at the foot of my bed. When I told them to take the bracelets, the girls asked me whether the decorating materials were also for them and were very happy to hear me say "yes". They also inquired about a pile of extra paints, palettes, and playing cards that I had left in a stack on the floor. Previously, I had given out a box of colored pencils with two coloring books and one of the younger girls, Sabrita, had been working on one of the coloring books for several days. She had finished coloring almost everything in the book, but when I was packing, she brought the coloring book and pencils to me and asked if I wanted them back. Nobody takes anything for granted here!!
The art projects meant more to the girls than I ever could have imagined and also enabled me to have wonderful experiences that I would hate to have missed. Thank you, Alex Toys!!!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Catching up: The Road to Narti, February 28, 2009
At 6:50 a.m., Anita comes to get me. We schlep all of my luggage to the boys' house and load it onto an empty microbus. Anita, Michael, three girls, & I climbed in. The three girls are ex-kamlaris who are making the long trip with us in order to visit their friends or relatives for less than one day.
We take the microbus to a bigger road, where we transfer to an old tour bus. The front of the bus has a large cabin in which, behind the driver's seat on the right, there are two passenger seats, and on the left, there is a long bench. When a long pillow is leaned against the dashboard, the bench looks like a bed -- or at least a fainting chair. The front cabin is separated from the rest of the bus by a wall with windows and, in the middle, a door that also has a window in it.
With 37 seats and only 6 passengers, I assume that I will have two seats to myself. Sangita has other plans, however. She sits beside me and rests her head on my shoulder, then curls up and puts her head in my lap. It is all very sweet -- except the part where she periodically sits up and leans over me to spit up out the window, blasting me with cold air every time she does it. Soon we switch seats. When she gets tired of lying down with her head in my lap, I pull out my trusty travel pillow and make her more comfortable leaning against the window. She is very grateful and holds onto the pillow for most of the trip, even when she is lying down. Each time she sticks her head out the window, she thoughtfully wipes her mouth on the window curtains to avoid siling my pillow.
Michael wonders why we need six drivers for this trip. When we stop for a road permit (which should have been obtained the day before), the number decreases to four. A few minutes later, we stop for petrol (which also should have been done the day before) and the number of drivers falls to three.
We go through two checkpoints and, a little while later, we stop for a snack. I try to steer Sangita towards plain biscuits or lemon cake, but she is not interested. She gets Michael to buy her some sort of fruity snack, but I don't see her eat it. After I eat my potato pancakes (not like the ones that I have at home, but still quite good) and lemon cake, I cringe as I see Anita buying Sangita a spicy, crunchy treat served in a cone made of paper (eating off of newspaper or paper that has been written or printed on is common here). Sangita is still eating her treat when we get back on the bus. Soon, however, she throws out the last third of it and out the window -- and her head follows shortly afterwards. Round two has commenced. This time, I am a little more prepared, having grabbed a fist full of napkins while I ate (Nepalese napkins are, however, made of a waxy paper that is not at all absorbent). I turn around and tell Anita, who is sitting behind me with Michael, "no more spicy food for Sangita".
A short time later, we stop again for quite a long time. I have my first experience with an outhouse in Nepal, transitioning away from the relative luxury of life in Kathmandu. Anita is hungry and orders a big, spicy rice and vegetable dish. I cringe again when Sangita eats some of it. I give Anita a disapproving look and suggest that she ask for some napkins (there are none in sight), but Anita just shrugs her shoulders and continues eating. Luckily, round 3 did not start when we got on the bus -- though it occurred about an hour and a half later.
After Anita eats and we are all standing around, I ask Michael what is going on. He says that he doesn't know, but he guesses that the drivers were hungry or needed a break. With three drivers, I would think that they could manage taking turns driving, resting, and eating. Plus we had only driven about 20 minutes after the previous stop. For those who are counting, that's two short stops, two checkpoint stops, and two long stops during the first three and a half to four hours of a 12 hour trip!
As it turned out, one driver did the vast majority of the driving, with a second driver pinch hitting during the last few hours. The third driver didn't drive at all, but he was very busy opening and closing curtains on the windows between the front cabin and the main part of the bus, sometimes opening and closing the windows, and wiping the windows with a cloth a couple of times (not to be confused with actually cleaning the windows). He also had another job: Opening overhead compartments in the front cabin, taking out gym bags (presumably filled with the drivers' clothes for the overnight trip) and then putting them back up again. Finally, he alwasy got on the bus last and was supposed to close the door behind him. Usually, however, he forgot to do that. He would go into the front cabin, close the door between the cabin and the rest of the bus, and then Anita would yell for him to close the door as we took off with the door wide open. Sometimes he would come out to close the door and other times he shut it by pressing a button in the front cabin. Perhaps his union requires a certain number of breaks for men who do this arduous work (I just hope that American unions don't look to Nepal for inspiration).
During the afternoon, it becomes clear that we front-loaded all of our breaks in order to get them out of the way during the first part of the trip. After the second long break, we stop once to pee by the side of the road and twice to wait for settlements of traffic accident cases to conclude, during which time, we remain on the bus (luckily, we arrived near the conclusions of both of cases and do not have to wait too long). When I was very hungry and really wanted to stretch my legs without being thrown all over the bus, we just kept plowing ahead. Rather than a front-loading of breaks strategy, however, I start to think that perhaps the reason that we aren't stopping is that the third driver's union break rules only apply when the driver is actually working. During the afternoon, while we are driving without any breaks, the third driver takes a nap on the bench. About a half hour from Narti, however, he wakes up and starts working again. A few minutes later, we stop so that the drivers can rest and have tea.
Michael buys water for everyone and offers snacks. I get GLUCOSE biscuits: "more milky, more energy". Sangita opts for mango juice (very popular in Nepal) and a bag of spicy, rice based chips that look something like CHEETOS chips. When we finally get back on the bus after a long stop, driver number 2 turns around and mouths to Sangita, "Don't eat anything", which she thinks is hilarious. Michael then hands out chocolate wafers to everyone, showing that he really does know what women want!
Shortly after we get back on the road, we come to a bridge. It appears that a group of people bearing lit torches are about to walk over the bridge toward us. It makes me think of the Ku Klux Klan, though I don't see any white hoods. I asked Michael what was going on and he said "I don't know. A riot." Then the bus stops and he gets off with his camera to take photos. He begins walking across the bridge, ignoring Anita's shouts for him not to do so. None of the rioters started to cross the bridge, so the bus ended up following, and then passing, Michael. When we reached the other side, I saw a circle of people standing around a fire. As best as I can tell, the torches were pieces of wood that were all thrown into a single bonfire, though I can't actually be certain that people were originally walking with torches was accurate. The bus drove quickly past the group and then stopped and waited for Michael. When he got back on the bus, I asked whether he had gotten any good photos and said "no." Then I asked if he had figured out what was going on and he said "No. It is some kind of orderly protest." And we were off again, reaching the Lawajuni hostel in Narti a short time later.
In summary, I drove for 12 hours on a bumpy road, in an old, dirty bus, with a sick 15 year old girl's head in my lap (when it was not out the window), stopping at places that had no real bathrooms and served food that clearly was not prepared according to US health department standards, waited for the settlement of two traffic accident cases, and passed through a riot/orderly protest. It was great!! Oh, and the scenery was nice too.
We take the microbus to a bigger road, where we transfer to an old tour bus. The front of the bus has a large cabin in which, behind the driver's seat on the right, there are two passenger seats, and on the left, there is a long bench. When a long pillow is leaned against the dashboard, the bench looks like a bed -- or at least a fainting chair. The front cabin is separated from the rest of the bus by a wall with windows and, in the middle, a door that also has a window in it.
With 37 seats and only 6 passengers, I assume that I will have two seats to myself. Sangita has other plans, however. She sits beside me and rests her head on my shoulder, then curls up and puts her head in my lap. It is all very sweet -- except the part where she periodically sits up and leans over me to spit up out the window, blasting me with cold air every time she does it. Soon we switch seats. When she gets tired of lying down with her head in my lap, I pull out my trusty travel pillow and make her more comfortable leaning against the window. She is very grateful and holds onto the pillow for most of the trip, even when she is lying down. Each time she sticks her head out the window, she thoughtfully wipes her mouth on the window curtains to avoid siling my pillow.
Michael wonders why we need six drivers for this trip. When we stop for a road permit (which should have been obtained the day before), the number decreases to four. A few minutes later, we stop for petrol (which also should have been done the day before) and the number of drivers falls to three.
We go through two checkpoints and, a little while later, we stop for a snack. I try to steer Sangita towards plain biscuits or lemon cake, but she is not interested. She gets Michael to buy her some sort of fruity snack, but I don't see her eat it. After I eat my potato pancakes (not like the ones that I have at home, but still quite good) and lemon cake, I cringe as I see Anita buying Sangita a spicy, crunchy treat served in a cone made of paper (eating off of newspaper or paper that has been written or printed on is common here). Sangita is still eating her treat when we get back on the bus. Soon, however, she throws out the last third of it and out the window -- and her head follows shortly afterwards. Round two has commenced. This time, I am a little more prepared, having grabbed a fist full of napkins while I ate (Nepalese napkins are, however, made of a waxy paper that is not at all absorbent). I turn around and tell Anita, who is sitting behind me with Michael, "no more spicy food for Sangita".
A short time later, we stop again for quite a long time. I have my first experience with an outhouse in Nepal, transitioning away from the relative luxury of life in Kathmandu. Anita is hungry and orders a big, spicy rice and vegetable dish. I cringe again when Sangita eats some of it. I give Anita a disapproving look and suggest that she ask for some napkins (there are none in sight), but Anita just shrugs her shoulders and continues eating. Luckily, round 3 did not start when we got on the bus -- though it occurred about an hour and a half later.
After Anita eats and we are all standing around, I ask Michael what is going on. He says that he doesn't know, but he guesses that the drivers were hungry or needed a break. With three drivers, I would think that they could manage taking turns driving, resting, and eating. Plus we had only driven about 20 minutes after the previous stop. For those who are counting, that's two short stops, two checkpoint stops, and two long stops during the first three and a half to four hours of a 12 hour trip!
As it turned out, one driver did the vast majority of the driving, with a second driver pinch hitting during the last few hours. The third driver didn't drive at all, but he was very busy opening and closing curtains on the windows between the front cabin and the main part of the bus, sometimes opening and closing the windows, and wiping the windows with a cloth a couple of times (not to be confused with actually cleaning the windows). He also had another job: Opening overhead compartments in the front cabin, taking out gym bags (presumably filled with the drivers' clothes for the overnight trip) and then putting them back up again. Finally, he alwasy got on the bus last and was supposed to close the door behind him. Usually, however, he forgot to do that. He would go into the front cabin, close the door between the cabin and the rest of the bus, and then Anita would yell for him to close the door as we took off with the door wide open. Sometimes he would come out to close the door and other times he shut it by pressing a button in the front cabin. Perhaps his union requires a certain number of breaks for men who do this arduous work (I just hope that American unions don't look to Nepal for inspiration).
During the afternoon, it becomes clear that we front-loaded all of our breaks in order to get them out of the way during the first part of the trip. After the second long break, we stop once to pee by the side of the road and twice to wait for settlements of traffic accident cases to conclude, during which time, we remain on the bus (luckily, we arrived near the conclusions of both of cases and do not have to wait too long). When I was very hungry and really wanted to stretch my legs without being thrown all over the bus, we just kept plowing ahead. Rather than a front-loading of breaks strategy, however, I start to think that perhaps the reason that we aren't stopping is that the third driver's union break rules only apply when the driver is actually working. During the afternoon, while we are driving without any breaks, the third driver takes a nap on the bench. About a half hour from Narti, however, he wakes up and starts working again. A few minutes later, we stop so that the drivers can rest and have tea.
Michael buys water for everyone and offers snacks. I get GLUCOSE biscuits: "more milky, more energy". Sangita opts for mango juice (very popular in Nepal) and a bag of spicy, rice based chips that look something like CHEETOS chips. When we finally get back on the bus after a long stop, driver number 2 turns around and mouths to Sangita, "Don't eat anything", which she thinks is hilarious. Michael then hands out chocolate wafers to everyone, showing that he really does know what women want!
Shortly after we get back on the road, we come to a bridge. It appears that a group of people bearing lit torches are about to walk over the bridge toward us. It makes me think of the Ku Klux Klan, though I don't see any white hoods. I asked Michael what was going on and he said "I don't know. A riot." Then the bus stops and he gets off with his camera to take photos. He begins walking across the bridge, ignoring Anita's shouts for him not to do so. None of the rioters started to cross the bridge, so the bus ended up following, and then passing, Michael. When we reached the other side, I saw a circle of people standing around a fire. As best as I can tell, the torches were pieces of wood that were all thrown into a single bonfire, though I can't actually be certain that people were originally walking with torches was accurate. The bus drove quickly past the group and then stopped and waited for Michael. When he got back on the bus, I asked whether he had gotten any good photos and said "no." Then I asked if he had figured out what was going on and he said "No. It is some kind of orderly protest." And we were off again, reaching the Lawajuni hostel in Narti a short time later.
In summary, I drove for 12 hours on a bumpy road, in an old, dirty bus, with a sick 15 year old girl's head in my lap (when it was not out the window), stopping at places that had no real bathrooms and served food that clearly was not prepared according to US health department standards, waited for the settlement of two traffic accident cases, and passed through a riot/orderly protest. It was great!! Oh, and the scenery was nice too.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Catching up: February 26, 2009 Kathmandu
Now that I am about to leave for Narti, more people have arrived at the volunteer house, but I still get my own room. : )
Eric is a graduate student at UC Berkeley and he is here for a week, but he isn't actually a volunteer. He works for a professor who is doing some sort of weather/climate project. They are setting up sensors in different countries around the world and creating a website where the data can be aggregated and manipulated. It is intended to be a free website that anyone can use to obtain information and compare countries. Honestly, I don't fully understand the purpose of the project, but the professor got a boatload of money to send kids all over the globe to set up these sensors. Apparently, it takes only a few minutes to set up the sensor, but Michael invited Eric to stay for a week.
Ethan and Ashley have also arrived -- or, more accurately, returned. A young, married (I think) couple from Oregon, they are in Nepal for six months. They've already spent some time teaching English in a village where Nepal Orphans Home supports the school (though they said that there were so many holidays that they didn't get to teach as much as they would have liked), working on some kind of environmental project, and trekking Soon friends of theirs from home will come and they will all go on a trek together. Ashley looks something like a friend of mine, so I keep wanting to call her "Karin".
If I remember correctly, Ethan had a job doing some kind of product of design and he lost it when the company went under. The company was subsequently bought by a larger company and he had the chance to get his job back. By then, however, he and Ashley had already planned this trip and he decided that he would rather travel. After they return to the states, Ashley is going to study some kind of natural medicine (I forgot what she called it -- something like nautal homeopathy). This cross between western medicine, nutrition, and natural remedies sounded interesting.
Today, Papa's House 3 is being set up. The newly constructed beds were finished and placed in the rooms; sheets, pillows and blankets were laid on every bed, and curtains have been hung. I went over to help, but when I arrived, almost everything had been done already. Timing is everything, eh?
We leave early tomorrow morning for Narti. We will be taking a private bus because Michael and Anita are going to pick up 25 ex-kamlari girls to bring them to Kathmandu (Note: On March 21, I learned that, on the way back, 2 extra girls stowed away on the bus because they also wanted to move to Kathmandu. I hear that Michael didn't have the heart to send them back to Narti after they showed such ingenuity and determination. So if anyone would like to help support these girls, whose private school education and other expenses obviously were not included in the budget, please make a donation on NOH's website at www.nepalorphanshome.com). The private bus is good news for me as I understand that the public buses are very crowded and the 12 hour ride is not only long, but also often uncomfortable. This doesn't bode well for my return trip, but I'm not going to worry about that right now.
Yesterday, I bought a lungi to wear when I bathe in Narti. Basically, a lungi is a large piece of fabric (some of my readers might know it as a "schmata"). After buying the fabric for about $2, you walk over to a man sitting outside at a sewing machine and pay him about 8 cents to sew two sides together so that you have a rectangle with holes at the top and bottom. You put it over your head, pull it tight, and then tie the two ends at the top together at your chest. I don't quite get how you wash yourself when wearing it, but it is apparently essential for bathing in the river in Narti because you are out in the open where anyone can see you. When I asked Sushmita how one washes with a lungi on, she showed pointed to my exposed head, shoulders, arms, and lower legs and said you just wash there. When I asked how you wash the areas that are not exposed, she said "you don't". Hmm. I sense embarrassing bathing stories in my future.
Swastika asked her uncle whether I could volunteer at the National Human Rights Commission (where he is the president). Unfortunately, he said that you have to apply for an internship 3 months in advance. So I'm out of luck, unless I want to come back to Nepal some other time. I asked whether I could at least meet her uncle and she said that she will try to set something up when I return to Kathmandu.
I am now thinking about going on a 5-day trek near the Annapurna Circuit. I will be able to see the mountains, but I won't actually be climbing them and I don't need any special equipment, so it is a wimpy trek, not a real trek. Afterwards, I want to spend a few days at a lodge in the Chitwan forest, which is supposed to be a lot of fun. Suddenly, two months doesn't seem like enough time and I'm not sure how I'm going to fit in everything that I want to do, but Michael says not to worry because everything always works out. He's usually right (except about the weather), so I'm going to relax and just go with the flow.
And now a word about child safety . . . .
Papa's House (the girls' house) has several flights of concrete stairs with no railings. A little scary for a house with lots of children running around. When I told Michael that he would be asking for a lawsuit in the U.S., he told me that when he raised the issue of railings with the contractors, they reacted as if he was completely crazy. Nepal is a little different, he said. The boys' house does have railings, by the stairs, but they also have a walkway at the top of the stairs (like at a motel or my sister's apartment apartment building in California). Apparently, simply running up and down several flights of concrete stairs is perfectly safe, but if you add a flat walkway to a staircase, then it becomes a hazard.
Ironically, the volunteer house, where no children live, has a lovely wooden banister going all the way up the 2 1/2 flight stone staircase -- even without any dangerous flat walkways in the house. At first, I thought that it was odd that the top 1/2 flight of stairs leads to a wall. Did the owner run out of money for a 4th floor after the stairway was already partially built? Did the U.S. government allocate money to Nepal for a stairway to nowhere project that Sarah Palin forgot to quash (perhaps because she can't see Nepal from her home)? Then one day, I peered around the corner and saw that the landing at the top of the stairs is an alter.
Moving on, when I wrote about transportation the other day, I forgot to discuss children. I'm sure that it will come as no surprise to anyone that the roads here are not croweded with SUVs filled with child safety seats. I'm sure that most Nepalese do not even know that child safety seats exist. In fact, most Nepalese families cannot afford cars at all, so they transport their children via motorcycle. Nevermind safety seats in cars, children on motorcycles in Nepal do not even wear helmets! I noticed that, in general, drivers wear helmets, but passengers do not. Ashley told me that this is because drivers are required to wear helmets by law, but the law does not extend to passengers! I have seen as many as 3 children on a motorcycle with their father at one time without helmets (Note: Manooj recently told me that he sometimes drives with 5 or 6 children on his motorcycle at one time!). Does it make any sense to require drivers to wear helmets, but not passengers -- especially when the passengers are children????? I don't think that there is any culture on earth where parents take precautions to protect themselves against an accident which might kill or seriously injure their children.
The motorcycle situation seems to be one of the bad things that comes from the meeting of the east and the west (or perhaps just developed countries meeting developing countries). Motorcycles have improved life here, but I'm sure that the crazy traffic patterns and lack of appropriate safety regulations result in many deaths and bad injuries. Another example is the water bottles and other packaged goods that developed countries have brought here. The people are glad to have these things, but there is no infrastructure to deal with the garbage. Trash is a problem in developed countries, but in countries like Nepal, where there is no such thing as a trash collection service in most places, it translates to litter being thrown everywhere. It is rather depressing to see beautiful scenery marred by trash scattered all over the ground.
I hope that my landlady uses her alter to pray for all the Nepalese children who live without railings and helmets.
Eric is a graduate student at UC Berkeley and he is here for a week, but he isn't actually a volunteer. He works for a professor who is doing some sort of weather/climate project. They are setting up sensors in different countries around the world and creating a website where the data can be aggregated and manipulated. It is intended to be a free website that anyone can use to obtain information and compare countries. Honestly, I don't fully understand the purpose of the project, but the professor got a boatload of money to send kids all over the globe to set up these sensors. Apparently, it takes only a few minutes to set up the sensor, but Michael invited Eric to stay for a week.
Ethan and Ashley have also arrived -- or, more accurately, returned. A young, married (I think) couple from Oregon, they are in Nepal for six months. They've already spent some time teaching English in a village where Nepal Orphans Home supports the school (though they said that there were so many holidays that they didn't get to teach as much as they would have liked), working on some kind of environmental project, and trekking Soon friends of theirs from home will come and they will all go on a trek together. Ashley looks something like a friend of mine, so I keep wanting to call her "Karin".
If I remember correctly, Ethan had a job doing some kind of product of design and he lost it when the company went under. The company was subsequently bought by a larger company and he had the chance to get his job back. By then, however, he and Ashley had already planned this trip and he decided that he would rather travel. After they return to the states, Ashley is going to study some kind of natural medicine (I forgot what she called it -- something like nautal homeopathy). This cross between western medicine, nutrition, and natural remedies sounded interesting.
Today, Papa's House 3 is being set up. The newly constructed beds were finished and placed in the rooms; sheets, pillows and blankets were laid on every bed, and curtains have been hung. I went over to help, but when I arrived, almost everything had been done already. Timing is everything, eh?
We leave early tomorrow morning for Narti. We will be taking a private bus because Michael and Anita are going to pick up 25 ex-kamlari girls to bring them to Kathmandu (Note: On March 21, I learned that, on the way back, 2 extra girls stowed away on the bus because they also wanted to move to Kathmandu. I hear that Michael didn't have the heart to send them back to Narti after they showed such ingenuity and determination. So if anyone would like to help support these girls, whose private school education and other expenses obviously were not included in the budget, please make a donation on NOH's website at www.nepalorphanshome.com). The private bus is good news for me as I understand that the public buses are very crowded and the 12 hour ride is not only long, but also often uncomfortable. This doesn't bode well for my return trip, but I'm not going to worry about that right now.
Yesterday, I bought a lungi to wear when I bathe in Narti. Basically, a lungi is a large piece of fabric (some of my readers might know it as a "schmata"). After buying the fabric for about $2, you walk over to a man sitting outside at a sewing machine and pay him about 8 cents to sew two sides together so that you have a rectangle with holes at the top and bottom. You put it over your head, pull it tight, and then tie the two ends at the top together at your chest. I don't quite get how you wash yourself when wearing it, but it is apparently essential for bathing in the river in Narti because you are out in the open where anyone can see you. When I asked Sushmita how one washes with a lungi on, she showed pointed to my exposed head, shoulders, arms, and lower legs and said you just wash there. When I asked how you wash the areas that are not exposed, she said "you don't". Hmm. I sense embarrassing bathing stories in my future.
Swastika asked her uncle whether I could volunteer at the National Human Rights Commission (where he is the president). Unfortunately, he said that you have to apply for an internship 3 months in advance. So I'm out of luck, unless I want to come back to Nepal some other time. I asked whether I could at least meet her uncle and she said that she will try to set something up when I return to Kathmandu.
I am now thinking about going on a 5-day trek near the Annapurna Circuit. I will be able to see the mountains, but I won't actually be climbing them and I don't need any special equipment, so it is a wimpy trek, not a real trek. Afterwards, I want to spend a few days at a lodge in the Chitwan forest, which is supposed to be a lot of fun. Suddenly, two months doesn't seem like enough time and I'm not sure how I'm going to fit in everything that I want to do, but Michael says not to worry because everything always works out. He's usually right (except about the weather), so I'm going to relax and just go with the flow.
And now a word about child safety . . . .
Papa's House (the girls' house) has several flights of concrete stairs with no railings. A little scary for a house with lots of children running around. When I told Michael that he would be asking for a lawsuit in the U.S., he told me that when he raised the issue of railings with the contractors, they reacted as if he was completely crazy. Nepal is a little different, he said. The boys' house does have railings, by the stairs, but they also have a walkway at the top of the stairs (like at a motel or my sister's apartment apartment building in California). Apparently, simply running up and down several flights of concrete stairs is perfectly safe, but if you add a flat walkway to a staircase, then it becomes a hazard.
Ironically, the volunteer house, where no children live, has a lovely wooden banister going all the way up the 2 1/2 flight stone staircase -- even without any dangerous flat walkways in the house. At first, I thought that it was odd that the top 1/2 flight of stairs leads to a wall. Did the owner run out of money for a 4th floor after the stairway was already partially built? Did the U.S. government allocate money to Nepal for a stairway to nowhere project that Sarah Palin forgot to quash (perhaps because she can't see Nepal from her home)? Then one day, I peered around the corner and saw that the landing at the top of the stairs is an alter.
Moving on, when I wrote about transportation the other day, I forgot to discuss children. I'm sure that it will come as no surprise to anyone that the roads here are not croweded with SUVs filled with child safety seats. I'm sure that most Nepalese do not even know that child safety seats exist. In fact, most Nepalese families cannot afford cars at all, so they transport their children via motorcycle. Nevermind safety seats in cars, children on motorcycles in Nepal do not even wear helmets! I noticed that, in general, drivers wear helmets, but passengers do not. Ashley told me that this is because drivers are required to wear helmets by law, but the law does not extend to passengers! I have seen as many as 3 children on a motorcycle with their father at one time without helmets (Note: Manooj recently told me that he sometimes drives with 5 or 6 children on his motorcycle at one time!). Does it make any sense to require drivers to wear helmets, but not passengers -- especially when the passengers are children????? I don't think that there is any culture on earth where parents take precautions to protect themselves against an accident which might kill or seriously injure their children.
The motorcycle situation seems to be one of the bad things that comes from the meeting of the east and the west (or perhaps just developed countries meeting developing countries). Motorcycles have improved life here, but I'm sure that the crazy traffic patterns and lack of appropriate safety regulations result in many deaths and bad injuries. Another example is the water bottles and other packaged goods that developed countries have brought here. The people are glad to have these things, but there is no infrastructure to deal with the garbage. Trash is a problem in developed countries, but in countries like Nepal, where there is no such thing as a trash collection service in most places, it translates to litter being thrown everywhere. It is rather depressing to see beautiful scenery marred by trash scattered all over the ground.
I hope that my landlady uses her alter to pray for all the Nepalese children who live without railings and helmets.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Pokara
As John Lennon said, "Life is what happens while you're making other plans."
On Tuesday, Cam and I took a bumpy, 11 hour ride to Pokara. I was going there to start my 5-day trek on Wednesday, in one of the most beautiful places in the world (which, as it turns out, was in the foothills of the mountains and did not mean staying in towns with internet cafes as I had thought). Cam was going to meet Sushmita, who was escorting Emma, a British volunteer, to her placement at an orphanage in Pokara. He had decided to spend Wednesday sightseeing with them and then return to Kathmandu with Sushmita on Thursday, probably to do a medical internship.
Midday on Wednesday, I cancelled my trek due to disagreement with the tour operator. I feel very bad about cancelling because a tour guide and a porter got caught in the middle and pretty much wasted 2-3 days of their time. For me, however, it worked out for the best.
When I arrived in Pokara, I found that the mountains, which are usually clear at this time of year, are inexplicably covered in a haze. So had I gone on the trek as planned, I would have enjoyed hiking, but been disappointed by my inability to see the spectacular scenery. I spent Wednesday afternoon sightseeing with Cam and Emma and learning that, although it is a major tourist area, people do not come to Pokara for the sights -- they come because it is the gateway to the best trekking in Nepal. While we were looking at fairly dry, non-impressive gorges and wondering why we paid to hike into a cave to look at bats that we could barely see, I had some time to talk with Emma. She had stayed at the orphanage on Tuesday night and loved it. I didn't really want to spend most of the next month in Kathmandu, so I decided to stay here for two weeks and volunteer at the orphange with Emma. I will still visit the Chitwan forest for a couple of days on my way back to Kathmandu.
The orphange, whose name I have just forgotten, is a home that is run by a wonderful couple for 9 adorable small boys and 1 great 14 year old boy. The couple does not receive funding from any other organization. They raise money entirely on their own by soliciting donations, organizing and selling tickets to events such as raffles, music events, and parties, and by taking volunteers (for which they are paid a very small fee). They are in their 20's, but have no plans to have any children of their own as they consider the 10 boys in their care to be their kids. They are managing to send all of the boys to private school by getting ten different private schools to each admit one boy and pay his monthly fees. They still have to come up with the money for annual fees, uniforms, and school books and supplies on their own. This means that the boys have to take 10 different school buses every day.
Even though they are living hand to mouth, Manooj (the husband), dreams of opening a second home for rescued girls who are working as domestic servants in wealthy homes in Pokara (like the kamlari girls at Nepal Orphans Home, but they don't call them kamlaris and I think that they are from a different ethnic group -- need to learn more about this). Samrila (the wife) is incredibly organized. Each boy has a number that is on his dish and spoon. They sit in assigned places, by number, at the table, and have cushions that they each sit on in their assigned spot in the livingroom when they are studying. When I stood in the doorway of one of the bedrooms and said "goodnight" last night, they instructed me to hug each of them -- in number order! Like the children at Papa's House, they study when they are supposed to study, eat when they are supposed to eat, go to bed when it is time for bed, etc. They also speak English well and are really fun to play with and sometimes a little mischievous. Ram, one of a set of identical twins told me this morning that he was his brother when he knew that I was having difficulty just remembering all of their names. Last night, he had told me first that his name was Rambo and then that it was Rainbow. After Samrila and Ram's brother told me the truth about his identity this morning, however, he showed me a scar on his forehead so that I would always know who he was in the future. In one day, I have already fallen in love with all of these boys!
The house has running water (though no hot water), a toilet, and filtered water that is good to drink. I nice upgrade from my life in Narti. Emma took the comfortable bed in our room, but I don't mind -- I've gotten pretty used to sleeping on a slab of wood covered by a thin mattress (though in Narti, I had two mattresses, which made a difference). Another volunteer from the U.K. is here also. Mike is a high school teacher who was asked to take early retirement three years ago and was given an offer that he couldn't refuse. Now he travels for 6 weeks a year. For 2 years, he went to Indonesia to work with orangutans and now he is in Nepal. He is great fun and I am so happy to have met both him and Emma. Although it seems a shame to be so close to the beautiful mountains and miss out on seeing them, I am very happy to be right where I am and looking forward to a great two weeks.
On Tuesday, Cam and I took a bumpy, 11 hour ride to Pokara. I was going there to start my 5-day trek on Wednesday, in one of the most beautiful places in the world (which, as it turns out, was in the foothills of the mountains and did not mean staying in towns with internet cafes as I had thought). Cam was going to meet Sushmita, who was escorting Emma, a British volunteer, to her placement at an orphanage in Pokara. He had decided to spend Wednesday sightseeing with them and then return to Kathmandu with Sushmita on Thursday, probably to do a medical internship.
Midday on Wednesday, I cancelled my trek due to disagreement with the tour operator. I feel very bad about cancelling because a tour guide and a porter got caught in the middle and pretty much wasted 2-3 days of their time. For me, however, it worked out for the best.
When I arrived in Pokara, I found that the mountains, which are usually clear at this time of year, are inexplicably covered in a haze. So had I gone on the trek as planned, I would have enjoyed hiking, but been disappointed by my inability to see the spectacular scenery. I spent Wednesday afternoon sightseeing with Cam and Emma and learning that, although it is a major tourist area, people do not come to Pokara for the sights -- they come because it is the gateway to the best trekking in Nepal. While we were looking at fairly dry, non-impressive gorges and wondering why we paid to hike into a cave to look at bats that we could barely see, I had some time to talk with Emma. She had stayed at the orphanage on Tuesday night and loved it. I didn't really want to spend most of the next month in Kathmandu, so I decided to stay here for two weeks and volunteer at the orphange with Emma. I will still visit the Chitwan forest for a couple of days on my way back to Kathmandu.
The orphange, whose name I have just forgotten, is a home that is run by a wonderful couple for 9 adorable small boys and 1 great 14 year old boy. The couple does not receive funding from any other organization. They raise money entirely on their own by soliciting donations, organizing and selling tickets to events such as raffles, music events, and parties, and by taking volunteers (for which they are paid a very small fee). They are in their 20's, but have no plans to have any children of their own as they consider the 10 boys in their care to be their kids. They are managing to send all of the boys to private school by getting ten different private schools to each admit one boy and pay his monthly fees. They still have to come up with the money for annual fees, uniforms, and school books and supplies on their own. This means that the boys have to take 10 different school buses every day.
Even though they are living hand to mouth, Manooj (the husband), dreams of opening a second home for rescued girls who are working as domestic servants in wealthy homes in Pokara (like the kamlari girls at Nepal Orphans Home, but they don't call them kamlaris and I think that they are from a different ethnic group -- need to learn more about this). Samrila (the wife) is incredibly organized. Each boy has a number that is on his dish and spoon. They sit in assigned places, by number, at the table, and have cushions that they each sit on in their assigned spot in the livingroom when they are studying. When I stood in the doorway of one of the bedrooms and said "goodnight" last night, they instructed me to hug each of them -- in number order! Like the children at Papa's House, they study when they are supposed to study, eat when they are supposed to eat, go to bed when it is time for bed, etc. They also speak English well and are really fun to play with and sometimes a little mischievous. Ram, one of a set of identical twins told me this morning that he was his brother when he knew that I was having difficulty just remembering all of their names. Last night, he had told me first that his name was Rambo and then that it was Rainbow. After Samrila and Ram's brother told me the truth about his identity this morning, however, he showed me a scar on his forehead so that I would always know who he was in the future. In one day, I have already fallen in love with all of these boys!
The house has running water (though no hot water), a toilet, and filtered water that is good to drink. I nice upgrade from my life in Narti. Emma took the comfortable bed in our room, but I don't mind -- I've gotten pretty used to sleeping on a slab of wood covered by a thin mattress (though in Narti, I had two mattresses, which made a difference). Another volunteer from the U.K. is here also. Mike is a high school teacher who was asked to take early retirement three years ago and was given an offer that he couldn't refuse. Now he travels for 6 weeks a year. For 2 years, he went to Indonesia to work with orangutans and now he is in Nepal. He is great fun and I am so happy to have met both him and Emma. Although it seems a shame to be so close to the beautiful mountains and miss out on seeing them, I am very happy to be right where I am and looking forward to a great two weeks.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
What's next?
Michael was prepared to get me out of Narti immediately, but despite some challenges and worries, I have not been unhappy here. In fact, I will actually have a very hard time saying goodbye to my girls. Also, Cam, a 22 year old Canadian volunteer, was here with me and that was a big help.
I don't have a plan in place yet, but I may stay in Narti until Tuesday and then go to Pokara and the Chitwan forest as planned, before returning to Kathmandu. Until I get back to Kathmandu, internet access will likely continue to not be great and I doubt that I will be able to post any photos. I am in the town of Lamahi at the moment (14 kilometers from Narti) with better access than I had before, but the connection is still quite slow. I will try to continue posting as regularly as I can while I am travelling.
I hope that everyone at home is doing well.
I don't have a plan in place yet, but I may stay in Narti until Tuesday and then go to Pokara and the Chitwan forest as planned, before returning to Kathmandu. Until I get back to Kathmandu, internet access will likely continue to not be great and I doubt that I will be able to post any photos. I am in the town of Lamahi at the moment (14 kilometers from Narti) with better access than I had before, but the connection is still quite slow. I will try to continue posting as regularly as I can while I am travelling.
I hope that everyone at home is doing well.
Free at last!
Because there have been several false alarms and things were looking grim yesterday, I didn't believe the children when I awoke to hear their cries of "Ghaddi janu" ("The strike has gone") as a truck roared by on the road. Throughout the strike, certain vehicles were occasionally permitted to be on the roads, so without a steady stream of traffic, I didn't think that the strike could really have ended. I tried not to hope that it was true until I walked down the road and saw for myself that a couple of small shops were open and the roadblocks made of stones were dismantled.
The strike was actually very similar to Chanukah: I only got enough bottled water to sustain me for 3 days, but, miraculously, it lasted for 10 days -- and on the 10th day, the shops opened for one day and I was able to buy a few more bottles that got me through until today. Consequently, I did not have to try my luck with boiled well water, deliciously flavored with chlorine drops. Hallelujah!
From now on, Jews around the world will remember and commemorate the miracle that occured during the Tharu strike of 2009 by celebrating a new eight day holiday from March 2-9, which will be called "Mitzvah Baht". Each day, everyone will do some type of volunteer service (i.e., a "Mitzvah" or good deed). Then, at sundown, friends and families will gather together for festive meals. After the traditional candle lighting, wine, and challah, each person will drink one liter of MOUNT EVEREST pure drinking water: ozonized for safe drinking, and eat a ginormous plate of baht ("cooked rice"). Along with the baht, a different vegetable will be served each night:
1st Night: Potato kugel
2ndNight: Boiled potatoes with spicy yellow sauce
3rd Night: Potato latkes
4th Night: Potatoes fried in mustard oil
5th Night: Boiled potatoes with cabbage
6th Night: Potato blintzes
7th Night: Potatoes fried in mustard oil with one pound of salt
8th Night: Potato knishes
In addition, roti (round, thinly sliced pieces of fried dough) will be served a few times during the holiday. Sorry, but no chicken, turkey, brisket, gefilte fish, or dessert will be included in Mitzvah Baht holiday meals, which, ideally should be prepared and served by well-mannered children. At the conclusion of each meal, all children will begin chanting "Auntie, one picture! One picture!" (Translation: Please take 10 photos of me alone and 5 photos of me with my friends or siblings). If you are not Jewish, you will definitely want to find a Jewish friend with whom to celebrate this wonderful holiday.
Happy Mitzvah Baht to all!
The strike was actually very similar to Chanukah: I only got enough bottled water to sustain me for 3 days, but, miraculously, it lasted for 10 days -- and on the 10th day, the shops opened for one day and I was able to buy a few more bottles that got me through until today. Consequently, I did not have to try my luck with boiled well water, deliciously flavored with chlorine drops. Hallelujah!
From now on, Jews around the world will remember and commemorate the miracle that occured during the Tharu strike of 2009 by celebrating a new eight day holiday from March 2-9, which will be called "Mitzvah Baht". Each day, everyone will do some type of volunteer service (i.e., a "Mitzvah" or good deed). Then, at sundown, friends and families will gather together for festive meals. After the traditional candle lighting, wine, and challah, each person will drink one liter of MOUNT EVEREST pure drinking water: ozonized for safe drinking, and eat a ginormous plate of baht ("cooked rice"). Along with the baht, a different vegetable will be served each night:
1st Night: Potato kugel
2ndNight: Boiled potatoes with spicy yellow sauce
3rd Night: Potato latkes
4th Night: Potatoes fried in mustard oil
5th Night: Boiled potatoes with cabbage
6th Night: Potato blintzes
7th Night: Potatoes fried in mustard oil with one pound of salt
8th Night: Potato knishes
In addition, roti (round, thinly sliced pieces of fried dough) will be served a few times during the holiday. Sorry, but no chicken, turkey, brisket, gefilte fish, or dessert will be included in Mitzvah Baht holiday meals, which, ideally should be prepared and served by well-mannered children. At the conclusion of each meal, all children will begin chanting "Auntie, one picture! One picture!" (Translation: Please take 10 photos of me alone and 5 photos of me with my friends or siblings). If you are not Jewish, you will definitely want to find a Jewish friend with whom to celebrate this wonderful holiday.
Happy Mitzvah Baht to all!
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Strike Continues
We are now on day 7 of a 3 day strike, which has shut down all transportation, shops, and schools. Nobody knows how long it will continue, but I am told that the government is meeting with the strikers in 2 days. Meanwhile, I cannot go anywhere and I have essentially no access to to the internet. Nonethless, I am fine, though life is a bit boring because of the strike. The girls and Sabita, the didi, are taking excellent care of me.
I can't wait until I can write more and access email. For now, just know that I am okay and learning to live without communication (except with Michael and Sushmita in Kathmandu), without news, without entertainment, and without toilet paper. : )
I can't wait until I can write more and access email. For now, just know that I am okay and learning to live without communication (except with Michael and Sushmita in Kathmandu), without news, without entertainment, and without toilet paper. : )
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Traffic Accidents in Nepal
Tort Litigation:
In the event of an accident, the party at fault must pay the injured party on the spot. Basically, they do some sort of negotiation of the amount and then the injured party's family holds up traffic until the party at fault pays up. Sometimes it can take many hours for the injured party's family to acquire all the rupees. Holding up traffic and having a lot of angry drivers is a good way to induce a recalcitrant party to come to an agreement. This is bad news for personal injury attorneys and can be very annoying if, for example, you are trying to drive all the way from Kathmandu to Narti in one day (12 hour drive). On the other hand, the parties save a lot of time and money that would otherwise be spent on litigation and the courts are relieved of a big burden.
Tort Reform:
In Nepal, people do not have health insurance. So, in the event that a bus hits someone, the family of the injured person holds up not only the bus driver, but all other buses coming down the road and collects about $200 from each one to cover the medical costs (most buses belong to the same conglomerate, so I guess they see the money as coming from the bus company). This is roughly equivalent to a month's salary for a bus driver. As a result, if a bus is going to hit someone, the driver tries to kill the person, rather than merely injure him or her. Understandably, many people are extremely upset that this is happening. Consequently, there is a group (or maybe more than one group) that is putting pressure on the government to pick up a substantial portion of the medical costs incurred by anyone who is injured after being hit by a bus.
In the event of an accident, the party at fault must pay the injured party on the spot. Basically, they do some sort of negotiation of the amount and then the injured party's family holds up traffic until the party at fault pays up. Sometimes it can take many hours for the injured party's family to acquire all the rupees. Holding up traffic and having a lot of angry drivers is a good way to induce a recalcitrant party to come to an agreement. This is bad news for personal injury attorneys and can be very annoying if, for example, you are trying to drive all the way from Kathmandu to Narti in one day (12 hour drive). On the other hand, the parties save a lot of time and money that would otherwise be spent on litigation and the courts are relieved of a big burden.
Tort Reform:
In Nepal, people do not have health insurance. So, in the event that a bus hits someone, the family of the injured person holds up not only the bus driver, but all other buses coming down the road and collects about $200 from each one to cover the medical costs (most buses belong to the same conglomerate, so I guess they see the money as coming from the bus company). This is roughly equivalent to a month's salary for a bus driver. As a result, if a bus is going to hit someone, the driver tries to kill the person, rather than merely injure him or her. Understandably, many people are extremely upset that this is happening. Consequently, there is a group (or maybe more than one group) that is putting pressure on the government to pick up a substantial portion of the medical costs incurred by anyone who is injured after being hit by a bus.
Strike
I am now in Narti and have several entries to post, but I only have a brief amount of time on the internet today. For the next 3 days, there will be a strike during which there will be no buses to take me to town so that I use the internet. Walking takes 2 hours each way. I might do the walk at least once if I have nothing else to do with my time. I'm not yet sure whether I'll be able to start my volunteer project tomorrow as things are kind of loose and unstructured here. If not, I might be really bored. So I may spend some quality time updating my blog sometime during the next 3 days or there may be nothing posted again until after the strike.
Right now, I think that I will stay in Narti for about 2 weeks, then do a 5-day trek for wimps (basically a walk near the mountains, but not in them), spend 3 days at the Chitwan forest (where I will have internet access in the lodge where I'm staying), and then return to Kathmandu. But that schedule could change . . .
Right now, I think that I will stay in Narti for about 2 weeks, then do a 5-day trek for wimps (basically a walk near the mountains, but not in them), spend 3 days at the Chitwan forest (where I will have internet access in the lodge where I'm staying), and then return to Kathmandu. But that schedule could change . . .
Friday, February 27, 2009
Kathmandu -- February 27, 2009
I have written additional posts by hand, but haven't had time to type them yet. I am leaving for Narti in a little while and it looks like I won't have time to type those posts before I go, which is very frustrating. Once I get to Narti, I'm not sure how long it will take for me to get to an internet cafe to do it. So here is a brief update.
I feel like a rock star when I visit the girls house. When I arrive, girls come running to hug me or start a tickle war. Girls inside the house who see me in the big front yard (almost a field), open their windows and call out "Hello sister!". Yesterday, Sita's roommates spotted me and called her over to the window. When she looked out and saw me, her whole face lit up and then she disappeared. She raced out into the hall, down the stairs, around the house, and through a gate to the front yard to hug me. She hadn't been feeling well and was in her room all day (wish I'd known as I would have visited her when I thought she was in school), but she was so excited to see me that she came outside. After I ran around with her and her adorable 5-year old roommate, Sushmita, for awhile, I told them that I was tired and I laid down in the grass. Sita, looking very serious, extended her hand to me and said "Wake up! Wake up! (I think she meant "Get up!"). When I was standing again, she began furiously brushing off the dried grass that was clinging to my fleece jacket. The next thing I knew, Sushmita and another girl were there helping as well. I was laughing, but they were all very serious about cleaning my jacket off. It was so cute.
There was a birthday party that evening, as there often is in a home with so many children. At dinner Sita told me that her birthday is on August 21. Later, while we were waiting for the cake to be passed out, she asked me whether I could come back for her birthday. I felt so awful when I had to say know, especially since I just had to tell her that I am going to Narti and will not see her for awhile.
I'm feeling a little sad to be leaving the girls here, but I'm sure that being with the kamlari girls in Lawajuni will be just as rewarding. We are taking a private bus because Michael and Anita are going to pick up the girls who are moving to Kathmandu. This is good news because I hear that the public buses are crowded and, besides the ride being long, it is not so comfortable. This does not bode well for my return trip, but I'm not going to worry about that now. Just looking forward to the next part of my adventure. All for now, will get the rest posted as soon as I can.
I feel like a rock star when I visit the girls house. When I arrive, girls come running to hug me or start a tickle war. Girls inside the house who see me in the big front yard (almost a field), open their windows and call out "Hello sister!". Yesterday, Sita's roommates spotted me and called her over to the window. When she looked out and saw me, her whole face lit up and then she disappeared. She raced out into the hall, down the stairs, around the house, and through a gate to the front yard to hug me. She hadn't been feeling well and was in her room all day (wish I'd known as I would have visited her when I thought she was in school), but she was so excited to see me that she came outside. After I ran around with her and her adorable 5-year old roommate, Sushmita, for awhile, I told them that I was tired and I laid down in the grass. Sita, looking very serious, extended her hand to me and said "Wake up! Wake up! (I think she meant "Get up!"). When I was standing again, she began furiously brushing off the dried grass that was clinging to my fleece jacket. The next thing I knew, Sushmita and another girl were there helping as well. I was laughing, but they were all very serious about cleaning my jacket off. It was so cute.
There was a birthday party that evening, as there often is in a home with so many children. At dinner Sita told me that her birthday is on August 21. Later, while we were waiting for the cake to be passed out, she asked me whether I could come back for her birthday. I felt so awful when I had to say know, especially since I just had to tell her that I am going to Narti and will not see her for awhile.
I'm feeling a little sad to be leaving the girls here, but I'm sure that being with the kamlari girls in Lawajuni will be just as rewarding. We are taking a private bus because Michael and Anita are going to pick up the girls who are moving to Kathmandu. This is good news because I hear that the public buses are crowded and, besides the ride being long, it is not so comfortable. This does not bode well for my return trip, but I'm not going to worry about that now. Just looking forward to the next part of my adventure. All for now, will get the rest posted as soon as I can.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Catching up: Vinod (Kathmandu)
As a result of being asked to courier Vinod's documents from the U.S. (where they were needed to obtain his admission to a college) back to Nepal, so that he would have them for his visa interview at the embassy, I ended up spending time with him and really getting to see how special he is. One night, we had an incredible conversation and I was very sorry that I had no way to record it. I can't possibly do him justice here, but I want to share a little bit about this wonderful man to at least give a glimpse into who he is. If anyone reading this blog who knows the facts sees that I have misstated something, please correct me.
Vinod is the son of dirt poor parents who worked themselves to the bone to send him to school. He has three younger sisters, one of whom got married at the age of 16. As he saw how hard his parents were working and the physical problems that they were having as a result, Vinod could not bear for them to continue killing themselves to give him an education. At the time, he was living next to Papa's House (which I think was then at a different location), he saw what was going on there, and he wanted to be a part of it. So he approached Michael one day and asked for a job. He told Michael that he did not need any money, he just wanted to live and work there. Michael agreed and Vinod moved his parents to a farm, where their lives would be a little bit easier (that doesn't sound so easy to me, but it is what he said).
Michael was very much impressed with Vinod's work and, when he had to take a trip to the U.S., he asked Vinod to keep an eye on things for him and keep him informed about what was happening at Papa's House. Vinod emailed Michael such great reports that, when he returned to Nepal, Michael told Vinod that he wanted to compensate him for his excellent work and he asked what Vinod wanted. Vinod again said that he did not need any money. He explained, however, that his family was very poor and that he had two sisters at home who were not being educated. What he wanted was for Michael to allow his sisters to live at Papa's House and go to private school with the other children. Michael readily agreed, but Vinod's parents did not. Like many Nepalese, they did not see any reason for girls to go to school. Wanting desparately to give his sisters this great opportunity, Vinod pleaded with his parents for a week, until they finally relented. Now he says, his parents are very proud of him for bringing his sisters to Papa's House. It is difficult to imagine any parent not being proud of him.
For me, Vinod, Anita, Sunita and the children cared for by Nepal Orphans Home represent the faces of the millions of children all over the world who will never reach their potentials simply because they are born into unlucky circumstances. In his book, Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell writes about the role that good luck plays in determining which people become superstars. I haven't actually read the book, but I heard him speak about how if Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were born at a different time or grew up in different parts of the U.S., we would not have Microsoft and Apple. To say this takes nothing away from their genius and hard work. It simply points to the fact that genius or talent and a willingness to work hard are not enough -- it is also necessary to have luck and opportunity. How many kids around the world have the ability to make amazing contributions to business or science or entertain us with their enormous talents, but will never do so because they are growing up in poverty or living in place where people do not believe that girls should be educated? Even among those who would not, under any circumstances, be superstars and household names, there are so many who could be successful and make meaningful contributions. The numbers of children who will never have the opportunity to reach their potentials takes on a whole new meaning when you actually see some of their faces and get to know them as individuals.
But back to Vinod . . . . These days I understand that he is making a small (by American standards) salary, but apart from keeping a little pocket change, he gives all of it to his parents. He drives a motorcycle that was a gift from someone affiliated with Nepal Orphans Home. Having a motorcycle makes it easier for him to do his job and, I think, enabled him to take a computer course at a school some distance from Papa's House. When he thought that he would be able to take advantage of an opportunity to study in the U.S., Vinod told me that he planned to sell the motorcycle and give the money that he received for it to the people who gave it to him -- the same people who were going to pay all of his tuition and living expenses. He also told me that, when he went to the U.S., he wanted to take the cheapest flight possible, regardless of how long it would take for him to get there or how many stops he had to make, because he didn't want his sponsors to have to spend any more money than was absolutely necessary. Vinod appreciates and is willing to accept help from others, but he will not take any more than exactly what he needs.
During out discussion, Vinod explained that he believes that happiness comes from doing things for others. He also says that what you do is what makes you a person, not what you have. In fact, he considers that he actually wasn't a person until he came to Papa's House and started taking care of the boys there. Until then, he says, he wasn't a person because he wasn't doing anything for anyone. I pointed out to him that he was only about 16 when he came here -- still a child himself --but he said that in his mind that is irrelevant. He concedes that he would probably like to have a nice car, a big television, etc., but he doesn't believe that such things will bring him happiness. "I am a poor man", he says, "but I am happy because I work for others". He thinks that rich people in the U.S. who are unhappy need to get involved in helping people.
Vinod also explained to me that he believes that we all have the power to change others by the way that we treat them. He said that a child once came to him and complained that a little girl wouldn't speak to him. Vinod told the child that if the girl wouldn't speak to him, it was his own fault. He advised the boy to smile and say hello to her every day. The boy did this and eventually the girl started speaking to him. Vinod also told me about Bhumika, a little girl at Papa's House who has cerebral palsy. When she arrived here, she could not walk (she used her hands) or communicate at all. Vinod spent time with her every day, encouraging her to stand upright and walk until she finally did. He said that in the place that she lived before, she was never taken anywhere or included in things. But at Papa's House, when the children went on a picnic, for example, someone would carry her so that she could go and be part of it. Also, she used to clap her hands and try to sing "Mary had a little lamb", but she didn't know the words. So everyone sat in a circle and sang "Mary had a little lamb" over and over until finally she got it. Now Bhumika is much more communicative, she attends school, and hers is one of the first smiles you see when the procession of girls goes by on their way to school. "So you see", Vinod, told me, "we all have the power to change people".
Particularly given the limited time that I have to write, I cannot convey how extraordinary Vinod is. There are times when you can see the little boy in him, but he is also very much a man and wise beyond his years. Strong and masculine, he is also sweet and gentle and has an enormous heart. He has virtually nothing, yet he is among the most generous people I have ever met. Single women all over America are looking for men like him.
I have decided that when I get home, I am going to start a new business selling package tours to Nepal to a niche market: Women will purchase tours for their boyfriends, husbands, or men with whom they would like to be in serious relationships. The men will only be told that they will be visiting the Papa's House homes to volunteer a little bit and then going on an amazing trek. In reality, however, they will be attending an "intensive immersion course" (womanspeak) or "bootcamp" (manspeak) taught by Michael and Vinod called: "How to make them happy: What women want". When they go on the trek, they will be led by guides who are specially trained to subtly reinforce the lessons taught by Michael and Vinod and assist the men with behavior modification. When the men return home, they will know only that they had an incredible vacation and will have no idea why all of the problems in their relationships have suddenly disappeared. Being men, they will just accept and be happy about the change and have absolutely no interest in discussing or analyzing how it happened. So everybody wins!!! What do you say ladies? Any takers?
Vinod is the son of dirt poor parents who worked themselves to the bone to send him to school. He has three younger sisters, one of whom got married at the age of 16. As he saw how hard his parents were working and the physical problems that they were having as a result, Vinod could not bear for them to continue killing themselves to give him an education. At the time, he was living next to Papa's House (which I think was then at a different location), he saw what was going on there, and he wanted to be a part of it. So he approached Michael one day and asked for a job. He told Michael that he did not need any money, he just wanted to live and work there. Michael agreed and Vinod moved his parents to a farm, where their lives would be a little bit easier (that doesn't sound so easy to me, but it is what he said).
Michael was very much impressed with Vinod's work and, when he had to take a trip to the U.S., he asked Vinod to keep an eye on things for him and keep him informed about what was happening at Papa's House. Vinod emailed Michael such great reports that, when he returned to Nepal, Michael told Vinod that he wanted to compensate him for his excellent work and he asked what Vinod wanted. Vinod again said that he did not need any money. He explained, however, that his family was very poor and that he had two sisters at home who were not being educated. What he wanted was for Michael to allow his sisters to live at Papa's House and go to private school with the other children. Michael readily agreed, but Vinod's parents did not. Like many Nepalese, they did not see any reason for girls to go to school. Wanting desparately to give his sisters this great opportunity, Vinod pleaded with his parents for a week, until they finally relented. Now he says, his parents are very proud of him for bringing his sisters to Papa's House. It is difficult to imagine any parent not being proud of him.
Vinod's 19 year old sister, Anita, is every bit as sharp, competent, kind, and determined as her brother. Michael says that she is now the discplinarian in the girls house, so he gets to just be the "nice parent", which he loves. When the kamlari girls arrived at the new Papa's House 3 a couple of weeks ago, Anita became their "Hostel Warden", doing the same job with them that Vinod has been doing with the boys. I know that she will be fantastic in this role. Anita's quieter and extremely sweet fraternal twin, Sunita, is still in school. I haven't gotten to know her as well as her siblings and I don't know what she will do when she finishes her education. What I do know is that she is clearly happy and will have a better life because of her brother and Michael. As I saw the two sisters sitting happily together when we were at a park with the older girls, I found it difficult to imagine them living the lives that they would have been living if they had not been able to come to Papa's House.
For me, Vinod, Anita, Sunita and the children cared for by Nepal Orphans Home represent the faces of the millions of children all over the world who will never reach their potentials simply because they are born into unlucky circumstances. In his book, Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell writes about the role that good luck plays in determining which people become superstars. I haven't actually read the book, but I heard him speak about how if Bill Gates and Steve Jobs were born at a different time or grew up in different parts of the U.S., we would not have Microsoft and Apple. To say this takes nothing away from their genius and hard work. It simply points to the fact that genius or talent and a willingness to work hard are not enough -- it is also necessary to have luck and opportunity. How many kids around the world have the ability to make amazing contributions to business or science or entertain us with their enormous talents, but will never do so because they are growing up in poverty or living in place where people do not believe that girls should be educated? Even among those who would not, under any circumstances, be superstars and household names, there are so many who could be successful and make meaningful contributions. The numbers of children who will never have the opportunity to reach their potentials takes on a whole new meaning when you actually see some of their faces and get to know them as individuals.
But back to Vinod . . . . These days I understand that he is making a small (by American standards) salary, but apart from keeping a little pocket change, he gives all of it to his parents. He drives a motorcycle that was a gift from someone affiliated with Nepal Orphans Home. Having a motorcycle makes it easier for him to do his job and, I think, enabled him to take a computer course at a school some distance from Papa's House. When he thought that he would be able to take advantage of an opportunity to study in the U.S., Vinod told me that he planned to sell the motorcycle and give the money that he received for it to the people who gave it to him -- the same people who were going to pay all of his tuition and living expenses. He also told me that, when he went to the U.S., he wanted to take the cheapest flight possible, regardless of how long it would take for him to get there or how many stops he had to make, because he didn't want his sponsors to have to spend any more money than was absolutely necessary. Vinod appreciates and is willing to accept help from others, but he will not take any more than exactly what he needs.
During out discussion, Vinod explained that he believes that happiness comes from doing things for others. He also says that what you do is what makes you a person, not what you have. In fact, he considers that he actually wasn't a person until he came to Papa's House and started taking care of the boys there. Until then, he says, he wasn't a person because he wasn't doing anything for anyone. I pointed out to him that he was only about 16 when he came here -- still a child himself --but he said that in his mind that is irrelevant. He concedes that he would probably like to have a nice car, a big television, etc., but he doesn't believe that such things will bring him happiness. "I am a poor man", he says, "but I am happy because I work for others". He thinks that rich people in the U.S. who are unhappy need to get involved in helping people.
Vinod also explained to me that he believes that we all have the power to change others by the way that we treat them. He said that a child once came to him and complained that a little girl wouldn't speak to him. Vinod told the child that if the girl wouldn't speak to him, it was his own fault. He advised the boy to smile and say hello to her every day. The boy did this and eventually the girl started speaking to him. Vinod also told me about Bhumika, a little girl at Papa's House who has cerebral palsy. When she arrived here, she could not walk (she used her hands) or communicate at all. Vinod spent time with her every day, encouraging her to stand upright and walk until she finally did. He said that in the place that she lived before, she was never taken anywhere or included in things. But at Papa's House, when the children went on a picnic, for example, someone would carry her so that she could go and be part of it. Also, she used to clap her hands and try to sing "Mary had a little lamb", but she didn't know the words. So everyone sat in a circle and sang "Mary had a little lamb" over and over until finally she got it. Now Bhumika is much more communicative, she attends school, and hers is one of the first smiles you see when the procession of girls goes by on their way to school. "So you see", Vinod, told me, "we all have the power to change people".
Particularly given the limited time that I have to write, I cannot convey how extraordinary Vinod is. There are times when you can see the little boy in him, but he is also very much a man and wise beyond his years. Strong and masculine, he is also sweet and gentle and has an enormous heart. He has virtually nothing, yet he is among the most generous people I have ever met. Single women all over America are looking for men like him.
I have decided that when I get home, I am going to start a new business selling package tours to Nepal to a niche market: Women will purchase tours for their boyfriends, husbands, or men with whom they would like to be in serious relationships. The men will only be told that they will be visiting the Papa's House homes to volunteer a little bit and then going on an amazing trek. In reality, however, they will be attending an "intensive immersion course" (womanspeak) or "bootcamp" (manspeak) taught by Michael and Vinod called: "How to make them happy: What women want". When they go on the trek, they will be led by guides who are specially trained to subtly reinforce the lessons taught by Michael and Vinod and assist the men with behavior modification. When the men return home, they will know only that they had an incredible vacation and will have no idea why all of the problems in their relationships have suddenly disappeared. Being men, they will just accept and be happy about the change and have absolutely no interest in discussing or analyzing how it happened. So everybody wins!!! What do you say ladies? Any takers?
Sad Day
At 7:00 a.m. on Wednesday, Anita came to pick me up and we walked together to meet Vinod at Papa's House 2. Vinod was hoping to get a student visa and had to be at the U.S. Embassy at 8:00 a.m. for an interview. When we arrived at Vinod's room, Anita opened a bag and took out the shirt and pants that she had lovingly ironed for her brother so that he would make a good impression. He looked very handsome and professional after he put on his interview clothes and combed his hair. The three of us set off on a walk to the embassy full of excitement.
Upon arrival at the embassy, Vinod entered the compound to get in line, leaving Anita and me to wait across the street. On the way there, I had started feeling ill and, concerned that I was dehydrated, I made Anita help me find a place to buy water (most stores were not open yet). I then left her and crossed the street (thankfully there was little traffic and it was easy) in the hope that I could use the embassy's bathroom. I was glad that I had brought my passport along. It surprised me to see that all of the guards and administrative people who deal with the public are Nepali. I always thought that everyone who works in an embassy has to be a citizen of the relevant country, but, obviously, I was wrong.
I returned to Anita, who was stationed in the same spot where she patiently remained standing for the entire time that we were there, and sat nearby on a curb. Anita stood at her post, occasionally answering her cell phone and saying "He is not coming yet", while I drank water and put my head in my lap. I was a little concerned that having a headache and feeling nauseous meant that I was already dangerously dehydrated and I thought that I should grab a taxi (if that was even possible) and head back to the volunteer house. I kept thinking that Vinod would be out in a minute, however, and I wanted to be there for him regardless of the result, so I stayed where I was. As time marched on and we saw other people coming out of the embassy, we knew that the fact that it was taking so long was not a good sign. Nonetheless, we remained hopeful as we continued to see other people emerging with smiles on their faces. I peeled away my jacket and sweater as Kathmandu transitioned from cold to boiling hot.
While I was sitting and waiting, I had the surreal sensation that I was in the middle of a movie: Because it is the dry season and because she felt like being a little creative, the director decided to eschew the tired Hollywood device of using a rainstorm to reflect what was happening inside the embassy. Instead, she foreshadowed the bad news by showing the American volunteer waiting outside, growing sicker and sicker (sad music soundtrack and clips of Vinod's American friends and would be sponsors in North Carolina, sitting around a prematurely purchased celebration cake, to be edited in later).
When Vinod finally appeared at about 9:30, it was heartbreaking. So full of hope and joy only an hour and a half earlier, his dark eyes were now clouded with pain and sorrow. Though I knew that he could not be faking it, I clung to the hope that he was teasing us and that he would soon break out the big smile that I have grown to love. As he approached us, however, he only shook his head "no" sadly and began a silent walk home.
I had thought that I wouldn't be able to walk, but by that time, I had taken something to ease my headache and moving out of the blazing sun to walk in the shade made me feel a little better. When we arrived at Papa's House 2, the boys, having no idea what was going on, greeted us with their usual cheer. They seemed a little surprised and confused by Daddy's weak response. As Vinod ascended the stairs to his room, with Anita and me trailing behind, a number of perplexed eyes followed us. We sat together, mostly in silence, with little faces occasionally peering in, trying to figure out what was happening. I wanted so much to say something comforting, but everything that came to mind seemed so trite. What do you say to someone whose big dreams for his future have suddenly been squashed? I believe that Vinod will eventually triumph, but I understand why, at this moment, it is difficult for him to share my optimism. He lives in a world where most people have hard lives and no opportunities -- where even those who work hard get beaten down again and again. It is easy to understand how he could believe that this was his only chance and I can only hope that all of the love and support that he has from the children, his sisters, and his many friends at Nepal Orphans Home will get him through this difficult time and sustain him until a new door opens.
Eventually, Anita said that it was time for us to go. I hugged Vinod, said something that was meant to be comforting, but which I knew was not, and went back to the volunteer house, where I spent the rest of the day in bed. In the end, I think that I just had a migraine and wasn't dehydrated at all.
Upon arrival at the embassy, Vinod entered the compound to get in line, leaving Anita and me to wait across the street. On the way there, I had started feeling ill and, concerned that I was dehydrated, I made Anita help me find a place to buy water (most stores were not open yet). I then left her and crossed the street (thankfully there was little traffic and it was easy) in the hope that I could use the embassy's bathroom. I was glad that I had brought my passport along. It surprised me to see that all of the guards and administrative people who deal with the public are Nepali. I always thought that everyone who works in an embassy has to be a citizen of the relevant country, but, obviously, I was wrong.
I returned to Anita, who was stationed in the same spot where she patiently remained standing for the entire time that we were there, and sat nearby on a curb. Anita stood at her post, occasionally answering her cell phone and saying "He is not coming yet", while I drank water and put my head in my lap. I was a little concerned that having a headache and feeling nauseous meant that I was already dangerously dehydrated and I thought that I should grab a taxi (if that was even possible) and head back to the volunteer house. I kept thinking that Vinod would be out in a minute, however, and I wanted to be there for him regardless of the result, so I stayed where I was. As time marched on and we saw other people coming out of the embassy, we knew that the fact that it was taking so long was not a good sign. Nonetheless, we remained hopeful as we continued to see other people emerging with smiles on their faces. I peeled away my jacket and sweater as Kathmandu transitioned from cold to boiling hot.
While I was sitting and waiting, I had the surreal sensation that I was in the middle of a movie: Because it is the dry season and because she felt like being a little creative, the director decided to eschew the tired Hollywood device of using a rainstorm to reflect what was happening inside the embassy. Instead, she foreshadowed the bad news by showing the American volunteer waiting outside, growing sicker and sicker (sad music soundtrack and clips of Vinod's American friends and would be sponsors in North Carolina, sitting around a prematurely purchased celebration cake, to be edited in later).
When Vinod finally appeared at about 9:30, it was heartbreaking. So full of hope and joy only an hour and a half earlier, his dark eyes were now clouded with pain and sorrow. Though I knew that he could not be faking it, I clung to the hope that he was teasing us and that he would soon break out the big smile that I have grown to love. As he approached us, however, he only shook his head "no" sadly and began a silent walk home.
I had thought that I wouldn't be able to walk, but by that time, I had taken something to ease my headache and moving out of the blazing sun to walk in the shade made me feel a little better. When we arrived at Papa's House 2, the boys, having no idea what was going on, greeted us with their usual cheer. They seemed a little surprised and confused by Daddy's weak response. As Vinod ascended the stairs to his room, with Anita and me trailing behind, a number of perplexed eyes followed us. We sat together, mostly in silence, with little faces occasionally peering in, trying to figure out what was happening. I wanted so much to say something comforting, but everything that came to mind seemed so trite. What do you say to someone whose big dreams for his future have suddenly been squashed? I believe that Vinod will eventually triumph, but I understand why, at this moment, it is difficult for him to share my optimism. He lives in a world where most people have hard lives and no opportunities -- where even those who work hard get beaten down again and again. It is easy to understand how he could believe that this was his only chance and I can only hope that all of the love and support that he has from the children, his sisters, and his many friends at Nepal Orphans Home will get him through this difficult time and sustain him until a new door opens.
Eventually, Anita said that it was time for us to go. I hugged Vinod, said something that was meant to be comforting, but which I knew was not, and went back to the volunteer house, where I spent the rest of the day in bed. In the end, I think that I just had a migraine and wasn't dehydrated at all.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Power outages
As I have already told many people, Nepal only has electric power 8 hours a day. In addition, the 8 hours are split into two 4 hour blocks (which I think usually occur 8 hours apart from each other) and the timing of these blocks shifts frequently -- perhaps every couple of days. I've heard conflicting things about whether there is an actual schedule posted somewhere, but I think that some people have just cracked the code and can predict when the shifts will occur based on their experience with the patterns over time. Beyond the inconvenience for people like me, I simply cannot understand how anyone can conduct business under these circumstances, so I hope that they will find some way to resolve their energy problem sometime in the not too distant future.
Notes on various subjects
VOLUNTEER HOUSE
Volunteers used to stay at the boys' house, but just prior to my arrival, a separate volunteer house was opened. It is on a dirt road and you step up onto a broken curb to get to the gate. The house itself seems relatively new and is in good shape, however. We not only have running water, but also hot running water (the house is solar powered), which makes me very happy. Not looking forward to using an outhouse and bathing in a river at Lawajuni.
Right now, there is only one other volunteer living at the house besides me and he is a boy. This means that I have had a room with four beds in it all to myself and somehow, I have managed to spread out over three of the beds. One is the bed that I sleep in, one is my dresser/closet, and one is my office (i.e., where I sit to type on my laptop computer). My bed is very hard as I am sleeping on a wooden plank covered by a thin mattress. The pillow is not that soft either. I've been trying to use my travel pillow, which is more comfortable, but a little too high to use as a bed pillow. Consequently, I don't sleep very well. On the other hand, until last night, the power went out at 8:00 p.m. and there wasn't anything to do after that (too hard to read by candlelight or flashlight), so I was going to bed at 8:00 and getting up around 7:00 -- a rather long night.
WEATHER
When I got off the plane from Seoul, I went from winter to summer. I couldn't believe how hot it was. I soon learned, however, that it is still the tail end of winter and, despite the heat during the day, it gets freezing cold at night. For some reason, it is also much colder inside my house than it is outside. Michael had told me not to even bother bringing a sweater (what was he thinking?), but I was thankful that I had brought some cold weather clothes for Seoul. The first night, I only had one wool blanket and I was absolutely freezing. By the end of the night, I was wearing a short sleeved shirt, a long sleeved polyesther hiking shirt, a three-quarter length long sleeved nightgown, sweat pants, loose fitting travelers pants, and fleece socks, with a blanket and my winter jacket over me -- and I was still cold! The next night I got a couple of extra blankets, but still had to wear layers of clothes. Although it starts getting warmer at 5:30-6:00 a.m., I still need a jacket or long sleeved shirt until about noon, when it gets really hot. The temperature range in a single day is quite amazing. It seemed to start getting a little bit less cold after the first couple of nights, however, and tonight it seems significantly warmer. So the winter may have reached its end. Anyway, I should be moving to Narti on Saturday and I understand that it is warmer there. So I will probably be complaining about the heat very soon.
OTHER VOLUNTEER IN HOUSE
The other volunteer, Chris, is very nice, but he isn't around much. He is a journalist soon-to-be medical student from Ohio and he has been here for four and a half months already. He's done several different things while here and is currently doing a surgery rotation. Actually, he's volunteering at a hospital, but he was allowed to be in an operating room during a surgery. Not something that I'm anxious to do, but he was pretty excited about it. He was also impressed by the equipment that the hospital has. Anyway, he usually leaves at 6 a.m., isn't around for lunch, and has dinner with his Hindi tutor. Chris is of Indian descent and he eventually wants to go to India to use his medical skills to help children or the poor or something like that. He was actually in India before Nepal and is going back to there in March. So he's been around for a few meals and we've talked a few times, but we don't see each other often.
MEALS
The volunteer house has it's own didi ("sister") who cooks for us and cleans the house. Our didi is Bobitta, a very sweet 18 year old girl who is charged with the responsibility of supporting her family. Bobitta cooks rice, vegetables, and a lentil sauce for me three times a day. At lunch yesterday, we had a big change: The rice was fried. Bobitta also gives me tea and biscuits (as in cookies, not bread) when I get up in the morning, which is always very nice. Unfortunately, she speaks little English and I speak even less Nepali, so our attempts at communication do not go very far. In the beginning, Bobitta would serve me a huge plate of rice with little bowls of vegetables and lentil sauce and then stand at the counter watching me eat, which was a bit disconcerting. As soon as I had eaten most of my rice, she would take my plate to give me seconds and then she would serve herself. Sitting down at the table, she proceeded to eat her food Nepali style: mixing all of the food with her right hand and then scooping it into her mouth. In the beginning, I found it difficult to watch her eat this way and, even though I intellectually understand that it is a cultural difference that I need to respect, I had to fight the urge to tell her to eat with a fork. I have now gotten used to it, however. In the beginning, I tried to wash my own plates, but she got very upset as that is her job. I still don't feel entirely comfortable being served like this, so I at least like to clear my own plates and she tolerates this, though I think that she would prefer that I didn't.
Starchaholic that I am, I actually enjoy the meals and am not at all sick of rice yet (though I have also had a few meals out, which has broken the monotony). The plates of rice that I am served are huge, so I was having a lot of trouble eating seconds, but didn't want to be rude, so in the beginning I did. Bobitta now realizes that I only want one serving, so, thankfully, she no longer gives me seconds and has started eating at the table with me instead of watching me. I suspect, however, that she is putting more rice on my plate now because I am finding it more and more difficult to finish it. In fact, I left quite a bit on my plate at the last two meals.
At home, I am always hungry -- or at least I always want to eat. Since I have been in Nepal, however, I find that I never really feel hungry and I'm always completely full and sated after I eat. I'm not sure whether this is because I am eating 85 servings of rice each day (rice never seems this filling at home, but I also never eat so much of it) or if there is some other explanation. Anyway, I mentioned this to Michael the other day and he told me about an even more bizarre phenomenon: He said that, without exception, every single man over 50 years old who has come here has told him that as soon as he arrived here, he suddenly stopped having to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. They have all been excited about the fact that for the first time in however long, they were able to sleep through the whole night. So if you have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and you'd like a break it from it, you might want to consider volunteering at Nepal Orphans Home for awhile. I don't know whether this will work if you are female or a man under 50, but you could try it and see. It also remains to be seen whether eating 85 servings of rice a day with vegetables and lentils is a good weight loss program. I understand that I will only be getting two meals a day when I am in Narti, so maybe cutting down to 65 servings a day will help.
LAUNDRY
The first time I tried handwashing my laundry attracted a lot of attention and was a little unsettling. First, my nice, but nosey, landlady (the woman who owns the house and rents it to NOH lives here also) came out on the balcony to observe what I was doing. "It's difficult," she said, "slowly, slowly". Then she climbed the spiral staircase to the second level of the balcony, apparently to inspect the few items that I had already hung on the clothes lines up there. After she left, Sushmita, the volunteer coordinator appeared to find out what I was doing and see whether I needed anything. After I assured her that I was all set, she watched me for a couple of minutes before departing. Finally, Bobitta showed up and asked whether I wanted her help. I told her no, that I was fine, and she walked a few yards away. I'm not sure whether she wanted me to finish so that I could walk over to the girls' house with her or if she just couldn't stand the fact that I was doing it wrong, but about a minute later, she came back and demonstrated the proper way to scrub clothing. Then she announced that she likes washing clothes and proceeded to do all the hard scrubbing while I rinsed and brought finished items up to the clothes line (I was glad that I had already done my underwear). I wanted to pay her for helping me, but was afraid that I might offend her if I tried to do so. It was late in the day and getting cold, so I had to leave my clothes out over night. Oddly, the next morning, I found a pair of my underwear hanging from the doorknob of the sitting room next door to my bedroom. Rather embarrassing, but I think that Bobitta just saw that they were dry and brought them in for me.
NEPALI LANGUAGE LESSONS
For the past few days, Sushmita has been coming by after breakfast -- or while I am still eating it -- to give me some language lessons. For the past two days, I have been very distracted because the power was on while she was here and I wanted to be taking advantage of the chance to use the internet. Also, because I am busy all day and either go to bed at 8:00 p.m. or am on my computer at night, depending on when we have power, I have had no time at all to study. So at this point, I can usually remember pani ("water") and baht ("rice"), and I have completely mastered candle, biscuit, shampoo, conditioner, body powder, glass, chair, and table; which loosely translated into English mean "candle, biscuit, shampoo, conditioner, body powder, glass, chair, and table", respectively. Other than those few words, I can't seem to retain anything.
CULTURAL ACTIVITIES
On Friday, Vinod took me to Pashputi Nath ( a Hindu temple) and Boudha Nath (a Buddhist temple). At Pashputi Nath, there is an area where elderly people who have no families to take care of them live. It was very sad to see. On Sunday, Sushmita, Swastika, and Bobitta all took me to Swayambhu Nath, which has both Hindu and Buddhist temples. Both Pashputi Nath and Swayambhu Nath had lots of monkeys roaming around and I was warned not look any of them in the eye or they attack. Also, Vinod warned me not to eat fruit at Pashputi Nath and told me a story about a woman who was eating a banana there (he saw this happen): A monkey came over and took not only her banana, but also her purse. He then climbed a tree and started throwing down her money, but would not release the purse. Finally, the woman bought another banana and threw it up to the monkey. In order to grab the banana, the monkey had to let go of the purse, so the woman finally got it back. Today, Sushmita took me to a museum, which turned out to be an old palace, but not the one that the most recent king lived in before the monarchy was abolished. Apparently, the newer palace is also a museum. Although all of these things were very interesting to see, there isn't anything of interest to report about them.
TRANSPORTATION
Kathmandu is a scary city to move around in. Cars, motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians all share the often narrow streets (and sometimes the sidewalks) -- going in two or more different directions -- without any rules. Traffic lights would be useless since there is no electricity for 16 hours a day and Nepalis apparently see no reason to use signs or anything resembling standard traffic patterns either. Ostensibly, I think that people are supposed to drive on the left side of the road and this does happen some of the time. In general, however, people just do whatever they want and somehow everyone manages to move up, down, or across the street. Everyone is aggressive and, at the same time, everyone has to yield to others. It's like an elaborate dance whose steps are difficult to break down. Really, the Nepalis in Kathamandu should get some sort of Academy Award. After seeing Nepali pedestrians seemingly randomly crossing the streets weaving in and out of cars and motorcycles that seemed to automatically know when they had to stop, I tried a couple of times to just start crossing the street and let everyone work around me. Apparently, however, there actually are right and wrong times to walk in front of cars because each time I did this, Vinod grabbed my arm, pulled me back, and said "not yet". Oh well, I never was a good dancer.
Unfortunately, when I have to get from one place to another, there are only three options:
1. Walk -- which means watching out for cars, bicycles, and motorcycles that might come at me from any direction and frequently dodging several vehicles coming at me from multiple directions at the same time
2. Ride a motorcycle driven by someone I trust, but without a helmet and on the road with zillions of drivers whom I do not trust, as well as many pedestrians who have no problem walking in front of moving vehicles
3. Wedge myself into a 2 inch space on a microbus, a/k/a a battered old toyota minivan that is way over capacity, without a seatbelt and possibly with the door wide open. On one microbus, I counted 27 people, though two of them were actually outside the van hanging onto the doorway. My entire leg fell asleep and there was nothing that I could do about it because I literally could not move. Luckily, neither the bus nor any other vehicle on the road was going fast enough to inflict any serious damage -- or so I hoped. In addition, I was comforted by the fact that, although I was in a position where I could conceivably fall out the door if there was a really sudden stop, a number of other bodies would have fallen out before me and likely would have cushioned my fall.
Volunteers used to stay at the boys' house, but just prior to my arrival, a separate volunteer house was opened. It is on a dirt road and you step up onto a broken curb to get to the gate. The house itself seems relatively new and is in good shape, however. We not only have running water, but also hot running water (the house is solar powered), which makes me very happy. Not looking forward to using an outhouse and bathing in a river at Lawajuni.
Right now, there is only one other volunteer living at the house besides me and he is a boy. This means that I have had a room with four beds in it all to myself and somehow, I have managed to spread out over three of the beds. One is the bed that I sleep in, one is my dresser/closet, and one is my office (i.e., where I sit to type on my laptop computer). My bed is very hard as I am sleeping on a wooden plank covered by a thin mattress. The pillow is not that soft either. I've been trying to use my travel pillow, which is more comfortable, but a little too high to use as a bed pillow. Consequently, I don't sleep very well. On the other hand, until last night, the power went out at 8:00 p.m. and there wasn't anything to do after that (too hard to read by candlelight or flashlight), so I was going to bed at 8:00 and getting up around 7:00 -- a rather long night.
WEATHER
When I got off the plane from Seoul, I went from winter to summer. I couldn't believe how hot it was. I soon learned, however, that it is still the tail end of winter and, despite the heat during the day, it gets freezing cold at night. For some reason, it is also much colder inside my house than it is outside. Michael had told me not to even bother bringing a sweater (what was he thinking?), but I was thankful that I had brought some cold weather clothes for Seoul. The first night, I only had one wool blanket and I was absolutely freezing. By the end of the night, I was wearing a short sleeved shirt, a long sleeved polyesther hiking shirt, a three-quarter length long sleeved nightgown, sweat pants, loose fitting travelers pants, and fleece socks, with a blanket and my winter jacket over me -- and I was still cold! The next night I got a couple of extra blankets, but still had to wear layers of clothes. Although it starts getting warmer at 5:30-6:00 a.m., I still need a jacket or long sleeved shirt until about noon, when it gets really hot. The temperature range in a single day is quite amazing. It seemed to start getting a little bit less cold after the first couple of nights, however, and tonight it seems significantly warmer. So the winter may have reached its end. Anyway, I should be moving to Narti on Saturday and I understand that it is warmer there. So I will probably be complaining about the heat very soon.
OTHER VOLUNTEER IN HOUSE
The other volunteer, Chris, is very nice, but he isn't around much. He is a journalist soon-to-be medical student from Ohio and he has been here for four and a half months already. He's done several different things while here and is currently doing a surgery rotation. Actually, he's volunteering at a hospital, but he was allowed to be in an operating room during a surgery. Not something that I'm anxious to do, but he was pretty excited about it. He was also impressed by the equipment that the hospital has. Anyway, he usually leaves at 6 a.m., isn't around for lunch, and has dinner with his Hindi tutor. Chris is of Indian descent and he eventually wants to go to India to use his medical skills to help children or the poor or something like that. He was actually in India before Nepal and is going back to there in March. So he's been around for a few meals and we've talked a few times, but we don't see each other often.
MEALS
The volunteer house has it's own didi ("sister") who cooks for us and cleans the house. Our didi is Bobitta, a very sweet 18 year old girl who is charged with the responsibility of supporting her family. Bobitta cooks rice, vegetables, and a lentil sauce for me three times a day. At lunch yesterday, we had a big change: The rice was fried. Bobitta also gives me tea and biscuits (as in cookies, not bread) when I get up in the morning, which is always very nice. Unfortunately, she speaks little English and I speak even less Nepali, so our attempts at communication do not go very far. In the beginning, Bobitta would serve me a huge plate of rice with little bowls of vegetables and lentil sauce and then stand at the counter watching me eat, which was a bit disconcerting. As soon as I had eaten most of my rice, she would take my plate to give me seconds and then she would serve herself. Sitting down at the table, she proceeded to eat her food Nepali style: mixing all of the food with her right hand and then scooping it into her mouth. In the beginning, I found it difficult to watch her eat this way and, even though I intellectually understand that it is a cultural difference that I need to respect, I had to fight the urge to tell her to eat with a fork. I have now gotten used to it, however. In the beginning, I tried to wash my own plates, but she got very upset as that is her job. I still don't feel entirely comfortable being served like this, so I at least like to clear my own plates and she tolerates this, though I think that she would prefer that I didn't.
Starchaholic that I am, I actually enjoy the meals and am not at all sick of rice yet (though I have also had a few meals out, which has broken the monotony). The plates of rice that I am served are huge, so I was having a lot of trouble eating seconds, but didn't want to be rude, so in the beginning I did. Bobitta now realizes that I only want one serving, so, thankfully, she no longer gives me seconds and has started eating at the table with me instead of watching me. I suspect, however, that she is putting more rice on my plate now because I am finding it more and more difficult to finish it. In fact, I left quite a bit on my plate at the last two meals.
At home, I am always hungry -- or at least I always want to eat. Since I have been in Nepal, however, I find that I never really feel hungry and I'm always completely full and sated after I eat. I'm not sure whether this is because I am eating 85 servings of rice each day (rice never seems this filling at home, but I also never eat so much of it) or if there is some other explanation. Anyway, I mentioned this to Michael the other day and he told me about an even more bizarre phenomenon: He said that, without exception, every single man over 50 years old who has come here has told him that as soon as he arrived here, he suddenly stopped having to get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. They have all been excited about the fact that for the first time in however long, they were able to sleep through the whole night. So if you have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and you'd like a break it from it, you might want to consider volunteering at Nepal Orphans Home for awhile. I don't know whether this will work if you are female or a man under 50, but you could try it and see. It also remains to be seen whether eating 85 servings of rice a day with vegetables and lentils is a good weight loss program. I understand that I will only be getting two meals a day when I am in Narti, so maybe cutting down to 65 servings a day will help.
LAUNDRY
The first time I tried handwashing my laundry attracted a lot of attention and was a little unsettling. First, my nice, but nosey, landlady (the woman who owns the house and rents it to NOH lives here also) came out on the balcony to observe what I was doing. "It's difficult," she said, "slowly, slowly". Then she climbed the spiral staircase to the second level of the balcony, apparently to inspect the few items that I had already hung on the clothes lines up there. After she left, Sushmita, the volunteer coordinator appeared to find out what I was doing and see whether I needed anything. After I assured her that I was all set, she watched me for a couple of minutes before departing. Finally, Bobitta showed up and asked whether I wanted her help. I told her no, that I was fine, and she walked a few yards away. I'm not sure whether she wanted me to finish so that I could walk over to the girls' house with her or if she just couldn't stand the fact that I was doing it wrong, but about a minute later, she came back and demonstrated the proper way to scrub clothing. Then she announced that she likes washing clothes and proceeded to do all the hard scrubbing while I rinsed and brought finished items up to the clothes line (I was glad that I had already done my underwear). I wanted to pay her for helping me, but was afraid that I might offend her if I tried to do so. It was late in the day and getting cold, so I had to leave my clothes out over night. Oddly, the next morning, I found a pair of my underwear hanging from the doorknob of the sitting room next door to my bedroom. Rather embarrassing, but I think that Bobitta just saw that they were dry and brought them in for me.
NEPALI LANGUAGE LESSONS
For the past few days, Sushmita has been coming by after breakfast -- or while I am still eating it -- to give me some language lessons. For the past two days, I have been very distracted because the power was on while she was here and I wanted to be taking advantage of the chance to use the internet. Also, because I am busy all day and either go to bed at 8:00 p.m. or am on my computer at night, depending on when we have power, I have had no time at all to study. So at this point, I can usually remember pani ("water") and baht ("rice"), and I have completely mastered candle, biscuit, shampoo, conditioner, body powder, glass, chair, and table; which loosely translated into English mean "candle, biscuit, shampoo, conditioner, body powder, glass, chair, and table", respectively. Other than those few words, I can't seem to retain anything.
CULTURAL ACTIVITIES
On Friday, Vinod took me to Pashputi Nath ( a Hindu temple) and Boudha Nath (a Buddhist temple). At Pashputi Nath, there is an area where elderly people who have no families to take care of them live. It was very sad to see. On Sunday, Sushmita, Swastika, and Bobitta all took me to Swayambhu Nath, which has both Hindu and Buddhist temples. Both Pashputi Nath and Swayambhu Nath had lots of monkeys roaming around and I was warned not look any of them in the eye or they attack. Also, Vinod warned me not to eat fruit at Pashputi Nath and told me a story about a woman who was eating a banana there (he saw this happen): A monkey came over and took not only her banana, but also her purse. He then climbed a tree and started throwing down her money, but would not release the purse. Finally, the woman bought another banana and threw it up to the monkey. In order to grab the banana, the monkey had to let go of the purse, so the woman finally got it back. Today, Sushmita took me to a museum, which turned out to be an old palace, but not the one that the most recent king lived in before the monarchy was abolished. Apparently, the newer palace is also a museum. Although all of these things were very interesting to see, there isn't anything of interest to report about them.
TRANSPORTATION
Kathmandu is a scary city to move around in. Cars, motorcycles, bicycles, and pedestrians all share the often narrow streets (and sometimes the sidewalks) -- going in two or more different directions -- without any rules. Traffic lights would be useless since there is no electricity for 16 hours a day and Nepalis apparently see no reason to use signs or anything resembling standard traffic patterns either. Ostensibly, I think that people are supposed to drive on the left side of the road and this does happen some of the time. In general, however, people just do whatever they want and somehow everyone manages to move up, down, or across the street. Everyone is aggressive and, at the same time, everyone has to yield to others. It's like an elaborate dance whose steps are difficult to break down. Really, the Nepalis in Kathamandu should get some sort of Academy Award. After seeing Nepali pedestrians seemingly randomly crossing the streets weaving in and out of cars and motorcycles that seemed to automatically know when they had to stop, I tried a couple of times to just start crossing the street and let everyone work around me. Apparently, however, there actually are right and wrong times to walk in front of cars because each time I did this, Vinod grabbed my arm, pulled me back, and said "not yet". Oh well, I never was a good dancer.
Unfortunately, when I have to get from one place to another, there are only three options:
1. Walk -- which means watching out for cars, bicycles, and motorcycles that might come at me from any direction and frequently dodging several vehicles coming at me from multiple directions at the same time
2. Ride a motorcycle driven by someone I trust, but without a helmet and on the road with zillions of drivers whom I do not trust, as well as many pedestrians who have no problem walking in front of moving vehicles
3. Wedge myself into a 2 inch space on a microbus, a/k/a a battered old toyota minivan that is way over capacity, without a seatbelt and possibly with the door wide open. On one microbus, I counted 27 people, though two of them were actually outside the van hanging onto the doorway. My entire leg fell asleep and there was nothing that I could do about it because I literally could not move. Luckily, neither the bus nor any other vehicle on the road was going fast enough to inflict any serious damage -- or so I hoped. In addition, I was comforted by the fact that, although I was in a position where I could conceivably fall out the door if there was a really sudden stop, a number of other bodies would have fallen out before me and likely would have cushioned my fall.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Difficult Decisions
If all goes well, 25 girls will be moved from Lawajuni to Papa's House 3 in Kathmandu this weekend. Deciding which 25 girls to bring here has been a painful and terrible decision for Michael. He would like to move all of them here, but NOH doesn't have enough money to do so. The children in Kathmandu get a good private school eduation and have access to more resources, while the girls in Lawajuni go to a public school that will not afford them the same opportunities. Michael loves all of his Nepalese children just as much as he loves his biological children -- even those who have only recently joined NOH. So I think that deciding which children come to Kathmandu and which stay in Narti is analogous to an educated, middle class parent having to chose which of his two children will go to a private school, attend college, and end up in a white collar job and which child will attend a not so good public high school and probably end up working at a dead end minimum wage job. Michael is working on ideas to give the girls at Lawajuni vocational training so that they will be able to support themselves, but it is still a horrible thing for him to have to make a decision that will profoundly affect each child's future.
Furthermore, I have just learned that not all of the children at Papa's House are actually orphans. When Michael initially took over the decrepit orphanage, some mothers or other family members came out of the woodwork. It seems that kids were dropped off at the orphanage because the families were poor and couldn't or didn't want to keep them. In addition, some "brokers" go to remote villages and con parents into paying them to take their children to a boarding school in Kathmandu. The brokers actually pocket the money and give the kids to the government with papers saying that the children are orphans. The government then sends the kids to places like NOH. Michael believes that some of the children at Papa's House who came through the government actually have families that could keep them. Given what is happening in the economy, he fears that donations will decrease in the foreseeable future and, therefore, NOH cannot afford to keep supporting children who are not orphans or rescued kamlari girls (when he hears of more abused girls that need to be rescued, Michael cannot bear to say no and nobody else seems to be taking them in). So he has been trying to find someone who can track down families and interview them to see whether they are capable of supporting their children. If so, he will return their kids, even though the families would undoubtedly prefer that they stay at NOH (though I'm sure that they will be happy to know where their kids are).
Tracking down the families is herculean task and, up until now, Michael has not been able to find someone who could do it. A few weeks ago, however, he hired, Swastika, a young, vivacious, well-connected woman who is already making progress as she attacks all the red tape. Swastika has an MSW (or the equivalent) and wants to get a Masters in psychology in the U.S. in a year or two. Ultimately, she wants to work with children. She is clearly from a very well-to-do family in Kathmandu. I don't know what her parents do, but she told me that one of her uncles is the president of the national human rights commission and Michael said that she has another uncle who runs an organization that helps children in some way. I hope that I will have the opportunity to get know her better while I am here.
Just like the kamlari girls, Michael loves all of the kids at Papa's Houses 1 & 2 like his own, whether they are orphans or not. Moreover, he has known and loved some of these kids for several years now and they think of Papa's House as their home and love going to their school. I can't begin to imagine how difficult it will be for him to return these kids to their families, knowing that they will not have the future that they would have if they stayed here. It is a horrific position for him to be in and it seems terribly unfair for a man who is doing such an amazing thing with his life to have to face this situation.
Furthermore, I have just learned that not all of the children at Papa's House are actually orphans. When Michael initially took over the decrepit orphanage, some mothers or other family members came out of the woodwork. It seems that kids were dropped off at the orphanage because the families were poor and couldn't or didn't want to keep them. In addition, some "brokers" go to remote villages and con parents into paying them to take their children to a boarding school in Kathmandu. The brokers actually pocket the money and give the kids to the government with papers saying that the children are orphans. The government then sends the kids to places like NOH. Michael believes that some of the children at Papa's House who came through the government actually have families that could keep them. Given what is happening in the economy, he fears that donations will decrease in the foreseeable future and, therefore, NOH cannot afford to keep supporting children who are not orphans or rescued kamlari girls (when he hears of more abused girls that need to be rescued, Michael cannot bear to say no and nobody else seems to be taking them in). So he has been trying to find someone who can track down families and interview them to see whether they are capable of supporting their children. If so, he will return their kids, even though the families would undoubtedly prefer that they stay at NOH (though I'm sure that they will be happy to know where their kids are).
Tracking down the families is herculean task and, up until now, Michael has not been able to find someone who could do it. A few weeks ago, however, he hired, Swastika, a young, vivacious, well-connected woman who is already making progress as she attacks all the red tape. Swastika has an MSW (or the equivalent) and wants to get a Masters in psychology in the U.S. in a year or two. Ultimately, she wants to work with children. She is clearly from a very well-to-do family in Kathmandu. I don't know what her parents do, but she told me that one of her uncles is the president of the national human rights commission and Michael said that she has another uncle who runs an organization that helps children in some way. I hope that I will have the opportunity to get know her better while I am here.
Just like the kamlari girls, Michael loves all of the kids at Papa's Houses 1 & 2 like his own, whether they are orphans or not. Moreover, he has known and loved some of these kids for several years now and they think of Papa's House as their home and love going to their school. I can't begin to imagine how difficult it will be for him to return these kids to their families, knowing that they will not have the future that they would have if they stayed here. It is a horrific position for him to be in and it seems terribly unfair for a man who is doing such an amazing thing with his life to have to face this situation.
Newari People
While we were hiking yesterday, we came across Newari people engaged in some kind of ceremony -- we think it was some sort of baby naming ceremony. I think that the baby was about a year old and it was dressed in an outfit that made it look like a little wizard. A few other children were dressed up as well (though not like wizards).
Michael told me that, at the age of 8, girls get married -- to a fruit! Eventually, they get married to a man as well. He also said that girls are confined to a cowshed or something like that when they get their period for the first time.
If you would like to learn more about these interesting people, I found some basic info here: http://www.geocities.com/newanepal/details.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newar_people
Michael told me that, at the age of 8, girls get married -- to a fruit! Eventually, they get married to a man as well. He also said that girls are confined to a cowshed or something like that when they get their period for the first time.
If you would like to learn more about these interesting people, I found some basic info here: http://www.geocities.com/newanepal/details.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newar_people
Papa's House and Lawajuni
I was adopted a few days ago. Little 10 year old Sita now comes running to give me a hug whenever I arrive at Papa's House 1 (the girls home run by Nepal Orphan's home in Kathmandu) and puts an arm around me and walks me to the gate whenever I leave. Even though her English is pretty good, we don't have extensive conversations. She seems happy just to have me with her. When I have to go, she never clings to me or pleads with me to stay as American children often do. She just hugs me and says "see you tomorrow".
As we sat on her bed, watching her three tiny roommates playing Go Fish! on their concrete floor with a deck of old, bent playing cards, noses running and not a tissue in sight, Sita turned to me and said "I am always so happy whenever I am in my room". About thirty seconds later, she smiled and added "Everyone is happy in this hostel".
To a middle class American looking around at the houses in which NOH's children live, it appears that they have almost nothing and it is easy to feel sorry for them. As we all know, however, appearances can be deceiving. A few days ago, Sita let me know that, in fact, these children have everything.
Nepal Orphans Home was founded and is currently run by Michael Hess, an American carpenter who came to Nepal for a volunteer vacation about 4-5 years ago and decided to stay. He started with two orphans who captured his heart and soon took over a decrepit orphanage in which the 12 charges were being exploited and left to live in squalid conditions. Today Papa's House 1 houses roughly 50 girls and Papa's House 2 houses 24 boys. In addition, Lawajuni ("New life") in Narti (about a 10-12 hour bus ride from Kathmandu) houses rescued kamlari girls. Kamlari is the practice of parents selling their daughters into slavery -- usually as domestic workers -- until they are 17 or 18. When they are finished being kamlaris, the girls are usually sold into prostitution and taken to India, where they are imprisoned in brothels. I'm not sure exactly how many rescued kamlari girls NOH has now as they recently added more, but I think that it is somewhere around 70. If all goes well, 25 kamlari girls will be moved to the new Papa's House 3 in Kathmandu on Saturday.
The three houses are run like family homes. The children are sisters and brothers, they are all fed, clothed, bathed, and sent to school, and, most importantly, they are all loved deeply by Papa and others. Every morning Papa and Anita (a former charge who will soon be managing Papa's House 3) spend two hours weaving two braids on every girl's head in order to comply with a school requirement. At Papa's House 2, "Daddy" (Vinod) gently fixes collars on the boys' school uniforms and routinely attends to scraped legs and other ailments common to active boys. A couple of months ago, Daddy got his kids a small dog, which the boys named "Snowball" after a vote. Some of the boys are learning to cook (though all that is served in the homes is rice, vegetables, and lentils) and a group of boys and girls takes karate lessons.
In my 5 days here, I have never heard anyone yell (just a stern "I mean business" tone now and then), never seen a child hit, and never witnessed a "time out". Yet the children at Papa's Houses 1 & 2 are better disciplined and more well-mannered than any American children I have ever known. On my first morning, I ate breakfast at Papa's House 2 and watched in awe as Daddy uttered a few words and silenced a group of chattering boys almost before the words were out of his mouth. I asked him later what he said to them (he was speaking in Nepali) and he laughed and told me that he said "you forget the rules". The boys are not permitted to talk while they are eating and a simple reminder in a serious tone was all it took to silence every single one of them in an instant. When it is time to go to school (or home), the children quickly line up single file and walk down the street in a smiling procession. The boys, dressed in their school uniforms, run around playing while Daddy stands by the house gate, warmly greeting neighbors who are walking to work or school until he sees the girls procession coming down the street. He then calls out to the boys ,who fall quickly into line, ready to go as soon as the girls arrive at their house. If I stand in the street as they walk by, the kids smile and call out "hello sister" or stick a hand out to touch mine as they pass by. A few of the boys are not permitted to enroll in school until the next term. There is not a hint of envy or sadness when they get left behind at the house. They just throw an old ball through a netless hoop until the tutor that Nepal Orphans Home provides arrives.
I witnessed a tiny squabble today -- really just a little girl annoying a boy slightly. In general, however, I see no fighting, hear no whining or complaining, and have yet to encounter a tear rolling down a cheek. Roughly 70 children and all I hear are laughter and occasional shrieks of delight and all I see is playing, tickling, sharing, hand-holding, and children looking out for each other. Yesterday, I joined a small hike with the older girls. One girl insisted on carrying my jacket, another carried my water. When we were walking up a steep hill, two hands grabbed mine to ensure that I would not slip. When I was a little unsteady while walking on a narrow, inclined plank in order to cross a little stream, a voice behind me called out "Don't worry, sister, I will catch you". The girl who carried my jacket eventually asked Anita to take it and the girl who carried my water also drank all of it, but that just shows that they are well-mannered children, not stepford children.
On Saturday, I opened a box of WIKKI STIX "twistable, stickable, buildable, playable, creatibles" that Omnicor, Inc. generously donated and shipped to Nepal at my request. If you have young, creative kids, please consider ordering some of these fun, wax-impregnated yarn strands to support this small company that immediately responded to a totally blind request for a donation. www.wikkistix.com The company sent a bunch of connect-the-dot drawings on which the kids used the waxy sticks to connect the dots. After they finished all the drawings, they started using their creativity to make their own things -- a coiled snake, flowers, lollipops, figures, etc. Sometimes they made one thing, then took it apart and made something else. I limited the amount that I gave out because I want to bring some to the girls at Lawajuni and, when I told the kids that there were no more, there were no complaints or signs of frustration whatsoever, even though some kids had gotten several sets, while others who arrived later only got one. In fact, when one child found an extra unopened package, she brought it over to a girl who had just walked in and hadn't gotten one. These kids always look out for each other! Thank you, Omnicor for giving the kids a fun Saturday art project.
As we sat on her bed, watching her three tiny roommates playing Go Fish! on their concrete floor with a deck of old, bent playing cards, noses running and not a tissue in sight, Sita turned to me and said "I am always so happy whenever I am in my room". About thirty seconds later, she smiled and added "Everyone is happy in this hostel".
To a middle class American looking around at the houses in which NOH's children live, it appears that they have almost nothing and it is easy to feel sorry for them. As we all know, however, appearances can be deceiving. A few days ago, Sita let me know that, in fact, these children have everything.
Nepal Orphans Home was founded and is currently run by Michael Hess, an American carpenter who came to Nepal for a volunteer vacation about 4-5 years ago and decided to stay. He started with two orphans who captured his heart and soon took over a decrepit orphanage in which the 12 charges were being exploited and left to live in squalid conditions. Today Papa's House 1 houses roughly 50 girls and Papa's House 2 houses 24 boys. In addition, Lawajuni ("New life") in Narti (about a 10-12 hour bus ride from Kathmandu) houses rescued kamlari girls. Kamlari is the practice of parents selling their daughters into slavery -- usually as domestic workers -- until they are 17 or 18. When they are finished being kamlaris, the girls are usually sold into prostitution and taken to India, where they are imprisoned in brothels. I'm not sure exactly how many rescued kamlari girls NOH has now as they recently added more, but I think that it is somewhere around 70. If all goes well, 25 kamlari girls will be moved to the new Papa's House 3 in Kathmandu on Saturday.
The three houses are run like family homes. The children are sisters and brothers, they are all fed, clothed, bathed, and sent to school, and, most importantly, they are all loved deeply by Papa and others. Every morning Papa and Anita (a former charge who will soon be managing Papa's House 3) spend two hours weaving two braids on every girl's head in order to comply with a school requirement. At Papa's House 2, "Daddy" (Vinod) gently fixes collars on the boys' school uniforms and routinely attends to scraped legs and other ailments common to active boys. A couple of months ago, Daddy got his kids a small dog, which the boys named "Snowball" after a vote. Some of the boys are learning to cook (though all that is served in the homes is rice, vegetables, and lentils) and a group of boys and girls takes karate lessons.
In my 5 days here, I have never heard anyone yell (just a stern "I mean business" tone now and then), never seen a child hit, and never witnessed a "time out". Yet the children at Papa's Houses 1 & 2 are better disciplined and more well-mannered than any American children I have ever known. On my first morning, I ate breakfast at Papa's House 2 and watched in awe as Daddy uttered a few words and silenced a group of chattering boys almost before the words were out of his mouth. I asked him later what he said to them (he was speaking in Nepali) and he laughed and told me that he said "you forget the rules". The boys are not permitted to talk while they are eating and a simple reminder in a serious tone was all it took to silence every single one of them in an instant. When it is time to go to school (or home), the children quickly line up single file and walk down the street in a smiling procession. The boys, dressed in their school uniforms, run around playing while Daddy stands by the house gate, warmly greeting neighbors who are walking to work or school until he sees the girls procession coming down the street. He then calls out to the boys ,who fall quickly into line, ready to go as soon as the girls arrive at their house. If I stand in the street as they walk by, the kids smile and call out "hello sister" or stick a hand out to touch mine as they pass by. A few of the boys are not permitted to enroll in school until the next term. There is not a hint of envy or sadness when they get left behind at the house. They just throw an old ball through a netless hoop until the tutor that Nepal Orphans Home provides arrives.
I witnessed a tiny squabble today -- really just a little girl annoying a boy slightly. In general, however, I see no fighting, hear no whining or complaining, and have yet to encounter a tear rolling down a cheek. Roughly 70 children and all I hear are laughter and occasional shrieks of delight and all I see is playing, tickling, sharing, hand-holding, and children looking out for each other. Yesterday, I joined a small hike with the older girls. One girl insisted on carrying my jacket, another carried my water. When we were walking up a steep hill, two hands grabbed mine to ensure that I would not slip. When I was a little unsteady while walking on a narrow, inclined plank in order to cross a little stream, a voice behind me called out "Don't worry, sister, I will catch you". The girl who carried my jacket eventually asked Anita to take it and the girl who carried my water also drank all of it, but that just shows that they are well-mannered children, not stepford children.
On Saturday, I opened a box of WIKKI STIX "twistable, stickable, buildable, playable, creatibles" that Omnicor, Inc. generously donated and shipped to Nepal at my request. If you have young, creative kids, please consider ordering some of these fun, wax-impregnated yarn strands to support this small company that immediately responded to a totally blind request for a donation. www.wikkistix.com The company sent a bunch of connect-the-dot drawings on which the kids used the waxy sticks to connect the dots. After they finished all the drawings, they started using their creativity to make their own things -- a coiled snake, flowers, lollipops, figures, etc. Sometimes they made one thing, then took it apart and made something else. I limited the amount that I gave out because I want to bring some to the girls at Lawajuni and, when I told the kids that there were no more, there were no complaints or signs of frustration whatsoever, even though some kids had gotten several sets, while others who arrived later only got one. In fact, when one child found an extra unopened package, she brought it over to a girl who had just walked in and hadn't gotten one. These kids always look out for each other! Thank you, Omnicor for giving the kids a fun Saturday art project.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Kathamndu, Nepal -- Arrival February 19
When I arrived at the counter to check in my bags on the plane to Kathmandu, I was told that one of my bags was overweight and the agent suggested that I carry the other suitcase on the plane with me. I pointed out that I already had a carry on bag and was not entitled to carry on two, but didn't bother to mention that my suitcase was obviously too big and heavy to carry on anyway. Then I told her that I had not had a problem when I traveled from NY to Seoul because even though one bag was slightly overweight, the other was underweight and my combined total was well under my allowance. I also told her that most of what was in my suitcases was for orphans in Nepal and begged her to help me. She conferred with other agents, one of whom inquired whether I could have taken an earlier flight to Kathmandu or if this was the first flight out after my arrival in Seoul. I explained that I was flying on frequent flier miles and it was the first flight that I could get flying on miles, but I didn't know whether it was actually the first flight after my arrival in Seoul. I didn't understand the issue at all until he explained to me that the baggage weight allowance when you cross the Pacific is greater than the baggage weight allowance when you don't cross the Pacific. If I took the first available flight to Kathmandu, then it would be okay because it was essentially a connecting flight that include a Pacific crossing. If I could have taken an earlier flight, however, then this flight was only from Seoul to Kathmandu, the baggage weight allowance was lower, and I was over my limit and out of luck (presumably, I could have paid a fee for the excess, but we never got that far). Fortunately, they considered that I was on the first flight out so both of my suitcases were permitted with no excess fee. Whew! I know that this isn't very interesting, but I mention the issue as it might be relevant to another traveler reading this blog.
On the plane from Seoul to Kathmandu, I suddenly became a bit anxious about spending two months in Nepal. I wondered whether I really realized what I was getting myself into. I also got nervous when I read a customs document that had a list of only 6 consumable items (liquor; cigarettes, cigars, or tobacco; 15 pieces of camera film or 12 reels of movie film; necessary (?) personal medicine; ordinary packed foods up to 1000 Nepalese Rupies; fresh fruits up to 1000 Nepalese Rupies) and 13 non-consumable items (used personal clothes, one used movie camera or video camera or steel camera, one ballpoint pen set, one set playing item for player (?), fishing rod, etc.) that you are permitted to bring into the country. If you had more than the permitted number of any item or any items that were not listed (glasses? is a digital SLR camera covered by video camera?, camera lenses?, books? hairbrush?), then you were supposed to go through the red line instead of the green line. Going through the green line with dutiable items could subject you to confiscation of goods, fine, penalty, and prosecution. I was concerned because my suitcases were filled with art supplies and other things for the kids at Nepal Orphans Home ("NOH") and, as I brought a small pharmacy with me, I may have been considered to have brought more personal medicine than was necessary even though it was only for my personal use, if needed. Since NOH is a charity, the things for the kids should not have been dutiable, but who is to say what Nepalese customs agents would decide? I decided that I'd better go through the red line. When I finally got there, however, it turned out that neither the red nor the green lines were even open. As I headed in the direction of where the red line was supposed to be, I was directed to walk past the green line area and just walk out without even handing anyone my declaration form. Another potential problem averted.
As I walked out with my luggage cart, I immediately spotted the handsome Vinod holding up a sign with my name. I smiled and waved to him just at the very moment that the floor began to slope down and, a second later, my cart had tipped and all of my luggage was on the floor. I felt like an idiot and I'm sure that it looked very funny, but the crowd of people watching me didn't laugh as I'm sure my friends and family would have. When I finally reached Vinod, he greeted me with a warm smile, showing off his pearly white 20-year old teeth. He hailed a taxi and then stuffed me and my luggage into a micro car, like a dozen clowns piling into a volvo. As we drove through the streets of Kathmandu, I looked around and realized that I was in a third world country. It isn't like I have never been in an impoverished country before and I was well aware that Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world when I decided to come here, but somehow the realization that I was going to be living here for two months made me very anxious. Until I reached Nepal Orphans Home.
On the plane from Seoul to Kathmandu, I suddenly became a bit anxious about spending two months in Nepal. I wondered whether I really realized what I was getting myself into. I also got nervous when I read a customs document that had a list of only 6 consumable items (liquor; cigarettes, cigars, or tobacco; 15 pieces of camera film or 12 reels of movie film; necessary (?) personal medicine; ordinary packed foods up to 1000 Nepalese Rupies; fresh fruits up to 1000 Nepalese Rupies) and 13 non-consumable items (used personal clothes, one used movie camera or video camera or steel camera, one ballpoint pen set, one set playing item for player (?), fishing rod, etc.) that you are permitted to bring into the country. If you had more than the permitted number of any item or any items that were not listed (glasses? is a digital SLR camera covered by video camera?, camera lenses?, books? hairbrush?), then you were supposed to go through the red line instead of the green line. Going through the green line with dutiable items could subject you to confiscation of goods, fine, penalty, and prosecution. I was concerned because my suitcases were filled with art supplies and other things for the kids at Nepal Orphans Home ("NOH") and, as I brought a small pharmacy with me, I may have been considered to have brought more personal medicine than was necessary even though it was only for my personal use, if needed. Since NOH is a charity, the things for the kids should not have been dutiable, but who is to say what Nepalese customs agents would decide? I decided that I'd better go through the red line. When I finally got there, however, it turned out that neither the red nor the green lines were even open. As I headed in the direction of where the red line was supposed to be, I was directed to walk past the green line area and just walk out without even handing anyone my declaration form. Another potential problem averted.
As I walked out with my luggage cart, I immediately spotted the handsome Vinod holding up a sign with my name. I smiled and waved to him just at the very moment that the floor began to slope down and, a second later, my cart had tipped and all of my luggage was on the floor. I felt like an idiot and I'm sure that it looked very funny, but the crowd of people watching me didn't laugh as I'm sure my friends and family would have. When I finally reached Vinod, he greeted me with a warm smile, showing off his pearly white 20-year old teeth. He hailed a taxi and then stuffed me and my luggage into a micro car, like a dozen clowns piling into a volvo. As we drove through the streets of Kathmandu, I looked around and realized that I was in a third world country. It isn't like I have never been in an impoverished country before and I was well aware that Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world when I decided to come here, but somehow the realization that I was going to be living here for two months made me very anxious. Until I reached Nepal Orphans Home.
Friday, February 20, 2009
February 18, 2009 -- Seoul
I woke up very early and took the subway to meet Sunrim near where she lives. She drove me to the Imjin River to see the border of North Korea and some war and peace memorials. We had a good time walking around together. It wasn't as cold plus Sunrim kindly gave me a pair of gloves to wear.
In the afternoon, I was on my own. I walked through a crowded shopping area and a street market. I bravely tried some of the street food, but nothing too adventurous. Then I walked through a large underground market to get to an area from which I knew I could walk to Insa-dong to see some antique stores (Sunrim had taken me there the day before, but I was too cold to really appreciate what was there). When I emerged from the market, however, I wasn't where I thought I would be and, in fact, had absolutely no idea where I was. I found an area map with "you are here" posted on it and tried to compare it to my larger map to figure out where I was in relation to where I was going. I was annoyed that I looked like a clueless tourist, which, of course, is exactly what I was. As it turned out, this was the best thing that could have happened because a woman stopped to help me.
Helena, a beautician who lived in Chicago for 12 years, remembered what it was like to land in the U.S. when she hardly spoke English and, therefore, wanted to help me. She is very sweet and full of energy. She was on her way to bring a cell phone to a friend who works at a cell phone store in order to have something adjusted before she headed home. I ended up walking her to the nearby store and she dropped the phone off with her friend and actually walked me to Insa-dong, which was about 25 minutes away. She then walked around explaining things to me and acting as my interpreter, just like Sunrim had. Afterwards, she led me through a cute area filled with restaurants (I think that I was also in that area with Sunrim) to a small clothing boutique where her friend, Jenny, works. They warmed me up with green tea and discussed alternate ways that I could get back to my B&B while we waited for the friend from the cell phone store to come and return Helena's phone to her. After her friend arrived and returned her phone, Helena helped me find a place to buy something small to bring back to my B&B for dinner and then showed me where I could catch either a bus or taxi before she finally left to catch her own bus home. Altogether we spent about three and a half fun hours together and we will try to meet for dinner when I return to Seoul on my way back. This is what makes travelling so great!
In the afternoon, I was on my own. I walked through a crowded shopping area and a street market. I bravely tried some of the street food, but nothing too adventurous. Then I walked through a large underground market to get to an area from which I knew I could walk to Insa-dong to see some antique stores (Sunrim had taken me there the day before, but I was too cold to really appreciate what was there). When I emerged from the market, however, I wasn't where I thought I would be and, in fact, had absolutely no idea where I was. I found an area map with "you are here" posted on it and tried to compare it to my larger map to figure out where I was in relation to where I was going. I was annoyed that I looked like a clueless tourist, which, of course, is exactly what I was. As it turned out, this was the best thing that could have happened because a woman stopped to help me.
Helena, a beautician who lived in Chicago for 12 years, remembered what it was like to land in the U.S. when she hardly spoke English and, therefore, wanted to help me. She is very sweet and full of energy. She was on her way to bring a cell phone to a friend who works at a cell phone store in order to have something adjusted before she headed home. I ended up walking her to the nearby store and she dropped the phone off with her friend and actually walked me to Insa-dong, which was about 25 minutes away. She then walked around explaining things to me and acting as my interpreter, just like Sunrim had. Afterwards, she led me through a cute area filled with restaurants (I think that I was also in that area with Sunrim) to a small clothing boutique where her friend, Jenny, works. They warmed me up with green tea and discussed alternate ways that I could get back to my B&B while we waited for the friend from the cell phone store to come and return Helena's phone to her. After her friend arrived and returned her phone, Helena helped me find a place to buy something small to bring back to my B&B for dinner and then showed me where I could catch either a bus or taxi before she finally left to catch her own bus home. Altogether we spent about three and a half fun hours together and we will try to meet for dinner when I return to Seoul on my way back. This is what makes travelling so great!
February 17, 2009 -- Seoul, South Korea
Leaving for my trip turned out to be difficult. After months of planning, I still had way too much to do during my final days and ultimately did not get to everything. With my mother's assistance, however, I managed to get enough done and enough packed to make my plane.
My plane ride was pretty uneventful. There were a number of adorable babies on my flight and none of them screamed at all. I really wanted to adopt one of them. I sat next to a nice Chinese woman and her cute, well-behaved little boy, who slept during most of the trip. They live in the Domincan Republic now and she speaks Spanish, but almost no English. Consequently, our communication was very limited -- mainly she pointed to cosmetics listed in the duty free catalog and told me how much less she paid for the same things at Macy's. I tried to channel my friend, Grace, who loved learning and speaking to people in foreign languages and lived in Argentina for sometime prior to her untimely death. Unfortunately, however, she either was not with me at the time or simply could not empower me to speak Spanish.
To my friend who mocked me for buying "that blasted travel pillow" and predicted that I would be ranting about my waste of money (and you know who you are), my pillow actually was helpful not only on the plane, but also during my hour long bus rides to and from the airport at the crack of dawn -- I didn't sleep as well as I hoped I would, but it was still a worthwhile investment.
I arrived in freezing cold Seoul at about 4:30 a.m. The airport was almost empty and hardly anybody who worked there could speak enough English. Nonetheless, I found a place to store one of my bags filled with things for the kids for only about $5 a day -- conveniently located right by the check in counter for my flight to Nepal. I caught a bus to the city and then a taxi to Morning Calm bed and breakfast The B&B was a modest place run by a very nice older couple. I checked in and left a couple of hours later to meet my wonderful "Goodwill Guide", Sunrim. The Korean Tourist Office offers a fabulous guide service to tourists who speak English, Japanese, or Chinese. The guide is free, you just pay their expenses while they're showing you around. Your guide will accommodate whatever your interests are and they email you ahead of your visit to make plans with you. I understand that most guides are retirees, housewives, and students. Sunrim has a business degree, previously worked in HR consulting and had her own marketing company and is now studying to be a simultaneous interpreter. She is smart and fun, and it was a joy to spend a day and a half with her. I highly recommend this service.
Those who know me well will not be surprised to hear that, notwithstanding the B&B owner's explict, simple directions, I inexplicably decided that I was supposed to cross a street and got on a bus headed in the wrong direction. A couple of stops later, I looked up from something that I was reading to find myself in a bus depot, the only one on the bus, with the driver motioning me to get off. Not only did nobody speak English, but also nobody could understand the handwritten map that the B&B owner had given me because everything was marked on it in English. I boarded two wrong buses and nearly got very lost before I finally found the correct bus. Only when the bus pulled out of the depot and went back in the direction from which I had come did I understand the mistake that I had made. It turned out that being only a couple of stops from the end of the line saved me from going a long way in the wrong direction before realizing that something was wrong. Once I was headed in the right direction, I concentrated so hard on making sure that I got off at the right place, that I accidentally left my gloves on the bus -- not a good move considering the arctic temperature. Luckily, I had a pair of glove liners in my pocket, but they were not nearly as good as proper gloves.
Poor Sunrim was very worried about me since I did not have a cell phone and could not tell her why I was very late meeting her. She was just as sweet and eager to do whatever she could to make my visit enjoyable in person as she was in the emails that she sent me before my arrival. It was wonderful to have a guide to navigate for me (obviously, I needed that) and explain things to me. I didn't really enjoy Seoul so much that day, however, because I was cold and probably more tired than I realized, we were walking outside most of the time, and everything looked grey. I complained about the cold all day long, but Sunrim never said a word about it (even to agree with me), even though she hardly seemed dressed warmly enough for the weather. This made me feel like an annoying whiner, which is probably what she thought I was.
In the afternoon, we stopped at the Korean Tourist Office so that I could interview a coordinator about the Goodwill Guide program. It turned out that the third week of every month, they have a rack of traditional Korean clothes for tourists to try on and take pictures in and someone is there to write tourists names in Korean. It's quite cheesy, but my friend, Lynette, has taught me that life is more enjoyable when you decide to have fun with things like this, so when the coordinator asked me to choose a costume and try it on, I agreed to do so. I chose a red costume, which the coordinator told me was a wedding dress and the most expensive costume on the rack -- she said that I had good taste. When I can, I will post a photo of me in the costume. The coordinator then showed me a hall with life-sized cut-outs of photos of Korean television and movie stars. Apparently, Chinese and Japanese tourists like to take photos of themselves with the stars. Also, there are videos that you start by placing your hand into a molded handprint of the relevant star. In the next room, you can take a photo, select a background to have your photo superimposed upon, and then select a photo of a star or group of stars that you want to have in the photo with you. Once you have all of the elements, you enter your email address and send the photo to yourself. I wasn't prepared when the coordinator took a photo of me to demonstate, so my photo is pretty bad, but I'll post it anyway when I can. February is the off season, so few people were there. At other times, however, obsessed Chinese and Japanese fans come in droves to create these photographs. It's hilarious.
Even though it was difficult to enjoy the city on my first day because of the weather, I loved being shown around by Sunrim. The best part of having a local guide is that you get a chance to learn interesting random facts. For example, S. Korea has a law on the books that requires women to be permitted to take one day off a month when they are menstruating! Apparently, only very large companies actually comply with this law and, in today's economy, women need to worry about the ramifications of exercising their rights. But still, I found it amazing that they even have such a law. I also learned that Koreans are born at the age of 1 and everyone turns a year older on Jan. 1 rather than on their birthdays. So if you are born on December 31, you turn 2 the very next day! Consequently, a Korean's age may actually be up to two years older than what their age would be in America. At least that is what I understood.
My plane ride was pretty uneventful. There were a number of adorable babies on my flight and none of them screamed at all. I really wanted to adopt one of them. I sat next to a nice Chinese woman and her cute, well-behaved little boy, who slept during most of the trip. They live in the Domincan Republic now and she speaks Spanish, but almost no English. Consequently, our communication was very limited -- mainly she pointed to cosmetics listed in the duty free catalog and told me how much less she paid for the same things at Macy's. I tried to channel my friend, Grace, who loved learning and speaking to people in foreign languages and lived in Argentina for sometime prior to her untimely death. Unfortunately, however, she either was not with me at the time or simply could not empower me to speak Spanish.
To my friend who mocked me for buying "that blasted travel pillow" and predicted that I would be ranting about my waste of money (and you know who you are), my pillow actually was helpful not only on the plane, but also during my hour long bus rides to and from the airport at the crack of dawn -- I didn't sleep as well as I hoped I would, but it was still a worthwhile investment.
I arrived in freezing cold Seoul at about 4:30 a.m. The airport was almost empty and hardly anybody who worked there could speak enough English. Nonetheless, I found a place to store one of my bags filled with things for the kids for only about $5 a day -- conveniently located right by the check in counter for my flight to Nepal. I caught a bus to the city and then a taxi to Morning Calm bed and breakfast The B&B was a modest place run by a very nice older couple. I checked in and left a couple of hours later to meet my wonderful "Goodwill Guide", Sunrim. The Korean Tourist Office offers a fabulous guide service to tourists who speak English, Japanese, or Chinese. The guide is free, you just pay their expenses while they're showing you around. Your guide will accommodate whatever your interests are and they email you ahead of your visit to make plans with you. I understand that most guides are retirees, housewives, and students. Sunrim has a business degree, previously worked in HR consulting and had her own marketing company and is now studying to be a simultaneous interpreter. She is smart and fun, and it was a joy to spend a day and a half with her. I highly recommend this service.
Those who know me well will not be surprised to hear that, notwithstanding the B&B owner's explict, simple directions, I inexplicably decided that I was supposed to cross a street and got on a bus headed in the wrong direction. A couple of stops later, I looked up from something that I was reading to find myself in a bus depot, the only one on the bus, with the driver motioning me to get off. Not only did nobody speak English, but also nobody could understand the handwritten map that the B&B owner had given me because everything was marked on it in English. I boarded two wrong buses and nearly got very lost before I finally found the correct bus. Only when the bus pulled out of the depot and went back in the direction from which I had come did I understand the mistake that I had made. It turned out that being only a couple of stops from the end of the line saved me from going a long way in the wrong direction before realizing that something was wrong. Once I was headed in the right direction, I concentrated so hard on making sure that I got off at the right place, that I accidentally left my gloves on the bus -- not a good move considering the arctic temperature. Luckily, I had a pair of glove liners in my pocket, but they were not nearly as good as proper gloves.
Poor Sunrim was very worried about me since I did not have a cell phone and could not tell her why I was very late meeting her. She was just as sweet and eager to do whatever she could to make my visit enjoyable in person as she was in the emails that she sent me before my arrival. It was wonderful to have a guide to navigate for me (obviously, I needed that) and explain things to me. I didn't really enjoy Seoul so much that day, however, because I was cold and probably more tired than I realized, we were walking outside most of the time, and everything looked grey. I complained about the cold all day long, but Sunrim never said a word about it (even to agree with me), even though she hardly seemed dressed warmly enough for the weather. This made me feel like an annoying whiner, which is probably what she thought I was.
In the afternoon, we stopped at the Korean Tourist Office so that I could interview a coordinator about the Goodwill Guide program. It turned out that the third week of every month, they have a rack of traditional Korean clothes for tourists to try on and take pictures in and someone is there to write tourists names in Korean. It's quite cheesy, but my friend, Lynette, has taught me that life is more enjoyable when you decide to have fun with things like this, so when the coordinator asked me to choose a costume and try it on, I agreed to do so. I chose a red costume, which the coordinator told me was a wedding dress and the most expensive costume on the rack -- she said that I had good taste. When I can, I will post a photo of me in the costume. The coordinator then showed me a hall with life-sized cut-outs of photos of Korean television and movie stars. Apparently, Chinese and Japanese tourists like to take photos of themselves with the stars. Also, there are videos that you start by placing your hand into a molded handprint of the relevant star. In the next room, you can take a photo, select a background to have your photo superimposed upon, and then select a photo of a star or group of stars that you want to have in the photo with you. Once you have all of the elements, you enter your email address and send the photo to yourself. I wasn't prepared when the coordinator took a photo of me to demonstate, so my photo is pretty bad, but I'll post it anyway when I can. February is the off season, so few people were there. At other times, however, obsessed Chinese and Japanese fans come in droves to create these photographs. It's hilarious.
Even though it was difficult to enjoy the city on my first day because of the weather, I loved being shown around by Sunrim. The best part of having a local guide is that you get a chance to learn interesting random facts. For example, S. Korea has a law on the books that requires women to be permitted to take one day off a month when they are menstruating! Apparently, only very large companies actually comply with this law and, in today's economy, women need to worry about the ramifications of exercising their rights. But still, I found it amazing that they even have such a law. I also learned that Koreans are born at the age of 1 and everyone turns a year older on Jan. 1 rather than on their birthdays. So if you are born on December 31, you turn 2 the very next day! Consequently, a Korean's age may actually be up to two years older than what their age would be in America. At least that is what I understood.
Introduction
I am taking a break from trademark law to travel and have some unique and amazing experiences. I left New York on February 16 and spent two days in Korea en route to volunteer in Nepal with Nepal Orphans Home and Society Welfare Action Nepal for two months. Later, I expect to spend two months doing a human rights law internship with either the Mongolian National Human Rights Commission or the Mongolian National Anti-Violence Center during the summer followed by two months doing a journalism internship at an expat publication in Shanghai, China.
I'm having trouble with internet access, but am able to post a little bit now and will hopefully be able to post more later.
I'm having trouble with internet access, but am able to post a little bit now and will hopefully be able to post more later.
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Tahara Nepal
Kismat, Anise
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