a perilous journey, hard work, guides and porters, beauty, a dark and stormy night, leaving on a jet plane

Langtang is about 120 km north of Kathmandu, easily within sight of the Tibetan border. However, 120 km on a Nepali road and in a Nepali car, can take anywhere from 6-12 hours, despite the surprising speedy recklessness of a Nepali driver. Dad and I got to experience very different car rides, one that lurched it’s way through hills and valleys in the morning sunshine, and one that inched it’s way past sheer drops in the dark of the night and fog, with lightning flashes to provide a little atmosphere. More on that later…
After our first long, rocky but relatively pleasant drive we spent the night in Sybru Besi (pronounced Shehbrue Baysie), where dad encountered the first of many hikes in beer prices and I took advantage of the first of many opportunities to tease him. Before dinner we took a walk, finding ourselves on a hill above the valley containing the Langtang River, which we were to follow to it’s source in the Himalayas, and with many people hard at work below. There was much construction on the road, and you could tell that the lack of pavement (all 60 kilometers) wasn’t for a lack of desire for smooth driving. Even that many hands have a hard time competing with vertical mountain faces, monsoon rains, and the destruction caused by landslides. Down below our perch on the hill we could see women sitting atop piles of rough shale breaking down bigger stones into construction-size pieces with small hammers. The tap-tap-tap of their work was a better reminder than anything about the hardship and monotony that some people face every day. Next to these women sat children, bored and hardly less lifeless than their mothers on those piles. I don’t know if I’ll ever really be able to comprehend that level of poverty, or the huge amount of good fortune that I have been so lucky to receive, but reminders like these are important reminders to appreciate what you have and always be generous.
This was part of the reason why dad and I decided to hire both a guide and a porter, although we both originally wanted to carry our own weight up the mountains and find our own way through them. We were both glad of the decision as Suresh, our guide, did provide lots of information and explanations, for example pointing out huge beehives attached to sheer cliffs, some of which had been harvested by villagers via hundred-foot long rope ladders. While an incredibly nice man, Suresh was sometimes like a golden retriever puppy: overly eager to please and bounding easily up the hills, two traits that smack and the pride and independence of me and my dad. In contrast, our porter Lok was incredibly shy and quiet. We only found out our last day of trekking that he had two children, one a 3 month old daughter! Both of us found that we interacted and talked a lot more with all the Nepali guides and porters. An amazing guide who we saw many nights named Durga called me “chori” which means daughter, as well as ‘bird’, both because I remind him of his daughter (also 20) and because my mouth is always moving, just like hers.
The trek itself was phenomenal and each day brought different kinds of scenery: primordial forests with twisting trees and green light, huge mountains cradling us in the river valley, rhododendron flowers of pink, white and red, and finally the snowy peaks and tundra-like land of kyanjin ghompa, populated by wild-looking horses and herds of yaks. Along the way we saw plenty of Tibetan culture and met many nice people running teashops or guesthouses. Although part of me would love to see these towns before the influence of tourism, the other part recognizes how hard these people’s lives must have been before tourists came. The ground, especially up high, is ill-suited for farming, and there were two nights of snow while we were trekking, despite the fact that this is the ‘hot time of year’ in Nepal. Despite the nightly chill and the constant wearing of hats I loved seeing snowy peaks again, and appreciated the cooler air while hiking, as sweating all the way through your clothes is hardly Alaskan (or attractive).
Our crowning achievement was climbing a peak called Kyanjin Ri which got to 4,700 meters. We started around 3,800 m, so it was quite the morning climb, although we got to the top in only two hours. Although I didn’t consider altitude problems when we chose Langtang, I did worry about my overall fitness. In Sankhu I would usually go for several walks during the day, usually at least one that counted as a short hike. Unfortunately, none of it seemed to qualify as real condition for something like an 8-day trek through tall Himalayas, and I suspected my dad, always (overly?) active, would absolutely smoke me. As luck would have it, we were actually about the same speed, although he was much more affected by the altitude when we got higher up. Luckily neither of us got true altitude sickness, which is characterized by vomiting, headaches, weakness, and the general breakdown of your dignity. The only cure is to go back down to a lower altitude, and we saw and met several people who had to re-trace their steps, as well as at least 4 helicopters flying past, most likely to get people who had serious altitude sickness. Dad only had some really heavy breathing on steep climbs, but continually pointed out to me that not only am I 40 years younger, I also have more hemoglobin, and “there’s just less AIR up here!” Dad- you are an absolute beast, and I’m glad I have your genes so I can strive to be climbing the Himalayas in my 60s.
Anyhow, we made it up and back down the valley in one piece, and arrived in Dunche in the early afternoon a day earlier than planned. After eating a sub-par and relatively uncooked pizza we were preparing to relax for awhile when our guide told us that there was a 4-wheel-drive vehicle preparing to go back to kathmandu that evening and that he would take us for cheap. This information was interesting to us because there had been a transportation strike in Nepal that day, and we didn’t know if it would start again the next day, thus trapping us in Dunche. Plus, we really really didn’t want to take the local bus which is supposed to seat 30 but often has over 70 people riding on it, stuffed into the aisle and hanging to the top, many of whom are puking from the slow, rocking motion of the bus and the overwhelming heat of the sun and way too many people too close together. In ten minutes we’d re-jammed our bags with smelly gear (forgetting dad’s hat on a hook), crammed our stuff into a jeep-like vehicle, and packed ourselves in along with a British man and 4 Nepali guides/porters.
That ride is probably the closest I’ve come to a near-death experience and it lasted for 6 and a half hours. Soon after we started on the unpaved road one of our windshield wipers stopped working, and then it began to rain, thunder, and lightning. This rain caused semi-flooding on patches of the road when we finally got down the mountain to the valley. Worst of all, when darkness fell the rain turned into patches of impenetrable fog, which is terrifying when a road is only 20 feet wide and one side is an unprotected drop into space. At one point the driver jammed on the breaks and when I poked my head out the window to peer through the fog we were two feet from the edge of the cliff, pointed straight off into emptiness. Despite the danger, a 6+ hour drive is also full of monotony, and I found my mind wandering randomly. I thought about summer jobs and the probability that I’d actually get one. I thought about making pesto popcorn and watching movies when I got back home, and also how weird it would feel to have a cushion-y bed and a clean house and middle-class neighborhood to wander through every day. I thought about Harry Potter spells that would be useful in this particular scenario. For instance ‘Impervius’ to repel the water from the windshield, and ‘wingardium leviosa’ to keep us afloat when we drove off the cliff. Too late I realized I hadn’t brought my wand trekking, and plus Hogwarts isn’t real.
We made it back to Kathmandu tired, but in one piece, and have spent the last several days doing some sightseeing and buying way too many gifts for the lucky people we love. This morning I helped dad pack and hunted down a reasonably-priced taxi to the airport, waving goodbye as the tiny car honked, clunked and aggressively drove away, dad and his Nepali man’s hat inside. My flight is this evening, and while I know I want to come back to Nepal it isn’t hard to leave. Saying goodbye to the kids in Sankhu and to the mountains and yaks in Langtang were difficult, but it’s easy to say goodbye to the pollution, noise and aggressive men of Kathmandu.

goodbye sankhu, hello himalyas, a proven nepali rule

Saying goodbye is never easy, but it’s always harder when you don’t know if you’ll ever see someone again. This is the hardest part about traveling in Nepal: you may meet someone only for one night that you really connect with, and despite unrealistic “maybe I’ll visit your country sometime” conversations, the chances are high that you’ll never set eyes on that particular person again (unless it’s via facebook). Living in a children’s home creates even greater challenges because the kids don’t have e-mail or access to internet, thus making it nearly impossible to ‘stay in touch’. Even a month before I was set to leave I already got the question “You come back, Auntie?” While I don’t like to make promises in situations like that (who knows what the future holds, especially in terms of Nepal-visiting opportunities?) I usually say yes, but the next question is always impossible to answer: “When you come back?”
The problem is that the people in the home I am closest to are mostly 15-18, and children generally leave the home to start standing on their own feet after they turn 19. Thus, returning to Nepal makes the most sense in the next couple of years, but those years are already pretty full with a summer working at home, a final year of college, and getting some kind of career-oriented job after i graduate. How much time and money does this leave for nepali visits? That's essentially the question I had to evaluate every time one of the kids asked. Thus I promised only that I WILL return, especially because Nepal, and most notably the people I met here, finally stole my heart. My last trip I often felt so homesick and out of place I could hardly imagine coming back, let alone returning and finding real happiness and contentment here. It took a lot of reflection after my first trip into the unknown, and more adjustments to finally appreciate Nepali culture and fall in love with it, even when I occaisionally disagree with some aspects.
Having my father come to visit, fresh from the states, reminds me of the challenge i will face when i try to have the same 'chill' approach to life when I return home. It's not just at college, the environments I find myself in and especially the roles I play in the US are often stressful, over-scheduled and hyperactive. I certainly enjoy that state a lot of the time, but finding more of a balance is something i strive for, and hope to fight for when I get home. I'll have lots of time to think about this in the next ten days, as my dad and i leave for our trek in langtang tomorrow, which is eight hours (by bus) north of kathmandu near the tibetan boarder. My dad (gratifyingly) proved the 'Nepali rule' (everyone who comes here gets sick) so we didn't leave today as planned. I am excited to do some reading, breathe some fresh mountain air, and finally grill my dad on his life story (he'll be trapped- it's the perfect plan!). sometimes i'm amazed at what i don't know about my parents... hopefully after this week i'll know some of the crazy stuff he did in his youth that was too risque to tell me before i turned 20. If not, i'll have to ask his sisters when I get to seattle in a couple of weeks... regardless, wish us luck in the himalayas! I can't wait to get there.

the easter egg rock, family arrivals, the best kind of family baggage

What better way to wake up then the sound of birds greeting the sunrise? Especially when you know that in just an hour you will already be running around outside a Nepali children's home, hiding colorful rocks with paper ears strapped to your head. Thus dawned the Nepali easter, which we decided to celebrate on their weekend, saturday, instead of the classic Sunday rebirth kind of deal. The most challenging part of the hunt was getting the kids inside the house so they wouldn't be finding everything as we hid it and demanding instantaneous candy. This proved as difficult as herding 40 cats into a big cage with a small door (and lots of windows). As I was also informed at the end, those very windows each had 5 kids behind the curtains watching our every hiding place, and the roof probably had many more "james bond"s. Oh well- we clearly explained the rules, literally shoving back the flow of children that tried to escape when we went inside, then stepped out of the way and yelled "Go!". They actually got stuck in the door. I wish i'd gotten a picture. Quickly (as soon as 10 seconds) they were running back with colorful rocks in their hands and demanding prizes, which we gave out to all of the hunters, as well as the older kids (too cool to participate), the kids working in the kitchen, and, of course, Goma Auntie, who was feeding the cow. We considered giving chocolate to the cow in hopes of chocolate milk, but decided against it- her calf may not appreciate the new flavor.
After breakfast we got out the easter egg dyes my mother had sent and the 50 eggs we had boiled the night before. While a little confused (We color eggs and eat them? Why?) there was still a big crowd around me, danny and kristel, and a lot of difficulty in forming a line (kind've like trying to make 40 cats form a line when we're marinating mice at the front?). The coolest thing was that hard-boiled eggs were just as much a treat for the kids as the candy. At home the week after Easter contains lots of eggs in salads or sandwiches, which i try to avoid even as i devour my chocolate bunny. Here, the kids couldn't wait to eat thier egg, and had no qualms about peeling off the colored outside and devouring it then and there.
After the hunt me, danny and kristel grabbed our bags and took the bus to Kathmandu, as i had a plane to meet on monday and they had a bus to pokhara to catch the next morning. I found it surprisingly hard to say goodbye- when you live with two people for two and a half months, especially when you are the main english speakers, you get really close. I'm definitely going to miss the randomness of our conversations, and how comfortable we managed to make a shared room. Hopefully we'll have the chance for one last dinner with my dad when he and I get back from trekking (finger's crossed!).
Speaking of fathers, my dad flew into Kathmandu yesterday afternoon, already apalled by the state of the pollution, which kept him from seeing the ground until the plane got pretty damn close to it. We had an epic happy hug, negotiated for the right price for a cab, and were on our way! Already it's great to have time with my dad, especially because even when i'm at home he and i are always busy and distracted with other things or people. Here we have two and a half weeks where we'll get to talk, travel, and hike together, and I can't wait to delve into his past, like: Hey dad, did you ever smoke the ganja? or What's the most dangerous thing you ever did (don't say smoking the ganja)? *Evil cackle* we're going to have so much fun!
My father also brought one of the best kinds of luggage: presents from home! Included were some wonderful letters from loved ones (Fiona, that card was absolutely amazing, i can't wait for sister time either!), a huge tupperware of chocolate chip cookies (homemade by sisterly hands), some trekking clothes, and even an anti-pollution present from my dad (one of those rolls of cloth that you can make into a neckband, headband, hat, or (my dad's current favorite) a doo-rag (when he does this i refer to him only as rufus). Anyhow, it's great to have him here, better than the goodies, and I can't wait to introduce him to all of my friends in Sankhu later today.

a general post office kind of day, being a damsel in distress, ah-cone?

When planning a trip to the General Post Office, you need to maximize your zen-buddhism: plan to use the whole day, encounter delays, and use many means of transport. Thus i set off on Thursday morning, intent on completing my quest and picking up the three packages waiting for me in Kathmandu, especially important as my mother mentioned some Easter goodies in one of them. The bus ride, as ever, was crowded and hot, and i decided to stretch my legs and walk to Thamel for an early lunch before going to the PA Nepal office to pick up my package slips. The early lunch turned into a two-hour lunch when i got involved in conversations with a Dutch guy who also works in Sankhu, and a New Yorker who gave me some solid trekking advice. Unfortunately, this led my anxious-prone self to power-walk to the office, horrified that i might not be able to get my packages out before 3:00, in only two hours, at which point they would stop, mid-signature, on my form, and throw me out on the street (at this point sad music would play and i would walk, rejected, into the sunset).
My fears were un-realized, although Indira, the President of PA Nepal, was in the office, and did break the news that she wanted me to have the final photo show for the PhotoPals program in Kathmandu in a gallery, to which she would invite many dignitaries and important people. As great as i envisioned that kind of publicity and recognition of the kids, there would only be perhaps 6 days to prepare, during which my dad would arrive, and my final five days at the home in which to let him see this world that I feel so close to. I really really didn't want to deal with the complication of presenting in a new space and bringing only the photo students to kathmandu, all instead of a 'house party' that all the kids could be a part of and that could double as a kind've goodbye treat with lots of snacks and soda pop. Despite her intensity, I stood up to her surprisingly well. Indira mentioned the other night that her nicknames range from "chocolate caramel" (hard on the outside and soft on the inside), and "bull dozer". These both seem totally appropriate to me, as she is definitely a power-house of a woman, hard to interrupt and harder to question, but i have also seen her stroking the cheeks of a sick little girl and flicking away the bad energy, chanting softly in Nepali. Everyone is multifaceted, i suppose, now I'm starting to wonder what my nickname is...
Actually getting my packages out was easily the quickest part of the day: perhaps 30 minutes, some quick paperwork, and friendly workers, made the experience quite pleasant. Just to make it easier to imagine, this section of the post office is all concrete, mostly one open room with a small desk in the middle and rooms in the back in which packages are piled haphazardly. Everything is filled out by hand in a ledger, and it's still surprising to me that the process actually manages to successfully bring me easter eggs and dove chocolates from Tennessee.
When i arrived at the bus park, packages stacked to my chin, there were no buses in the line to Sankhu due to a four-day festival in my (normally) quiet little village. I finally got on the bus, and slumped, exhausted, over my packages, breathing little puffs of cooling, polluted air through the crack of the window. I watched out the window until we were a ways out of the city, and then fell into a kind of stupor in which i began to feel nauseous and dreaded lugging the packages up to the home in my extreme tiredness. Finally, after perhaps two hours, the bus stopped and everyone started getting off. This didn't worry me because Sankhu is the end of the road, but when I looked out the window I quickly realized I wasn't IN sankhu. Shit. "Sankhu Janchu?" I asked lamely. "No, no! This i Alitpur!" everyone responded, as if i was crazy. A small crowd of children gathered round to laugh at me, and more adults came up and discussed my silliness in rapid Nepali. Feeling like I was going to cry, I started to laugh. The whole situation was so ridiculous- my arms full of packages, this bus, clearly stopped for the night, and no other vehicles in sight, and an utter lack of comprehension over where I might actually be. After five minutes one of the Nepali guys, wearing some impressive aviators, walked off, and his friend waved a hand at me, which i interpreted to mean 'please wait madam'. This aviatored guy drives up on his dirtbike, and the next moment I've been helped onto the back and the packages balanced in my lap. The kids waved goodbye, despite their mockery, and we were off, cruising in great loops around corners and talking about all the English bands my savior could name (Avreel, ah-cone, seen kingston). This is the way to travel! Cool breeze, lots of space, the fields whizzing by and the sky above- I wasn't falling in love with Naples (the name of aviator boy) but this was far preferable to a bus or even a nice American car. When he dropped me off he was quite gentlemanly, and although he did ask to come visit me again, he was quite polite when I told him I would be leaving soon. This incident, and several others since then, have slowly transformed my attitude towards Nepali men, which was quickly approaching complete hostility. I walked the rest of the way towards my home with a smile on my face, my energy very much boosted by so much friendliness and help where I expected only disaster.

shifting worlds, teaching photo to womens, getting compliments from womens, spray-painting 'rebels', violence in the home

When back in Sankhu after a weekend in Kathmandu several things always happen. I generally spend my first day reading a lot and relaxing, probably because my time in Kathmandu, although a break from the home, is often more stressful and cluttered than being here. Along with the benefits of Western food and my own bedroom I get irritants like air and noise pollution, traffic, opportunistic salesmen and the general difficulty of getting anything done efficiently, be it finding something like spray paint, or visiting a Nepali home/organization. While my last two Kathmandu visits I managed to avoid getting sick, there is still some kind of energy recovery that is required after getting back, and yesterday I tried to eschew my guilt about spending the first half of the day reading a Terry Pratchet book and eating 1/3 of my dark chocolate store for the week.
Likely because of the pretty significant lifestyle shift in Sankhu, I also feel pretty antsy (hehe, an ant just ran across the computer screen), like there is something I need to do but have forgotten about. I have to relax back into the pace here, which is increasingly easier to do with all this practice (and my new knitting skills!). The most difficult part of adjusting comes when I shif my mind back to Nepal- the city is often where I spend the majority of my time with Westerners, do lots of e-mailing or phone calling, deal with job applications, post my letters and taste good old fashioned brown bread. This means my mind is pretty full of home or college when I return to Sankhu, and I have to make a little mental nudge back towards, for this week’s example, the final photo project, Easter egg hunts, spray painting with stencils, and rousing myself for a pre-midday hike.
This weekend in Kathmandu was a little different than usual- I taught a photo skills workshop at Raksha Nepal, the women’s organization I did office work for last time I was in Nepal. In typical Nepali fashion I showed up at the pre-arranged time, 10:00am, only to be told that half of the women were at their other job training. Could I come back at 3:00? My western half rose up like an affronted snake: “Can’t we do anything on time? I have a schedule to keep here!” I lulled the snake using my friendly eastern snake charmer side: “Chill out, man- what else do you really have to do today? Go run some errands and come back.” That’s what I did, and I’m sincerely glad I waited, as 20ish women got the chance to learn and take photos instead of only 10.
The class itself went really well too, despite my worries that I hadn’t prepared the curriculum thoroughly enough. Basically I planned on going in, drawing different parts of the camera, describing what each button does and when to use certain functions, and then showing them how to upload to a laptop. The benefit of this loose plan was that I didn’t stress in the face of small obstacles or delays. For example, very few of the women spoke English, and those who did spoke very little. Rosna, the coordinator for the organization, translated everything I said, which was difficult as she was learning everything at the same time. I found myself playing a weird kind of ‘camera charades’ meets ‘photo pictionary’ involving sound-effects, pantomiming, and lots of drawings on a white board. Despite the challenges, the class almost felt like a party- the girls were falling in love with photography, or at the very least with the new ability to take photos of each other and themselves. I would go around the room and demonstrate to each partner group (2-3 to one camera), and they would ask me questions in Nepali and we would both laugh when I just shrugged my shoulders and made an awkward face (signaling my total lack of comprehension). I actually liked the fact that the class underlined our mutual strengths and weaknesses- while the girls knew nothing about cameras, I knew little to none of their language. This made for a lot of laughter, and lots of friendly joking as I spoke utter grammatical nonsense and they accidentally took hideous pictures of their friends with double chins.
The biggest effect of the class may have been on my vanity, as all of the girls wanted to take photographs of and with me, and everyone kept complimenting me on how thin or beautiful I was, which basically meant I was blushing and embarrassed in almost every photograph. After we had finished uploading (which took awhile because people kept taking their cameras back and taking more photos thus perpetrating an unending cycling of uploading), they gave me tea, and were quite unwilling to let me go to my dinner date with a Swedish friend that evening. They kept trying to hoodwink me into spending the night, but I promised I would bring my dad for dinner when he arrived, and bid them all a warm goodbye. I left with a wide, unconquerable smile on my face, because I felt I had given those friendly, companionable women at least a small something in exchange for their incredibly welcoming kindness.
Yesterday I embarked on Part II of the spray-painting saga, as I helped five girls make stencils last night which we will spray this afternoon. Weeks ago, when we first sewed our t-shirts I told the girls we could also spray paint designs on them, but by the time I’d tracked down spray paint in Kathmandu, the final exams had started. After being asked “We spray now?” and “What color spray do you have?” twice a day all last week, I finally tried to teach some of them before I went to the city. Due to general Nepali flakiness, only Binita, one of the most excited girls, actually made her stencils, and we went up to the roof to “do spray” on her three shirts, ending up with a t-shirt saying “(Heart) U”, one with an Axe on it, and another with a Jesus Christ Cross (as she put it). A curious crowd surrounded us, and I had many more requests to “make spray” from most of the girls, something I knew would be problematic due to the crappiness of Nepali razorblades, and the necessity for spraypainting and razorblades to be highly supervised, never my strongpoint. They definitely had trouble with cutting when we made the stencils, but most everyone prevailed. Because I told them to make whatever stencil they wanted I now have in my possession a stencil with a heart with crossbones, “U n’ I” and (my favorite but the most disturbing) “HATE YOU FOREVER”.
While we did get to spraypaint most of the girls shirts, Sagar Mama (the man who runs the home) arrived in the middle of it, and definitely 'crashed the party'. He angrily spoke rapid-fire Nepali at the girls, who scrambled to clean up the stencils and newspaper on the roof. Today, when Danny, Kristel and I tried to spraypaint our own shirts with a golden calf, Kabita and Bimala leaned over the balcony and told me that they needed to talk to me because it was an emergency. Apparently Sagar had given them a 2 hour lecture yesterday, saying that if he caught them spraypainting again he would beat them in front of "the volunteers" and that the girls needed to tell me that this was bad behavior that shouldn't continue in the home. Why he couldn't deliver this message himself, like a mature individual, when he saw me multiple times and delivered the lecture nextdoor, i still don't know. This kind of incident is the ugly part of my time here- the beatings in the home are something i haven't discussed very much because I would rather not think about it. The volunteers are helpless to intervene, only sometimes using our presence as witnesses to curb violence from Sagar or the other staff. Last night at dinner one of the boys was beaten so that he bled, and then cried for the entire meal while we sat in silence, eating. Each time something like this happens I know that I will never beat my children, and wish that Nepali people didn't shrug these incidents off and say "that is our habit" or "that is Nepali culture". There are so many more ways of keeping discipline and order, I only wish that the people in the home, boys and girls alike, were more interested in exploring them.

making instead of buying, needles, school's out for the summer, a new baby in Sankhu, appreciation.

People forget how to make things for themselves in the Western world. Instead of cooking a birthday cake they pick one up at Walmart, already decorated with balloons and flowers. We buy pre-made, pre-packaged foods, clothing, furniture, houses, and so much more. Often, even if we could figure out how to make one of these things, we opt to purchase it anyways, for lack of time to actually make it ourselves. After all, as Benjamin Franklin said: time is money. Nepal is a good contrast to this lifestyle as I am constantly confronted with the homemade: breakfast and dinner is always home-cooked, the girls here crochet mind-bogglingly huge colorful blankets they refer to as ‘bedcover’, and no one at the home goes to a hairdresser or barber.
What it all comes down to really is time. For example, two days ago I learned how to knit. I’ve been bugging knit-savvy friends for years to teach me this, but never ‘found the time’, and yet it only took 5 minutes for me to get the hang of it, although obviously I was slow and clumsy with the skinny needles I’d bought in Kathmandu. Unfortunately, we soon found that the wool I’d purchased was too thick for the needles, so Kristel and I brainstormed ways to make thicker ones. We settled on two lengths of straight bamboo, which I whittled to points and sanded to a smooth finish: presto, home-made knitting needles! I shouldn’t be too proud of this accomplishment, but the truth is, I feel incredibly satisfied every time I use them, and love the 2 ½ feet of scarf I finished in just a couple of days. I can’t remember the last time I felt so proud of something that I worked on, including most of the papers I wrote at college last semester. The lesson here, at least for me, is to remember the importance of making and doing things for myself. Many of the small processes are what make life satisfying, not necessarily what we accomplish, but how we accomplish it. I could buy a scarf at the store and the result would be the same: when winter comes my neck will be warm. However there is no way I would feel nearly as much satisfaction in making a purchase and wearing it as I doubtless will with my homemade one.
While the first several days dragged after I got back to Sankhu, they have since sped up again, racing by in long conversations, clicking needles, a lovely hike, and the last days of the kid’s exams. Yesterday I gave a “Photo Exam” consisting of 10 written questions and a ‘practical’ portion, where I had them take 5 portraits, of whom I would be the judge. My main motive was to see whether or not their photography class had changed how they photograph people, as my biggest challenge when I first gave them cameras was to stop them from taking hundreds of nearly identical, oddly-angled photos of their friends in stiff poses. Looking through their photos I did notice a definite difference, although perhaps only 5 students seem to really see the camera as new kind of eye, and examine the world differently with it. Today the Science exam for the older students, and tomorrow is the first day of their month-long vacation. For the Junkiri Primary Students the last day is much more like a “fun day” with a quiz contest, sports, and general fun time. The students came up with all of the questions and answers for the contest, and I actually undermined the question “What is the biggest city in the world?” as the answer written was “London” and the teachers thought it was “Taiwan”. I told them “Hong Kong”, and was ashamed to just discover that it is actually Shanghai. Whoops! I don’t know if I should come clean!
One question all of the volunteers have been speculating on is the length of gestation for a cow, given the very pregnant cow that belongs to the home. Two days ago we stopped caring, as Laxmi, the beautiful and esteemed cow, went into labor and gave birth to her calf. One moment I was just sitting upstairs talking with some of the girls, and the next moment, after a burst of excited Nepali, we were all running down the stairs and up the hill, where children surrounded the laboring cow in fascination. The calf wasn’t yet visible, but we could see some thick pieces of placenta hanging down, which the cow broke off with her tail and self-cannibalistically ate, probably for the protein. The actual birth took several hours, and I regret not having been patient enough to wait next to the cow the entire time, but I did get to see the recently-freed, wet calf getting a thorough licking from her mother. The children crowded around the shed, peeking through holes, each others legs, and over heads to get a glimpse of this new being who suddenly entered our world. I’ve never experienced a birth before, and I felt awe at the miracle of two beings existing, where before I only saw one. After only a couple of hours she was standing on trembling legs next to her mother, leaning faintly on her maternal, stable flank. What it must’ve felt like for her, to breathe real air for the first time, see colors, hear sounds, taste milk! Birth is such an amazing thing, and I continue to feel inspired by this glimpse of it. Don’t worry mom and dad- I’m content to observe for the moment!
Here’s to birth, cool breezes on increasingly hot days, and the coffee and bread courteously given to me by the owners of this internet place. The world truly feels a lovely place.

white marbles?, leisurely meetings, the nature of delay, traveling together, the best field trip ever

What do you think when you hear this sound on the roof: “THUNK THUNK
…thunkthunkthunk…THUNK”? If you’re in Kathmandu, perhaps your first (dramatic) thought is a maoist revolt. Because you’re curious to see what real warfare looks like you get out on the balcony to take a look… hmmm, it doesn’t look like a war-zone, I mean, there’s no smoke or devastation. But… are those white marbles? No, wait… maybe gumbo gobstoppers? But plummeting down from the sky? The only good explanation is hail. REALLY REALLY big hail, where hours before there was only hot sunshine and exhaust fumes. Under the deluge kids are squealing in the street, clearly much braver than I am as they scoop up round chunks of ice into a bowl and shriek when they get hit by a particularly sharp whistling projectile. Watching from the balcony of the women’s organization my mouth was open as far as it could go- what an amazing and surprising sight!
Such freak weather occurrences (which are oddly common) sum up perfectly the random nature of Nepal, and being here is probably the best experience for learning how to roll with life’s punches. In this instance I had stopped by Raksha Nepal, the women’s organization, to discuss doing a Camera Skills Workshop for the women receiving aid there. Menuka (the president) was on the phone when I got there, so I spent about 10 minutes humming to myself and sneaking looks at the cool nose ring of the other woman waiting patiently in the office. I couldn’t help but wonger how long she had been there. She looked pretty comfortable. When Menuka finally got off of the phone she had to go to a meeting, and told me to find Rosna and schedule it. All the Nepali women helped me search for Rosna and we discovered that she had gone to lunch. They said she should be back soon, so I settled down to chat and wait, clearly forgetting what ‘soon’ means by Nepali standards.
For my pains I got a tasty homemade lunch, was inside during the hailstorm, and gave one of the sweet Nepali girls my name so she could add me on Facebook (bizarre). When Rosna finally appeared our meeting lasted about five minutes, but I left perhaps two hours after arriving. The funny thing is, if this happened in the states I would feel inconvenienced and grumpy, but because it happened in Nepal I left in a cheerful mood, feeling as if my two hours were well-spent. This may be a long description of a small thing, but the experience really reflects the slower lifestyle that you encounter in Nepal, where delays such as traffic jams, lack of electricity or freak hailstorms are part of the common order.
Similar kinds of interruptions were behind my long delay in posting to my blog, so let me take a moment to apologize, especially to my poor mother, for scaring her with my neglect. Load shedding is up to 12 hours a day, although the term ‘day’ is relative given that power is more often available at indecent times of the night when no-one is really using it. My internet time was also taken up by job applications, which hopefully will yield some fruit before I get home this summer. There are some very interesting possibilities including trail work, a summer camp at Kincaid, and an internship with an awesome organization providing services to rural Alaskans. While such applications are tricky any time, they are certainly much harder in Nepal, and I increasingly appreciate the conveniences of college or home. Overall, however, I actually like living without power all of the time- the little things that we cut out for the sake of convenience can be terrible to miss. E-mails instead of hand-written letters, for example, or microwave popcorn (enough said). I hope I can remember to spare time for the details when I come home.
Part of the reason for the gap in my posts was also because I was traveling with someone for the first time. My Alaskan friend Sean came to visit me over his spring break and I found that I had a lot less time for reading or writing, something that really surprised me. My normal chill time got filled up with lots of fun moments, like showing someone else how to use a Nepali toilet, hiking to Nagarkot to try and catch a panorama sunrise of the Himalayas, and doing some exhausting present shopping in Kathmandu. Sean also got to witness and prove the Nepali rule “Everyone gets sick in Nepal” as I was sick for his first two days here and he obligingly got the same nasty stomach badness several days later. So dad: when you come, bring some strong stomach-cleansing anti-biotics (and homemade cookies of course, although for other reasons), or perhaps you could just try Nepali whiskey. Despite the illnesses Sean and I had tons of fun, and I’m glad to know that traveling with someone is so much fun, although my time in Nepal also makes me appreciate traveling alone. I am glad that I will have two or three more weeks in Nepal to work with the kids and finish up photo classes, but am also excited for my dad to arrive and to go trekking. I can’t believe how quickly the time has passed- it has been 7 weeks, and I know the remaining time is going to trick me by passing by in an eyeblink, or maybe a couple.
Projects or activities, and the process of planning them, are the culprits of this collapsed time. Ever since I started doing T-shirts and other handicrafts with the kids, new ideas have snowballed! One of my favorite memories of Nepal is definitely going to be the fieldtrip we organized for the Junkiri Primary School students. While the volunteers mostly provided the funding and the Nepali teachers did the coordinating, it was a team effort to get a tiny bus that we all packed into, and drive an hour and a half to the Nepali zoo. The whole way there they sang Nepali songs to the beat of a drum, and jumped from cage to cage in delight at all the creatures to be seen. I’ll admit, I was just as enthralled as they were by the inside of a hippo’s mouth, the deadly sharp beaks of the cranes, and the savage bite of the feeding asian hyena. Sean and I decided to treat the kids to paddle boat rides (which cost about $7.50 for everyone) and let the photo students use our cameras to take picture after picture of the animals and fish.
After the boating we got back on the bus to have a picnic at one of Nepal’s botanical gardens outside of main Kathmandu in the hills. The kids all got icecream on the bus, and my legs slowly fell more asleep from weight of the adorable Bibesh on my lap. The picnic was delicious and huge with classic nepali donuts and chickpeas accompanied with coca cola and fanta. Afterwards Sean and I organized a game of “Tigers and Deer”, our Nepali adaptation of “Sharks and Minnows”, although the kids kept cheating so they could remain Deer. When we finally climbed back on the bus it’s hard to say who was more exhausted: the kids or the volunteers. Regardless, it’s a day I will always remember, especially the small moments like passing my sunglasses around to the kids on the bus, or watching little Arti resolutely continue to stuff her face and pockets with sweets, long after she was clearly full.

the decidedly unreligious Holy festival, making t-shirts, handicrafts galore, deepening relationships, loving where i am

I just made two posts at once- one written 6 days ago, but without the internet to post it, and one written now. Read the earlier one first if you haven't already!

Funnily enough, I just don't "bathe" that much in Nepal. There are several reasons for this: the absence of hot water, the constant presence of a stuffy nose (which makes me ignorant of possible smelliness), and the general lack of any nudity, which somehow also translates into a lack of bathing-awareness. While i generally only go through the whole bathing process twice a week, the weekend was an extreme exception, in fact I think i was thoroughly soaked in water a good deal of yesterday. This is because the Nepali festival, Holy, is basically a huge water fight, utilizing balloons, plastic bags, buckets, plastic bottles, and even eggs or chili sauce in Kathmandu. The only problem with Holy is that the kids start warming up for it two weeks before the full-moon, the day on which the water-war truly begins. Instead, the week before Holy, and especially the last three days, walking through the village of Sankhu is to take your life (or at least your clean, dry clothes) into your own hands. Kristel and I did brave a brief voyage down the mountain on Saturday, but were given a tip by Sabu, one of the girls, to wear raincoats, a suggestion that was both ingenious and quite useful.
Yesterday, however, was nothing short of glorious. Imagine the neighborhood water fights you had in elementary school and then expand the age group from 5-25, and then expand the number of kids to 50, and then add a nice sunny day and lots of shrieking. To signal your participation you paint your face with color, something Danny, Kristel and I did Avatar-style in our room before venturing out to face the onslaught.
After I finally got dry (and very very clean) I worked on two projects that I have been learning/doing with some of the older girls: crocheting and making t-shirts. Now I often claim to have made a t-shirt, but I usually just mean that i spray-painted something sweet on it. In this case, we made our own patterns out of an existing t-shirt, cut the cloth, and sewed it all together by hand- pretty freakin sweet! I still have one sleeve to go, and the neck and bottom to hem, but she's shaping up pretty nicely, and the five of us are all planning on wearing our completed shirts for the first time on the same day. I'm also working on crocheting, which kabita started to teach me about a week ago. While slow at first, I'm starting to get faster and neater- i'm excited to be able to make things with my own hands! Finally getting momentum on a project has opened up my eyes to so many more, especially because learning with the girls is way more fun then just teaching them something. I guess I always worried that I needed to show them something I already knew, but advancing in shared ignorance is not only fun, but yielding really awesome results! I'm already designing other clothes/jewelry projects in my head, i just need to find the supplies in Kathmandu (the real challenge). I recently met an older Australian woman who comes to Nepal 4 months of every year and does all sorts of projects with the kids. She offered to show me her 'spots' in Kathmandu to buy supplies when I am there this week, so hopefully I'll be prepared to do/learn all sorts of new things when I return.
Doing these sorts of projects with the older girls isn't just fun, I also find myself becoming much closer to them. At first, conversations could only go so far because of language barriers and especially cultural/comfort barriers. Now we're chatting about boys, and joking about farting, all while we work on projects. It's such a nice feeling, to be part of this girl-community, one quite unlike the hanging out I often do at home, which always seems to center around going somewhere instead of making something. The closest I've come to this at home is probably cooking in the kitchen, but there is something so relaxing and intimate, but still open, about hanging out with the girls- I find myself very content.
More and more I feel like PA Nepal is my home. I do not crave western foods all the time, but am excited to see what kind of curry there is for dinner/breakfast, although they are often similar there are many different vegetables and flavors to choose from. When I first came here and my mind went wandering, it usually found it's way to the people and places from home or at college. Recently, however, I feel a shift: my mind is occupied with the relationships I am building here, the projects I am working on in Sankhu (photo or craft), and the daily chores or past-times that I'd like to do. I won't try to pretend that I don't get pangs of homesickness or loneliness, or that I sometimes am annoyed with the kids or feel cooped up in the village, but I certainly am very happy here, and learning more about myself and others all the time.

(from tuesday, 2/23)- late-posted blog, itching and scratching, copious freetime, kurta making, different world perspectives

The last couple of days I felt itchy. One explanation is definitely the itchy red bites on my jaw and ankle, which feel suspiciously bedbuggy. Although I eschewed the mattresses here I still padded the plywood with a blanket, one which is apparently well-bugged. Luckily a couple of bites in a month are by no means unbearable… as long as it doesn’t get worse! I’ve also been itchy because of the staggering amount of free time here. Although I extolled its virtues in previous posts, so much openness can also feel unbearably oppressive. To combat these feelings, I am pursuing a surprising number of handicraft activities: weaving on cardboard looms, hopefully learning crocheting, and various sewing projects. Perhaps this is why pioneer women were so good at making doilies and such- boredom is an excellent motivator.
However, this frustration comes and goes. Some days are full to the brim with great experiences and moments, and some days I feel content even though little happens. Today I went for a hike after breakfast, bypassing the temple above us in favor of a switch-backy dirt path which reaches a lovely bluff overlooking the valley. Realizing I was late, I rushed back to accompany the kids who don’t go to Junkiri down to government school. Last time the volunteers who weren’t teaching in the morning often did this, and I was scolded several days ago by several of the girls for not doing it again- I didn’t think they missed me! Today I realized that I also missed the walk when Durga, an 11-year old, took my hand and made up a story that took up the entire journey to school (poor girl, dead family, ghostly mother trying to steal her single rupee- you’ve got the general plot). I wandered around different parts of the valley while I waited for the internet shop to open so I could try and apply for jobs and such. After I got back to the home I got to show my students the photos taken by “American” students for the first project: “Light and Shadows”. They were especially taken by a picture of an ice-hockey game, immediately recognizing “hockey” but hardly comprehending the “ice”. When I finished explaining one of the kids started shivering and shaking his head in horror.
Yesterday I felt particularly unproductive as I was in the house all day, so I set off with Kristel to do some shopping. Isn’t this always the solution? I’ll admit: this isn’t 5th Avenue mall, or even Salvation Army (for those of you who know my true tastes). No, this was shopping, Nepali style. First we picked up some biscuits and chocolate for afternoon munching, when hunger and homesickness combine to form a regrettable craving for Cadbury’s chocolate. Then we set off on our real errand: to commission ourselves a kurta.
The kurta is typical Nepali women’s dress: a tunic-styled mid-thigh dress with slits up the side, under which you wear surwal, those wide Indian-looking pants that bag so becomingly under the hips. To complete the ensemble is a long filmy scarf, usually matching the color of the pants. This outfit is always made to size by a local tailor, but before you can start you must first choose your fabric, often at a different shop. After much deliberation and true courage given the seemingly endless supplies of fabric and seemingly depthless language barrier, Kristel settled on a pre-arranged set of fabric consisting of embroidered pink and turquoise. I found a gorgeous green fabric with a gold design, but couldn’t find the right pants material in chocolate brown. It was lucky I did not, as I realized today that this combination would result in a strong resemblance to a Christmas-tree. This morning I bought some blue material for pants, but have already run into opposition at both the shop, where they seemed genuinely concerned by my bad taste, and by the one girl at PA whom I bravely showed my material to (imagine the words “But it does not match!” said with complete indignance). Ah, well.
Small reminders from my e-mail help me appreciate the time I have here and strive to use it. Earlier this week I found an inbox swamped with worried questions about housing next year, as well as my PFD appeal to the Alaska state government, and a decided lack of job opportunities for the summer. These moments make me appreciate being away from these daily stresses but they also underscore how far away my world is. Sometimes I will be teaching or talking with the kids and realize they know nothing about something that is fundamental and normal in “my” world. The Olympics, for example, or the earthquake in Haiti, or World War II- all of these practically don’t exist here. While the kids know tons more about Nepal than I ever will, including its language, they seem to know next to nothing about what I would consider basic world history. It’s funny though- I bet they know more about Asian history than I do, so perhaps it’s all dependent on region and perspective. Another things that seems odd is that the kids here really look up to China and hate India, probably because Nepal lies right in-between and always seems to be cheated or manipulated by India’s government. It’s both nice and discomforting to be reminded again and again that America is not the center of the world, and to see how much more is out there.

Shivaratri, a bizarrely Nepali church service, bondas, food poisoning, there and back again

Time is funny here- some days pass with incredible slowness, only to be followed by a week that teleports by. My last week here was very much the latter of the two- I can hardly believe that a whole week is over. Last Friday we celebrated Shivaratri, the festival symbolizing the end of winter, during which we had a great big bonfire outside of the home. I actually didn’t think it would even pass the lighting stage as they wanted to burn two huge roots and stumps that had been dug out of a hillside when they were doing construction. Those solid and massive hunks of wood looked dirty and very very solidly inflammable. Against all odds, and with the help of some modern day chemicals, they were burning cheerily and the kids crowded around for hours. They formed two teams on different sides of the fire and sang Hindi or Nepali songs, a competition in which one team would stop on a word and the next team would have to start a new song beginning with the last letter. It was pretty fun to watch, but would’ve been more fun to participate in. I tried to help out when “my” team was stuck on “R” by singing “Rock me mama like a wagon wheel, rock me mama any way you feel”, only to be told “Auntie, you don’t sing, okay?” The Nepali people are so blunt… Luckily I had a smoky fire and a sky full of stars to comfort me- Shivaratri was a lovely night.
The next day I was ready to go to Kathmandu right away, but unfortunately I’d promised another volunteer that I would help take some of the kids to church down in Sankhu. PA Nepal is technically Christian, although many of the kids don’t seem to know much about Jesus in comparison to Krishna, Shiva or Buddha. However, some of the kids are sincerely devout, and that number seemed to grow the more we tried not to be late. Forty-five minutes after we started to leave we walked down the hill, three volunteers trying rather unsuccessfully to keep 19 skipping kids in line, who seemed entirely too cheerful for a Saturday sermon (Sunday isn’t a holiday in Nepal).
We didn’t know where the church was, so we let Jimuna, one of the older girls, lead the group to the small bus park outside the government school. Looking at the building she pointed to, I could see no signs of any religious institution inside. What I could see on the top floor was a huge sign announcing Sankhu’s “Communist Party Center”, accompanied by a cheerily waving large-size communist flag. Raising my eyebrows I was led into a small alleyway between the building and up about ten flights of narrow, completely dark stairs. We came out on the rooftop, next to the flag, and were soon introduced to a cheerful, portly man who is the priest. He was doing his laundry in a bucket next to us, and informed us in limited English that the service wouldn’t begin until 10:30, about 40 minutes away.
Oh no! None of the kids had eaten breakfast yet, and neither had we, so Kati, one of the volunteers, ran down to buy some snacks for the kids. She came back with little fried rice-flour doughnuts and bananas, but when we tried to hand them out we were informed that you can only eat AFTER you pray. Me and the other volunteers exchanged a look. Darn it. Then we found out that the service would be about two hours. Double darn it. Despite these dire forewarnings the service was a pleasant experience, although all of the bibles and the sermon were in Nepali, and thus completely incomprehensible. However, they sang Hindi-style songs as hymns, accompanied by a small drum, and I was completely amazed by how well-behaved the children were, especially because some of them are perhaps only four years old. They paid attention, had a minimum of fidgeting, and prayed with their eyes squeezed shut and their hands together with the same intensity as everyone else in the room. At the end the priest and some of the weekly church-goers served biscuits and milk tea to all of us. We shared our snacks with the congregation, which had tripled in size due to our surprising appearance that morning.
We walked the kids home and returned to the bus park to take a bus into Kathmandu. After trying to board two buses and getting turned away, we finally understood that it was a “bonda”, the Nepali word for strike. Soon we realized that there were three bondas in between us and the city, and thus we had three options: go back to the home, get a taxi, or walk. We settled for a mix between the latter two, walking to the outskirts of Kathmandu, about 7 km away, and then trying to catch a taxi there. I was actually excited about walking along the road in the sunshine, past terraced fields and small villages- especially because the traffic would be very low. However, after perhaps a half-hour of walking we flagged down a taxi that already had a father and two daughters in it. They were very nice and offered to let us ride with them, not to be outdone, the taxi driver offered to let us pay 800 rupees ($11-12) for the privilege. Up went our bags onto the top of the taxi, and we piled, clownlike, into the tiny “Honda” car, which easily squishes three passengers, let alone the six inside. We took side roads to avoid strike blockades, meaning that we had to jump out and push the taxi up a rocky, dusty and vertical road, but also meaning that we drove through beautiful little villages that I had never seen before. Despite the many setbacks of the day, I was feeling quite cheerful by the time we finally got to Kathmandu- all the Nepali people, from those at the church to those in the taxi, had been lovely and friendly, and I truly appreciated getting to meet them.
Unfortunately, my first night in Kathmandu I ate something questionable (what exactly is unknown). I arose the next morning feeling quite hung-over, despite the lack of any real alcohol the night before, and the nausea only worsened as I tried to stagger through the things I needed to do in Kathmandu. Soon I was in bed in my hotel, hoping to sleep it off, but ended up having one of the worst nights I can remember with a high fever, terrible headache (probably from dehydration), and a very grumpy stomach. I arose the next morning grateful to still be alive, and cautiously ate some breakfast with the hopes that I could replace all the electrolytes I must’ve sweated in the night. Salted toast? Sugar-thickened tea? Sign me up!
I spent the rest of my time in Kathmandu lying low- applying for jobs online, buying some books and dvds, and basically waiting until I felt better so I could get back to the village. I did get one great surprise- Sean, one of my old Alaskan friends, is coming to visit over his spring break in only 2-3 weeks! I invited lots of people to come to Nepal with me, but didn’t expect anyone (except my lovely father) to take me up on the offer. I’m excited to have someone to help me with photo class, and to explore Kathmandu and Sankhu with a partner in crime- doing it alone has never really appealed to me.
I am back in Sankhu, and far less excited to go back to Kathmandu in the future. Likewise, rice and curry seem newly delicious, and especially secure in comparison to the possibly bacteria-ridden food in Kathmandu. It took me two days to get over the physical exhaustion that accompanied my sickness, but yesterday I was finally up. I did my favorite chore, laundry, in the stream and got involved in an impromptu water fight, which I definitely, definitely lost. Someone even dumped water on me from a second-story window as I chased one of the perpetrators with a pot of water from the kitchen. Soon I was hanging up another set of clothes next to my laundry on the line- still giggling and out-of-breath from the chase.

a couple of quick notes to add to the last post

If this picture actually went through it is of my students taking pictures the first time with thier camera- it was only about 20-30 minutes and they went crazy, having so much fun!

Anyhow, on the matter of updates:

The first, and most exciting thing is that i know the mail system at PA is officially in order, i should get letters sent there. This is an exciting update because Parbat, the guy in the PA office who has the postbox key, went on vacation around christmas, and in typical nepali style nobody knew: 1. where he was, 2. when he'd be back, and 3. why he brought the postbox key with him. Other frustrated volunteers had been waiting a month and a half to get christmas letters and packages, and were quite irate. A change of fortune occured earlier this week when the key magically appeared. did Parbat use the mail system to return the key? no, that would be impossible- how would we know it was in the post office, or for that matter, be able to get it out? instead he gave it to a bus driver where he is chilling, and asked the man to deliver it to PA nepal. by the law of entropy this worked, and the postbox key is now back in the office. A German friend, Jannik, who lives in the Kathmandu home assures me that he will be checking it regularly and will hand off my letters to those headed out to sankhu. Thus- mail away! i'd love to hear from people.

Second: you CAN send me packages, something i thought was impossible, as long as they are not very large and under 4 pounds, which is super-exciting. (dear mom- i am sorry i so vehemently protested the sending of packages, it was only out of fear of the international post-office, which is an established nightmare. now that they will arrive in small-size directly to the PA post box i have no fear- send away!).

anyhow, read below for a more detailed life-nepal update, i just wanted to be sure this crucial information got out.

the nature of illness, a grumpy rainy day, the kitchen and food, washing in the sun, a plethora of tea.

If you should know one thing before you go to Nepal it’s that you will get sick. The question is only the manner and duration of the illness. Most people who come get some kind of intestinal issue, usually where stomach contents are going out in unusual ways or unusual paces. Instead of encountering this ‘normal’ problem, both times I have taken my Alaskan/Maine roots seriously and instead contracted the common cold- Nepali style. This means a cough which at first is spastic enough to make you throw up your breakfast, and then metamorphosizes into a true weight on your chest and mouthfuls of yellow phlegm (not pleasant, trust me, I know).
The brunt of my cold took it’s cue from the skies, which on Tuesday opened up into the first rain in the Kathmandu Valley since October. Though this was probably good news for the crops and plants, it is hardly pleasant when you live in a big brick home full of windows and no heating system, unless you count sleeping bags, human bodies, and candles. To compound the problem, the older kids who attend the government school had a 3-day ‘holiday’ which turned out to be a teacher strike. The kids found out on Sunday after walking down to school, returning 20 minutes later and explaining their reappearance through the confusing “the teachers at our school have a fight!” After I finally understood that there hadn’t been a brawl I joined the Nepali’s in saying “Ke Garne?” which means “What to do?” Consequently, on the day of this chilly day of rain 60 kids were all cooped up inside one house with no electricity and even less to do.
Combined with my cold it made for a rather grumpy day, but the next day the sun was shining again, and my spirits have been high. Sankhu is an odd place- last time I thought constantly of home, probably because so many new experiences at once were hard to deal with. This time, however, I feel much more present. To give you an idea of a general day here, I usually wake up around 6 to the dulcet tones of a loud buzzer, which in fact is like waking up to a mild electric shock, although I probably exaggerate. I then lie in bed for an hour or so reading or listening to music, or perhaps just thinking, a lovely privilege given my usual experience of bounding out of bed to start being productive. I share the room with three other volunteers at present, although one has just been here for the week, and it’s nice to hear each person wake up and quietly take some time for themself, even though we are all in the same space.
Around 7 or 7:30 we are usually all up, at which point there’s no exact schedule (a common theme out in Sankhu). I usually go and help kids with their homework or sit in the sun and talk with some of the older kids. I almost always check in the kitchen to say good morning to the cooks and see if they need help. I’ll admit, I also have an ulterior motive: tea. They are always making tea in the morning, and it’s almost always tasty, despite being laced with enough sugar to create an army of diabetics. As an auntie I am also almost always offered some when I come in, which makes a goodmorning in the kitchen well worth it, even if they don’t need any help.
This is the case most of the time, but the older girls that I am closer to always invite me to stay, even if I’m just peeling garlic or cutting potatoes, because the kitchen is such a social place. My favorite discovery is that talking is in no way integral to spending quality time together. I think the boys in the US understand this very well, and do activities together without saying much. I’ll admit, ‘girl time’ at home rarely has this element- instead it seems that conversation is constantly on the menu. It’s nice to just spend time with people and appreciate them, without needing to say anything. I am learning this lesson especially well because I don’t understand half of the things that are said around me, namely because they are said in Nepali.
After breakfast I try and take a walk or hike somewhere, although this week I have taken a rain check, both literally and in the figurative, I-need-to-get-better-first kind of way. I usually get back at the beginning of Junkiri primary school, which adjoins the house, just as the two other volunteers who come to teach during the day both arrive. As there are usually five of us, along with five Nepali teachers, and only 6 classes (Nursery through class five), I usually don’t teach for the first four periods. Instead I use that time taking that time to do small chores, my favorite being laundry and bathing in the little brook next to the house. I’ll admit, this can be really chilly, but the sun shines right down on the rocks, and the soap and the clothes are beneath your hands, and the water pours down onto your head, and at the end I always feel happy and calm.
I also use the morning to read or to set up my photo lessons, both planning the curriculum and reflecting on how previous classes went. The most time goes into uploading photos from the previous sessions and readying the cameras for new photographers, as 15 photographers are currently using 8 cameras at different times, and I expect the number of students to increase, given the number of requests I’ve had for lessons. Unfortunately, none of them will be as in-depth as the lessons I’m giving to classes 4 and 5, although two older girls who are very self-motivated are working on an alphabet exchange project that I hope to do with some students at Brunswick High. For the most part I think I will do some weekend workshops with people who are interested, showing them basic camera functions and doing a short project, most likely “Portraits” given the hard-to-beat fixation of these kids on taking hundreds of pictures of themselves and their friends, all of which are generally indistinguishable from each other.
After school is out, or on weekends/holidays, I usually spend some time just hanging out in the room with the other volunteers, talking over lessons and getting some time away from the kids, which is crucial given that we live with 60 of them all day, every day. Often I will walk down to the village, with or without other volunteers, and buy fruit for the next day, but only enough for 1-2 days because it's a good excuse for a walk. The apples here aren't as tasty as home, but i'm hoping to spice them up by buying peanut butter in kathmandu (it's not going to be the best peanut butter ever, but i'll probably appreciate it just as much). The oranges, however, are excellent, and the grapes in season right now are nice two, small, tart and sweet. In the evenings we help with homework/in the kitchen, or wait impatiently upstairs for dinner, which is served at varying times due to the electricity schedule- once we ate at 5:30, and sometimes at 8:30. I am learning patience. In the evenings i usually read, finish up projects or curriculum planning, and/or listen to music. Basically, i have more relaxing time here than i know what to do with, and sometimes more than i enjoy, but it's all a part of working and living in Sankhu.
One of the girls just brought me unasked for hot tea. Amazing. This is the best, most personalized, appreciated room service in the world. Let me tell you- I may appreciate a good piece of toast with avocadoes on it at home, but you appreciate so much more when you are far away and eat the same thing (rice and curry) twice a day, every day. It’s usually pretty tasty, but still. Hopefully I don’t give myself a stomach ache in Kathmandu, where I will be spending the weekend to send and upload PhotoPals pictures and have a little pampering- hot showers, my own room, and western food. While excited for the comforts of ‘home’ I’m still definitely happy here. Today is Shivaratri, a festival signaling the end of winter, and we will have a big bonfire and dancing until late in the night. (note: Kabita, an amazing girl here who feels like a kindred spirit just brought me MORE tea. I now have two steaming cups, and the second is Nepali milk tea. Score!) This is a good note on which to end this entry, which I am typing now to post tomorrow in the city. I am sipping my tea and looking at the light slant downwards with the setting of the sun.

returning to Sankhu, girl-talk, timelessness, happiness, awesome chores, and photography.

As the light began to slant downwards Monday evening I walked up the hill to the PA Nepal home in Sankhu, loaded down by a huge backpack (mostly camera equipment), a smaller frontal backpack (my books and computer), and my travel-size guitar (Her name is Sangita, the Nepali word for Song). I was greeeted by many hugs and hellos, and offers to take my bags and get me tea, an incredibly satisfying feeling after so many days of moving place to place. I settled into a mattressless bed in the volunteer room, which i currently share with Danny & Kristel, a friendly dutch couple who commandeered the mattress from the bed I chose. When they immediately tried to replace it, I explained that they had also commandeered the bedbugs, and I was quite happy to pad the plywood with an extra blanket instead, so now we are all quite snug (although they occaisionally have some itches).
My last few days in Kathmandu were quite nice- I met some interesting Austrailians, who seem rampant in Nepal as it is their summer break, and had a lot of great conversations and delicious meals. I was a little too tied down to the internet, a consequence of just leaving home, and free wireless, which luckily Sankhu has already weaned me of. I was right to be worried about the loadsharing in the village, today's schedule has no power from 9-3 and 5-10, leaving precious little usable time in the afternoon for uploading photographs or charging cameras. Luckily, as i have the schedule i don't think it will be too much of an issue, i just have to catch the right couple of hours to charge electronics. I alreay suspect uploading will best be achieved in Kathmandu every other weekend, using faster wireless and my own computer, all much more efficient.
I am very content here- I already feel like months have passed, although the days certainly don't go slowly. One of the best discoveries since re-arriving is the increasingly close relationship I have with the older girls, whose more developed english makes it possible to have girltalk, tell jokes and stories, and generally have an awesome time. One of my favorite aspects of Nepali culture is the communal nature of activities- cooking or other chores are not done alone but in groups, meaning they are much more fun. Instead of the 'put your head down and push through it' attitude I seem to have in the US, washing clothes by hand in the stream, or cutting up apples for lunch is always accompanied by others, and usually conversation and laughter. I have also been doing more 'manly' chores around the house, like painting the window moulding brown in the new kitchen-in-progress, and attempting to build a stone wall with another volunteer, which was of course re-arranged by Sagar Mama (the 'king' of the home) later. He tried to tell me how to paint for awhile, assuming i didn't know how, but after he saw the progress instead switched to talking to me in rapid Nepali about how I need to learn Nepali (case-in-point, eh, Sagar?).
The Photography classes are progressing well- I have held two so far in the extra-activity time that is the last period of the PA-Nepal run Primary school named Junkiri. For both classes I had classes 4+5 together, roughly 12 students, something which i will change next week so none of them will have to share cameras. The real quandery is this: many of the older kids who are out of grade 5 and in the government school or college want to learn. I worried about this before I came, knowing all of the kids would want to participate, and that there was no way to do it for all of them. I am hoping that I can give a less intensive class to the older kids, minus and exchange, on saturdays and just let them get used to the cameras. Another issue is that the kids in the program want prints of all thier pictures (this woul cost a small fortune), and other kids want prints of themselves taken by the photography studets- a tricky business. I'm just trying to be very clear and hoping for the best. I actually haven't even introduced the 'exchange' part of the program yet, as the first two classes were taken up by explaining about cameras, how photography translates to "light drawing", the shift from metal to film to digital, and then finally all the basic functions of a camera. It is a challenge when the language barrier is so great, and especially when technology like this is so special to them- as soon as they get thier cameras all they want to do is run around and take pictures of things, which is totally valid, i'd do the same in thier place, but it makes it hard to show them more. I'm excited about these challenges though, and about figuring out the solutions. Every kid is incredibly enthusiastic and eager to learn, and that is the best situation for a teacher to be in.
Anyhow, there's always more to say, but i'll leave it at that for fear that I could lose internet at any moment. i hope you're all well, i miss home, but i'm so happy to be where i am!
namaste.

a long layover, touching the tarmac, loadsharing blues, and a surprisingly chilly day.

I am safe and sound in Nepal after an arduous journey of a drive down to Portland, three bus rides, one plane ride, a ridiculously long layover in Abu Dhabi, a second plane ride, and a Nepali taxi ride (plus one flat tire). All in all, i'm very appreciative of a flat space to lie on, and non-recycled air, although Kathmandu certainly isn't "fresh". My 14-hour layover in Abu Dhabi was quite pleasant due to a business friend of my father's who recently re-located to the city with his family. He picked me up from the airport and brought me to his home, where his wife and two young daughters were already asleep (it was 10:00pm). I pretty much had the run of the place- his wife left out snacks for me, and he explained the cable and turned on a computer with wireless, showing me the shower and an extra bed. Luckily, my last plane ride was 13 hours, and i had a free seat next to me so i had already caught up a lot of sleep. This meant i ate too many of thier Milanos, watched Conan O'Brien, did that e-mailing thing, and read through all my journal entries from my last time in Nepal, which was both illuminating and re-assuring, already I felt much more prepared than I was 7 months ago.
I took a taxi back to the airport in the morning and boarded my final plane for Kathmandu, which was only 4 hours, a seeming eyeblink after all the traveling behind me. I had the luck to sit next to Martin, a guy from Sweden on his way to work in Kathmandu for 6 months for an organization that does conflict resolution. It was nice to talk with someone relatively my age, and especially to split the cost of a taxi ride to Thamel, the tourist district, from the airport. If anyone reading this is thinking of passing through Nepal you should definitely stay in Hotel Karma, the people are really nice, there are two beds per room, a western toilet, free wireless or a computer with internet, most of the time hot water, and the people who work there are really nice. It's also about $5. Just a little shameless plug.
After arriving I slept a decent amount, unpacked everything just so i could get it in order again and not live out of my backpack, and took a quick shower. I've had two big surprises since getting here: first, the loadsharing in Kathmandu has increased substantially, the electricity is out far more often than last time. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, in places where there isn't enough electricity to run everything they turn off the power in different districts for periods of time throughout the day, thus 'sharing the load'. Last time i was here it was only about 4 hours in the evening, but this time its 9-11 hours during the day, and probably more at night when everyone's sleeping! Right now i'm awake at 2:00am (darn that internal clock!), and the power has been on since midnight, but that's not really a good time to being going out. All in all, it's pretty inconvenient, i mean as soon as it gets dark I have to make sure i've got my headlamp and some candles. It's not so big a deal right now as I dont have a great need for using the computer (just a well-developed habit, which i should work on breaking), however, this could greatly effect the PhotoPals program in Sankhu, as we will need to charge the cameras, and I will need to get online to send and recieve the student's photos. I don't yet know what the loadsharing is like in Sankhu- I only hope it's less, and that internet is available during the time when the one internet place is open, if not things will become a lot more challenging, although i certainly won't give up- i'll find a way to make it work!
The other surprise is that it's actually COLD here. Cold. I mean, really? I've been from Maine to Alaska in the last couple of months, i didn't think i could get fazed after my 100+F monsoon season here, but i've been put, shivering, in my place. It's about 35 at night and in the 60s during the day, but it's very humid, and not comfortable without long sleeves. Luckily, this is just like May in Alaska, far more the weather i'm used to then the hot months from before. I went out and bought a nice knockoff Marmot -10 C sleeping bag this afternoon, in which i am currently quite toastily snuggled, so i plan to arrive at the village prepared for a comfy sleep.
Anyhow, I've enjoyed my first full day here, possibly because i didn't do much except wander around, and will probably spend the weekend here so i can go visit the women at Raksha Nepal and the children at the Kathmandu PA Nepal. I especially want to talk to the woman in charge of PA, Indira, about the particulars of the PhotoPals program in Sankhu, just so there aren't any issues before arriving.
My goal while i'm here is to write a letter a day, although I may have to send them in weekly or biweekly groups, so you should send me your address if you want to hear from me, i've got a rather abbreviated list of them. I also like getting e-mails from actual people instead of lists or spam, especially when i'm far from home! So send away if you've got a moment. I am missing home, but happy to be here, which is probably the best it can be. I'll check in before I head out to Sankhu. I hope you are all well and happy, and taking a moment to appreciate your comfy bed, non-airplane meals, and woolen sweaters.

leaving my Alaskan home for the Sankhu home, brief revitalization, reservations (both emotional and aerial), freedom, and exciting plans

In less than two weeks I will be flying out of Alaska to Maine, where I will spend several days at Bowdoin tying up loose threads before flying on to Kathmandu. I am a full of many emotions- the last six months have been quite tumultuous. A month of summer at home, two months in Nepal, the most challenging semester I've ever faced , a terribly hard goodbye, and a bare month back with my family in Alaska before I'm off again. I've certainly learned that I am not really the type who likes ping-ponging around the world, although perhaps with the right people I would enjoy it. However, my experience in Nepal does not seem complete, and the Photo Pals program is only a fledgling. All in all, the biggest emotion I'm feeling right now is excitement- I can't wait to see the kids again, to begin working on a curriculum and teaching them about photography and how to capture thier world. There are some things in America and especially some people whom I will miss, but I know that I will see them all again, and the time will go by faster than I expect.

As it is I will be in Nepal for three months, primarily staying at the village home, Sankhu, where I spent roughly half my time over the summer (albeit inconsistently). This time I will be a much more full-time volunteer in that home- although I expect I will enjoy a couple of weekends off to catch a couple of more exotic (i.e.- non-Nepali) meals in Kathmandu, as well as services like plumbing, laundry, and my very own bedroom (with a fan!). This makes Sankhu sound horrible, which is hardly fair- washing your clothes in the stream and sleeping on the floor is pretty much like a continual camping trip, with 56 awesome kids to share it with. I can hardly complain.

After I arrive I will head out to Sankhu, where internet is about a 20 minute walk down the mountain from the home. This is useful in helping me send the student's images from their photography projects, and receive the pictures taken by Sam's students at Woodside Elementary School in Maine. For those of you who don't know about PhotoPals this is the essential idea- check out our website: photopals.shutterfly.com. Sam set it up- he's a whiz. He and I are in the middle of sketching out our curriculum- thinking of fun projects to do that would the kids to be creative, express something of themselves or their world, and also help impart some photographic knowledge. Here are some of my ideas: creating stories with a series of pictures as illustrations, shapes (picking a shape and finding it as much as possible, naturally occurring or otherwise), Alphabet/Names (finding their name or assigning one letter per student- similar to shapes), portraits/self portraits, "A day in my life", Shadows (looking at how they affect pictures).

If you have any curriculum ideas- please e-mail me! Also, if you have any ideas about sweet art projects, games, songs, rhymes, ANYTHING, please e-mail me! It's hard to think of another funny song to teach them, or good lessons for 1st and 2nd graders who don't speak much English. The kids love drawing and art, and like any kid, sports of all kinds. thoughts?

Because I will be on the computer roughly once a week, this should get updated fairly regularly. If you would like to send me more personal e-mails, and hope for more personal responses, please write to: rosalind.gael@gmail.com
Also write me ideas. trust me, i'll appreciate it and give you all the credit. i'll even name it after you so all the nepali kids think it's "Andrew's Cradle" instead of cat's cradle.

You may also try sending me "snail mail" by way of PA Nepal, write this on the envelope and be prepared for lots of stamps. DO NOT send packages. Although i dearly appreciate the sentiment, they get sent to the International post office, which is an absolute nightmare to get anything out of, especially if i don't have a translator, and i have to pay lots of money too. not worth it! if you want me to bring something to Nepal send it to my house before i leave, hehe (2247 Arctic circle, Anchorage, AK 99517).

Nepali Address:
Rosalind Worcester
care of: PA Nepal
PCN 363
PO Box 8974
Kathmandu, Nepal

Please understand if i am not prompt about responding, or do not respond at all, internet costs money there (although it isn't exorbitant) and i will have my hands full dealing with the photos. However, I still greatly appreciate notes and letters, and would love to hear about your lives.

I will miss so much, but I will also be experiencing many wonderful, frustrating, and surprising new things. I hope you all are too, and that you'll tell me about them someday.