Swagath Part II
July 17, 2012
I’m going to keep this post short this time. Mainly because I have little interest in sitting in this cyber café when there’s a billion other things I can do in Bangalore, but I do wanted to write a quick blurb about yesterday evening.
After a little more than a year I finally got to visit my Tilaknagar kids again! It was absolutely fantastic to see all of them…most of them look the same, though a couple have shot up taller than me; I was absolutely relieved to see all my older girls (none of them were married off, thank God!), and even the little classroom felt wonderful and unchanged to sit in. Have a mentioned how I feel like a total rock star when I’ve with them? Everyone wants to touch my hair, and hold my hand, and the children all fight for my attention with a chaotic, “Ma’am! Ma’am! Ma’am!”…They’d decorated the board with a neat little, “Welcome back Sushupta Gouri Srinidhi” (I can’t remember ever telling them my first name, but I guess I did), and colorful flowers all around. My “rhino” girls all sat around me, commenting on how skinny I now look (“but ma’am! You were cuter when you were fat!”), and how Indian I looked and how our salwars matched, and how happy they were to see me again after a whole year…
Little seems to have changed in the slum itself. The kids were proud to tell me that they saved their park from the state government and were even on TV, and Raghu and Roshini gave me an update on the children’s lives at dinner when we were alone: what grades they’re in, what domestic problems they’ve been fighting against in relation to the Swagath kids…It’s still depressing to hear what all they’ve been going through—especially with my added dose of acknowledgement of how developed Bangalore is in comparison to Katmandu, and how, despite the progress, the lower class is still left behind…
Seeing Raghu and Roshni was wonderful too—truly feels like being with friends in India. Seriously interesting friends! Everything that they do is basically what I wish I could do in my life. They opened Swagath for the children’s education; they’re in an environmental group in Bangalore; the rescue stray puppies off the streets…. I think I might have a little rock star infatuation with them too!
After all that time evading sickness in Nepal, I’ve come down with a cold here in India (irony)…I’m pretty sure it’s the remnants of pollution sickness from dear Katmandu , but I’ll be thrilled to see the end of it soon, in any case. A week in India shouldn’t be spoiled by the common cold.
Well, for now that’s all I’ll write. There’s some work for me to finish up while I’m in this café, and I should probably take advantage of my computer time as well!
I’m going to keep this post short this time. Mainly because I have little interest in sitting in this cyber café when there’s a billion other things I can do in Bangalore, but I do wanted to write a quick blurb about yesterday evening.
After a little more than a year I finally got to visit my Tilaknagar kids again! It was absolutely fantastic to see all of them…most of them look the same, though a couple have shot up taller than me; I was absolutely relieved to see all my older girls (none of them were married off, thank God!), and even the little classroom felt wonderful and unchanged to sit in. Have a mentioned how I feel like a total rock star when I’ve with them? Everyone wants to touch my hair, and hold my hand, and the children all fight for my attention with a chaotic, “Ma’am! Ma’am! Ma’am!”…They’d decorated the board with a neat little, “Welcome back Sushupta Gouri Srinidhi” (I can’t remember ever telling them my first name, but I guess I did), and colorful flowers all around. My “rhino” girls all sat around me, commenting on how skinny I now look (“but ma’am! You were cuter when you were fat!”), and how Indian I looked and how our salwars matched, and how happy they were to see me again after a whole year…
Little seems to have changed in the slum itself. The kids were proud to tell me that they saved their park from the state government and were even on TV, and Raghu and Roshini gave me an update on the children’s lives at dinner when we were alone: what grades they’re in, what domestic problems they’ve been fighting against in relation to the Swagath kids…It’s still depressing to hear what all they’ve been going through—especially with my added dose of acknowledgement of how developed Bangalore is in comparison to Katmandu, and how, despite the progress, the lower class is still left behind…
Seeing Raghu and Roshni was wonderful too—truly feels like being with friends in India. Seriously interesting friends! Everything that they do is basically what I wish I could do in my life. They opened Swagath for the children’s education; they’re in an environmental group in Bangalore; the rescue stray puppies off the streets…. I think I might have a little rock star infatuation with them too!
After all that time evading sickness in Nepal, I’ve come down with a cold here in India (irony)…I’m pretty sure it’s the remnants of pollution sickness from dear Katmandu , but I’ll be thrilled to see the end of it soon, in any case. A week in India shouldn’t be spoiled by the common cold.
Well, for now that’s all I’ll write. There’s some work for me to finish up while I’m in this café, and I should probably take advantage of my computer time as well!
Bengaluru
July 15, 2012
Ok, I’m seriously beginning to wonder why I’ve always wanted to do development in India, after seeing Bangalore again. This city is so incredible, comparatively! Yes, people don’t stay in the lanes, and I’ve seen a couple strays running around; but it’s clean (or…just not really dirty), for the first time in weeks I don’t feel like I have a chain smoker’s lungs with all the pollution, people are honking less, the buildings are not falling apart, there aren’t any water issues, the idea of city planning actually exists…For all practical purposes, this city feels like it could easily fit the classification of a developed city in America. Maybe it’s just the lens that I’m seeing it with now, but I am really, very, very impressed with Bangalore (and suddenly so proud to be from this city). I wasn’t kidding when I said Nepal was the state of the India that Krishna and I visited in our childhood—but if this is the future of that nation, then I foresee a lot of potential for the little Himalayan land…I’m certain the rural areas of India need assistance, and perhaps a few of those cities to the north and east of this as well…but I’m fairly certain that if ever I chose to work in India…well, I’m definitely not going to end up in this region whatsoever. I’m really beginning to think it’s time to shift my sustainable development focus to the obviously poor Nepal instead…
It’s wonderful to be in Malleswaram right now…This home really feels like just that to me—a second home. Between the terrace where I get to sip my morning coffee, and everyone’s company, and the easy familiarity of this place, I think I’ve come to see this place as my own. And with the whole family here, it’s just better! I kept wondering what else I hadn’t written in here that I could tell Amma and Appa when I saw them, but the second I met them outside the Bengaluru airport (which, might I add, is no less than the Indira Gandhi International in quality) I realized that I had a billion little details to tell them, and spent a good majority of the night babbling to them non-stop…I’m slightly dreading going back to America now. It’s much too quiet back home!
Ok, I’m seriously beginning to wonder why I’ve always wanted to do development in India, after seeing Bangalore again. This city is so incredible, comparatively! Yes, people don’t stay in the lanes, and I’ve seen a couple strays running around; but it’s clean (or…just not really dirty), for the first time in weeks I don’t feel like I have a chain smoker’s lungs with all the pollution, people are honking less, the buildings are not falling apart, there aren’t any water issues, the idea of city planning actually exists…For all practical purposes, this city feels like it could easily fit the classification of a developed city in America. Maybe it’s just the lens that I’m seeing it with now, but I am really, very, very impressed with Bangalore (and suddenly so proud to be from this city). I wasn’t kidding when I said Nepal was the state of the India that Krishna and I visited in our childhood—but if this is the future of that nation, then I foresee a lot of potential for the little Himalayan land…I’m certain the rural areas of India need assistance, and perhaps a few of those cities to the north and east of this as well…but I’m fairly certain that if ever I chose to work in India…well, I’m definitely not going to end up in this region whatsoever. I’m really beginning to think it’s time to shift my sustainable development focus to the obviously poor Nepal instead…
It’s wonderful to be in Malleswaram right now…This home really feels like just that to me—a second home. Between the terrace where I get to sip my morning coffee, and everyone’s company, and the easy familiarity of this place, I think I’ve come to see this place as my own. And with the whole family here, it’s just better! I kept wondering what else I hadn’t written in here that I could tell Amma and Appa when I saw them, but the second I met them outside the Bengaluru airport (which, might I add, is no less than the Indira Gandhi International in quality) I realized that I had a billion little details to tell them, and spent a good majority of the night babbling to them non-stop…I’m slightly dreading going back to America now. It’s much too quiet back home!
A Final Post From The Roof Of the World…
July 14, 2012
I’m so antsy, and don’t know what to do with myself, as I sit here, waiting for my flight to India…so I’m going to write. Might as well catch up my blog on the happenings of Katmandu in the last few days, right?
The last few days have just been Allie and I, after saying bye to everyone else in the hostel, as they headed off to a weekend in Pokhara. Allie insisted on treating it like my two-day birthday, where we basically got to do whatever we so pleased in my last days in Katmandu. I suppose I should start at the day before yesterday, since that’s when I last left off, but to be honest, it was a rather quiet day. Allie decided she wanted to finish off her shopping at the same time as me, and we set off, lists in hand, trying to figure out what was left to buy for our people. Shopping in tourist heavy Nepal is a chore after while though. You tire fast of the demanding “come! I give you best price!” and people waving things in your face, and the rude comments from the men on the street…we broke up the monotony nicely though, getting coffee from our favorite place in Thamel, getting eyebrows shaped by some lady from Mumbai (who adamantly told me that she likes India much more than Nepal for some reason), and finishing up the evening in the best foreign restaurant in the city for pizza and Baskin Robin’s ice cream…perfect, quiet ending to the evening to be honest. Best I’d have asked for!
You know, the problem with sweet shop keepers is that it’s really impossible to bargain with them, because you simply end up enjoying their company, and find it so easy to slip into conversation with them. In the spirit of Nepali hospitality, I suppose one lady I met, a short, bubbly little woman named Bhagvati, who sold me a couple of shawls, fits the cut. After selling me shawls, and helping me chose colors when I told her it was for my grandmothers, she called for chai for the two of us, and sat talking about her trip to India, and how her brother was studying in Dallas…she was just so excited about everything that well after we’d finished our shopping with her, we sat there, chatting in a weird combination of half-Hindi and half-English. By the time we left she even pulled out her computer and tried to friend me on Facebook, but, when that didn’t work, she gave me her card and her email address and told me if I ever needed shawls, even in America, I could call her.
I did find out a bit more on Ram Dhai, our housekeeper and the man that always comes to kill the cockroaches in our room when we scream. He came to talk to me (he enjoys talk to Naaila and I, since we’re the only two that can speak in Hindi) one evening, and told me about his family. Apparently, the man has seven, children, the oldest being 20, and the youngest, a mere 4 year-old. While his two oldest sons live in the city, and visit him once in a while, he rarely sees his other children, and took this job in the hostel to send money to the rest of his children, all of whom live in a village, with his wife. Once in a while, he told me in a highly matter-of-fact way, that his children will once in a while visit him, when a relative brings them for an evening to Katmandu, but it’s a rare occasion, I guess…My heart went out to him the entire time, but I tried really hard to not show it overtly (I feel like he’s a proud man, even though he told me all of this, and I felt like it’d possibly annoy him if I said anything sympathetically)…I’ve always been blessed with a father who’s always been there for me. I can’t imagine what my life would be, if I had to grow up, apart from either of my parents. How different, I’d be. How much I’d have to watch my parents struggle to feed me. How…alone, it’d be. Poverty is truly an ugly disease that needs to be cured, undoubtedly. With a dose of family planning on the side, perhaps.
Allie and I visited the former Palace of the king of Nepal mid-morning yesterday, after a detour in some hippie place for coffee…it’s simply intriguing. It was really unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’m so used to the notion of European or Western luxury being the height of grandeur, that when you see the simple sort of chairs (though, granted, with intricate carvings all around), and the paintings of mountains everywhere, you don’t feel like you’re exactly in a palace. The best room was probably the throne room though (I wish I could have taken pictures, but we weren’t allowed to). Instead of angels decorating the high ceilings, the palace was full of Buddhist and Hindu Gods and Goddesses, all colored brightly, in dancing positions, or warrior poses…the throne itself was (don’t laugh), just like those images you see in the old Mahabarath TV serial , all in gold, wide, with crimson pillows to elevate it. I can imagine the power you’d feel sitting on that throne in the courtroom; ministers all around you, holding court. What a life it must be as a monarch!
But I can’t say all of it settled well for me for a couple reasons…First off, there are the heads of dead animals around the entire place. Tigers with their jaws open, and claws raised looking as if they were about to pounce and humongous rhino heads with eyes that look like they are following you…I can’t imagine living in that palace, trying to find my way around at night (I’m pretty sure it’d give me a heart attack). There are rooms within rooms; each one different, with the most beautiful artifacts from all over the world with inscriptions like, “To his Majesty, King of Nepal, from General of Bangladesh” or “Gifted by her majesty, Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain”…So much of it seems to be lined with glass, and mirrors, and gold that it all sort of shines all over…but the worst part of the entire are is the courtyard leading outside from one of the sitting rooms…It’s actually quite beautiful, and serene when you first see it—till you come across these signs that look like there were printed off a word document: “This is where the king was shot” “This is where the princess’s body was found”. I really didn’t know the story well until I was sent the Wikipedia article, but knowing that the prince shot his entire family in a drunken rage, over some lost lover or something…for lack of better term, it’s just freaky. There’s even a spot by a small river that runs through the palace courtyard where it says, “This is where the crown prince was found in critical condition”…I suppose it’s all very real, all a part of history…but I felt so awkward standing there, my imagination sort of playing out this horrific scene of the insane prince dragging his family outside, shooting them one by one…let’s just say it was a relief to go back into the palace, with the lazy guards watching the tourists next to quietly whirling fans…
To brighten the mood up a bit: we did catch a Hindi movie, “Cocktail” in the afternoon. If I were to actually be honest with myself here, I’d say it was a pretty lousy movie, but the fact that we saw it on opening day, with a theater full of Nepalis that really did gasp and “aww” at all the right places, and I knew all the songs already (Bollywood: it’s my thing), still made it worth the excursion. Poor Alli sat through the entire foreign language movie, never complaining, and enjoying her A/C and tub of popcorn (she assure me that she didn’t care—she was just there for the snacks)…she did tell me later that she found it really funny to be the only white person in the only hall (something I really didn’t notice until she pointed it out), but, according to her, it’s interesting to be the minority for once in your life.
I hated to say bye to everyone in Nepal. I really do believe that there’s some innate thing about desis that makes it so easy to be comfortable...Ram Dhai came to my room before my flight and told me “khana khao humare saath…lambi flight hai” and served me so much food I had to beg him to take some of it off, while the cook, Jhanuka awkwardly hugged me and told me bye in her cute, broken English. Anish shook my hand and told me I’d always be welcome back to the house; Hari instructed that if I ever come back to Nepal, or even when I’m in India, I have to call him, because there’s still so much more Nepal to see; Pratik vehemently told me to really try to find a job in Nepal, and Santosh said I’d be invited to his wedding with a big hug…it was just…nice, you know? For people that were perfect strangers to me four months ago, I felt so loved, even on my way out.
I guess I need to leave soon, so I’ll wrap this post up, at least…I’m not sure if I actually did accomplish anything for Didi’s in the end, other than to help them get started just a little, but, with the nature of the slow moving country as a whole, I’d like to think I at least got them in the right direction (or a direction)…but more than any of the work, I know it’s been a pretty incredible experience. In one trip I’ve seen a glimpse of poverty at it’s worse, and nature at its finest; ridden in the backs of trucks, the top of cars, jammed into tuk-tuks, sat on friend’s laps in buses; ate mo-mos, daal-baath, drank the sweetest chai, and craved basically anything I couldn’t have; hiked in the Himalayan foothills, and ridden elephants…whatever it’s worth, it’s been an incredible trip. I guess that officially closes the Nepal chapter of this blog. I’m not sure what an appropriate conclusion of it is, to be honest—but maybe that’s the point. I really do feel like one day, I’ll go back there. For work, or fun, at least. And one day, I’ll see the Himalayas of Nepal. That’ll just have to be the epilogue to this chapter of my life.«
Hello once again from INDIA!
I learnt my lesson from my last stressful headache of Delhi, and this time, the second the plane landed, I walked as fast as I could to re-check in my baggage, go through customs, get my tickets, and sit in the gate (which is where this post currently finds me). I don’t care if I have to wait here two hours. Holding a ticket in my hand with an assured seat on this flight is well worth it. And this time, I guess I could actually enjoy a bit more of this airport, as I walked to Gate 41... I still appreciate Indira Gandhi International’s grandeur, and how they’ve made the entire thing an ode to not just North India, but all the cultures and traditions of India. That’s a sort of harmony I suppose you really don’t see otherwise in this nation (or at least, that’s my opinion of it)…it’s cool, clean, nice, and a serious improvement after being in, Nepal, which is just about the most ghetto airport in the world (I kid you not. You know how they announce flights? Everyone sits in one large room, sweating and fanning themselves with their tickets, till some attendant stands on an inverted box and yells, “Jet Airways! 0502! Delhi!” and everyone pushes and shoves their way to the front). It’s funny to sit here though. All this time, I’ve spent talking in Hindi and occasional English, and as soon as I arrived at this gate—I’m hearing Kannada for the first time in a long time! That and the demographic of this place seem to be men on business trips (which makes me feel reasonably out of place)…
Anyways, in a few short hours, I’ll be home sweet home in Malleswaram, with Tata, Pati, Amma and Appa, ready to spend a nice memorable last week on this incredible side of the world. Since there’s little I can describe of a very long, tedious trip, I’ll simply sign off for now…will write more later! Ciao!
I’m so antsy, and don’t know what to do with myself, as I sit here, waiting for my flight to India…so I’m going to write. Might as well catch up my blog on the happenings of Katmandu in the last few days, right?
The last few days have just been Allie and I, after saying bye to everyone else in the hostel, as they headed off to a weekend in Pokhara. Allie insisted on treating it like my two-day birthday, where we basically got to do whatever we so pleased in my last days in Katmandu. I suppose I should start at the day before yesterday, since that’s when I last left off, but to be honest, it was a rather quiet day. Allie decided she wanted to finish off her shopping at the same time as me, and we set off, lists in hand, trying to figure out what was left to buy for our people. Shopping in tourist heavy Nepal is a chore after while though. You tire fast of the demanding “come! I give you best price!” and people waving things in your face, and the rude comments from the men on the street…we broke up the monotony nicely though, getting coffee from our favorite place in Thamel, getting eyebrows shaped by some lady from Mumbai (who adamantly told me that she likes India much more than Nepal for some reason), and finishing up the evening in the best foreign restaurant in the city for pizza and Baskin Robin’s ice cream…perfect, quiet ending to the evening to be honest. Best I’d have asked for!
You know, the problem with sweet shop keepers is that it’s really impossible to bargain with them, because you simply end up enjoying their company, and find it so easy to slip into conversation with them. In the spirit of Nepali hospitality, I suppose one lady I met, a short, bubbly little woman named Bhagvati, who sold me a couple of shawls, fits the cut. After selling me shawls, and helping me chose colors when I told her it was for my grandmothers, she called for chai for the two of us, and sat talking about her trip to India, and how her brother was studying in Dallas…she was just so excited about everything that well after we’d finished our shopping with her, we sat there, chatting in a weird combination of half-Hindi and half-English. By the time we left she even pulled out her computer and tried to friend me on Facebook, but, when that didn’t work, she gave me her card and her email address and told me if I ever needed shawls, even in America, I could call her.
I did find out a bit more on Ram Dhai, our housekeeper and the man that always comes to kill the cockroaches in our room when we scream. He came to talk to me (he enjoys talk to Naaila and I, since we’re the only two that can speak in Hindi) one evening, and told me about his family. Apparently, the man has seven, children, the oldest being 20, and the youngest, a mere 4 year-old. While his two oldest sons live in the city, and visit him once in a while, he rarely sees his other children, and took this job in the hostel to send money to the rest of his children, all of whom live in a village, with his wife. Once in a while, he told me in a highly matter-of-fact way, that his children will once in a while visit him, when a relative brings them for an evening to Katmandu, but it’s a rare occasion, I guess…My heart went out to him the entire time, but I tried really hard to not show it overtly (I feel like he’s a proud man, even though he told me all of this, and I felt like it’d possibly annoy him if I said anything sympathetically)…I’ve always been blessed with a father who’s always been there for me. I can’t imagine what my life would be, if I had to grow up, apart from either of my parents. How different, I’d be. How much I’d have to watch my parents struggle to feed me. How…alone, it’d be. Poverty is truly an ugly disease that needs to be cured, undoubtedly. With a dose of family planning on the side, perhaps.
Allie and I visited the former Palace of the king of Nepal mid-morning yesterday, after a detour in some hippie place for coffee…it’s simply intriguing. It was really unlike anything I’ve seen before. I’m so used to the notion of European or Western luxury being the height of grandeur, that when you see the simple sort of chairs (though, granted, with intricate carvings all around), and the paintings of mountains everywhere, you don’t feel like you’re exactly in a palace. The best room was probably the throne room though (I wish I could have taken pictures, but we weren’t allowed to). Instead of angels decorating the high ceilings, the palace was full of Buddhist and Hindu Gods and Goddesses, all colored brightly, in dancing positions, or warrior poses…the throne itself was (don’t laugh), just like those images you see in the old Mahabarath TV serial , all in gold, wide, with crimson pillows to elevate it. I can imagine the power you’d feel sitting on that throne in the courtroom; ministers all around you, holding court. What a life it must be as a monarch!
But I can’t say all of it settled well for me for a couple reasons…First off, there are the heads of dead animals around the entire place. Tigers with their jaws open, and claws raised looking as if they were about to pounce and humongous rhino heads with eyes that look like they are following you…I can’t imagine living in that palace, trying to find my way around at night (I’m pretty sure it’d give me a heart attack). There are rooms within rooms; each one different, with the most beautiful artifacts from all over the world with inscriptions like, “To his Majesty, King of Nepal, from General of Bangladesh” or “Gifted by her majesty, Queen Elizabeth II of Great Britain”…So much of it seems to be lined with glass, and mirrors, and gold that it all sort of shines all over…but the worst part of the entire are is the courtyard leading outside from one of the sitting rooms…It’s actually quite beautiful, and serene when you first see it—till you come across these signs that look like there were printed off a word document: “This is where the king was shot” “This is where the princess’s body was found”. I really didn’t know the story well until I was sent the Wikipedia article, but knowing that the prince shot his entire family in a drunken rage, over some lost lover or something…for lack of better term, it’s just freaky. There’s even a spot by a small river that runs through the palace courtyard where it says, “This is where the crown prince was found in critical condition”…I suppose it’s all very real, all a part of history…but I felt so awkward standing there, my imagination sort of playing out this horrific scene of the insane prince dragging his family outside, shooting them one by one…let’s just say it was a relief to go back into the palace, with the lazy guards watching the tourists next to quietly whirling fans…
To brighten the mood up a bit: we did catch a Hindi movie, “Cocktail” in the afternoon. If I were to actually be honest with myself here, I’d say it was a pretty lousy movie, but the fact that we saw it on opening day, with a theater full of Nepalis that really did gasp and “aww” at all the right places, and I knew all the songs already (Bollywood: it’s my thing), still made it worth the excursion. Poor Alli sat through the entire foreign language movie, never complaining, and enjoying her A/C and tub of popcorn (she assure me that she didn’t care—she was just there for the snacks)…she did tell me later that she found it really funny to be the only white person in the only hall (something I really didn’t notice until she pointed it out), but, according to her, it’s interesting to be the minority for once in your life.
I hated to say bye to everyone in Nepal. I really do believe that there’s some innate thing about desis that makes it so easy to be comfortable...Ram Dhai came to my room before my flight and told me “khana khao humare saath…lambi flight hai” and served me so much food I had to beg him to take some of it off, while the cook, Jhanuka awkwardly hugged me and told me bye in her cute, broken English. Anish shook my hand and told me I’d always be welcome back to the house; Hari instructed that if I ever come back to Nepal, or even when I’m in India, I have to call him, because there’s still so much more Nepal to see; Pratik vehemently told me to really try to find a job in Nepal, and Santosh said I’d be invited to his wedding with a big hug…it was just…nice, you know? For people that were perfect strangers to me four months ago, I felt so loved, even on my way out.
I guess I need to leave soon, so I’ll wrap this post up, at least…I’m not sure if I actually did accomplish anything for Didi’s in the end, other than to help them get started just a little, but, with the nature of the slow moving country as a whole, I’d like to think I at least got them in the right direction (or a direction)…but more than any of the work, I know it’s been a pretty incredible experience. In one trip I’ve seen a glimpse of poverty at it’s worse, and nature at its finest; ridden in the backs of trucks, the top of cars, jammed into tuk-tuks, sat on friend’s laps in buses; ate mo-mos, daal-baath, drank the sweetest chai, and craved basically anything I couldn’t have; hiked in the Himalayan foothills, and ridden elephants…whatever it’s worth, it’s been an incredible trip. I guess that officially closes the Nepal chapter of this blog. I’m not sure what an appropriate conclusion of it is, to be honest—but maybe that’s the point. I really do feel like one day, I’ll go back there. For work, or fun, at least. And one day, I’ll see the Himalayas of Nepal. That’ll just have to be the epilogue to this chapter of my life.«
Hello once again from INDIA!
I learnt my lesson from my last stressful headache of Delhi, and this time, the second the plane landed, I walked as fast as I could to re-check in my baggage, go through customs, get my tickets, and sit in the gate (which is where this post currently finds me). I don’t care if I have to wait here two hours. Holding a ticket in my hand with an assured seat on this flight is well worth it. And this time, I guess I could actually enjoy a bit more of this airport, as I walked to Gate 41... I still appreciate Indira Gandhi International’s grandeur, and how they’ve made the entire thing an ode to not just North India, but all the cultures and traditions of India. That’s a sort of harmony I suppose you really don’t see otherwise in this nation (or at least, that’s my opinion of it)…it’s cool, clean, nice, and a serious improvement after being in, Nepal, which is just about the most ghetto airport in the world (I kid you not. You know how they announce flights? Everyone sits in one large room, sweating and fanning themselves with their tickets, till some attendant stands on an inverted box and yells, “Jet Airways! 0502! Delhi!” and everyone pushes and shoves their way to the front). It’s funny to sit here though. All this time, I’ve spent talking in Hindi and occasional English, and as soon as I arrived at this gate—I’m hearing Kannada for the first time in a long time! That and the demographic of this place seem to be men on business trips (which makes me feel reasonably out of place)…
Anyways, in a few short hours, I’ll be home sweet home in Malleswaram, with Tata, Pati, Amma and Appa, ready to spend a nice memorable last week on this incredible side of the world. Since there’s little I can describe of a very long, tedious trip, I’ll simply sign off for now…will write more later! Ciao!
...but this isn't goodbye yet...
This is basically my last post from Nepal (which I’m genuinely really sad about), but since I’d rather chat with Allie, and spend my last evening visiting the places in this city that I’ve come to enjoy most, I’m going to keep this short and sweet (I’ll either write more from my three hour layover in Delhi, or just catch my blog up from Bangalore)…It’s been a really nice last few days—having pizza with Allie, going to the Hindi movie “Cocktail” on opening day, having chai with a random shop keeper, going to the palace museum, and just wandering around the city…I’m really going to miss this place. I keep telling myself that undeniably, if I have money, I’m going to come back. Of that, at least, I’m certain. As I’ve said before, this country needs development, and I need to be able to see the snow covered peaks of the Himalayas next time…anyways, till later, I’ll sign out from Nepal!...But hey—this summer isn’t done for me yet. One more week in South Asia, and I’m going to still write, if only for myself and my own memories!...Talk to you next from India!
Anita Dahal
Anita Dahal, pictured with her 3 year-old son, Parin, has been a part of the Didi’s program for the last year. She currently lives in Katmandu with her husband, and has finished her undergraduate college education, though she discontinued school after her son was born. Anita hopes to start a business with the money she’s saved from her weaving and from the Didis Foundation, when her son is older.
Anita’s role as an educated member of the program, seeks to encourage the other women to pursue their or their children’s education. In a nation where daughters are often considered a burden to educate, since they will neither provide for their parents and are the “property” of another family after marriage, the stress on education and the benefits that it can provide for a society are encouraged through women’s empowerment organizations such as the Didi’s Foundation.
Anita’s role as an educated member of the program, seeks to encourage the other women to pursue their or their children’s education. In a nation where daughters are often considered a burden to educate, since they will neither provide for their parents and are the “property” of another family after marriage, the stress on education and the benefits that it can provide for a society are encouraged through women’s empowerment organizations such as the Didi’s Foundation.
Goma Shrestha
Goma Shrestha, the 27 year-old mother of a 5-year old daughter, loves her work for the Didis Foundation. Although her husband runs a small business in the city, Goma is pleased with her new found ability to be a self-made woman; particularly taking pride in never having to ask her husband for money. She believes Nepal is progressing, socially, with families allowing their daughters and wives to get jobs and leave their homes, and in the government, where more women are free to be run for office.
While the young, strong woman is from a village, Ghorka, she’s happy to live in the city, and weave for the Didi’s program where she’s worked for a year now. She knows that the income she’s made for herself and her family was a product of her own hard work, and continues to save 100 Nepali rupees per month, and hopes to use the money for her daughter in the future, or to start her own business one day.
While the young, strong woman is from a village, Ghorka, she’s happy to live in the city, and weave for the Didi’s program where she’s worked for a year now. She knows that the income she’s made for herself and her family was a product of her own hard work, and continues to save 100 Nepali rupees per month, and hopes to use the money for her daughter in the future, or to start her own business one day.
Bhaktapur
July 11, 2012
After a s-l-o-w moving day at Didi’s, Naaila and I head off to Bhaktapur in the afternoon. It’s such an interesting city; historic, teeming with ancient artifacts, but housing so many people in the crumbling buildings, with markets, and artisans everywhere you look. It was pouring when we got into the durbar square in the heart of the little city. A large courtyard with temples on the outskirts, and people taking shelter from the rains…compared to polluted Katmandu, anything and everything outside the city feels like a breath of fresh air, away from the insanity of it all!
The most serene—or should I say surreal part—was this tiny temple palace that we entered, through these intricately carved golden gates. Apparently, the temple was built by a Nepali king in ancient times (the city itself has been alive since the 7th century), and faded stone Tibetan-looking Gods and Goddesses stand across the walls. You can see these long cobras, carved out of stone, along the sides, with their bodies broken in places, or their heads weathered down, though their hoods are still up, and they are so massive, you can imagine what they must have looked like in the past, across the entire temple. They say that Kumari, the living goddess, the young girl that the Nepalis chose every year to represent a Devi (I’m not sure I get it, but still), lives in those temple grounds, making it even more interesting for the people there. At one point, they allowed us to go even further into the ruins, leaving all our belongings with a Nepali military officer standing at the door (The sign actually said, “only Hindus allowed beyond this point,” which made my Muslim friend quite nervous, but I told her to come in unless someone stops her. That’s not wrong of me, is it? I mean, she’s not Hindu, but she’s respectful of the religion, interested in learning what we believe, and she’s Brown…I feel like there’s no real reason to stop her from entering!). It’s honestly dreamlike. All around you hear the hustle and bustle of the city outside, but the architecture of the temple area is such, that when you enter, it’s suddenly dead silent. You hear your own steps on the stone, and there are barely any other people there…the same statues, though much larger, and small bathing pools lined with snake carvings instead. The actual deity, it turns out, is only in place on Dussera, once a year, but people still come to bow down to the spot it stands in. Something interesting happened there too—when we were walking around, we peaked through a wall in the temple, and suddenly saw this bright, pure white house, standing in the sunshine of the courtyard. It was the most startling thing to see—more because there’s absolutely no logical way for the horse to actually get in there. We checked for doors that lead into that part of the building, but even the plants are so unruly, that it doesn’t look terribly inhabited. We ended up asking the officer on our way out, and he simple said it was “the king’s horse,” then went back to ignoring us…but it added to the already mystic feeling that the temple brought out.
After a s-l-o-w moving day at Didi’s, Naaila and I head off to Bhaktapur in the afternoon. It’s such an interesting city; historic, teeming with ancient artifacts, but housing so many people in the crumbling buildings, with markets, and artisans everywhere you look. It was pouring when we got into the durbar square in the heart of the little city. A large courtyard with temples on the outskirts, and people taking shelter from the rains…compared to polluted Katmandu, anything and everything outside the city feels like a breath of fresh air, away from the insanity of it all!
The most serene—or should I say surreal part—was this tiny temple palace that we entered, through these intricately carved golden gates. Apparently, the temple was built by a Nepali king in ancient times (the city itself has been alive since the 7th century), and faded stone Tibetan-looking Gods and Goddesses stand across the walls. You can see these long cobras, carved out of stone, along the sides, with their bodies broken in places, or their heads weathered down, though their hoods are still up, and they are so massive, you can imagine what they must have looked like in the past, across the entire temple. They say that Kumari, the living goddess, the young girl that the Nepalis chose every year to represent a Devi (I’m not sure I get it, but still), lives in those temple grounds, making it even more interesting for the people there. At one point, they allowed us to go even further into the ruins, leaving all our belongings with a Nepali military officer standing at the door (The sign actually said, “only Hindus allowed beyond this point,” which made my Muslim friend quite nervous, but I told her to come in unless someone stops her. That’s not wrong of me, is it? I mean, she’s not Hindu, but she’s respectful of the religion, interested in learning what we believe, and she’s Brown…I feel like there’s no real reason to stop her from entering!). It’s honestly dreamlike. All around you hear the hustle and bustle of the city outside, but the architecture of the temple area is such, that when you enter, it’s suddenly dead silent. You hear your own steps on the stone, and there are barely any other people there…the same statues, though much larger, and small bathing pools lined with snake carvings instead. The actual deity, it turns out, is only in place on Dussera, once a year, but people still come to bow down to the spot it stands in. Something interesting happened there too—when we were walking around, we peaked through a wall in the temple, and suddenly saw this bright, pure white house, standing in the sunshine of the courtyard. It was the most startling thing to see—more because there’s absolutely no logical way for the horse to actually get in there. We checked for doors that lead into that part of the building, but even the plants are so unruly, that it doesn’t look terribly inhabited. We ended up asking the officer on our way out, and he simple said it was “the king’s horse,” then went back to ignoring us…but it added to the already mystic feeling that the temple brought out.
I’m rather proud of us for managing to get there and back without really having any idea of how to get there. We just stopped and asked everyone for directions in Hindi, (“Nayabazar kahan hai? Thamel kahan hai?”), managed to get on the mini-bus and a 45-minute express bus to Bhakthapur…I know it sounds like such a little deal, but you don’t know how crazy the bus stands are, or how hard it is to push your way through throngs of people…and for not knowing Nepali, I think we deserve some brownie points! We were in a rush to get back to the house on the way back though, and had to take a cycle rikshaw—the only thing we could find, regardless of the fact that I can’t stand those things (exploitation of people!)…
Naaila, Allie and I stayed up late last night, talking, getting very sentimental putting on mehendi (because finding a $1 tube of mehendi does automatically mean I’m going to go crazy with it)…just spending the last night together, I guess. I really hate having to say “bye” to people—which is all I felt I did last night. People kept coming in to find me, give me a hug and tell me that if I ever come to Boston, or Houston, or Berkely, I’ll have a friend in the city…I really do feel quite loved. A bunch of girls living in a hostel together always means drama central; but with a large dose of these sisterly sort of emotions that I guess I forget how much I appreciate too…that’s OK. It’s not bye with Naaila and Allie at least.
On that optimistic note, I’ll write more later….
Naaila, Allie and I stayed up late last night, talking, getting very sentimental putting on mehendi (because finding a $1 tube of mehendi does automatically mean I’m going to go crazy with it)…just spending the last night together, I guess. I really hate having to say “bye” to people—which is all I felt I did last night. People kept coming in to find me, give me a hug and tell me that if I ever come to Boston, or Houston, or Berkely, I’ll have a friend in the city…I really do feel quite loved. A bunch of girls living in a hostel together always means drama central; but with a large dose of these sisterly sort of emotions that I guess I forget how much I appreciate too…that’s OK. It’s not bye with Naaila and Allie at least.
On that optimistic note, I’ll write more later….
Bijaya Basnet
Bijaya Baset, the bubbly office manager for the Didi’s organization plays an important role within the foundation. As the oldest child from a village, Bijaya moved to the city after completing 12th grade, a progressive and independent move for a Nepali woman, and is currently waiting for her graduate degree in management’s exam results. As a member of the organization for the last two years, she’s watched the progress of the women, and the benefits they’ve received by their participation in Didis Foundation.
Today, the 23 year-old lives in Katmandu, with her younger brother and sister, who she helps support. Although she laughingly notes that she does not knit, she’s always available for the women, and takes pride in her ability to send money back to her parents. Bijaya takes pride in her work as the administrative manager for the organization, and handles the finances and inventory of the group.
“I love my job,” says Bijaya, “this is my duty, and who I am. I manage everything in my life, and it is helping so many poor women.”
She’s proud of her work in the organization, and proudly says, “The Didis Foundation knitting is something marketable in other countries, because it’s Nepali culture and Nepali goods. It’s something other companies can’t make, and something that we are happy to sell from Nepal.”
Today, the 23 year-old lives in Katmandu, with her younger brother and sister, who she helps support. Although she laughingly notes that she does not knit, she’s always available for the women, and takes pride in her ability to send money back to her parents. Bijaya takes pride in her work as the administrative manager for the organization, and handles the finances and inventory of the group.
“I love my job,” says Bijaya, “this is my duty, and who I am. I manage everything in my life, and it is helping so many poor women.”
She’s proud of her work in the organization, and proudly says, “The Didis Foundation knitting is something marketable in other countries, because it’s Nepali culture and Nepali goods. It’s something other companies can’t make, and something that we are happy to sell from Nepal.”
Boudha and More...
July 10, 2012
Once again, Nepal seems to be complicating my life. What made me so happy one day…
Well, here’s the deal: when Anish told me that Didi’s qualified for the criteria necessary to make Didi’s a certified Fair Trade Nepal organization (which opens them to vendors in Nepal and even in India), he meant it as a part of VolNepal; the organization partnered with EliAbroad that I’m technically part of right now. VolNepal though, is more like a grouping organization, partnered with a variety of other NGOs in the country (like the orphanages, monasteries, hospitals, etc.), to send human capital (us!) to the groups as they need. Didi’s is an initiative that the organization themselves has created, for women’s empowerment, though—I just learnt today—it’s actually not yet registered as its own NGO. It is (for now) simply a part of VolNepal. So when these guys told me that they fulfilled the criteria listed on the web site to be fair trade certified, there was some serious miscommunication from what I understood. *sigh*…Back to square one, I guess. I just spent the last half hour in the office with Anish, trying to figure out our next move. Basically, Anish is going to try to apply to the Fair Trade certification that I’ve looked up starting in the new fiscal year (that starts on the 16th—after I leave, unfortunately), but it’ll be a long time till it’s actually implemented. Not only do they need to hire a lawyer, and officially register it with the government as a non-governmental organization, but they need to have been running as an independent organization for three years to qualify for the certification, and have all three years’ worth of fiscal documents to prove their status. Anish, of course, assures me that he’ll be sure to get the lawyer after the 16th, and that in three years they’ll definitely apply again…but that’s in Nepali time, where “15 minute” really means “2 hours” and “we’ll do it tomorrow” is more likely “next week”…
Thing is, even though I’m frustrated about this, I’m not actually as depressed about it today. I feel like after the first failure with this, I’ve kind of set myself up to not be upset this time. What good’s that going to do anyone right now, right? I’m going to focus my energy the rest of this trip on my “college packet” idea, and basing the sales of Didi’s products on volunteers and orders that they received. If I can find another store or vendor within Nepal, I’ll check it out too, but…this battle needs to be aided by the Nepali side too. Not just me. It takes a few parties to really make this work, and the best I can do right now is to keep checking up on them, to make sure that they’re keeping up with my schedule for them , and try to best to sell in the merchandise to my people in the US at this point. Beyond that…
What’s sweet is that all the people here are actually really sad to know that I’m leaving. They keep telling me things like, “just change your flight! Stay with us longer!” or to just come back to Nepal after I go to India for a little longer…I feel rather loved, to be honest. I was talking to Hari (our Nagarkot guide, and a helper in VolNepal) this morning in the office. His face fell when I told him I was going to be leaving Saturday, and when I said, “oh, but you won’t miss me! You’ll have so many more volunteers come in after I leave,” he just shook his head and said in his broken English, “but we are talking frankly. You are like sister to us. Indian sister. None of these people here are understanding us like you do.” That was really touching for me to hear…Indian sister. I can’t think of a better compliment here in Nepal! (And whenever I tell these guys that I want to stay in Nepal, they excitedly tell me that I should stay, and promise me they’ll find me a nice Nepali boy to marry so I can settle down here…when I tell them I have an Indian boyfriend back home, they tell me Nepali boys and Nepali weddings are better, and I should just stick to Nepal!) Hari continued on to spend the next ten minutes trying to convince me to take a train from Bangalore all the way up to Nepal on the way back. You know, even though that’s totally not going to happen this time and it’s probably more than a two day journey, he kind of got me thinking…isn’t that what I’ve always wanted to do? A train ride across India? I think one day, I’m going to take his advice…a train from India, all the way up to Nepal. Maybe some three days, an entire two countries; from the jungles of South India to the Himalayas of Nepal…doesn’t that sound so romantic and fascinating? Just a camera and the chug-a-chug-a of a train to keep me company…of course I’m not gutsy (or stupid) enough to do that by myself. Who’s in for this trip of a lifetime with me?
A good chunk of the girls from the hostel and I decided to go to Boudha tonight; a little city centered around a large stupa, about 15 minutes away from Nayabazar by taxi. Boudha is a very, very gorgeous city…it’s one of those places that you walk in, and upon seeing everyone walking around the stupa, spinning the prayer wheels, and bowing down so reverently…you just kind of feel the spirituality in the city, regardless of the fact that it’s very, very poverty ridden. Naaila and I especially had fun, walking around, taking pictures of everything, handing each other the camera to take pictures of each other…there were even prayer wheels, three times the side of me, that you could hold on to, that would literally spin you if you held on to the bottom rails (children were using it as a merry-go-round). With the combination of prayer flags blowing in the wind, dark stormy monsoon rain clouds above the bright painted eyes of the stupa, it felt so mystical and awe-inspiring. I almost wish I were Buddhist, or knew some sort of Buddhist prayers, when I’m here in Nepal…I find this country simply fascinating. Hidden in all this pollution and problems, and insanity, you can still find these hidden pieces of spiritual heaven…
Anyways I’m going to head out and be social—I only see these guys for about a day and a half more, I guess…good night!
PS--Oh, and we had the BEST cab ride back—the guy, I kid you not, had a Lakshmi statue in the front that changed neon colors, colors on the walls of the inside of the cab that kept flashing lights inside, and blaring music from the 90’s (like “Who Let the Dogs Out” and “I’m a Barbie Girl”)..it was basically hilarious, and we probably made the guy’s night, and he smirked at us from the rearview mirror, watching us sing along to the songs, and getting suddenly very American as we listened to the music…
Once again, Nepal seems to be complicating my life. What made me so happy one day…
Well, here’s the deal: when Anish told me that Didi’s qualified for the criteria necessary to make Didi’s a certified Fair Trade Nepal organization (which opens them to vendors in Nepal and even in India), he meant it as a part of VolNepal; the organization partnered with EliAbroad that I’m technically part of right now. VolNepal though, is more like a grouping organization, partnered with a variety of other NGOs in the country (like the orphanages, monasteries, hospitals, etc.), to send human capital (us!) to the groups as they need. Didi’s is an initiative that the organization themselves has created, for women’s empowerment, though—I just learnt today—it’s actually not yet registered as its own NGO. It is (for now) simply a part of VolNepal. So when these guys told me that they fulfilled the criteria listed on the web site to be fair trade certified, there was some serious miscommunication from what I understood. *sigh*…Back to square one, I guess. I just spent the last half hour in the office with Anish, trying to figure out our next move. Basically, Anish is going to try to apply to the Fair Trade certification that I’ve looked up starting in the new fiscal year (that starts on the 16th—after I leave, unfortunately), but it’ll be a long time till it’s actually implemented. Not only do they need to hire a lawyer, and officially register it with the government as a non-governmental organization, but they need to have been running as an independent organization for three years to qualify for the certification, and have all three years’ worth of fiscal documents to prove their status. Anish, of course, assures me that he’ll be sure to get the lawyer after the 16th, and that in three years they’ll definitely apply again…but that’s in Nepali time, where “15 minute” really means “2 hours” and “we’ll do it tomorrow” is more likely “next week”…
Thing is, even though I’m frustrated about this, I’m not actually as depressed about it today. I feel like after the first failure with this, I’ve kind of set myself up to not be upset this time. What good’s that going to do anyone right now, right? I’m going to focus my energy the rest of this trip on my “college packet” idea, and basing the sales of Didi’s products on volunteers and orders that they received. If I can find another store or vendor within Nepal, I’ll check it out too, but…this battle needs to be aided by the Nepali side too. Not just me. It takes a few parties to really make this work, and the best I can do right now is to keep checking up on them, to make sure that they’re keeping up with my schedule for them , and try to best to sell in the merchandise to my people in the US at this point. Beyond that…
What’s sweet is that all the people here are actually really sad to know that I’m leaving. They keep telling me things like, “just change your flight! Stay with us longer!” or to just come back to Nepal after I go to India for a little longer…I feel rather loved, to be honest. I was talking to Hari (our Nagarkot guide, and a helper in VolNepal) this morning in the office. His face fell when I told him I was going to be leaving Saturday, and when I said, “oh, but you won’t miss me! You’ll have so many more volunteers come in after I leave,” he just shook his head and said in his broken English, “but we are talking frankly. You are like sister to us. Indian sister. None of these people here are understanding us like you do.” That was really touching for me to hear…Indian sister. I can’t think of a better compliment here in Nepal! (And whenever I tell these guys that I want to stay in Nepal, they excitedly tell me that I should stay, and promise me they’ll find me a nice Nepali boy to marry so I can settle down here…when I tell them I have an Indian boyfriend back home, they tell me Nepali boys and Nepali weddings are better, and I should just stick to Nepal!) Hari continued on to spend the next ten minutes trying to convince me to take a train from Bangalore all the way up to Nepal on the way back. You know, even though that’s totally not going to happen this time and it’s probably more than a two day journey, he kind of got me thinking…isn’t that what I’ve always wanted to do? A train ride across India? I think one day, I’m going to take his advice…a train from India, all the way up to Nepal. Maybe some three days, an entire two countries; from the jungles of South India to the Himalayas of Nepal…doesn’t that sound so romantic and fascinating? Just a camera and the chug-a-chug-a of a train to keep me company…of course I’m not gutsy (or stupid) enough to do that by myself. Who’s in for this trip of a lifetime with me?
A good chunk of the girls from the hostel and I decided to go to Boudha tonight; a little city centered around a large stupa, about 15 minutes away from Nayabazar by taxi. Boudha is a very, very gorgeous city…it’s one of those places that you walk in, and upon seeing everyone walking around the stupa, spinning the prayer wheels, and bowing down so reverently…you just kind of feel the spirituality in the city, regardless of the fact that it’s very, very poverty ridden. Naaila and I especially had fun, walking around, taking pictures of everything, handing each other the camera to take pictures of each other…there were even prayer wheels, three times the side of me, that you could hold on to, that would literally spin you if you held on to the bottom rails (children were using it as a merry-go-round). With the combination of prayer flags blowing in the wind, dark stormy monsoon rain clouds above the bright painted eyes of the stupa, it felt so mystical and awe-inspiring. I almost wish I were Buddhist, or knew some sort of Buddhist prayers, when I’m here in Nepal…I find this country simply fascinating. Hidden in all this pollution and problems, and insanity, you can still find these hidden pieces of spiritual heaven…
Anyways I’m going to head out and be social—I only see these guys for about a day and a half more, I guess…good night!
PS--Oh, and we had the BEST cab ride back—the guy, I kid you not, had a Lakshmi statue in the front that changed neon colors, colors on the walls of the inside of the cab that kept flashing lights inside, and blaring music from the 90’s (like “Who Let the Dogs Out” and “I’m a Barbie Girl”)..it was basically hilarious, and we probably made the guy’s night, and he smirked at us from the rearview mirror, watching us sing along to the songs, and getting suddenly very American as we listened to the music…
Anita Pariyar
Anita Pariyar and her husband are fighting to overcome the difficulties of the socio-economic they’ve faced their whole lives in Nepal. While Nepal, the 12th poorest nation in the world according to the Human Development Index, has progressed considerably in recent years, those considered “lower caste” are subject to superstitious beliefs, lack of education, inability to access healthcare, and have been more susceptible to the effects of political instability within the nation. Women in the South Asian society are especially discriminated, and in need of empowerment programs in the nation.
For the recently married Anita, the Didis Foundation is a stepping stone to economic and social independence. Her husband is currently taking steps forward, studying for a B.B.S. degree—a large milestone for a rural-based low caste family—while he 22 year-old Budhanilkantha native Anita has been enrolled in the Didi’s program for the last 6 months sees her work as a way out of poverty and discrimination.
For the recently married Anita, the Didis Foundation is a stepping stone to economic and social independence. Her husband is currently taking steps forward, studying for a B.B.S. degree—a large milestone for a rural-based low caste family—while he 22 year-old Budhanilkantha native Anita has been enrolled in the Didi’s program for the last 6 months sees her work as a way out of poverty and discrimination.
Fair Trade, Cake, and Gossip...
July 9, 2012
I feel like I’ve had the best day today! Productive and fun…
I found a Fair Trade shop that could pose as a possible vendor online today, and after getting makeshift directions from the Nepalis in the office, I head to the busy intersection of Ring Road to try to meet with the mangers of that shop, and see if they’d actually accept the products. Have I mentioned Katmandu is HOT? And an utterly jumbled mess of people and cars, pollution and animals…I got there, holding a bag of samples, sweating profusely, asking everyone where the office was (the direction on the web site basically told me to just look for an income tax office—not the best advice, really), all to no avail. I walked up and down the entire stretch of road, trying to read the Devanagrai script without trying to look as if I were totally confused or foreign (probably didn’t succeed on that front to be honest)…Other than having a tour of another, rather dirty part of the city (which, might I add, has a lot more Commie posters and graffiti of the hammer and star on most of the walls), I guess it was unproductive…I haven’t given up though. I might take someone else with me tomorrow or day after and try to see if I can talk to someone in that office this week, just to check out the prospects…For some reasons it’s the little things in life that make me feel like it’s totally worth it to help other people, though…as I was walking back, after giving up on my quest, I felt a hand on my shoulder. There were two blind boys, whose eyes were scarred shut and white, who asked me to help them cross the street with them. It’s amusing—usually I can barely cross the street by myself, but I had to help them, right? I just held both their hands and walked across, and watched as every single car just stopped for us…I thought it was kind of touching, in a way…
In the afternoon, Santosh and I went down to the Fair Trade office, about 30 minutes away in two jam-packed bus rides, squished up against the side of the bus. We spoke to a lady, Sabina Singh, in the office out there, who gave us a rundown of the Fair Trade Nepal organization. Basically, I’ll be getting Didi’s certified as a Fair Trade organization via this group; a process that takes about three months to finish (much better than expected), if all goes well. Although it doesn’t actually provide any vendors, they do have craft sales bi-annually (May and December), where the Didi’s women can sell their materials. It’s more like a platform approach though, and focuses on the monitoring of organizations for ethical behavior (which I’m so glad for. Not because I don’t trust the guys I’m working with now, but its Nepal, and…well, I want to be safe. People seem to get corrupted easily when desperate). I asked a long list of questions which the lady answered fairly quickly, and, when I was unable to actually portray my point to her in English, Santosh would sweep in and ask everything in Nepali, thank goodness(though I really hope he translated everything back to me properly). I feel like it’s very worth it to actually get this certification. I mean, I myself have criticized fair trade in the past, but I feel like for a developing country where there are so many uncertainties, having some reliability and even a weak association with the international World Fair Trade organization (WFTO) would actually benefit this new little organization. I guess all that remains is for me to now pressure Anish, who’s really in charge. By God, I need to find a way to make this man work on this for me. I am not going to leave Nepali without at least knowing that the organization has credibility for vendors, and knowing that these women are going to get what they deserve in life, if I can help it at all! Even though it’s a minor accomplishment for the day, I feel for the first time in a while, something with Didi’s worked out well, and I have control over something that could actually pose to be a successful tool to the NGO…but I have to embrace the little things that are going to make the experience worth it, right?
As for my concerns about the stock—I think Kamala Miss and the other ladies worked so hard this weekend to meet all my requests. She came to me today, and gestured my into the garage where they keep all the Didi’s material…and I was just blow away. What was non-existent before I left has been restocked. New colors, new styles—all ready for me to take in my carry-on luggage back to the US. Have I mentioned how in awe of these ladies I am? They are incredibly talented. You should see them weave too—so deftly, and quickly…you don’t even see the needles moving. I am seriously honored to work with women like this. People that have fought through any adversities that they’ve faced, and truly made a name for themselves with their work. I was so incredibly happy and surprised to see the stock lined up neatly against the wall, and kept saying, “Oh my god, you’re wonderful!!” to Kamala Miss (who doesn’t understand any English)…I think she understood my point and my cheerful tone though…my small piece of recognition for her mad skills!
I feel like I’ve had the best day today! Productive and fun…
I found a Fair Trade shop that could pose as a possible vendor online today, and after getting makeshift directions from the Nepalis in the office, I head to the busy intersection of Ring Road to try to meet with the mangers of that shop, and see if they’d actually accept the products. Have I mentioned Katmandu is HOT? And an utterly jumbled mess of people and cars, pollution and animals…I got there, holding a bag of samples, sweating profusely, asking everyone where the office was (the direction on the web site basically told me to just look for an income tax office—not the best advice, really), all to no avail. I walked up and down the entire stretch of road, trying to read the Devanagrai script without trying to look as if I were totally confused or foreign (probably didn’t succeed on that front to be honest)…Other than having a tour of another, rather dirty part of the city (which, might I add, has a lot more Commie posters and graffiti of the hammer and star on most of the walls), I guess it was unproductive…I haven’t given up though. I might take someone else with me tomorrow or day after and try to see if I can talk to someone in that office this week, just to check out the prospects…For some reasons it’s the little things in life that make me feel like it’s totally worth it to help other people, though…as I was walking back, after giving up on my quest, I felt a hand on my shoulder. There were two blind boys, whose eyes were scarred shut and white, who asked me to help them cross the street with them. It’s amusing—usually I can barely cross the street by myself, but I had to help them, right? I just held both their hands and walked across, and watched as every single car just stopped for us…I thought it was kind of touching, in a way…
In the afternoon, Santosh and I went down to the Fair Trade office, about 30 minutes away in two jam-packed bus rides, squished up against the side of the bus. We spoke to a lady, Sabina Singh, in the office out there, who gave us a rundown of the Fair Trade Nepal organization. Basically, I’ll be getting Didi’s certified as a Fair Trade organization via this group; a process that takes about three months to finish (much better than expected), if all goes well. Although it doesn’t actually provide any vendors, they do have craft sales bi-annually (May and December), where the Didi’s women can sell their materials. It’s more like a platform approach though, and focuses on the monitoring of organizations for ethical behavior (which I’m so glad for. Not because I don’t trust the guys I’m working with now, but its Nepal, and…well, I want to be safe. People seem to get corrupted easily when desperate). I asked a long list of questions which the lady answered fairly quickly, and, when I was unable to actually portray my point to her in English, Santosh would sweep in and ask everything in Nepali, thank goodness(though I really hope he translated everything back to me properly). I feel like it’s very worth it to actually get this certification. I mean, I myself have criticized fair trade in the past, but I feel like for a developing country where there are so many uncertainties, having some reliability and even a weak association with the international World Fair Trade organization (WFTO) would actually benefit this new little organization. I guess all that remains is for me to now pressure Anish, who’s really in charge. By God, I need to find a way to make this man work on this for me. I am not going to leave Nepali without at least knowing that the organization has credibility for vendors, and knowing that these women are going to get what they deserve in life, if I can help it at all! Even though it’s a minor accomplishment for the day, I feel for the first time in a while, something with Didi’s worked out well, and I have control over something that could actually pose to be a successful tool to the NGO…but I have to embrace the little things that are going to make the experience worth it, right?
As for my concerns about the stock—I think Kamala Miss and the other ladies worked so hard this weekend to meet all my requests. She came to me today, and gestured my into the garage where they keep all the Didi’s material…and I was just blow away. What was non-existent before I left has been restocked. New colors, new styles—all ready for me to take in my carry-on luggage back to the US. Have I mentioned how in awe of these ladies I am? They are incredibly talented. You should see them weave too—so deftly, and quickly…you don’t even see the needles moving. I am seriously honored to work with women like this. People that have fought through any adversities that they’ve faced, and truly made a name for themselves with their work. I was so incredibly happy and surprised to see the stock lined up neatly against the wall, and kept saying, “Oh my god, you’re wonderful!!” to Kamala Miss (who doesn’t understand any English)…I think she understood my point and my cheerful tone though…my small piece of recognition for her mad skills!
I realized that I’m leaving Nepali in about five days. I keep alternating between being really sad about the idea, and totally relieved all at once—though I generally think that sadness for leaving this country is more overwhelming…I feel like I just got here; like I just got used to this place! How on Earth did time fly by so fast? At least Naaila is in the same boat as me, leaving a few days later. We made a pact that we’re going to cram in as much as we can every day this last week, to make as many more memories as we can in this country together. To start for tonight: a night out in the city with friends. We actually just came back from “King’s Cross”—the area right by the ex-royal palace that’s probably one of the most developed areas in the city, because of its history as a diplomatic hub. Santosh, Naaila, Allie and I decided to treat ourselves to cake and ice cream in some rooftop café that Santosh suggested to us. To be honest, it’s a relief to have company like this—people to just laugh and talk with about Desi things, or in broken Hindi (and Chinese, for some reason), or make up silly hypothetical stories with—without the others who are simply obsessed with talking about parties and drugs and drinking…this, to me is my perfect group, here in Nepal, and by far the people that I want to actually keep in touch with when I get back to the US: Naaila, because I find her anthropological and socio-economic interests and life experiences to not only be similar to mine, but because we both share a very Desi-ABCD lifestyle back home; Allie because we’re opposites and yet we connect really well, and I after being her “mom” for the last three weeks, I doubt I can just forget her in Colorado; and Santosh because I feel like he’s not only been the only one to really help me here in Nepal with the work I’m doing, but we’ve gossiped enough about our own lives that I feel like he’ll be my Nepali friend even when I’m in America…perfect, right? Goes to show life can just introduce you to the most interesting people in complex places, and how easy it is to find a connection with someone else…
Anyways, on that note, I’ll go chill with Naaila. We’re in a very brown mood today and craving some Bollywood music for the night! Night!
Anyways, on that note, I’ll go chill with Naaila. We’re in a very brown mood today and craving some Bollywood music for the night! Night!
Haathi Mere Saathi
July 8, 2012
I can honestly say that for all the travelling I’ve done in my life, Nepal is by far the most adventurous I’ve been in my life! Rafting, hiking, crazy scary buses, walks through jungles…and now? Elephant riding!
Chitwan is gorgeous…it’s basically a large national park on the border of India and Nepal, first created by the British who used the area as a hunting ground…like most of the southern part of Nepal, it’s all green, jungle, and hotter than any other place in this country…We, a group of nine (probably mismatched) people, travelled to the Parkside Hotel on Friday afternoon for a long five hours on a stuffy bus. The weekend was rather packed, so I’ll just tell you about a few of the main events that we got to see:
We went on a jungle walk one morning, which was simply was surreal. The guides made us walk in silence (in increase the chances of seeing animals), but our quiet movements made it seem much more intense and a little more dangerous. I have cuts all over my feet from just the waist tall grass that we rustled though itself (it’s that thick and sharp), and we kept jumping over puddles to avoid leeches on our feet. I swear it’s incredible though. There’s not a single picture I have that could capture how beautiful and quiet everything was. You’ll suddenly see a bright bird call out and streak through the trees, or see the brightest red and blue bugs crawling on the ground…we walked for maybe an hour, single file, in silence through the muddy paths, till we came to the side of a river. Our guide suddenly stopped us, and with his bamboo cane pulled apart the grass to show us wild rhinos bathing in the river. Wild rhinos. It was breathtaking! Of course, we couldn’t get too close in fears that they’d charge at us (the guide told us before we left that in case anything went wrong to always follow him—even if you had to run. He casually said that he’d not want us to get lost in the jungle…ignoring all of us asking, “umm, is that likely?”)…it was so incredible though…I’m a mountain girl at heart, but I can honestly say I’m fascinated by the idea of jungles and how many plants and animals live in each crammed square inch of the ground.
We followed that up by a touristy, but incredible elephant bathing session. Basically, you climbed up on the elephant and the trained ladies would fill their trunks up with water and throw it back to soak you. They’d do that a couple times, patiently listening to you squeal every time they squirted the water at you, then suddenly kneel down to get you off, making you slide off their wet backs into the muddy, shallow river. If I could have a pet elephant, I guarantee you I would. Their so pretty, and graceful, even for their size! The trainers let us pet the elephants when we got off…looking into the tiny eyes of the elephants, and feeling their muscled trunks in your hand…it’s like a puppy. There’s suddenly this instant love for them you can’t deny! Ah!
I can honestly say that for all the travelling I’ve done in my life, Nepal is by far the most adventurous I’ve been in my life! Rafting, hiking, crazy scary buses, walks through jungles…and now? Elephant riding!
Chitwan is gorgeous…it’s basically a large national park on the border of India and Nepal, first created by the British who used the area as a hunting ground…like most of the southern part of Nepal, it’s all green, jungle, and hotter than any other place in this country…We, a group of nine (probably mismatched) people, travelled to the Parkside Hotel on Friday afternoon for a long five hours on a stuffy bus. The weekend was rather packed, so I’ll just tell you about a few of the main events that we got to see:
We went on a jungle walk one morning, which was simply was surreal. The guides made us walk in silence (in increase the chances of seeing animals), but our quiet movements made it seem much more intense and a little more dangerous. I have cuts all over my feet from just the waist tall grass that we rustled though itself (it’s that thick and sharp), and we kept jumping over puddles to avoid leeches on our feet. I swear it’s incredible though. There’s not a single picture I have that could capture how beautiful and quiet everything was. You’ll suddenly see a bright bird call out and streak through the trees, or see the brightest red and blue bugs crawling on the ground…we walked for maybe an hour, single file, in silence through the muddy paths, till we came to the side of a river. Our guide suddenly stopped us, and with his bamboo cane pulled apart the grass to show us wild rhinos bathing in the river. Wild rhinos. It was breathtaking! Of course, we couldn’t get too close in fears that they’d charge at us (the guide told us before we left that in case anything went wrong to always follow him—even if you had to run. He casually said that he’d not want us to get lost in the jungle…ignoring all of us asking, “umm, is that likely?”)…it was so incredible though…I’m a mountain girl at heart, but I can honestly say I’m fascinated by the idea of jungles and how many plants and animals live in each crammed square inch of the ground.
We followed that up by a touristy, but incredible elephant bathing session. Basically, you climbed up on the elephant and the trained ladies would fill their trunks up with water and throw it back to soak you. They’d do that a couple times, patiently listening to you squeal every time they squirted the water at you, then suddenly kneel down to get you off, making you slide off their wet backs into the muddy, shallow river. If I could have a pet elephant, I guarantee you I would. Their so pretty, and graceful, even for their size! The trainers let us pet the elephants when we got off…looking into the tiny eyes of the elephants, and feeling their muscled trunks in your hand…it’s like a puppy. There’s suddenly this instant love for them you can’t deny! Ah!
They took us on a ride on the elephant too; on the top of brightly painted elephants in a wooden box that jolted to a rhythmic up-down-right-left the entire time. At first I was so horrified by the entire thing, flinching whenever they made a rapping noise with the bamboo stick, but you elephant (Kali, was her name!) was a very sweet, obliging lady, and she took us around fairly easily down the path. Ah, I felt like royalty up there! Going through the jungle on an elephant, with the whiff of these exotic smells like jasmine and coriander suddenly hitting you…the best part of the trip and of the ride was when it started to rain. I don’t mean drizzle either. I mean pouring down monsoon rains while we were crossing a small river. It was INCREDIBLE. I don’t even think I could write in meaningful words how incredibly happy I was, sitting up there, without a care, letting the rains just pour down in that sweet relief from the heat, everyone laughing or squealing…even our mahout was ecstatic, and started singing Nepali folk-sounding songs…pure happiness, people, pure happiness!!
Oh, and, oh my god. They took us on a canoe trip one morning. A supposedly relaxing drift down the river, listening to birds? I’ve never been so stressed out in my life. About five minutes into the ride, I realized that I was sitting next to five MASSIVE jungle spiders, on a canoe that would topple over if I moved an inch. Worst. Fear. Ever. I sat with my knees against my body trying really hard not to look down, trying not to scream every time they crawled towards my body, and seriously wishing that I could just jump off and not be in a closed space with those creatures (the girl behind me told me after we got off the boat that she flicked off a couple spiders that had crawled up my back but didn’t tell me because she knew I might do something drastic)…NEVER again!!
The hotel itself was quite a treat—a toilet that actually flushes, A/C (while the power lasts), an actual bathtub *gasp*! It’s funny how luxurious it all seemed after a few weeks if the hostel and just being around dirty Katmandu…Even the meals were a relief after all the daal-baath in my system. Things like Rice, steamed vegetables (because we really eat nothing other than rice and lentils here, sadly), noodles and soup…it all tastes so good compared to the bland food in the city (which has no spice because of the pansy white people I live with)…I feel like if I always knew that I had a room where it would be impossible for bugs to crawl on (or *shudder* in) me while I sleep at night, I could really live anywhere for an extended period of time!
Anyways it was quite an action packed weekend, with a lot of travel…I feel like I’ve described it all fairly weakly, so I’d probably be better off just telling you all about it in person…but for now, I think people are waiting for me to set up my computer so we can all watch a movie tonight in the common room, so I’ll head out…good night, people!
Oh, and, oh my god. They took us on a canoe trip one morning. A supposedly relaxing drift down the river, listening to birds? I’ve never been so stressed out in my life. About five minutes into the ride, I realized that I was sitting next to five MASSIVE jungle spiders, on a canoe that would topple over if I moved an inch. Worst. Fear. Ever. I sat with my knees against my body trying really hard not to look down, trying not to scream every time they crawled towards my body, and seriously wishing that I could just jump off and not be in a closed space with those creatures (the girl behind me told me after we got off the boat that she flicked off a couple spiders that had crawled up my back but didn’t tell me because she knew I might do something drastic)…NEVER again!!
The hotel itself was quite a treat—a toilet that actually flushes, A/C (while the power lasts), an actual bathtub *gasp*! It’s funny how luxurious it all seemed after a few weeks if the hostel and just being around dirty Katmandu…Even the meals were a relief after all the daal-baath in my system. Things like Rice, steamed vegetables (because we really eat nothing other than rice and lentils here, sadly), noodles and soup…it all tastes so good compared to the bland food in the city (which has no spice because of the pansy white people I live with)…I feel like if I always knew that I had a room where it would be impossible for bugs to crawl on (or *shudder* in) me while I sleep at night, I could really live anywhere for an extended period of time!
Anyways it was quite an action packed weekend, with a lot of travel…I feel like I’ve described it all fairly weakly, so I’d probably be better off just telling you all about it in person…but for now, I think people are waiting for me to set up my computer so we can all watch a movie tonight in the common room, so I’ll head out…good night, people!
Sanu Pariyar
Sanu Pariyar, a young woman with a large smile joined the Didi’s program a year ago. As a low caste, 22 year-old woman with an 8th grade level of education from her village, Sanu and her family have had little opportunity to relieve themselves of poverty; especially with her husband’s meager salary as a semester in the city. The weaver’s eyes light up when she talks about how her work in Didi’s has been able to provide for her children: a 5 year-old in the 1st grade, an a 10 year-old in 5th grade.
Sanu smilingly notes that the money that she’s gotten from the Didis Foundation has helped her tremendously. Her monthly rent in Katmandu for a single room shared by all four family members is a steep 3,000 (equivalent to about 33 USD)—a cost that she and her husband struggled to afford without her supplemental income. She’s grateful for hearing about Didi’s through word of mouth, and the opportunity the organization has provided her, and has high hopes to start her own business one day.
Sanu smilingly notes that the money that she’s gotten from the Didis Foundation has helped her tremendously. Her monthly rent in Katmandu for a single room shared by all four family members is a steep 3,000 (equivalent to about 33 USD)—a cost that she and her husband struggled to afford without her supplemental income. She’s grateful for hearing about Didi’s through word of mouth, and the opportunity the organization has provided her, and has high hopes to start her own business one day.
In The Monastery
July 5, 2012
Greetings my people...I hope this finds you well! :)
Alli took me to the monastery that she works at this morning, bright and early on a crowded “micro” into the hills. I’ll tell you one thing: I’m so not a city girl. I love being in those villages, far away from the city and the noise, and all of the problems that are so obvious and rampant…like in the villages seems to just restore my faith in people. Women just minding their own business (and their cows), with all the bright green fields and unpolluted air…I don’t know what it is, but as soon as I hit those calm areas I just feel so relieved. Like I can finally breathe again and feel peaceful…
As for the actual monastery…oh god. Where do I begin? If I didn’t realize I had so many attachments (partially to the people reading this blog) in life, I’d be happy to be a nun in that monastery! It’s a steep climb up a hill, and it was even drizzling slightly as we walked up there…but the building is a pristine white, with golden deer at the top of the building, at the foothills of the Himalayas, so peaceful (you walk in and you don’t even feel like talking), and Tibetan style paintings everywhere you look. There’s a large courtyard in the front, and even though I can’t understand a word of Tibetan (most of the monks are either Tibetan refugees or the children of Sherpas), they all have this incredible, huge smile on their faces as the slightly bow down to you in greeting. Alli’s been teaching English to them in three classes so far: below 8, 8-15, and “older,” and I at least got to help out with the “work” (if you could call it such--it's really not hard)…it’s absolutely wonderful to see how cooperative they are to one another, and how eager they are to answer questions—any teacher’s dream children, I assure you!
Oh, and even though they are monks at such a tender age, the children are simply adorable. Even though they have this responsibility to grow up as these strong, independent spiritual figures, they act just like every other little kid—playing arm wrestling at lunch, tackling each other in the courtyard, playing tag (though they have to adjust their long robes around them so they can actually run) I noticed one of the boys kept flicking papers at the boy in front of him every time Alli had her back turned, until I caught his eye and shook my head at him, and he blushed bright red and looked back down at his books…I have undeniably large urge just squeeze them in a tight hug or rub their little bald heads! (Cuteness overload!)
Greetings my people...I hope this finds you well! :)
Alli took me to the monastery that she works at this morning, bright and early on a crowded “micro” into the hills. I’ll tell you one thing: I’m so not a city girl. I love being in those villages, far away from the city and the noise, and all of the problems that are so obvious and rampant…like in the villages seems to just restore my faith in people. Women just minding their own business (and their cows), with all the bright green fields and unpolluted air…I don’t know what it is, but as soon as I hit those calm areas I just feel so relieved. Like I can finally breathe again and feel peaceful…
As for the actual monastery…oh god. Where do I begin? If I didn’t realize I had so many attachments (partially to the people reading this blog) in life, I’d be happy to be a nun in that monastery! It’s a steep climb up a hill, and it was even drizzling slightly as we walked up there…but the building is a pristine white, with golden deer at the top of the building, at the foothills of the Himalayas, so peaceful (you walk in and you don’t even feel like talking), and Tibetan style paintings everywhere you look. There’s a large courtyard in the front, and even though I can’t understand a word of Tibetan (most of the monks are either Tibetan refugees or the children of Sherpas), they all have this incredible, huge smile on their faces as the slightly bow down to you in greeting. Alli’s been teaching English to them in three classes so far: below 8, 8-15, and “older,” and I at least got to help out with the “work” (if you could call it such--it's really not hard)…it’s absolutely wonderful to see how cooperative they are to one another, and how eager they are to answer questions—any teacher’s dream children, I assure you!
Oh, and even though they are monks at such a tender age, the children are simply adorable. Even though they have this responsibility to grow up as these strong, independent spiritual figures, they act just like every other little kid—playing arm wrestling at lunch, tackling each other in the courtyard, playing tag (though they have to adjust their long robes around them so they can actually run) I noticed one of the boys kept flicking papers at the boy in front of him every time Alli had her back turned, until I caught his eye and shook my head at him, and he blushed bright red and looked back down at his books…I have undeniably large urge just squeeze them in a tight hug or rub their little bald heads! (Cuteness overload!)
They fed us so well the few hours we were up there, chai, and Tibetan dumpling-looking-things…and they have this continuous urge to keep putting food on your plate…I wish I could talk to more of them for my own curiosity, but there’s such a large language barrier, that I wonder if that’s really possible. (Actually, I just really want to talk to them about the Tibet/China issues—how they feel about the Chinese; if they hope to see Tibet as an independent nation one day; what they think of the students in the US and other parts of the world who are protesting on their behalf.. but I’m sure that’d be considered rude to bring up…The problem is that as curious as I am, I can’t spring a person’s rough past up and hope they’re willing to talk about it. I’d rather not see anyone in pain from my own questions…) Anyways, I’ll probably go back for another visit this coming week, and I’ll be sure to check the waters and see if it’d be OK to ask questions when I go…
Other than that, not too much going on today…I made friends with some waiter in a café that we always go to, Crazy Burger; Naaila and I might watch Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gham in the evening and draft some of our buddies to it (not like I don’t have the movie memorized already); I’m praying that there won’t be another cockroach near my bed like there was last night (massive panic attacks don’t suit me); and I guess I’m so hungry that I’m not even going to whine about my daal-baath tonight…
Well, I guess I’ll enjoy this monsoon rain a little more (a hot cup of chai right now would be incredible…or coffee. It’s been ages since I had coffee…)
Oh! I should mention that I’ll be M.I.A. on this blog this weekend as well… I’m going to Chitwan this weekend (how is it already the weekend?)—an elephant ground and national park in Nepal. It’s apparently a little out of the valley (8 hours away). I’ll be staying there this weekend, with 10 other people from the hostel, which should be interesting…and it looks like I get to ride elephants, have an A/C room (OMG!), and walk on trails this weekend…I swear I am working too, people. I know I have too much fun here, and I’ve been dealing with some colossal guilt about having fun here…but I am working. Things just move so slowly, and it’s ridiculously frustrating to work in Nepal. As of now I’m waiting on a lazy web master to get back to me, a Fair Trade office to open, more stock of the actual items…and just about anything productive I could do, has been done, so now...I’ll enjoy my weekend, and work hard for my *gasp* final week in Nepal!
PS--One of the other girls just came in with a seriously frightening story…she’s working in a girl’s orphanage, and another volunteer told her that the male coordinator had simple taken two of the girls, a 15-year-old and a 17-year-old out to Katmandu…and just never returned with the girls. I am so scared to hear about it. She doesn’t have many details now, and they’re looking into it (the most horrible assumption being prostitution) so that they don’t assume the worst of a man and accuse him of something he didn’t do…but it’s scary. Every person that goes to the orphanage, I swear, comes back with the scariest stories. This country is not good to women, and with the added fears of prostitution and poverty…It’s seriously only God’s will if a poor woman can get through her life in Nepal unscathed.
Other than that, not too much going on today…I made friends with some waiter in a café that we always go to, Crazy Burger; Naaila and I might watch Kabhi Kushi Kabhi Gham in the evening and draft some of our buddies to it (not like I don’t have the movie memorized already); I’m praying that there won’t be another cockroach near my bed like there was last night (massive panic attacks don’t suit me); and I guess I’m so hungry that I’m not even going to whine about my daal-baath tonight…
Well, I guess I’ll enjoy this monsoon rain a little more (a hot cup of chai right now would be incredible…or coffee. It’s been ages since I had coffee…)
Oh! I should mention that I’ll be M.I.A. on this blog this weekend as well… I’m going to Chitwan this weekend (how is it already the weekend?)—an elephant ground and national park in Nepal. It’s apparently a little out of the valley (8 hours away). I’ll be staying there this weekend, with 10 other people from the hostel, which should be interesting…and it looks like I get to ride elephants, have an A/C room (OMG!), and walk on trails this weekend…I swear I am working too, people. I know I have too much fun here, and I’ve been dealing with some colossal guilt about having fun here…but I am working. Things just move so slowly, and it’s ridiculously frustrating to work in Nepal. As of now I’m waiting on a lazy web master to get back to me, a Fair Trade office to open, more stock of the actual items…and just about anything productive I could do, has been done, so now...I’ll enjoy my weekend, and work hard for my *gasp* final week in Nepal!
PS--One of the other girls just came in with a seriously frightening story…she’s working in a girl’s orphanage, and another volunteer told her that the male coordinator had simple taken two of the girls, a 15-year-old and a 17-year-old out to Katmandu…and just never returned with the girls. I am so scared to hear about it. She doesn’t have many details now, and they’re looking into it (the most horrible assumption being prostitution) so that they don’t assume the worst of a man and accuse him of something he didn’t do…but it’s scary. Every person that goes to the orphanage, I swear, comes back with the scariest stories. This country is not good to women, and with the added fears of prostitution and poverty…It’s seriously only God’s will if a poor woman can get through her life in Nepal unscathed.
Sarita Malla
Sarita Malla feels that her work in the Didis Foundation for the last seven months has not only given her experience in weaving, but has provided her with the opportunity to be a self-sufficient woman for the first time in her life—regardless of her lack of education. Previous to her participation in the program, the 24-year-old struggled to pay for the day-to-day expenses for her 3-year-old daughter, and struggled to make ends meet without her husband, who was forced to take a job as a construction worker abroad to make the necessary wages to support his family.
The talented weaver lives near the foundation, away from her rural-based family who she also tries to support with her earnings. She smilingly notes how glad she is to have the ability to make some money for her child and her household expenses, after all the economic struggles and social stigmas she’s had to overcome over the years.
The talented weaver lives near the foundation, away from her rural-based family who she also tries to support with her earnings. She smilingly notes how glad she is to have the ability to make some money for her child and her household expenses, after all the economic struggles and social stigmas she’s had to overcome over the years.
Independence Day Blues...
July 4th, 2012
Once again I’m out of the country for my independence day…so to all of you actually back home (and if you care at all)—Happy Independence Day!! Watch some firecrackers for me! I’ll miss that!
At least the good thing about it this time is that I’m living in a hostel full of Americans—all of whom actually do care that it’s “our” day as much as me. We went to Ratna Park this morning around 7:00 (before work) to a small muddy field in the right in the middle of Katmandu (kind of made me think of Central Park—the one area of respite amidst a chaotic city)...Some of the guys in the hostel had organized a soccer game for us somehow deeming that our “Independence Day celebration” (makes no logical sense, but that’s OK). To be perfectly honest, I was a little hesitant to go in the first place—it’s like high school gym class all over again, and I still duck when the ball comes towards me—but everyone in our group was is so laid back, that I don’t think anyone really cared that I was there just to run around, and not at all a decent offense player. It was an interesting game though. Not only was our group the most racially diverse (which automatically meant that everyone stared at us, and we even had some street children sitting on the edge of the “field” cheering us on), but we were also joined by some legit professional players from Cameroon and the Ivory Coast. Apparently, they’re like mercenary soccer players, playing for whatever country invited them over. This year Nepal, next year Croatia…It was too cool—those guys were simply amazing players, and factor in their awesome, deep-toned African accents, and it just made for a very globalized bad-ass sort of game! (and I was touched that they actually would pass me the ball now and then…not at all like the jerks I had to play with in PE class back home!)…of course, the field was a muddy trap, the goals were two empty water bottles on either side, stuck upside down in the mud, and everyone slide whenever they kicked the ball…but it was just an exciting, fun way to start the day out together!
Once again I’m out of the country for my independence day…so to all of you actually back home (and if you care at all)—Happy Independence Day!! Watch some firecrackers for me! I’ll miss that!
At least the good thing about it this time is that I’m living in a hostel full of Americans—all of whom actually do care that it’s “our” day as much as me. We went to Ratna Park this morning around 7:00 (before work) to a small muddy field in the right in the middle of Katmandu (kind of made me think of Central Park—the one area of respite amidst a chaotic city)...Some of the guys in the hostel had organized a soccer game for us somehow deeming that our “Independence Day celebration” (makes no logical sense, but that’s OK). To be perfectly honest, I was a little hesitant to go in the first place—it’s like high school gym class all over again, and I still duck when the ball comes towards me—but everyone in our group was is so laid back, that I don’t think anyone really cared that I was there just to run around, and not at all a decent offense player. It was an interesting game though. Not only was our group the most racially diverse (which automatically meant that everyone stared at us, and we even had some street children sitting on the edge of the “field” cheering us on), but we were also joined by some legit professional players from Cameroon and the Ivory Coast. Apparently, they’re like mercenary soccer players, playing for whatever country invited them over. This year Nepal, next year Croatia…It was too cool—those guys were simply amazing players, and factor in their awesome, deep-toned African accents, and it just made for a very globalized bad-ass sort of game! (and I was touched that they actually would pass me the ball now and then…not at all like the jerks I had to play with in PE class back home!)…of course, the field was a muddy trap, the goals were two empty water bottles on either side, stuck upside down in the mud, and everyone slide whenever they kicked the ball…but it was just an exciting, fun way to start the day out together!
Ok, I’m officially frustrated with Didis today. I swear. People in this country are just too chill. I get that I’m a Type-A, OCD-nut at times, but come ON! Some organization and proper directions are simply necessary if you’re going to run this kind of a program, and ask for the help of volunteers. I just realized that not only are there a lack of supplies but my entire “college packet plan” that was going to work out brilliantly? It’s so not going to work. Last time I’d asked someone if they had extra stock of the items, they’d happily replied “yes!”…Which is SO not true, and now the women can’t produce as many as I need right now. It seems like the only shipping solution is to take some of the products with us as carry-on luggage—which means at absolute MOST, I can only fit some seven packets. Not nearly enough when you realize that there are some 15-20 people at least who have already signed up to receive those packets. What am I supposed to do now? I just wish someone would have pointed these things out to me in the first place! I’ve been updating Anish and the others about my plans every single time, and it never once occurred to them to tell me that it was a flawed idea?! (When I discussed my problems with them, they were like, “yes, we realize that”…I wanted to yell, “why the hell didn’t you tell me then?!” at that point)…I was told these guys would call the webmaster about a week ago (and I’ve been reminding them every day), since I can’t update anything on the ghetto server that these guys are using, but even that’s impossible to get done (it would help if I could speak some Nepali, I think)…I’ve been bitching to Alli about it today (who had the day off), and she keeps attempting to justify the processes, saying that it’s just one of those cultural things where people want to remain optimistic…but seriously. This is what Nepali optimism has gotten them. A collapsed government, people spitting on the streets, uneven sidewalks, children with no shoes, dogs everywhere…and whatever else the other volunteers say: children publicly defecating and urinating inside orphanages, a human rights program where the office managers decide to show up only once in a while; hospitals where the nurses don’t even have soap in the bathrooms…there’s a difference between optimism, and being stupidly oblivious. Is this what all the developing countries are like? I suddenly feel so American. I care, and I can’t do anything about it, because things are just too expensive to implement sustainably or simply too bureaucratic for people to put a lot of faith in what’s going on… this is just irritating!
Ah…maybe I’m unnecessarily annoyed. I’ve still been promised by Santosh to take me to the Fair Trade Nepal center so I can try to register Didis Foundation, and maybe I can at least get some local help foundation for the project, right? Anish and the others say they’ll meet with me in a bit to try to discuss another plan of action (though I don’t have too much faith in that)…I’ll try to stay optimistic. At least I just had some really good milk chai, and I bought myself a Filmfare Bollywood gossip magazine…I’m just going to have to take this one problem at a time. And—for once it’s cool today! Monsoon rains, thank goodness!
On that highly optimistic note (yes—that is sarcasm), I’ll get back to work. I suppose I could so some small things here and there for my internship’s sake. Besides, I think there’s a group going to “Spiderman 3” tonight in the one Katmandu theater that sells popcorn and has A/C (that’s a big deal, people), so it could easily shape up to be a better day...
Ah…maybe I’m unnecessarily annoyed. I’ve still been promised by Santosh to take me to the Fair Trade Nepal center so I can try to register Didis Foundation, and maybe I can at least get some local help foundation for the project, right? Anish and the others say they’ll meet with me in a bit to try to discuss another plan of action (though I don’t have too much faith in that)…I’ll try to stay optimistic. At least I just had some really good milk chai, and I bought myself a Filmfare Bollywood gossip magazine…I’m just going to have to take this one problem at a time. And—for once it’s cool today! Monsoon rains, thank goodness!
On that highly optimistic note (yes—that is sarcasm), I’ll get back to work. I suppose I could so some small things here and there for my internship’s sake. Besides, I think there’s a group going to “Spiderman 3” tonight in the one Katmandu theater that sells popcorn and has A/C (that’s a big deal, people), so it could easily shape up to be a better day...
Kanchi Tamang
Kanchi Tamang is 34 years old, born into a lower caste family in a village near Katmandu, who is never seen without a smile on her beaming face.
As an orphan early in life, Kanchi was sent to work as a servant at the young age of seven, living on the small meals provided by her employers. Although she’s never had the opportunity to attend school, the bright young woman taught herself how to read with her employers’ children’s’ schoolbooks.
She lives alone currently, supporting herself, and hopes that the profits of Didi can help her with her own expenses, and to have pocket money for the first time in her life. She’s optimistic about the future and her work with the Didis Foundation, and continues to donate 10 rupees of her meager salary every month to the church.
As an orphan early in life, Kanchi was sent to work as a servant at the young age of seven, living on the small meals provided by her employers. Although she’s never had the opportunity to attend school, the bright young woman taught herself how to read with her employers’ children’s’ schoolbooks.
She lives alone currently, supporting herself, and hopes that the profits of Didi can help her with her own expenses, and to have pocket money for the first time in her life. She’s optimistic about the future and her work with the Didis Foundation, and continues to donate 10 rupees of her meager salary every month to the church.
Medicine and Politics
July 2, 2012
I’m still finding it really hard to believe that it’s already July…time’s going by too quickly! Things really need to slow down out here…I just realized today that I know how to get to the supermarket without assistance (and that’s a big deal for this directionally challenged girl)…
After working for a bit on the web site, and posting the following little bio about one of the sweet Didis ladies, Kamala Miss, I actually took a field trip to the local foreign clinic along with Allie and Santosh. The clinic is in a nicer part of town, right opposite from the British Embassy (which, by the way, looks like a fortress compared to the streets surrounding it). It’s immediately obvious that you’re in a facility for foreigners when you walk in: suddenly there’s air conditioning, everyone’s speaking in either English or French, the floors are spotlessly shining, and I’ve never seen so many white people in Nepal all in one place till this afternoon. Of course, the actual medical costs make it equally obvious that it’s an international checkup .Rather than the 200 rupees that Nepalese typically pay for a medical treatment, it cost Allie something close to $75 USD for the same treatment, and some medication to the bacterial infection that she was diagnosed with (but so worth it, of course. She’s been complaining of a stomach ache last few days, and I’m relieved she’s OK…Alli now jokingly calls me, “mom” and Santosh “dad” for all our worrying about her and her safety. I can’t help it though, she’s so young and she’s become my friend so quickly that I feel rather protective of her!).
Santosh and I had a lot of time to chat while we were waiting for Alli’s appointment to get finished. It’s really interesting to hear about Nepal from a young man who’s grown up in the nation in watched the government transition from monarchy to well...whatever weak thing it is now (and he's lived in the well-developed Singapore as well). His ideas are just like any other South Asians—feelings of the political parties being overtly corrupt with little representation from the younger generation, the idea that development can only stem from radical changes and that Nepal’s vulnerability is born from the weak interim constitution…apparently he wants to go into politics later in life with his surprisingly interesting political ideas, though he himself admits that it’s nearly impossible for a man his age to actually have any role in the government.
He did answer some of my questions about Nepal’s development, though. I mentioned to him how I’ve seen posters and signs for NGOs all around the country—even walking from our hostel into the city—and yet nothing seems to truly make a meaningful impact. According to Santosh though, the NGOs, especially the political ones have made massive changes in the nation. Today 33% of seats in the Nepali Parliament have to be held by women, and lower caste citizens, and for the first time, transgendered people have been recognized and given the rights they’ve been denied for centuries—all from the petitioning of NGOs. Developmentally, groups from the major donor countries, Germany, Japan, and Denmark, have created programs that encourage indigenous people in the mountains to improve the standards of living their villages in return for governmental benefits. For example, the NGOs are known to provide money to villages to build basic sanitary facilities, like toilets, in exchange for a recognized citizenship (which they don’t receive as a default, because of their isolated residencies, and the inability of the government to send officials to their locations). It’s an interesting country…I feel like I have faith in Nepal’s growth when I hear Santosh discuss these sorts of things. He makes it sound as if development is well on its way, and that they changes implemented since the fall of the monarchy have actually improved Nepal considerably in the last few years. Perhaps I can come back to Nepal in a few years with another established NGO and see the progress of this country…without a doubt this won’t be the last time I see Nepal in my life!
What’s amusing is that Santosh is so curious about life as a South Asian in the United States…I suppose that does make me somewhat interesting to the people out here? Besides, I dress so desi that I think he finds it interesting that I’m so traditional for an ABCD girl (and I had to teach him the definition of “ABCD” of course, which he had a good laugh about). It’s nice to have a desi friend out here (who’s just about my age) out here too…Besides the fact that he’s the only coordinator that we all undoubtedly trust, since he’s much more of a friend than a coordinator like Anish and Pratik, and Alli and I trust him when we have issues about life over here. I learnt some choice Nepali curse words today from Santosh, just in case any guys call out to us again, and have been promised a mailed wedding invitation whenever he gets married…Quite fun! It's nice to have some international friends for my field of study, I'm sure!
Other than just working on more improvements on the inventory and some of the stories of the women, it’s been a much quieter day at work… I’m currently waiting to hear back from the ELIAbroad coordinator, Malissa, to see if I can have a Skype call with her today to discuss some of my plans for Didis…hopefully the internet or the power won’t suddenly cut off during the call. It’s so important that I get a chance to talk to her, and the faster I can speak to her, the easier it will be to actually get some of the little details of the project organized (Anish has been telling me he’d organize this call for the last week or so, but I’ve lost all faith in his Nepali communication—it’s time this project got an American organizational twist in it!)…
Oh, as an interesting aside: they’ve put up my picture and a short bio on the Didis web site now (scroll to the bottom of this page: http://www.didis.org/index.php?page=people) I feel so privileged! Even though sometimes I think things here in Nepal move at a snail’s pace, making me feel like I’m not doing remotely enough, it’s nice to be recognized for whatever little I am doing…and to be perfectly pragmatic, this internship is still for my Master’s program. Having some acknowledgment for my work here will probably help my cause that I am actually working too, as my Facebook pictures probably don’t demonstrate too well. (Hey, I’m in Nepal for the first time in my life, and God knows when I’d be financially able to come back. I think a little fun on the weekends is justified!)
On that note, I believe it's dinner time...daal baath. AGAIN. I so want a Chipotle. You have no idea how much. Oh well...it's Nepal!
I’m still finding it really hard to believe that it’s already July…time’s going by too quickly! Things really need to slow down out here…I just realized today that I know how to get to the supermarket without assistance (and that’s a big deal for this directionally challenged girl)…
After working for a bit on the web site, and posting the following little bio about one of the sweet Didis ladies, Kamala Miss, I actually took a field trip to the local foreign clinic along with Allie and Santosh. The clinic is in a nicer part of town, right opposite from the British Embassy (which, by the way, looks like a fortress compared to the streets surrounding it). It’s immediately obvious that you’re in a facility for foreigners when you walk in: suddenly there’s air conditioning, everyone’s speaking in either English or French, the floors are spotlessly shining, and I’ve never seen so many white people in Nepal all in one place till this afternoon. Of course, the actual medical costs make it equally obvious that it’s an international checkup .Rather than the 200 rupees that Nepalese typically pay for a medical treatment, it cost Allie something close to $75 USD for the same treatment, and some medication to the bacterial infection that she was diagnosed with (but so worth it, of course. She’s been complaining of a stomach ache last few days, and I’m relieved she’s OK…Alli now jokingly calls me, “mom” and Santosh “dad” for all our worrying about her and her safety. I can’t help it though, she’s so young and she’s become my friend so quickly that I feel rather protective of her!).
Santosh and I had a lot of time to chat while we were waiting for Alli’s appointment to get finished. It’s really interesting to hear about Nepal from a young man who’s grown up in the nation in watched the government transition from monarchy to well...whatever weak thing it is now (and he's lived in the well-developed Singapore as well). His ideas are just like any other South Asians—feelings of the political parties being overtly corrupt with little representation from the younger generation, the idea that development can only stem from radical changes and that Nepal’s vulnerability is born from the weak interim constitution…apparently he wants to go into politics later in life with his surprisingly interesting political ideas, though he himself admits that it’s nearly impossible for a man his age to actually have any role in the government.
He did answer some of my questions about Nepal’s development, though. I mentioned to him how I’ve seen posters and signs for NGOs all around the country—even walking from our hostel into the city—and yet nothing seems to truly make a meaningful impact. According to Santosh though, the NGOs, especially the political ones have made massive changes in the nation. Today 33% of seats in the Nepali Parliament have to be held by women, and lower caste citizens, and for the first time, transgendered people have been recognized and given the rights they’ve been denied for centuries—all from the petitioning of NGOs. Developmentally, groups from the major donor countries, Germany, Japan, and Denmark, have created programs that encourage indigenous people in the mountains to improve the standards of living their villages in return for governmental benefits. For example, the NGOs are known to provide money to villages to build basic sanitary facilities, like toilets, in exchange for a recognized citizenship (which they don’t receive as a default, because of their isolated residencies, and the inability of the government to send officials to their locations). It’s an interesting country…I feel like I have faith in Nepal’s growth when I hear Santosh discuss these sorts of things. He makes it sound as if development is well on its way, and that they changes implemented since the fall of the monarchy have actually improved Nepal considerably in the last few years. Perhaps I can come back to Nepal in a few years with another established NGO and see the progress of this country…without a doubt this won’t be the last time I see Nepal in my life!
What’s amusing is that Santosh is so curious about life as a South Asian in the United States…I suppose that does make me somewhat interesting to the people out here? Besides, I dress so desi that I think he finds it interesting that I’m so traditional for an ABCD girl (and I had to teach him the definition of “ABCD” of course, which he had a good laugh about). It’s nice to have a desi friend out here (who’s just about my age) out here too…Besides the fact that he’s the only coordinator that we all undoubtedly trust, since he’s much more of a friend than a coordinator like Anish and Pratik, and Alli and I trust him when we have issues about life over here. I learnt some choice Nepali curse words today from Santosh, just in case any guys call out to us again, and have been promised a mailed wedding invitation whenever he gets married…Quite fun! It's nice to have some international friends for my field of study, I'm sure!
Other than just working on more improvements on the inventory and some of the stories of the women, it’s been a much quieter day at work… I’m currently waiting to hear back from the ELIAbroad coordinator, Malissa, to see if I can have a Skype call with her today to discuss some of my plans for Didis…hopefully the internet or the power won’t suddenly cut off during the call. It’s so important that I get a chance to talk to her, and the faster I can speak to her, the easier it will be to actually get some of the little details of the project organized (Anish has been telling me he’d organize this call for the last week or so, but I’ve lost all faith in his Nepali communication—it’s time this project got an American organizational twist in it!)…
Oh, as an interesting aside: they’ve put up my picture and a short bio on the Didis web site now (scroll to the bottom of this page: http://www.didis.org/index.php?page=people) I feel so privileged! Even though sometimes I think things here in Nepal move at a snail’s pace, making me feel like I’m not doing remotely enough, it’s nice to be recognized for whatever little I am doing…and to be perfectly pragmatic, this internship is still for my Master’s program. Having some acknowledgment for my work here will probably help my cause that I am actually working too, as my Facebook pictures probably don’t demonstrate too well. (Hey, I’m in Nepal for the first time in my life, and God knows when I’d be financially able to come back. I think a little fun on the weekends is justified!)
On that note, I believe it's dinner time...daal baath. AGAIN. I so want a Chipotle. You have no idea how much. Oh well...it's Nepal!
Kamala Bassent
Kamala Bassent, known to the Didis Foundation as “Kamala Miss,” is the shy, twenty-five year old teacher of the Didis Foundation. She’s been involved in the organization since its inception, and takes pride in her speedy yet flawless knitting.
Kamala Miss grew up in a village on the outskirts of Katmandu, and had her first introduction into knitting from her older sisters. She practiced the artthroughout her childhood, taking yarn and knitting needles with her to the fields as she grazed her family’s cattle, or was sent to cut the grass on her family’s farm. As a woman from a rural area in underdeveloped Nepal, she realized that she needed an additional income to provide her with financial stability, and saw opportunity in her knitting skills. From a young age, the dedicated young woman began to knit bed lace to pay for her tuition money, and sold her products to pay for textbooks.
The Didis teacher has lived in Katmandu for seven years, and uses the money she’s made from the Didis Foundation to support her four year old son, and her husband. She continues to send money back to her family in her native village as well, and says that she especially enjoys the self-dependence and confidence that she’s gained in the last three years, working in the non-profit organization.
Although she notes that it was difficult to gain the trust of the Didis women at first, the samples Kamala Miss knit of her handiwork on her own time proved to the other struggling women that she was qualified as a teacher. Today, the women of the women’s empowerment program look up to Kamala for her talent, as well as her patience and equality in handling the Didis Foundation.
Kamala Miss grew up in a village on the outskirts of Katmandu, and had her first introduction into knitting from her older sisters. She practiced the artthroughout her childhood, taking yarn and knitting needles with her to the fields as she grazed her family’s cattle, or was sent to cut the grass on her family’s farm. As a woman from a rural area in underdeveloped Nepal, she realized that she needed an additional income to provide her with financial stability, and saw opportunity in her knitting skills. From a young age, the dedicated young woman began to knit bed lace to pay for her tuition money, and sold her products to pay for textbooks.
The Didis teacher has lived in Katmandu for seven years, and uses the money she’s made from the Didis Foundation to support her four year old son, and her husband. She continues to send money back to her family in her native village as well, and says that she especially enjoys the self-dependence and confidence that she’s gained in the last three years, working in the non-profit organization.
Although she notes that it was difficult to gain the trust of the Didis women at first, the samples Kamala Miss knit of her handiwork on her own time proved to the other struggling women that she was qualified as a teacher. Today, the women of the women’s empowerment program look up to Kamala for her talent, as well as her patience and equality in handling the Didis Foundation.
Nagarkot
July 1, 2012
It’s been an incredible, and rather eventful weekend, so I’ll just jump into my story of it all, if you are interested to hear about it…It might be choppy because people keep coming into our room to socialize, and I’m just getting internet (Katmandu literally lost internet connection all day! How the entire capital city of a nation can just lose their internet is beyond me!), but bear with me here…
After taking a lousy bus ride (I stood up the whole trip because some old man came into the bus and my proper desi senses told me to give my seat to him, but I felt thoroughly uncomfortable with the stares by the other passengers) to our guide for the weekend/Nepali customs agent, Hari’s house , we reached a tiny village on Friday night; Dhuvakot. It’s a pleasant little town, and I can honestly say that the walk around the village and the fields felt so peaceful and serene after the smog of Katmandu…And the family? There’s something about South Asians that I wonder if you could find anywhere else in this world—I really think that they take the idea seeing god in all their guests so sincerely to heart, as they told us when we thanked them for their hospitality…Hari and his wife fed us so well, with chai, and cokes and fruit and a plate so heaping with food that we could barely finish anything…By far the best food and the greatest hospitality that I have seen in Nepali so far! (I have much more to say about the hike, so while Friday night was serene and wonderful, sitting and chatting with the family on the terrace, and waking up to village temple bells…well, I’ll skip to the intense stuff!)
It’s been an incredible, and rather eventful weekend, so I’ll just jump into my story of it all, if you are interested to hear about it…It might be choppy because people keep coming into our room to socialize, and I’m just getting internet (Katmandu literally lost internet connection all day! How the entire capital city of a nation can just lose their internet is beyond me!), but bear with me here…
After taking a lousy bus ride (I stood up the whole trip because some old man came into the bus and my proper desi senses told me to give my seat to him, but I felt thoroughly uncomfortable with the stares by the other passengers) to our guide for the weekend/Nepali customs agent, Hari’s house , we reached a tiny village on Friday night; Dhuvakot. It’s a pleasant little town, and I can honestly say that the walk around the village and the fields felt so peaceful and serene after the smog of Katmandu…And the family? There’s something about South Asians that I wonder if you could find anywhere else in this world—I really think that they take the idea seeing god in all their guests so sincerely to heart, as they told us when we thanked them for their hospitality…Hari and his wife fed us so well, with chai, and cokes and fruit and a plate so heaping with food that we could barely finish anything…By far the best food and the greatest hospitality that I have seen in Nepali so far! (I have much more to say about the hike, so while Friday night was serene and wonderful, sitting and chatting with the family on the terrace, and waking up to village temple bells…well, I’ll skip to the intense stuff!)
We started off our trek from Dhuvakut, around 11:00 in the morning, after yet another filling meal, hoping to pass Bhatkapur and reach our final destination: hiking into the hills that Hari pointed out as just a small silhouette that he shrugged and said was just “some four hours away.” Not remotely true. We learnt that time to Nepalis is quite a lucid concept. What was supposed to be four hours took us in totally seven and a half hours of hiking, and when Hari would say, “fifteen more minutes” he usually meant two hours. Not typically problematic until you realize you’re in a 90 degree plus, hot Nepali sun, walking nearly 15-20 miles almost all uphill, carrying backpacks on your shoulders. I kid you not—I don’t think I’ve never sweat so much in my life. Sweat was just pouring down my face the entire day, my cheeks were scorching red with all the blood flow, an I’m pretty sure I’m about three shades darker than normal. But honestly? It was the most incredible hike I’ve ever been on in my life. I know I’ve said it once, but Nepal is that heavenly combination of India and Boulder all in one. You’ll suddenly come across thick forests of ever so familiar pine trees along the trail, but see a woman in a sari, herding her goats; or see thick green foothills, and steep passes, just like Chataqua Park back home, but come across a Nepali village, with the dark inhabitants farming in the fields, or washing their clothes on stones in the front yard…Seven and a half hours, and I can honestly say there wasn’t a minute that I was intrigued by everything around me! When everyone was hiking uphill, silent from exhaustion, there was such an intense peace...only hearing your own breath, and your own shoes on the earthy trails…so incredible! Out of our group, three of us that went, Alli, Vanessa and I, were from Colorado, and more than prepared for the altitude and the hike, often hiking faster than the others, keeping our guide in sight, but only really stopping for breaks in the rare shade to let the other two, Naaila from NYC and Ana from Houston, catch up or figure out directions. Even we Coloradans realized that we need to work out a lot more if we ever want to actually trek the Himalayas. Within three hours or so all of us had finished our entire water bottles, and were hot and tired from the hike so far, while Hari, who apparently does this on a weekly basis, had not only not taken a single sip of water the entire time (nor did he the entire trip), but hadn’t even broken sweat. It was nearly embarrassing to see some older Nepali women on the villages at the top of the hills and realizing that they are probably more fit than you from living on the mountain tops their entire lives!
It’d be an injustice to myself to not mention all the animals we came across too…We stopped somewhere, about half way through the hike to enjoy the view from a hilltop, grazing with goats, and one of the herders, seeing our excitement with the goats and our attempts to get close to them, put one of the calves in our laps to play with. (Trust me. If I could bring a goat home now, I totally would!)...one of the dogs followed us too, wagging his tail and, I kid you not, leading us on the exact correct route, event thought the trails veer off into several little branches all throughout. Even though we all knew it’s stupid to pet a dog, he was just about the friendliest dog we’ve ever seen, and after Hari, we all took turns petting the little brown dog that we named, “Sherpa” for his skills. He sadly had to leave us near the Bhaktapur temple (I don’t think puppy liked stairs)…but we was replaced a bit later on by yet another dog (who we didn’t trust as much, but still adorable, of course), closer to Nagarkot. I realized when I was uploading my pictures a few minutes ago that I have an unnaturally large number of pictures of animals here in Nepal. But I can’t help it—not only do they all steal my heart, but they are so welcome and coexist so peacefully with the Nepalis that they seem to be everywhere, and so much less aggressive than the dogs I’ve seen in India! (I’ll still probably have to delete things. I have about 50 pictures of goats, for some reason.)
It’d be an injustice to myself to not mention all the animals we came across too…We stopped somewhere, about half way through the hike to enjoy the view from a hilltop, grazing with goats, and one of the herders, seeing our excitement with the goats and our attempts to get close to them, put one of the calves in our laps to play with. (Trust me. If I could bring a goat home now, I totally would!)...one of the dogs followed us too, wagging his tail and, I kid you not, leading us on the exact correct route, event thought the trails veer off into several little branches all throughout. Even though we all knew it’s stupid to pet a dog, he was just about the friendliest dog we’ve ever seen, and after Hari, we all took turns petting the little brown dog that we named, “Sherpa” for his skills. He sadly had to leave us near the Bhaktapur temple (I don’t think puppy liked stairs)…but we was replaced a bit later on by yet another dog (who we didn’t trust as much, but still adorable, of course), closer to Nagarkot. I realized when I was uploading my pictures a few minutes ago that I have an unnaturally large number of pictures of animals here in Nepal. But I can’t help it—not only do they all steal my heart, but they are so welcome and coexist so peacefully with the Nepalis that they seem to be everywhere, and so much less aggressive than the dogs I’ve seen in India! (I’ll still probably have to delete things. I have about 50 pictures of goats, for some reason.)
We passed only one major town on the way over: Bhaktapur. We actually didn’t stop to look around at the city (so I apologize—my last post about where I actually was this weekend was quite false), mainly because it costs a mere 100 NRS for any SAARC (South Asian) to enter the city, but it costs $15 USD for a foreigner to go in (Total rip off for the others, sadly…Naaila and I have decided that we’ll go visit (probably with the new undergrad, Gujju boy that just got here, Aashik) sometime in the coming days, since it’s just an hour or so on bus from Katmandu)…Our introduction into the outskirts of the city was a steep climb up another slopped 365 steps into a tiny Durga temple at the top of the hill…the most fascinating place we stopped though, by leaps and bounds, was the tiny hut of a “baba.” I can’t even begin to tell you how hilariously interesting that was! The man made me think of all those Amar Chitra Kathas I read as a kid of the evil monks that sacrifice people and animals in the tribal way…he wasn’t that bad, of course, (and in fact rather smiley) but he was dressed in all black robes, sitting in front of a homa, with dreadlocks tied up in a knot on the top of his head. There were dogs inside an outside the cottage (they were really friendly—they came and licked our feet, just like Buggy would do!), and these posters of Shiva and Tibetan Yamas all over, though, the funniest part, was that the man was totally high on marijuana! I should add here that it was a very safe little town, with police all around (Marijuana is illegal in Nepal technically, unless you are a “holy man”—though we’ve been offered “hash” and “ganja” about three times a day since we got here on the streets of Thamel). I just sat there thinking, “Oh man, if any of those 4/20 stoners saw this place…” The “baba” also had a guest book for all of us to sign—thousands of tourists as long ago as half a century, signed in all kinds of languages, from every corner of the globe…Highly interesting experience!
Getting into Nagarkot in the end was unbelievably satisfying. Wet in the face with sweat droplets, tired from the hike all uphill to the hotel, but so happy and finally in the cooler air…We stayed in the Himalayan Heart hotel, a bug-free place (thank god!) with the most incredible view of the foothills robed in a thick white fog, giving it this mystic sort of look…the city itself was tiny, with only a few sidewalk shops and food stalls, but I think the long hike to actually get to the city made it much more romanticized and exotic than it actually was…we spent the night, all five of us in the room, until we either dropped off or left the room, with only Naaila and I in the end watching some ridiculous Hindi court TV show to the end (it was oddly dramatic and very entertaining all at once)…we tried waking up in time to see the sunrise from the roof of the hotel, but we were all exhausted from the hike the previous day, and even though I sat outside on the hotel’s side balcony for some ten minutes at 5:00 AM, taking in the sounds of loud bugs an chirping birds against a very cloudy sunrise, I went back to bed fairly quickly…
Oh—We got back this morning, in just about the coolest, most fun way possible: on the top of a bus! It was too crowded inside the bus to actually sit, so we ended up climbing to the top, and holding on to the rails…(all I needed was a nice “Chaiyya Chaiiya” soundtrack!) The bus was inching down so slowly it made little difference that we were sitting up there, other than for the sun (I’m a little burnt right now) and the fact that we had to duck from power lines…but hey! This is one more thing that I can check off my Things To Do In South Asia list!
It’s truly, by FAR been the BEST weekend I’ve had in Nepal so far (granted, only two weekends in, but still)…I couldn’t have asked for better! I’m a bit tired now, and the house is finally quiet (most people went off to watch the Euro Football cup in some Nepali bar tonight) so I might take advantage of the peace and go to bed…good night! For my sake, I hope the bed bugs don’t bite…!
Getting into Nagarkot in the end was unbelievably satisfying. Wet in the face with sweat droplets, tired from the hike all uphill to the hotel, but so happy and finally in the cooler air…We stayed in the Himalayan Heart hotel, a bug-free place (thank god!) with the most incredible view of the foothills robed in a thick white fog, giving it this mystic sort of look…the city itself was tiny, with only a few sidewalk shops and food stalls, but I think the long hike to actually get to the city made it much more romanticized and exotic than it actually was…we spent the night, all five of us in the room, until we either dropped off or left the room, with only Naaila and I in the end watching some ridiculous Hindi court TV show to the end (it was oddly dramatic and very entertaining all at once)…we tried waking up in time to see the sunrise from the roof of the hotel, but we were all exhausted from the hike the previous day, and even though I sat outside on the hotel’s side balcony for some ten minutes at 5:00 AM, taking in the sounds of loud bugs an chirping birds against a very cloudy sunrise, I went back to bed fairly quickly…
Oh—We got back this morning, in just about the coolest, most fun way possible: on the top of a bus! It was too crowded inside the bus to actually sit, so we ended up climbing to the top, and holding on to the rails…(all I needed was a nice “Chaiyya Chaiiya” soundtrack!) The bus was inching down so slowly it made little difference that we were sitting up there, other than for the sun (I’m a little burnt right now) and the fact that we had to duck from power lines…but hey! This is one more thing that I can check off my Things To Do In South Asia list!
It’s truly, by FAR been the BEST weekend I’ve had in Nepal so far (granted, only two weekends in, but still)…I couldn’t have asked for better! I’m a bit tired now, and the house is finally quiet (most people went off to watch the Euro Football cup in some Nepali bar tonight) so I might take advantage of the peace and go to bed…good night! For my sake, I hope the bed bugs don’t bite…!
From the Terrace Top
June 28, 2012
Hola! (I suppose I should actually say, “Namaste” right?)…I’m sitting in just about the coolest place in the hostel, listening to “Tu Hi Mera”, as I write this—a small balcony on the third floor of the hostel overlooking a few molded looking cement buildings with cloudy gray monsoon skies, watching neighbors put up their laundry to dry, and motorcycles driving by on the street below…I don’t know what it is about it, but I feel so comfortable on the roofs and terraces in India, and now Nepal. I guess it’s the one place, high away from all the crazy city life where you can get a few minutes of peace and quiet, or at least a little fresh air. A breath away from the crazy at the least!
Before I say anything, I just want to thank you all so, so much for “liking” the Didis page on Facebook. I am well aware that “liking” things on Facebook and internet activism in general is basically a waste of time for anything other than acknowledgement, but right now, any recognition I can get for the group is always appreciated. When I showed one of the Didis ladies our page, and how many people have looked at it—oh, you should have seen how excited she was. She kept saying, “They are all looking at it? They are going to buy it in Amrika?”..you made people here happy by just clicking a button on the internet. Doesn't get much simpler than that!
Those products that you see on the page? Yeah, I’ll be asking all of you to buy those when I get home. It’s all under $10 (I’ve been doing some intense research on what the best prices would be to sell to college students and yet cover the burden of shipping costs for Didis, etc.)…I promise its wonderful quality—perfect for Colorado, Pennsylvania, or basically anywhere that’s not the southern United States! If you see anything right now on the site that you’d request for me to bring, let me know and I’d be more than happy to bring it home for you directly. Otherwise, I’ll get it from a national shipment that I’ve arranged (it’s the my marketing plan I’ve briefly mentioned to you before)… I realize that I always make you buy things from the women’s empowerment NGOs that I work for, be it beads or wool…but that’s just what you get for having a feminist, hippie daughter/sister/girlfriend/friend (and I’m not even sorry about it, really)…you’ll be helping so many women with the purchase, though. I’m writing up some of the stories of the women from what I’ve gathered right now (which I will undoubtedly share in greater detail to you on this blog, once I have it written up properly)…these ladies are all working so hard to support their children, and their families, or even sending all their money back to their poor villages…and they are all my age. They deserve this help so much, and I can honestly say, as a sustainable development student, if there’s a country that seriously needs development? Nepal is very high on my list!
Oh! One of the Didis women taught me to knit yesterday! Kamala Miss, as they call her… She sat me down next to her, pulled out two knitting needles and some navy blue yarn, and patiently tried to help me learn how to knit (and something outright laughing at how bad I was)..I’ve learnt that I am just about a 100 times slower than Kamala Miss at this, that I can manage to be so bad that she has to sit and untie all my work, and that this knitting business that I've always associated with old American grandmothers comfortably doing by a fireplace...it is so stressful! I did get a few rows in though….just don’t expect me to knit you a scarf. Ever.
Naaila and I showed some of the girls “Jab We Met” last night, to introduce them to the wonderful world of Bollywood. They absolutely loved it! (then again, I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who wasn’t in love with Bollywood flicks)…They’ve already asked us to see more movies, and promised to go to the Orange Market in Thamel, the only “American store” in the city, to buy Oreos for our next three hour session (on the condition that the power doesn’t go out, and the projector fails…which is highly likely. The power still goes out every three hours or so, for about an hour long. It’s just lucky that there are generators in almost every building so we’re at least guaranteed a safety light every day…)
I’m writing this post much earlier than usual because a) I just was too tired to write last night after the movie, and b) I’m off for the weekend, yet again. This time a five of us are going to Bhaktapur followed by a hike and a night in a tea house! Doesn’t it all sound so exotic? Nepal is a land for nature lovers…It’s almost ironic how Katmandu is so utterly dirty, and crowded, but everything surrounding it is heaven on earth. I suppose it explains why they’ve had something like a 300% growth in tourism within the last five years or so though… anyways, I should go down and pack my bag, then work a bit before we have to leave, so for today, and this weekend, I’ll take your leave. Take care all!
PS—I’m sorry about the “HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?” call, Amma/Appa…The man at the booth was so irritated with my hurry to get the calls back after it got cut, too. He kept saying, “It is ok…there is time…”…I think Nepalis are way too chill for my liking at times. In the end I just gave him 50 rupees for the call ad walked away in a huff...Email is always easier and MUCH more reliable though, so if you (or any of you reading this) need to get a hold of me fast, that’s what I recommend!
PPS- I have to add this...some new people just came to the hostel, and I ran into one of the girls on the stairs. I said "hello" to be polite, and she started asking me something about her room, speaking sloooowly, as if I was also Nepali. I just laughed and told her I was from Colorado. I think she's thoroughly embarrassed now. She was like, "I'm so sorry!! I thought you worked here!!"...Aah, white people.
Hola! (I suppose I should actually say, “Namaste” right?)…I’m sitting in just about the coolest place in the hostel, listening to “Tu Hi Mera”, as I write this—a small balcony on the third floor of the hostel overlooking a few molded looking cement buildings with cloudy gray monsoon skies, watching neighbors put up their laundry to dry, and motorcycles driving by on the street below…I don’t know what it is about it, but I feel so comfortable on the roofs and terraces in India, and now Nepal. I guess it’s the one place, high away from all the crazy city life where you can get a few minutes of peace and quiet, or at least a little fresh air. A breath away from the crazy at the least!
Before I say anything, I just want to thank you all so, so much for “liking” the Didis page on Facebook. I am well aware that “liking” things on Facebook and internet activism in general is basically a waste of time for anything other than acknowledgement, but right now, any recognition I can get for the group is always appreciated. When I showed one of the Didis ladies our page, and how many people have looked at it—oh, you should have seen how excited she was. She kept saying, “They are all looking at it? They are going to buy it in Amrika?”..you made people here happy by just clicking a button on the internet. Doesn't get much simpler than that!
Those products that you see on the page? Yeah, I’ll be asking all of you to buy those when I get home. It’s all under $10 (I’ve been doing some intense research on what the best prices would be to sell to college students and yet cover the burden of shipping costs for Didis, etc.)…I promise its wonderful quality—perfect for Colorado, Pennsylvania, or basically anywhere that’s not the southern United States! If you see anything right now on the site that you’d request for me to bring, let me know and I’d be more than happy to bring it home for you directly. Otherwise, I’ll get it from a national shipment that I’ve arranged (it’s the my marketing plan I’ve briefly mentioned to you before)… I realize that I always make you buy things from the women’s empowerment NGOs that I work for, be it beads or wool…but that’s just what you get for having a feminist, hippie daughter/sister/girlfriend/friend (and I’m not even sorry about it, really)…you’ll be helping so many women with the purchase, though. I’m writing up some of the stories of the women from what I’ve gathered right now (which I will undoubtedly share in greater detail to you on this blog, once I have it written up properly)…these ladies are all working so hard to support their children, and their families, or even sending all their money back to their poor villages…and they are all my age. They deserve this help so much, and I can honestly say, as a sustainable development student, if there’s a country that seriously needs development? Nepal is very high on my list!
Oh! One of the Didis women taught me to knit yesterday! Kamala Miss, as they call her… She sat me down next to her, pulled out two knitting needles and some navy blue yarn, and patiently tried to help me learn how to knit (and something outright laughing at how bad I was)..I’ve learnt that I am just about a 100 times slower than Kamala Miss at this, that I can manage to be so bad that she has to sit and untie all my work, and that this knitting business that I've always associated with old American grandmothers comfortably doing by a fireplace...it is so stressful! I did get a few rows in though….just don’t expect me to knit you a scarf. Ever.
Naaila and I showed some of the girls “Jab We Met” last night, to introduce them to the wonderful world of Bollywood. They absolutely loved it! (then again, I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl who wasn’t in love with Bollywood flicks)…They’ve already asked us to see more movies, and promised to go to the Orange Market in Thamel, the only “American store” in the city, to buy Oreos for our next three hour session (on the condition that the power doesn’t go out, and the projector fails…which is highly likely. The power still goes out every three hours or so, for about an hour long. It’s just lucky that there are generators in almost every building so we’re at least guaranteed a safety light every day…)
I’m writing this post much earlier than usual because a) I just was too tired to write last night after the movie, and b) I’m off for the weekend, yet again. This time a five of us are going to Bhaktapur followed by a hike and a night in a tea house! Doesn’t it all sound so exotic? Nepal is a land for nature lovers…It’s almost ironic how Katmandu is so utterly dirty, and crowded, but everything surrounding it is heaven on earth. I suppose it explains why they’ve had something like a 300% growth in tourism within the last five years or so though… anyways, I should go down and pack my bag, then work a bit before we have to leave, so for today, and this weekend, I’ll take your leave. Take care all!
PS—I’m sorry about the “HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?” call, Amma/Appa…The man at the booth was so irritated with my hurry to get the calls back after it got cut, too. He kept saying, “It is ok…there is time…”…I think Nepalis are way too chill for my liking at times. In the end I just gave him 50 rupees for the call ad walked away in a huff...Email is always easier and MUCH more reliable though, so if you (or any of you reading this) need to get a hold of me fast, that’s what I recommend!
PPS- I have to add this...some new people just came to the hostel, and I ran into one of the girls on the stairs. I said "hello" to be polite, and she started asking me something about her room, speaking sloooowly, as if I was also Nepali. I just laughed and told her I was from Colorado. I think she's thoroughly embarrassed now. She was like, "I'm so sorry!! I thought you worked here!!"...Aah, white people.
Living the Easy Life...
June 27, 2012
Work today was honestly quite slow. I’ve just been trying to organize the packets still and contact people about the possible sales…honestly; I wasn’t in much of a rush today. I’m waiting back for a lot of responses, none of my helpers (the other volunteers) were working with me today, and I didn’t have to go to Seven Women…all in all it was just me, taking my time, chilling to my music in the office, and waiting for the slow internet to load the items that I just on the web site, but not too bothered about the speed, and enjoying my Hindi music after such a long time…that does mean that I have little to say about work today though, so I’ll just tell you about the rest of my day, how ‘bout?
Naaila and I were talking this afternoon about our internships over here, and how we feel about it in comparison to other NGOs and other countries. I guess she’s like me in some sense—ABCD life where you’ve grown up recognizing poverty in “the homeland,” and all, for lack of better terms…but she’s volunteered in Palestine and was telling us about how intense and actually frightening the entire experience was for them, being in the face on conflict. We were comparing our past volunteering trips, and realized how different Nepal is. I feel like she has a point. The slum last year wasn’t anything too difficult, since I was living with Tata and Pati, but even compared to my work in Tilaknagar, what I’m doing now is so much tamer and laid back. I’m no longer seeing children carrying cement blocks on their backs, or selling strings of flowers on the roadside, or their enthusiasm to education, or seeing their poor living conditions…I’m sitting in an office most of the day, working on my computer, finding vendors or emailing people to get help with your projects…typically working with the Didis women to ask them questions about their work, or find out more about them…but in general I’m not out of my comfort zone either. Even when I work for the organization it realize that things here in Nepal move so incredibly slow, that something that should take a day or less in the US takes about a week to handle in this chilled, government-lacking nation…Nepal is poor, and the living conditions here are not even remotely comparative to the US, but in the end of the day, I know I’m in a safe, secure place, with other Americans, and help at every turn, if I need it. In the grand scheme of things…I’ve never really put myself out there too much—just enough to dip my feet in the water without jumping in. Is that wrong of me? Perhaps it is…I’d like to think I have the rest of my life to really get in there and do harder work…maybe it’s better like this; to ease myself into such a cruel world than to just try to take it in all at once? Maybe that would have been too difficult for me to handle emotionally? I don’t know…but this is what I’ve dedicated my life to, isn’t it? I’ll just say that whatever God has in store for me, I’ll take life’s experiences as they come, for now.
Man…living with a hostel full of girls is…dramatic. I forgot how sort of bitchy a house full of ladies can get! I think people were extra edgy today for some reason, and I get the idea that there are some clicks within the group are fighting but...I’m just avoiding. I finished college, and I’ve decided I don’t need the emotion of freshman year again. I’m the second oldest one here, for goodness sakes!…the best part is that we can run away though. Thamel is always just some 15 minutes away, and it’s easy to go into the city for a cold Pepsi instead of sitting at home… some of the girls did want to watch a Bollywood movie tonight though, so I bought “Jab We Met” on the way home for 150 Rs. They seem to love it so far—but the power went out about 40 minutes in, and we’re now all sitting in the common room together on our computers, waiting for it to come back on so the projector will work again…oh well! It’s Nepal!
I’ve been trying to decide my weekend plans…originally we were going to go to Pokhara, another town, but I’ve decided against it now. Its equivalent of $120 or so, I just found out the monsoon rains have made it nearly impossible to see the Himalayas from there, and I think we’d have to take an eight hour bus ride back in the night. I’m not exactly afraid, but I don’t think some of these girls understand just how...well, stupid, it is to be a girl in a bus at night in South Asia. Haven’t the shouts from Nepali men here given you an ample demonstration of the attitude here? There’s a reason they tell us to stay in…until people (*ahem* men) are decent and can respect a woman equally, especially in this part of the world, I’m not going to attempt anything like that. I guess instead we’ll either go on a short hike an possibly stay in a tea house, or Alli and another girl, Vanessa, and I are thinking about taking the hour long bus ride to Bhaktapur for a day…I’m not sure. Either way, the weekend will probably be a little calmer and probably considerably less expensive. I’m not complaining!
Well, that’s all for now…if the power doesn’t come back within the next hour or so, I might just put on my usual dose of life-saving Odomos an go to bed…how is it already Wednesday of my second week?
Work today was honestly quite slow. I’ve just been trying to organize the packets still and contact people about the possible sales…honestly; I wasn’t in much of a rush today. I’m waiting back for a lot of responses, none of my helpers (the other volunteers) were working with me today, and I didn’t have to go to Seven Women…all in all it was just me, taking my time, chilling to my music in the office, and waiting for the slow internet to load the items that I just on the web site, but not too bothered about the speed, and enjoying my Hindi music after such a long time…that does mean that I have little to say about work today though, so I’ll just tell you about the rest of my day, how ‘bout?
Naaila and I were talking this afternoon about our internships over here, and how we feel about it in comparison to other NGOs and other countries. I guess she’s like me in some sense—ABCD life where you’ve grown up recognizing poverty in “the homeland,” and all, for lack of better terms…but she’s volunteered in Palestine and was telling us about how intense and actually frightening the entire experience was for them, being in the face on conflict. We were comparing our past volunteering trips, and realized how different Nepal is. I feel like she has a point. The slum last year wasn’t anything too difficult, since I was living with Tata and Pati, but even compared to my work in Tilaknagar, what I’m doing now is so much tamer and laid back. I’m no longer seeing children carrying cement blocks on their backs, or selling strings of flowers on the roadside, or their enthusiasm to education, or seeing their poor living conditions…I’m sitting in an office most of the day, working on my computer, finding vendors or emailing people to get help with your projects…typically working with the Didis women to ask them questions about their work, or find out more about them…but in general I’m not out of my comfort zone either. Even when I work for the organization it realize that things here in Nepal move so incredibly slow, that something that should take a day or less in the US takes about a week to handle in this chilled, government-lacking nation…Nepal is poor, and the living conditions here are not even remotely comparative to the US, but in the end of the day, I know I’m in a safe, secure place, with other Americans, and help at every turn, if I need it. In the grand scheme of things…I’ve never really put myself out there too much—just enough to dip my feet in the water without jumping in. Is that wrong of me? Perhaps it is…I’d like to think I have the rest of my life to really get in there and do harder work…maybe it’s better like this; to ease myself into such a cruel world than to just try to take it in all at once? Maybe that would have been too difficult for me to handle emotionally? I don’t know…but this is what I’ve dedicated my life to, isn’t it? I’ll just say that whatever God has in store for me, I’ll take life’s experiences as they come, for now.
Man…living with a hostel full of girls is…dramatic. I forgot how sort of bitchy a house full of ladies can get! I think people were extra edgy today for some reason, and I get the idea that there are some clicks within the group are fighting but...I’m just avoiding. I finished college, and I’ve decided I don’t need the emotion of freshman year again. I’m the second oldest one here, for goodness sakes!…the best part is that we can run away though. Thamel is always just some 15 minutes away, and it’s easy to go into the city for a cold Pepsi instead of sitting at home… some of the girls did want to watch a Bollywood movie tonight though, so I bought “Jab We Met” on the way home for 150 Rs. They seem to love it so far—but the power went out about 40 minutes in, and we’re now all sitting in the common room together on our computers, waiting for it to come back on so the projector will work again…oh well! It’s Nepal!
I’ve been trying to decide my weekend plans…originally we were going to go to Pokhara, another town, but I’ve decided against it now. Its equivalent of $120 or so, I just found out the monsoon rains have made it nearly impossible to see the Himalayas from there, and I think we’d have to take an eight hour bus ride back in the night. I’m not exactly afraid, but I don’t think some of these girls understand just how...well, stupid, it is to be a girl in a bus at night in South Asia. Haven’t the shouts from Nepali men here given you an ample demonstration of the attitude here? There’s a reason they tell us to stay in…until people (*ahem* men) are decent and can respect a woman equally, especially in this part of the world, I’m not going to attempt anything like that. I guess instead we’ll either go on a short hike an possibly stay in a tea house, or Alli and another girl, Vanessa, and I are thinking about taking the hour long bus ride to Bhaktapur for a day…I’m not sure. Either way, the weekend will probably be a little calmer and probably considerably less expensive. I’m not complaining!
Well, that’s all for now…if the power doesn’t come back within the next hour or so, I might just put on my usual dose of life-saving Odomos an go to bed…how is it already Wednesday of my second week?
Random Musings Part II
June 26, 2012
The work with Didi’s has been moving forward quite well within the last few days. We’ve gotten some prices set for our materials, in more acceptable dollar amounts. The women seem to be willing to accept even tiny profits—the equivalent of something like $1.50. Of course, I’m determined to get more. I’ve decided to take a page from the books of BeadforLife, and to create more college oriented packages that cater to just a certain audience, and to be able to send the packages of handicrafts to individual students on college campuses that are willing to sell to their friends and classmates. I have a lot of faith in this project. I’m so sure that it’s actually accomplishable, and according to my calculations I can get nearly $50 more profit (in USD) for the same amount of goods that they sell. I know I should keep a bit of my cynical side in tack and just say a nonchalant, “we’ll see” but I feel so passionate about this, and I feel like I know that this has potential, that I’m just going to try to remain determined an optimistic for now. (Have I mentioned I love my job at Didi’s? I feel so important, and needed, and in charge…it’s the reason I always loved management and why I joined the business school in undergrad in the first place!)
Of course, my secondary job is…well, useless, to say the least. I feel so unhelpful and confused at the Seven Women organization that in my frustration today I went to speak to Anish and Santosh about my work. They seem to want me to try a little bit longer at the place, since they’ve always had good relations with the Australian running the program, but they understand my frustration and boredom with the place. At least they’ve noticed my interest in Didis, and have made me the main coordinator for the program (I now have a Didis email address, and administrative rights to all their organization’s records)…I’m even surprised with how much faith they have in me here, and how seriously they take my advice. For example, one of the ladies from Seven Women suggested they join with Didis, and when the coordinators asked me what I thought about it, I gave them my honest opinion: it’s a stupid idea. I listed out my concerns and they actually listened to all of my ideas, seriously nodding along, and finally telling me, “we trust you like family…if you say ‘no’, then we will not do it!” I’m glad…I’m not letting anything harm the moral or the organization of Didis while it’s still so new.
Other than that, things are going well here. Still eating too much daal-baath, waking up to overly happy (or angry) dogs in the morning, taking icy showers, and flushing the toilets with the assistance of buckets of water and gravity. I’ve learnt how to get around to a lot of the city, with silly directions like, “right at the Ranbir Kapoor fork” or “go straight towards the Pepsi poster of Priyanka Chopra,” though I’m still relieved when Allie comes with me (she has the most incredible compass in her mind, I’ve decided)…I’ve definitely been spending more money than I’d like to, but I figure I’d rather make up that money when I get home than worry about it now…while I have the opportunity to shop and travel, and just have fun for cheaper than I ever would have in the US…why not, right? You only live once!
It’s funny that here in Nepal, there’s an obvious emphasis on studying abroad—though not necessarily just to places like the United States or Canada or the U.K. like most of the desis automatically move towards. I’ve seen posters for all over the world, and especially for East Asia. I pass a giant sign every morning for “Study in Japan and Korea” that offers classes in both languages. For some reason, I find it rather fascinating. I suppose I can either take that as an obvious indication that the West has lost its position as a superpower or as simply a shift in globalization towards a global equality, and not necessarily a western dominance. Maybe I’m thinking about it too much. Maybe Korea and Japan are just pretty! (Though I do find it interesting that no one I’ve seen has suggested China yet. Even though they are a neighbor…I guess they’d rather not go from a weak makeshift government to an overzealous one!)
The girls in the dorm are always so welcoming and excited to try anything, so, so utterly hippie (every single one of them would fit in perfectly in Boulder) that I’m quite used to their company. It’s amusing that we often have to pay for each other for the little things when we don’t have enough change. We go around, diligently knocking on each other’s doors and returning twenty rupees…then realizing that we’ve been so concerned about giving each other back just about a quarter back of change!
There’s a girl here, Bijaya, who works for the Didi’s program that I’ve become friends with. Though it’s a little sad to me—we are the same age, but her life has been (obviously, judging by my cushy, perfect life) much more complicated. Not only is she the oldest from her family, who came to Katmandu from a small village in hopes to give money back to her family, but she’s struggled her whole life to get a proper education. She just told me that she’s been waiting for a whole year for the results of her B.S. exams, and that, even though she’s ready for studying more and getting an MBA-equivalent degree, she’s been stuck, until the Nepali educational bureaucracy is able to actually give her a degree that she’s rightfully earned. I find that all rather saddening…for some reason, when I hear about women who are my age and have difficulties in their lives my life, it hits home a lot harder for me, and it makes me feel even more determined to do something for these women, and a little more cynical about how hard the world is to so many women out there…
I’ve said it once, and I’m going to say it again: it’s absolutely wonderful being brown in South Asia! I love feeling like I belong somewhere that accepts me… And not only do I look Nepali, but I’ve decided that people here adore Indians. I don’t even want them to know I’m American, since they are actually much more amicable to their neighbors than those from the far west. I can’t tell you how many shopkeepers I’ve asked where in India I’m from, and, when they hear “Bangalore”, how excited they get. I’ve heard all kinds of connections, from one guy who used to run a shop on M.G. Road to another lady that’s always wanted to go to South India for the Puthaparti Sai Baba temple…of course, I feel bad for my new white friends, though. Especially blonde hair, blue-eyed Alli. Men seem to have a need to taunt her, or try to touch her hands…she comes home and tells me about it, and get so upset. This is (for all practical purposes) my people, and it annoys me to no extent that they are giving us such a bad name with their treatment of our white friends. Alli tells me that people don’t try to say things to her when she’s with me, since everyone just thinks I’m Nepali anyways. I half want to yell at someone who does that to her though. She doesn’t deserve it, and in my opinion, if no one tells them to stop, they’ll always continue. No. Unacceptable. This stops now, if I can!
And on that note, I hear that dinner's ready...off to the kitchen I go!
The work with Didi’s has been moving forward quite well within the last few days. We’ve gotten some prices set for our materials, in more acceptable dollar amounts. The women seem to be willing to accept even tiny profits—the equivalent of something like $1.50. Of course, I’m determined to get more. I’ve decided to take a page from the books of BeadforLife, and to create more college oriented packages that cater to just a certain audience, and to be able to send the packages of handicrafts to individual students on college campuses that are willing to sell to their friends and classmates. I have a lot of faith in this project. I’m so sure that it’s actually accomplishable, and according to my calculations I can get nearly $50 more profit (in USD) for the same amount of goods that they sell. I know I should keep a bit of my cynical side in tack and just say a nonchalant, “we’ll see” but I feel so passionate about this, and I feel like I know that this has potential, that I’m just going to try to remain determined an optimistic for now. (Have I mentioned I love my job at Didi’s? I feel so important, and needed, and in charge…it’s the reason I always loved management and why I joined the business school in undergrad in the first place!)
Of course, my secondary job is…well, useless, to say the least. I feel so unhelpful and confused at the Seven Women organization that in my frustration today I went to speak to Anish and Santosh about my work. They seem to want me to try a little bit longer at the place, since they’ve always had good relations with the Australian running the program, but they understand my frustration and boredom with the place. At least they’ve noticed my interest in Didis, and have made me the main coordinator for the program (I now have a Didis email address, and administrative rights to all their organization’s records)…I’m even surprised with how much faith they have in me here, and how seriously they take my advice. For example, one of the ladies from Seven Women suggested they join with Didis, and when the coordinators asked me what I thought about it, I gave them my honest opinion: it’s a stupid idea. I listed out my concerns and they actually listened to all of my ideas, seriously nodding along, and finally telling me, “we trust you like family…if you say ‘no’, then we will not do it!” I’m glad…I’m not letting anything harm the moral or the organization of Didis while it’s still so new.
Other than that, things are going well here. Still eating too much daal-baath, waking up to overly happy (or angry) dogs in the morning, taking icy showers, and flushing the toilets with the assistance of buckets of water and gravity. I’ve learnt how to get around to a lot of the city, with silly directions like, “right at the Ranbir Kapoor fork” or “go straight towards the Pepsi poster of Priyanka Chopra,” though I’m still relieved when Allie comes with me (she has the most incredible compass in her mind, I’ve decided)…I’ve definitely been spending more money than I’d like to, but I figure I’d rather make up that money when I get home than worry about it now…while I have the opportunity to shop and travel, and just have fun for cheaper than I ever would have in the US…why not, right? You only live once!
It’s funny that here in Nepal, there’s an obvious emphasis on studying abroad—though not necessarily just to places like the United States or Canada or the U.K. like most of the desis automatically move towards. I’ve seen posters for all over the world, and especially for East Asia. I pass a giant sign every morning for “Study in Japan and Korea” that offers classes in both languages. For some reason, I find it rather fascinating. I suppose I can either take that as an obvious indication that the West has lost its position as a superpower or as simply a shift in globalization towards a global equality, and not necessarily a western dominance. Maybe I’m thinking about it too much. Maybe Korea and Japan are just pretty! (Though I do find it interesting that no one I’ve seen has suggested China yet. Even though they are a neighbor…I guess they’d rather not go from a weak makeshift government to an overzealous one!)
The girls in the dorm are always so welcoming and excited to try anything, so, so utterly hippie (every single one of them would fit in perfectly in Boulder) that I’m quite used to their company. It’s amusing that we often have to pay for each other for the little things when we don’t have enough change. We go around, diligently knocking on each other’s doors and returning twenty rupees…then realizing that we’ve been so concerned about giving each other back just about a quarter back of change!
There’s a girl here, Bijaya, who works for the Didi’s program that I’ve become friends with. Though it’s a little sad to me—we are the same age, but her life has been (obviously, judging by my cushy, perfect life) much more complicated. Not only is she the oldest from her family, who came to Katmandu from a small village in hopes to give money back to her family, but she’s struggled her whole life to get a proper education. She just told me that she’s been waiting for a whole year for the results of her B.S. exams, and that, even though she’s ready for studying more and getting an MBA-equivalent degree, she’s been stuck, until the Nepali educational bureaucracy is able to actually give her a degree that she’s rightfully earned. I find that all rather saddening…for some reason, when I hear about women who are my age and have difficulties in their lives my life, it hits home a lot harder for me, and it makes me feel even more determined to do something for these women, and a little more cynical about how hard the world is to so many women out there…
I’ve said it once, and I’m going to say it again: it’s absolutely wonderful being brown in South Asia! I love feeling like I belong somewhere that accepts me… And not only do I look Nepali, but I’ve decided that people here adore Indians. I don’t even want them to know I’m American, since they are actually much more amicable to their neighbors than those from the far west. I can’t tell you how many shopkeepers I’ve asked where in India I’m from, and, when they hear “Bangalore”, how excited they get. I’ve heard all kinds of connections, from one guy who used to run a shop on M.G. Road to another lady that’s always wanted to go to South India for the Puthaparti Sai Baba temple…of course, I feel bad for my new white friends, though. Especially blonde hair, blue-eyed Alli. Men seem to have a need to taunt her, or try to touch her hands…she comes home and tells me about it, and get so upset. This is (for all practical purposes) my people, and it annoys me to no extent that they are giving us such a bad name with their treatment of our white friends. Alli tells me that people don’t try to say things to her when she’s with me, since everyone just thinks I’m Nepali anyways. I half want to yell at someone who does that to her though. She doesn’t deserve it, and in my opinion, if no one tells them to stop, they’ll always continue. No. Unacceptable. This stops now, if I can!
And on that note, I hear that dinner's ready...off to the kitchen I go!
Just Get Used To It
June 25, 2012
Nepal is gorgeous. That’s the least I can say about rafting down the Trishuli river…It’s somehow just like rafting in Colorado, and at the same time, totally different (yes, I realize I use a lot of oxymoronic statements when describing this country, but I think there’s a reason for it too!)...Geographically speaking, the foothills of the Himalayas are just the same as the canyons your raft through in Colorado; the steep mountains, a fast flowing river (that is perhaps wider here), rocky ledges and that excitement when you suddenly turn a corner and see a gorgeous waterfall flowing down between the rocks…Except, it’s a jungle. Rather than seeing pines in the forest on rare occasion, you see palms and banana trees growing on the hillsides, and every inch of land is covered with green brush. The people have farmed certain parts of the hillsides making it look as if there are steps leading to the top of the hills, planting rice fields that leave the ground with such a vivid, bright green that it almost looks fake. There are long bridges that cross the water too—the normal ones that you’d see, arching downwards, and made with rope and wood, but with actual barriers on either side, and the types of things you see on TV, with people sitting in scary, looks-like-it-is-about-to-break wooden carriers, pulling themselves with their hands using the thing cable line that crosses the river full of slightly frightful rapids below. Either way, you rarely see the people until you are right up close to them, since it blends into the scenery and it almost looks like there are people flying across the river, or standing in midair. There seem to be children absolutely everywhere; swimming naked, playing with rocks on the shore, waving to you with the lease amount of clothing possible. There are goats being herded on nearly every patch of flat land that’s possible to find, and it’s just like the pictures of Assam, where you see the native women in colorful skirts, with the baskets strapped to their heads, gathering crops. It’s a whole other world out there to take in, even from the river…
There were nine of us on the boat in total, for the two days: Alli, me, Naaila, Ana, Scott, Susan, Laura, Santosh, and Ram-dai, and, of course, our Hitler rafting guide. The poor man knew very little English, so his rafting commands (“Fast! Forward!” “Why you be lazy?!”) seemed a lot more harsher and befitting of the Nepalese Army than a bunch of twenty-something year old Americans. We had very reliable equipment, of course, (American quality life jackets, a durable raft, paddles, etc.) and a safety instruction in such funny English it was honestly a little funny to take seriously (at one point the man told us that if we let the river take us, we’d end up in India). The first day was fairly simple rafting, even though we were soaked to the bone by the trip, while the second day’s water level made things much simpler, but so fast moving (which didn’t help with a very tired group of people!)
The rest of the trip, when we weren’t rafting was…well…insane, to say the least. I’ve never been camping before and… umm, starting out the first time camping in a jungle (I mean that literally) is probably not the best idea. If it weren’t for Santosh, our incredibly sweet 28-year old, coordinator who takes care of us all so well, it’d probably have been a lot worse (we actually made him go into our thin tarp tents and kill the spiders and grasshoppers inside before we went to bed). The campground was on a small goat-herding plateau a little ways away from the river; close enough to see the thick fog layering over the water in the early evening, but far enough to still remain safe from the rapids. It was a rough night to say the least. We slept on a thin mat inside the tent, while a monsoon storm raged outside, and our tents by morning had deep puddles of water inside from the rain water that had seeped in. The rafting spot was actually by a neighboring village, the inhabitants of whom were all tanned Nepali men with long hair, who look like sticks but have six-packed abs from their rafting. Their company ran the rafting excursions from their village, and they provided us with the equipment, tents, and food. I’d really not have a problem with it if it weren’t for the fact that at dinner time, I noticed a goat tied to a post an one of the men carrying a long butcher knife untying him…needless to say I jumped up with Alli (who is also a vegetarian) for a long walk, trying really hard not to notice the bloodied water that lead down the road for a little ways (I think it’s needless to say that I basically lost any appetite from it). The village men are incredible though, I swear. They are the most resourceful people I’ve ever seen! When we sat, struggling to make a fire, one of the men came down, and within five minutes had set up an elaborate campfire for us, and had it warm and burning in seconds. Impressive, but toughened people, to say the least.
We took a public bus back into the city—full of decorated tassels on the front of the bus, and cheesy Hindi music playing the whole way down (and the Backstreet Boys, for some reason. 20 yeas late, but I’m not complaining!). It’s sad when you reach the level of valley and are suddenly greeted by spurts of pollution an dust after the pristine air of the foothills.
In general, I think it was nice to get out of the city, and into some fresh air, but to be honest; it was all a bit exhausting too. The foothills are incredible and so picturesque though, that it was all worth it…besides, Alli and I have come up with a phrase here, that I feel is most befitting of Nepal: “Get used to it.” If life’s sometimes tough for us with our first world problems, imagine spending each and every day in their lives…Yup, whenever things suck here a little too much, just: get used to it.
Nepal is gorgeous. That’s the least I can say about rafting down the Trishuli river…It’s somehow just like rafting in Colorado, and at the same time, totally different (yes, I realize I use a lot of oxymoronic statements when describing this country, but I think there’s a reason for it too!)...Geographically speaking, the foothills of the Himalayas are just the same as the canyons your raft through in Colorado; the steep mountains, a fast flowing river (that is perhaps wider here), rocky ledges and that excitement when you suddenly turn a corner and see a gorgeous waterfall flowing down between the rocks…Except, it’s a jungle. Rather than seeing pines in the forest on rare occasion, you see palms and banana trees growing on the hillsides, and every inch of land is covered with green brush. The people have farmed certain parts of the hillsides making it look as if there are steps leading to the top of the hills, planting rice fields that leave the ground with such a vivid, bright green that it almost looks fake. There are long bridges that cross the water too—the normal ones that you’d see, arching downwards, and made with rope and wood, but with actual barriers on either side, and the types of things you see on TV, with people sitting in scary, looks-like-it-is-about-to-break wooden carriers, pulling themselves with their hands using the thing cable line that crosses the river full of slightly frightful rapids below. Either way, you rarely see the people until you are right up close to them, since it blends into the scenery and it almost looks like there are people flying across the river, or standing in midair. There seem to be children absolutely everywhere; swimming naked, playing with rocks on the shore, waving to you with the lease amount of clothing possible. There are goats being herded on nearly every patch of flat land that’s possible to find, and it’s just like the pictures of Assam, where you see the native women in colorful skirts, with the baskets strapped to their heads, gathering crops. It’s a whole other world out there to take in, even from the river…
There were nine of us on the boat in total, for the two days: Alli, me, Naaila, Ana, Scott, Susan, Laura, Santosh, and Ram-dai, and, of course, our Hitler rafting guide. The poor man knew very little English, so his rafting commands (“Fast! Forward!” “Why you be lazy?!”) seemed a lot more harsher and befitting of the Nepalese Army than a bunch of twenty-something year old Americans. We had very reliable equipment, of course, (American quality life jackets, a durable raft, paddles, etc.) and a safety instruction in such funny English it was honestly a little funny to take seriously (at one point the man told us that if we let the river take us, we’d end up in India). The first day was fairly simple rafting, even though we were soaked to the bone by the trip, while the second day’s water level made things much simpler, but so fast moving (which didn’t help with a very tired group of people!)
The rest of the trip, when we weren’t rafting was…well…insane, to say the least. I’ve never been camping before and… umm, starting out the first time camping in a jungle (I mean that literally) is probably not the best idea. If it weren’t for Santosh, our incredibly sweet 28-year old, coordinator who takes care of us all so well, it’d probably have been a lot worse (we actually made him go into our thin tarp tents and kill the spiders and grasshoppers inside before we went to bed). The campground was on a small goat-herding plateau a little ways away from the river; close enough to see the thick fog layering over the water in the early evening, but far enough to still remain safe from the rapids. It was a rough night to say the least. We slept on a thin mat inside the tent, while a monsoon storm raged outside, and our tents by morning had deep puddles of water inside from the rain water that had seeped in. The rafting spot was actually by a neighboring village, the inhabitants of whom were all tanned Nepali men with long hair, who look like sticks but have six-packed abs from their rafting. Their company ran the rafting excursions from their village, and they provided us with the equipment, tents, and food. I’d really not have a problem with it if it weren’t for the fact that at dinner time, I noticed a goat tied to a post an one of the men carrying a long butcher knife untying him…needless to say I jumped up with Alli (who is also a vegetarian) for a long walk, trying really hard not to notice the bloodied water that lead down the road for a little ways (I think it’s needless to say that I basically lost any appetite from it). The village men are incredible though, I swear. They are the most resourceful people I’ve ever seen! When we sat, struggling to make a fire, one of the men came down, and within five minutes had set up an elaborate campfire for us, and had it warm and burning in seconds. Impressive, but toughened people, to say the least.
We took a public bus back into the city—full of decorated tassels on the front of the bus, and cheesy Hindi music playing the whole way down (and the Backstreet Boys, for some reason. 20 yeas late, but I’m not complaining!). It’s sad when you reach the level of valley and are suddenly greeted by spurts of pollution an dust after the pristine air of the foothills.
In general, I think it was nice to get out of the city, and into some fresh air, but to be honest; it was all a bit exhausting too. The foothills are incredible and so picturesque though, that it was all worth it…besides, Alli and I have come up with a phrase here, that I feel is most befitting of Nepal: “Get used to it.” If life’s sometimes tough for us with our first world problems, imagine spending each and every day in their lives…Yup, whenever things suck here a little too much, just: get used to it.
Today was somehow, yet another crazy day, regardless of the fact that I actually did so little work. Turns out barely anything that is online en Nepal is actually useful, so one of the other girls here who is working with me on the Didis project, Ana (a Colombian-Texan), took the long walk to the post office to find international shipping rates. It’s so complicated out here! Even the smallest packages cost the largest amount of money, and international shipping? Forget about it! It costs more to ship a simple box than it does to actually sell the goods at the cheap prices the women are looking for. I spent the day researching shipping rates, and possible alternatives, but feel like I’ve not gotten all too far with the process, to be honest. I’ll work on it more tomorrow along with more website coordination, and figuring out how to introduce the women’s stories in the least emotionally taxing way for the organization’s web page.
Since I’m actually trying to finish this slightly faster (because people are waiting for me), the writing for today has probably been a bit shabby…but I’ll end on the brighter side: a few of the girls and I went out for pizza in Thamel for dinner. After having daal-baath way too much in the last few days, I can’t even begin to describe how delicious it felt to have a warm, cheesy pizza with a side desert of brownies and ice cream!
Good night, my people!
Since I’m actually trying to finish this slightly faster (because people are waiting for me), the writing for today has probably been a bit shabby…but I’ll end on the brighter side: a few of the girls and I went out for pizza in Thamel for dinner. After having daal-baath way too much in the last few days, I can’t even begin to describe how delicious it felt to have a warm, cheesy pizza with a side desert of brownies and ice cream!
Good night, my people!
Drama
June 22, 2012
I can’t believe I’ve been here less than a week. Every day seems so cram packed with things to do, and places to be, and the speed of Katmandu, with all the traffic and people and animals…it makes me feel like I’ve been here much longer! I’ve grown so accustomed to things, I feel that I don’t even flinch crossing the street (that’s a big deal—it’s like the size of two Bangalore streets together!), and I prepare myself to wake up around 6:00 to the sound of dogs barking like crazy outside our hostel. I’m simply exhausted by 10:00 though, and I rarely stay up later than that. I just fall on this thing mattress and have weird dreams that seem to incorporate everything I do in the day in a way as jumbled as the people in this city…
I really need to get used to Desi Standard Time. 10:00, definitely does not mean 10:00. More like 10:30 on a good day, but probably 11:00…I left this morning, promptly, ready to reach the organization around 9:50 to work. I even stopped, hoping to stall, at a small temple/stupa (Hinduism and Buddhism are so intertwined here that I can’t really even tell what place of worship it is), climbing up the steep steps to at least breath some smog-free air from the top of the hill before I had to leave. As my interesting story of the day: I’m pretty sure I saw a couple eloping inside. I can’t be certain, but the girl was dressed in a beautifully embroidered, grand red sari, the boy in a very nice kurtha and a silk Nepali hat, and both stood inside the tiny temple with just a priest and one excited friend who was taking hundreds of pictures from every angle. I feel like there should have been a lot more people, and probably a bit larger of a space if it were really a proper wedding. Perhaps it’s the romantic in me but the lack of it all made me think the couple was simply marrying each other for love…kind of exciting!
I reached the Seven Women center, early of course, and was greeted by three of the women who were going to get water. They gestured over to me, and, since they don’t speak Hindi or English, I guess we just said our namastes and awkwardly smiled at each other. They took me to their home though, which was right behind the center, amicably holding my hand and taking me with them. Turns out they live in a tiny, one room apartment, quite comparable to what I have in State College—though three of them share the place. One of the girls, Manisha, took an interest to me, but, unfortunately, I couldn’t communicate to her well. She’s one of the disabled women who has a speak impediment; it basically sounds like she can’t use her tongue to speak, I guess…unfortunately that, mixed with my lack of Nepali (other than “Hello, my name is Gouri,” which seems to be the only thing I’ve got memorized) makes it nearly impossible to understand the girl as hard as I’m straining, to not hurt her feelings. She sat me down in the office though, and determinedly brought out some paper, and began to write for me. “Mero naam Manisha ho…mero ghar D.V.C ke ho”…I was more surprised when she started writing in English though. Turns out she is 22, and has studied until the 7th grade. A little saddening when I realize that she’s just a year younger to me, but I’m actually kind of happy when I see her. Even if she’s working for peanuts, and lives in such a small place, she didn’t give up. She’s working hard, making it on her own, regardless of all the things working against her. Maybe that’s just a positive spin to the story, but I’m going to stick to it, because I feel like I need to think like that now and then.
I know I’ve been a bit apprehensive, or simply annoyed with the NGO that I was placed in, but after today, I kind of want to stick it out in this place, and watch the drama unfold. See, I was sitting today, working with the women for a while (in silence, might I add, since I can’t understand what was going on for a while), until Ruchu came, and told me about some of the other whispered difficulties of the organization. Not only do the women work without a break for some 12 to 15 hours a day, but the management seems to be pocketing a lot of the money that the disabled members of the organization should be receiving. Although Ruchu and Stephanie in Australia have requested to see the books of the organization on multiple occasions, the NGO has ignored them, or made their own excuses to not provide full disclosure. The disabled women of course know what’s going on, but they are reliant on this money, and don’t feel like they have the ability to speak against the management. I suggested adding a member from the actual disabled group to join the board, which Ruchu agreed she wants to see happen in the long term, but things seem to be so complex between money, and administration, and the actual work, that things are much more easier said than done. I find it odd to think that the Professor Ganesh, and Sangita, with her one unusable hand, are the ons responsible for the embezzlement, but I guess it’s just my lesson to learn: when it comes to corruption, trust no one. While I still feel that it’s a bit of a “dead end” organization, this drama has piqued my curiosity. I kind of want to see if Ruchu’s ideas do pan out, or how the group overcome such a simple problem of corruption. And besides, they won’t need me every day, so I’ll still be able to focus more of my time on Didis (as I did this afternoon), and perhaps volunteer with Alli and Ana in the orphanage, or join some of the others in the orphanage. As Alli puts my new found interest in sticking it out: “So, you just want to see the soap opera play out, huh?”
Jhanuka (the cook/housekeeper), Naalia (a Pakistani ABCD with me), and I are all going to go see “Teri Meri Kahani” tonight after dinner, while everyone else sees “Prometheus”. (Privileges for being the only ones who know Hindi, of course!) I’m so excited…seeing Bollywood movies in South Asia makes it all seem so much more exciting! Of course, the plot looks odd, but, we all know that I’ll see even the stupidest of Hindi movies as long as it’s the glitz and glamour of *Bollywood*….
I leave for a rafting trip in the foothills tomorrow morning (with a large group of people, and two of the coordinators!), so I won’t write again till at least Sunday night (it might be later though)…I’ll let you know how it is…for now, I’m just thrilled to get out of the noise of the city, and escape the heat in the cool rivers…ah, it’s going to be great!
I can’t believe I’ve been here less than a week. Every day seems so cram packed with things to do, and places to be, and the speed of Katmandu, with all the traffic and people and animals…it makes me feel like I’ve been here much longer! I’ve grown so accustomed to things, I feel that I don’t even flinch crossing the street (that’s a big deal—it’s like the size of two Bangalore streets together!), and I prepare myself to wake up around 6:00 to the sound of dogs barking like crazy outside our hostel. I’m simply exhausted by 10:00 though, and I rarely stay up later than that. I just fall on this thing mattress and have weird dreams that seem to incorporate everything I do in the day in a way as jumbled as the people in this city…
I really need to get used to Desi Standard Time. 10:00, definitely does not mean 10:00. More like 10:30 on a good day, but probably 11:00…I left this morning, promptly, ready to reach the organization around 9:50 to work. I even stopped, hoping to stall, at a small temple/stupa (Hinduism and Buddhism are so intertwined here that I can’t really even tell what place of worship it is), climbing up the steep steps to at least breath some smog-free air from the top of the hill before I had to leave. As my interesting story of the day: I’m pretty sure I saw a couple eloping inside. I can’t be certain, but the girl was dressed in a beautifully embroidered, grand red sari, the boy in a very nice kurtha and a silk Nepali hat, and both stood inside the tiny temple with just a priest and one excited friend who was taking hundreds of pictures from every angle. I feel like there should have been a lot more people, and probably a bit larger of a space if it were really a proper wedding. Perhaps it’s the romantic in me but the lack of it all made me think the couple was simply marrying each other for love…kind of exciting!
I reached the Seven Women center, early of course, and was greeted by three of the women who were going to get water. They gestured over to me, and, since they don’t speak Hindi or English, I guess we just said our namastes and awkwardly smiled at each other. They took me to their home though, which was right behind the center, amicably holding my hand and taking me with them. Turns out they live in a tiny, one room apartment, quite comparable to what I have in State College—though three of them share the place. One of the girls, Manisha, took an interest to me, but, unfortunately, I couldn’t communicate to her well. She’s one of the disabled women who has a speak impediment; it basically sounds like she can’t use her tongue to speak, I guess…unfortunately that, mixed with my lack of Nepali (other than “Hello, my name is Gouri,” which seems to be the only thing I’ve got memorized) makes it nearly impossible to understand the girl as hard as I’m straining, to not hurt her feelings. She sat me down in the office though, and determinedly brought out some paper, and began to write for me. “Mero naam Manisha ho…mero ghar D.V.C ke ho”…I was more surprised when she started writing in English though. Turns out she is 22, and has studied until the 7th grade. A little saddening when I realize that she’s just a year younger to me, but I’m actually kind of happy when I see her. Even if she’s working for peanuts, and lives in such a small place, she didn’t give up. She’s working hard, making it on her own, regardless of all the things working against her. Maybe that’s just a positive spin to the story, but I’m going to stick to it, because I feel like I need to think like that now and then.
I know I’ve been a bit apprehensive, or simply annoyed with the NGO that I was placed in, but after today, I kind of want to stick it out in this place, and watch the drama unfold. See, I was sitting today, working with the women for a while (in silence, might I add, since I can’t understand what was going on for a while), until Ruchu came, and told me about some of the other whispered difficulties of the organization. Not only do the women work without a break for some 12 to 15 hours a day, but the management seems to be pocketing a lot of the money that the disabled members of the organization should be receiving. Although Ruchu and Stephanie in Australia have requested to see the books of the organization on multiple occasions, the NGO has ignored them, or made their own excuses to not provide full disclosure. The disabled women of course know what’s going on, but they are reliant on this money, and don’t feel like they have the ability to speak against the management. I suggested adding a member from the actual disabled group to join the board, which Ruchu agreed she wants to see happen in the long term, but things seem to be so complex between money, and administration, and the actual work, that things are much more easier said than done. I find it odd to think that the Professor Ganesh, and Sangita, with her one unusable hand, are the ons responsible for the embezzlement, but I guess it’s just my lesson to learn: when it comes to corruption, trust no one. While I still feel that it’s a bit of a “dead end” organization, this drama has piqued my curiosity. I kind of want to see if Ruchu’s ideas do pan out, or how the group overcome such a simple problem of corruption. And besides, they won’t need me every day, so I’ll still be able to focus more of my time on Didis (as I did this afternoon), and perhaps volunteer with Alli and Ana in the orphanage, or join some of the others in the orphanage. As Alli puts my new found interest in sticking it out: “So, you just want to see the soap opera play out, huh?”
Jhanuka (the cook/housekeeper), Naalia (a Pakistani ABCD with me), and I are all going to go see “Teri Meri Kahani” tonight after dinner, while everyone else sees “Prometheus”. (Privileges for being the only ones who know Hindi, of course!) I’m so excited…seeing Bollywood movies in South Asia makes it all seem so much more exciting! Of course, the plot looks odd, but, we all know that I’ll see even the stupidest of Hindi movies as long as it’s the glitz and glamour of *Bollywood*….
I leave for a rafting trip in the foothills tomorrow morning (with a large group of people, and two of the coordinators!), so I won’t write again till at least Sunday night (it might be later though)…I’ll let you know how it is…for now, I’m just thrilled to get out of the noise of the city, and escape the heat in the cool rivers…ah, it’s going to be great!
Pashupatinath Mandir
June 21, 2012
Hello! Man, I feel like I am perpetually covered with a layer of sweat here...For being in the mountains, Katmandu is so hot! Alli and I agreed that we’d rather spend our money shopping than lightening our wallets to buy a fan, but the nights are still pretty warm, and I have to sleep without a blanket even, otherwise I end up sweating profusely (which isn’t helping the mosquito situation. I think my blood must be too sweet!)…at least in the morning it rains a little an cools everything down (though it doesn’t help my morning shower much, since the water is always frigid)…but hey! After so much poverty, it makes little sense for me to complain about anything in my life! I do love it all—for once I’m not just with family, but off on my own to get to work, and getting as real of a Nepali experience as I could ask for!
We actually went to the Pahupatinath Temple today. I can honestly say that I was so excited to go there, since I’ve heard of how sacred it is, but to be honest I have really mixed feelings about the entire place. Let’s put it like this: I realize as a role of a “destroyer” in Hinduism, the focus on death in a Shiva temple seems fairly normal, and with it being such a simple part of life, it’s not something I feel like I’ve ever given much thought about. But being at the temple made me feel almost…for lack of being able to give a word to the feeling: slightly freaked out. The temple is very centered on death. I’ve never seen people being cremated before, and today, for the first time, I saw the smoke from burning funeral pyres lit right on the banks of the river. For some reason, it actually made me feel very uneasy to see—and it wasn’t helped by their explanation of caste differences. Apparently, the lower castes people’s bodies are bunt on the side of the river, in a much more open spot, while the higher caste bodies are cremated in a separate part, behind the temple? That seems so wrong to me…even in death they weren’t given the equality that they deserve. For some reason, I stood there, looking at the smoke and the flames and the empty grounds, feeling especially sad at even their deaths.
Hello! Man, I feel like I am perpetually covered with a layer of sweat here...For being in the mountains, Katmandu is so hot! Alli and I agreed that we’d rather spend our money shopping than lightening our wallets to buy a fan, but the nights are still pretty warm, and I have to sleep without a blanket even, otherwise I end up sweating profusely (which isn’t helping the mosquito situation. I think my blood must be too sweet!)…at least in the morning it rains a little an cools everything down (though it doesn’t help my morning shower much, since the water is always frigid)…but hey! After so much poverty, it makes little sense for me to complain about anything in my life! I do love it all—for once I’m not just with family, but off on my own to get to work, and getting as real of a Nepali experience as I could ask for!
We actually went to the Pahupatinath Temple today. I can honestly say that I was so excited to go there, since I’ve heard of how sacred it is, but to be honest I have really mixed feelings about the entire place. Let’s put it like this: I realize as a role of a “destroyer” in Hinduism, the focus on death in a Shiva temple seems fairly normal, and with it being such a simple part of life, it’s not something I feel like I’ve ever given much thought about. But being at the temple made me feel almost…for lack of being able to give a word to the feeling: slightly freaked out. The temple is very centered on death. I’ve never seen people being cremated before, and today, for the first time, I saw the smoke from burning funeral pyres lit right on the banks of the river. For some reason, it actually made me feel very uneasy to see—and it wasn’t helped by their explanation of caste differences. Apparently, the lower castes people’s bodies are bunt on the side of the river, in a much more open spot, while the higher caste bodies are cremated in a separate part, behind the temple? That seems so wrong to me…even in death they weren’t given the equality that they deserve. For some reason, I stood there, looking at the smoke and the flames and the empty grounds, feeling especially sad at even their deaths.
The temple is slightly ominous too, for some reason. Don’t get me wrong—like everything else here, it’s on a hill top, with a gorgeous view of Katmandu, and beautiful architecture, with hundreds (I mean that literally) of mini-Shiva Linga temples, with holy, ash-covered, deadlock bearing men who’s pictures you see only in National Geographic, lying on the steps of the temple. The temple is shaped like the Tibetan Buddhist buildings you all over the city (and not the traditional Indian architecture that I’m used to), and it faces the Bagmati river, which flows slowly, and full of flowers and charred wood. It’s just that that focus on death really is a little unsettling for me. They have an old age home which we strolled through—a government run facility for Nepali Hindus who are cremated in the temple grounds after they die—and a hospital, with the same concept (that seems so disturbing to me. Why would you go to a hospital with hopes to be cured, when they have a real pyre ready for you outside?)…I even saw a body on the river. Covered, thank GOD, but still one of those things that scare you a little, but you can’t take your eyes off of it either…unlike the others, I actually got to step into the temple as well (the other Americans had to wait outside, since only Hindus are allowed). It was unfortunately closed, so I didn’t get to see the main deity, but there are idols of Ganesha, Kartikeya, and Parvati and Shiva adorning every side of the stone, tons of ghee lamps, some burnt out, in rows against the sides, and a giant golden plated statue of Nandi in the center…it’s one of those temples that’s invoked the weirdest reaction in me. A combination of awe at how beautiful it was, but a sort of apprehension about the place in general…The tour guide offered to take me back again in the morning when the temple was open, but to be honest, I’m not totally sure I care to go back. Maybe it’d be different if I were with someone (Appa) who could explain everything to me, or someone to talk to more who understood what was going on, but for now? Once was enough, perhaps…
But not to be so negative…today was fairly interesting too. I bought myself a pair of pants that are going to make me look so Boulder-hippie like if I wear them, it’s not even funny; and for the first time I rode in a tuk-tuk (like an auto, but as big as a “micro bus”), crammed full of 15 people, with all of us half sitting on each other’s laps, and laughing at the entire thing. I fed some monkeys at the temple too (until a freaked out when they looked at me, and just ended up throwing all the food at them instead)...worked on the getting a few more vendors for Didis…an overall cram packed day, like all others!
On that note, I think the girls are playing Bannanagrams upstairs, and as much as I usually don’t care for the game, it actually sounds more fun than sitting in this hot room….good night!
But not to be so negative…today was fairly interesting too. I bought myself a pair of pants that are going to make me look so Boulder-hippie like if I wear them, it’s not even funny; and for the first time I rode in a tuk-tuk (like an auto, but as big as a “micro bus”), crammed full of 15 people, with all of us half sitting on each other’s laps, and laughing at the entire thing. I fed some monkeys at the temple too (until a freaked out when they looked at me, and just ended up throwing all the food at them instead)...worked on the getting a few more vendors for Didis…an overall cram packed day, like all others!
On that note, I think the girls are playing Bannanagrams upstairs, and as much as I usually don’t care for the game, it actually sounds more fun than sitting in this hot room….good night!
Random Musings Part I
June 20, 2012
I went back the “Seven Women” foundation today to start work (again)—this time under the supervision of a girl named Ruchu; a former accountant from Australia who decided that she hated corporate life, quit her job, and came back to her native Nepal. I was so incredibly grateful for her. For the first time since I got here, I feel like I got a proper direction of what was going on (in really clear English!), and the stories of the people in the center. I spent most of the morning actually working with them, cutting out eyes for sock puppets that they sell in Australia (though, I’m going to be frank: the puppets are a bit shabby), since I was too scared to mess up on the sewing…The women were so welcoming, and generous, as I’ve noticed the economically unfortunate always are, and I found out a few of their stories in brief. For example, the men in wheelchairs are recent employees and lost the use of their legs after an accident in their farm, and were thrown out of the village, and dragged themselves with some difficulty to the city to find work…
The facility, I’m sorry to say, made me feel like I was in some sort of a…sweatshop. I mean, I know these men and women are actually glad to be there, and working on something that provides for them, when everyone else has turned them down…but having fifteen women in a small, dark room, all sewing with their back arched, on the cement floors…add in the fact that some of the women can’t speak, or are missing an eye, or have curved feet….it was rather depressing (which is saying something. I feel like between classes where I study this, and just experiencing South Asia since I was a child…it’s made me a little more hardened up to seeing these kinds of things. But today was just…making my heart heavy). It feels like a failing organization to me too. From what I understand from my new Desi-Australian supervisor, the Australian running the project, the Nepali managers, and the people working in the shop all have different ideas, are not getting along, and they simply can’t figure out a way to make everyone happy. For example, the Australian woman says that she can’t sell such low quality products; the managers feel like they should keep the buildings looking somewhat shabby, or else people won’t feel the need to assist them; and the women working in the program are beyond upset at the fact that one of the women working with them, is a wife of a board member, perfectly healthy, and still able to work for the organization. It seems like it’s become a tangled mess of conflicts of interest, and it’s so improperly managed by so many people that it’s become even more of a messy web.
And the thing is, I don’t feel like I can do anything about it, really…The Australian girl, Ruchu was so excited to have me there, and was telling me that she wanted my input about the projects, but in all honesty, I have nothing to say to her! What can I do with such an organization? And now I feel half guilty for even saying that, because I came here to help…but to be honest, I feel like my time is now better spent helping Didi’s get started and running, since it’s in an early part of its foundation, an I feel like it has much more potential than just a single store, you know? I would love to help out in Seven Women, but my presence there does little good for anyone I feel…Ah, we’ll see. For now I’ll just continue working at both, and see where they take me, I guess. I know I have the option to switch out to another project, if I find that this one holds no potential for me. At least for the sake of my SIA internship, I can use Didi’s as the core organization I want to work with.
I went back the “Seven Women” foundation today to start work (again)—this time under the supervision of a girl named Ruchu; a former accountant from Australia who decided that she hated corporate life, quit her job, and came back to her native Nepal. I was so incredibly grateful for her. For the first time since I got here, I feel like I got a proper direction of what was going on (in really clear English!), and the stories of the people in the center. I spent most of the morning actually working with them, cutting out eyes for sock puppets that they sell in Australia (though, I’m going to be frank: the puppets are a bit shabby), since I was too scared to mess up on the sewing…The women were so welcoming, and generous, as I’ve noticed the economically unfortunate always are, and I found out a few of their stories in brief. For example, the men in wheelchairs are recent employees and lost the use of their legs after an accident in their farm, and were thrown out of the village, and dragged themselves with some difficulty to the city to find work…
The facility, I’m sorry to say, made me feel like I was in some sort of a…sweatshop. I mean, I know these men and women are actually glad to be there, and working on something that provides for them, when everyone else has turned them down…but having fifteen women in a small, dark room, all sewing with their back arched, on the cement floors…add in the fact that some of the women can’t speak, or are missing an eye, or have curved feet….it was rather depressing (which is saying something. I feel like between classes where I study this, and just experiencing South Asia since I was a child…it’s made me a little more hardened up to seeing these kinds of things. But today was just…making my heart heavy). It feels like a failing organization to me too. From what I understand from my new Desi-Australian supervisor, the Australian running the project, the Nepali managers, and the people working in the shop all have different ideas, are not getting along, and they simply can’t figure out a way to make everyone happy. For example, the Australian woman says that she can’t sell such low quality products; the managers feel like they should keep the buildings looking somewhat shabby, or else people won’t feel the need to assist them; and the women working in the program are beyond upset at the fact that one of the women working with them, is a wife of a board member, perfectly healthy, and still able to work for the organization. It seems like it’s become a tangled mess of conflicts of interest, and it’s so improperly managed by so many people that it’s become even more of a messy web.
And the thing is, I don’t feel like I can do anything about it, really…The Australian girl, Ruchu was so excited to have me there, and was telling me that she wanted my input about the projects, but in all honesty, I have nothing to say to her! What can I do with such an organization? And now I feel half guilty for even saying that, because I came here to help…but to be honest, I feel like my time is now better spent helping Didi’s get started and running, since it’s in an early part of its foundation, an I feel like it has much more potential than just a single store, you know? I would love to help out in Seven Women, but my presence there does little good for anyone I feel…Ah, we’ll see. For now I’ll just continue working at both, and see where they take me, I guess. I know I have the option to switch out to another project, if I find that this one holds no potential for me. At least for the sake of my SIA internship, I can use Didi’s as the core organization I want to work with.
I’ve spent so much time telling you about my day to day activities, that I feel like I should at least describe more about life out here (that and…umm, we had a power outage this morning, so I had nothing better to do than pull out a Word document and type till it came back on!)…I’ll give you a rambling dose of my thoughts for now…
Food wise, Nepal is incredibly vegetarian friendly, and I have no idea why I wasted my time buying oatmeal from the States before I left (I’ll just hand that to someone before I leave, I guess). Basically every restaurant has “Veg” and “non-Veg” options printed on their doors and even the omnivores of our American group have turned vegetarian after seeing flies buzzing around the meat in the markets. We usually get some toast in the mornings (though the toaster doesn’t really toast often, due to power cuts, which happen every 4 hours or so—though they at least have emergency lights that flicker on, so we’re not completely plunged in darkness), with some sweet “black tea” chai that I like (I still like my masala-filled chai more though, to be honest) for breakfast, and something like rotis or rice and subji in the evening for dinner. It’s all quite healthy, and tasty, really…
The poverty here is obvious in a subtle way (I know that makes no sense, so give me a second to explain). See, statistically, Nepal is ranked as the twelfth poorest nation in the world (138 out of 177 nations on the Human Development Index), and you can tell that they have incredibly poor living standards. The population is expanding exponentially, just like India, and there are a lot of social structures (caste, gender, etc.) that hold people back, along with the, obvious weak government. But, as the Americans I’m travelling with here also point out, people are well dressed, and happy, with scooters, and granted, somewhat shanty looking homes, but still…a lot more decent than I expected. It’s not like Ahmedabad, where there seem to be huge families sleeping on the streets, and I was thoroughly surprised to see that there are not many beggars on the streets—even in Thamel, which is full of foreign tourists. The literacy rates are remarkably poor on a global scale (something over 50% of the population is unread), but in the city, at least, people not only speak in Nepali, but also Hindi and broken English. It’s rather fascinating for me to see. I realize full well that the poverty most likely exists tenfold in the villages, but since cities have a tendency to harbor the largest populations, I kind of figured things would be different over here in the urban sector as well. As for me, money wise, I just need to figure out this currency soon! One side is written in Devanagri, and the other in English, and it takes me a considerable amount of time to look through my purse for the correct amount.
The city itself is just like any other Indian one—just that people may look a little more Chinese-mixed at times. There’s traffic everywhere, people honk at everything that moves, tons of scooters, vegetable sellers with carts, construction workers sleeping in muddy half-built cement structures…there are a lot more Tibetan prayer flags, though. All frayed and sometimes strung in even the most dingy locations; the only color among the muddy brown. Instead of shop names like “Gouri’s Bangles” or “Krishna Stainless Steel” you see in Bangalore, things here are all named something like, “Mount Everest Laundry” and “Anapurna Bakery.” People have graffiti the most random phrases on the sides of roads like, “Buddha POWER” and “Love Nepal,” as if they wanted to write in English, and just strung together words that they thought would fit.
I basically wear salwars nearly every day over here. Even though I realize that it makes me stick out in this hostel, with the other American students, it’s actually quite comforting for me to fit in. Besides, with all this heat, and mud, I feel like chudidhar pants are much easier to manage than American clothes…It’s only in South Asia that I ever feel like I belong in the throngs of brown and don’t stand out, and I intend to take full advantage of it! Everyone here thinks I’m Nepali. Even the girls in the hostel smile at me awkwardly and mutter “Namaste” to me when they walk by until I give them a look and say something like, “dude. It’s me.” I find it thoroughly amusing! The coordinators told Alli that if she wanted to buy something more expensive when she was out with me, to let me go into the store alone, purchase it myself, and let her pay me back, since the shop keepers won’t actually raise the prices because of her. It’s highly amusing—we tried it out one night, when we were out in Thamel. First Ali went into the market, and asked how much a pair of pants was. The man told her 900 rupees. I went in soon afterwards, and when I asked him for the same pair, he dropped the price to 500 rupees…ridiculous, right? Even at the stupa on the first day, the others had to pay an admission cost of some 200 rupees, but, since I am Indian, the man only asked me for 50 rupees. The one time in life that it finally pays to be brown!
On that note, this day’s message is quite long, so I’ll save some things to say later as well…and I’m hungry. I’m still waiting for them to call me for dinner!
Food wise, Nepal is incredibly vegetarian friendly, and I have no idea why I wasted my time buying oatmeal from the States before I left (I’ll just hand that to someone before I leave, I guess). Basically every restaurant has “Veg” and “non-Veg” options printed on their doors and even the omnivores of our American group have turned vegetarian after seeing flies buzzing around the meat in the markets. We usually get some toast in the mornings (though the toaster doesn’t really toast often, due to power cuts, which happen every 4 hours or so—though they at least have emergency lights that flicker on, so we’re not completely plunged in darkness), with some sweet “black tea” chai that I like (I still like my masala-filled chai more though, to be honest) for breakfast, and something like rotis or rice and subji in the evening for dinner. It’s all quite healthy, and tasty, really…
The poverty here is obvious in a subtle way (I know that makes no sense, so give me a second to explain). See, statistically, Nepal is ranked as the twelfth poorest nation in the world (138 out of 177 nations on the Human Development Index), and you can tell that they have incredibly poor living standards. The population is expanding exponentially, just like India, and there are a lot of social structures (caste, gender, etc.) that hold people back, along with the, obvious weak government. But, as the Americans I’m travelling with here also point out, people are well dressed, and happy, with scooters, and granted, somewhat shanty looking homes, but still…a lot more decent than I expected. It’s not like Ahmedabad, where there seem to be huge families sleeping on the streets, and I was thoroughly surprised to see that there are not many beggars on the streets—even in Thamel, which is full of foreign tourists. The literacy rates are remarkably poor on a global scale (something over 50% of the population is unread), but in the city, at least, people not only speak in Nepali, but also Hindi and broken English. It’s rather fascinating for me to see. I realize full well that the poverty most likely exists tenfold in the villages, but since cities have a tendency to harbor the largest populations, I kind of figured things would be different over here in the urban sector as well. As for me, money wise, I just need to figure out this currency soon! One side is written in Devanagri, and the other in English, and it takes me a considerable amount of time to look through my purse for the correct amount.
The city itself is just like any other Indian one—just that people may look a little more Chinese-mixed at times. There’s traffic everywhere, people honk at everything that moves, tons of scooters, vegetable sellers with carts, construction workers sleeping in muddy half-built cement structures…there are a lot more Tibetan prayer flags, though. All frayed and sometimes strung in even the most dingy locations; the only color among the muddy brown. Instead of shop names like “Gouri’s Bangles” or “Krishna Stainless Steel” you see in Bangalore, things here are all named something like, “Mount Everest Laundry” and “Anapurna Bakery.” People have graffiti the most random phrases on the sides of roads like, “Buddha POWER” and “Love Nepal,” as if they wanted to write in English, and just strung together words that they thought would fit.
I basically wear salwars nearly every day over here. Even though I realize that it makes me stick out in this hostel, with the other American students, it’s actually quite comforting for me to fit in. Besides, with all this heat, and mud, I feel like chudidhar pants are much easier to manage than American clothes…It’s only in South Asia that I ever feel like I belong in the throngs of brown and don’t stand out, and I intend to take full advantage of it! Everyone here thinks I’m Nepali. Even the girls in the hostel smile at me awkwardly and mutter “Namaste” to me when they walk by until I give them a look and say something like, “dude. It’s me.” I find it thoroughly amusing! The coordinators told Alli that if she wanted to buy something more expensive when she was out with me, to let me go into the store alone, purchase it myself, and let her pay me back, since the shop keepers won’t actually raise the prices because of her. It’s highly amusing—we tried it out one night, when we were out in Thamel. First Ali went into the market, and asked how much a pair of pants was. The man told her 900 rupees. I went in soon afterwards, and when I asked him for the same pair, he dropped the price to 500 rupees…ridiculous, right? Even at the stupa on the first day, the others had to pay an admission cost of some 200 rupees, but, since I am Indian, the man only asked me for 50 rupees. The one time in life that it finally pays to be brown!
On that note, this day’s message is quite long, so I’ll save some things to say later as well…and I’m hungry. I’m still waiting for them to call me for dinner!
"Work"
July 19, 2012
Great news, people! I HAVE INTERNET! In the dorm! It’s such a relief to be honest. I’m spoilt by my nice developed world standard of living, and I like to be able to instantly connect to the internet out here. Makes me feel so much more comfortable, especially knowing that I have something to do inside after dark, since they’ve warned all of us to stay in the dorm after sunset. Thank you for the emails, by the way (especially Amma and Rohit)…it’s lovely to know that you guys are actually reading this, and you're my new motivation to get online and type away to you all!
Well…today’s shaped out to be a thoroughly interesting day. I was picked up from the hostel by a small, thin little professor of marketing at a local university, who walked me to a tiny workshop for disabled women—the NGO that I was meant to work at this entire time, called, “Seven Women.” The project is technically run by a woman in Australia, but it’s locally organized by a number of Nepali men and women, both disabled and not, who are trying to set up a safe area for those with physical handicaps (for example, the CEO of the organization is a woman with a limp hand—the result of an accident as a child). Basically, the professor, Ganesh, explained as he took me through some winding path (that I’m pretty sure I’ll not be able to figure out myself) disabled people are considered so low in society that people disrespect them quite blatantly. They are unable to find housing, or work, since the people see them as somewhat cursed or simply inauspicious, and as a result are left in destitute poverty. I took a look briefly at their NGO. Basically, it’s a shack, put together roughly with stones and a tin roof at the top, and there are a number of women who are simply homeless otherwise, as well as those living with things like half-paralyzed faces, or limps. I noticed two men in wheelchairs also learning to sew, intently staring at their needles, and never looking up at all. How the knit and sew in that tiny dark room is beyond me, but their work in the end is quite nice. Things like little purses for children, or hairbands. Apparently, the woman who runs the facility collects the goods and sells them in a tiny store in Australia, and the women (and men) are in charge of simply producing the material according to the foreign demand.
Of course, the lack of motivation for action and the slow moving pace of the developing world showed itself in true colors. I sat in the office (more like a dark room with a computer sitting on a makeshift desk of bricks) for about an hour with Ganesh, listening to him talk in rapid Nepali to another woman, until he received a phone call. Whoever was supposed to come tell me what I was supposed to do simply didn’t show up today, and he told me that I should come again the next day, and “maybe you will have work.”
I was thoroughly disappointed by the whole thing. I was looking forward to this so much! I came home somewhat unhappy—on my first day, I did nothing but sit in a dingy office? By the time we got home, I’d become so irritated with it all that I went straight to the office of the coordinator, and told him I wanted to start on his secondary project for me, the “Didis” project, immediately (which is actually run within the hostel, by the back garage). Didis is similar in its work as well: it’s basically a program where women get together, knitting woolen goods like hates, gloves, and scarves. The products themselves sell for about $1-$5, and although these women have put in a lot of time in their work, they have absolutely no market to sell to, thus far. I think even though the coordinator was a little baffled with my aggressiveness towards the project, but I suppose he understood how I felt being “stood up” the first day of work, and he called one of the girls in to give me a tour of the products, and answer my questions. I’ve taken numerous interviews as a journalism student, of course, but this was the first time I had to do it in my rudimentary Hindi! The girl, Kamala, listened patiently as I asked her questions and jotted things down, pointing out some of her favorite items repeatedly. I feel like she just likes anything with a lot of colors in it!
I actually ended up spending the rest of my day researching, and by midafternoon chai time, I’d come up with a lot of suggestions for the coordinators. Somehow, I ended up becoming an odd marketing consultant of some sort, which was thoroughly exciting! My work in BeadforLife and the Pragrathi group from Swagath last year especially came to use, and I tried sending out some propositions of a business partnerships to stores in Boulder that I know serve the hippie population, and swear by only fair trade products. I’ve decided that I have four weeks here, and somehow, I’m going to get these women’s products on the market. I truly feel like it’s a great project. (It’s basically a microfinacing venture. Each of the women put in 100 rupees per month, and are allowed to take out loans from the organization based on their own needs. Like the principles of the Grameen bank, the women pay an interest the loans on (though quite a reasonable amount) and pay it back based on their own abilities. There haven’t been any new ventures born from the money, though so far the women have used it to pay their children’s school fees, and even hospital fees in emergencies. So far the women have collected nearly $200 (USD), which they have found to be an incredibly extraordinary feat, and slowly, the organization is moving towards more self-reliance.)
I’m looking into fair trade certifications that I can get the group, and hope to add the environmentally friendly aspects to their websites, talk to more women and hear their personal stories and how they begun to work in the Didis program, and hope to sell more goods, slightly exploiting, as any humanitarian or journalist will tell you is necessary, their sad stories to sell the products they make (most of the women are either dalits, widows, or their husbands are abusive/have left them). I’m hoping I can get a few people interested in commercial markets in the US, though I also have a lot of faith in trying to reach out to the volunteers in this house. Most everybody here is doing an undergraduate degree (surprisingly, I’m one of the oldest), and if there’s any place to sell hippie clothing, college campuses are the way to go! Wish me luck—I’m serious here. Four weeks to get a program running for a developing country is no small matter, and I wonder if I’m being wishful in my thinking (but I’ll be optimistic all the same!)
Other than that I actually visited an orphaniage today as well. My friend, Alli, came home today around 12:00, after working in the orphanage, and when I asked her about her first day of work, she broke down completely, and sobbingly told me how horribly sad it was and how she wants to shorten her trip, because she simply can’t stand seeing it all. I felt kind of bad…the poor girl’s never left the US, and to be thrown into that kind of a sight...it much be rather shocking. She had to go in the late afternoon again, so I told her I’d join her for some comfort, and because, to be honest, I was so curious to see what disturbed her so much. I feel half bad to say this…but…it was better conditions than Tilaknagar last year. They have a much better classroom, and even though there are two children to a bed—they have a bed. That’s a luxury the Swagath children didn’t actually have. (Not too little their struggles of course, but it just occurred to me that if that could move her to tears, I wonder what she'd think of Tilaknagar) But, of course, these children had far worse stories. Most of them are orphans from the government conflicts. Their parents died fighting for their children to live in a democratic country, and what they foresaw as a better future, only to have those children group together in an orphanage with little propects for assistance. It’s depressing when you think about it, but just like the Swagath children, they have these bright smiles, and, even if I don’t speak a word of Nepali, they are perfectly content to just hold my hand and babble in their native tongue to me as I smile and nod, and pat children’s heads. I really do like seeing children, but to be honest, I’m glad I’ve been placed in a gender equality program this time—older women (my age—I consider myself old, apparently) are much less of a challenge to work with!
This post is already long, I realize, so I’ll end on a happy note of shopping and laundry, just to lighten to mood... Alli and I ventured out from our district, Nayabazar, to Thamel this morning to give in some long awaited laundry (50 rupees per kilo!), then went shopping for the first time. I’m sad to report I’m still utterly hopeless when it comes to bargaining (they agree so fast to the price I say, I realize I’ve messed up), though I did buy a pretty, and totally Boulder hippie OM necklace in a corner shop. I might just come home super hippie, guys. The clothes here are cheap, and pretty, and I really can’t help it! I'm beginning to think I might just donate some of the crappy t-shirts I brought out here, just so I can make room for other things...it's all so pretty! I'd personally just like to buy it all!
Good night for now…I’ll write more tomorrow!
Great news, people! I HAVE INTERNET! In the dorm! It’s such a relief to be honest. I’m spoilt by my nice developed world standard of living, and I like to be able to instantly connect to the internet out here. Makes me feel so much more comfortable, especially knowing that I have something to do inside after dark, since they’ve warned all of us to stay in the dorm after sunset. Thank you for the emails, by the way (especially Amma and Rohit)…it’s lovely to know that you guys are actually reading this, and you're my new motivation to get online and type away to you all!
Well…today’s shaped out to be a thoroughly interesting day. I was picked up from the hostel by a small, thin little professor of marketing at a local university, who walked me to a tiny workshop for disabled women—the NGO that I was meant to work at this entire time, called, “Seven Women.” The project is technically run by a woman in Australia, but it’s locally organized by a number of Nepali men and women, both disabled and not, who are trying to set up a safe area for those with physical handicaps (for example, the CEO of the organization is a woman with a limp hand—the result of an accident as a child). Basically, the professor, Ganesh, explained as he took me through some winding path (that I’m pretty sure I’ll not be able to figure out myself) disabled people are considered so low in society that people disrespect them quite blatantly. They are unable to find housing, or work, since the people see them as somewhat cursed or simply inauspicious, and as a result are left in destitute poverty. I took a look briefly at their NGO. Basically, it’s a shack, put together roughly with stones and a tin roof at the top, and there are a number of women who are simply homeless otherwise, as well as those living with things like half-paralyzed faces, or limps. I noticed two men in wheelchairs also learning to sew, intently staring at their needles, and never looking up at all. How the knit and sew in that tiny dark room is beyond me, but their work in the end is quite nice. Things like little purses for children, or hairbands. Apparently, the woman who runs the facility collects the goods and sells them in a tiny store in Australia, and the women (and men) are in charge of simply producing the material according to the foreign demand.
Of course, the lack of motivation for action and the slow moving pace of the developing world showed itself in true colors. I sat in the office (more like a dark room with a computer sitting on a makeshift desk of bricks) for about an hour with Ganesh, listening to him talk in rapid Nepali to another woman, until he received a phone call. Whoever was supposed to come tell me what I was supposed to do simply didn’t show up today, and he told me that I should come again the next day, and “maybe you will have work.”
I was thoroughly disappointed by the whole thing. I was looking forward to this so much! I came home somewhat unhappy—on my first day, I did nothing but sit in a dingy office? By the time we got home, I’d become so irritated with it all that I went straight to the office of the coordinator, and told him I wanted to start on his secondary project for me, the “Didis” project, immediately (which is actually run within the hostel, by the back garage). Didis is similar in its work as well: it’s basically a program where women get together, knitting woolen goods like hates, gloves, and scarves. The products themselves sell for about $1-$5, and although these women have put in a lot of time in their work, they have absolutely no market to sell to, thus far. I think even though the coordinator was a little baffled with my aggressiveness towards the project, but I suppose he understood how I felt being “stood up” the first day of work, and he called one of the girls in to give me a tour of the products, and answer my questions. I’ve taken numerous interviews as a journalism student, of course, but this was the first time I had to do it in my rudimentary Hindi! The girl, Kamala, listened patiently as I asked her questions and jotted things down, pointing out some of her favorite items repeatedly. I feel like she just likes anything with a lot of colors in it!
I actually ended up spending the rest of my day researching, and by midafternoon chai time, I’d come up with a lot of suggestions for the coordinators. Somehow, I ended up becoming an odd marketing consultant of some sort, which was thoroughly exciting! My work in BeadforLife and the Pragrathi group from Swagath last year especially came to use, and I tried sending out some propositions of a business partnerships to stores in Boulder that I know serve the hippie population, and swear by only fair trade products. I’ve decided that I have four weeks here, and somehow, I’m going to get these women’s products on the market. I truly feel like it’s a great project. (It’s basically a microfinacing venture. Each of the women put in 100 rupees per month, and are allowed to take out loans from the organization based on their own needs. Like the principles of the Grameen bank, the women pay an interest the loans on (though quite a reasonable amount) and pay it back based on their own abilities. There haven’t been any new ventures born from the money, though so far the women have used it to pay their children’s school fees, and even hospital fees in emergencies. So far the women have collected nearly $200 (USD), which they have found to be an incredibly extraordinary feat, and slowly, the organization is moving towards more self-reliance.)
I’m looking into fair trade certifications that I can get the group, and hope to add the environmentally friendly aspects to their websites, talk to more women and hear their personal stories and how they begun to work in the Didis program, and hope to sell more goods, slightly exploiting, as any humanitarian or journalist will tell you is necessary, their sad stories to sell the products they make (most of the women are either dalits, widows, or their husbands are abusive/have left them). I’m hoping I can get a few people interested in commercial markets in the US, though I also have a lot of faith in trying to reach out to the volunteers in this house. Most everybody here is doing an undergraduate degree (surprisingly, I’m one of the oldest), and if there’s any place to sell hippie clothing, college campuses are the way to go! Wish me luck—I’m serious here. Four weeks to get a program running for a developing country is no small matter, and I wonder if I’m being wishful in my thinking (but I’ll be optimistic all the same!)
Other than that I actually visited an orphaniage today as well. My friend, Alli, came home today around 12:00, after working in the orphanage, and when I asked her about her first day of work, she broke down completely, and sobbingly told me how horribly sad it was and how she wants to shorten her trip, because she simply can’t stand seeing it all. I felt kind of bad…the poor girl’s never left the US, and to be thrown into that kind of a sight...it much be rather shocking. She had to go in the late afternoon again, so I told her I’d join her for some comfort, and because, to be honest, I was so curious to see what disturbed her so much. I feel half bad to say this…but…it was better conditions than Tilaknagar last year. They have a much better classroom, and even though there are two children to a bed—they have a bed. That’s a luxury the Swagath children didn’t actually have. (Not too little their struggles of course, but it just occurred to me that if that could move her to tears, I wonder what she'd think of Tilaknagar) But, of course, these children had far worse stories. Most of them are orphans from the government conflicts. Their parents died fighting for their children to live in a democratic country, and what they foresaw as a better future, only to have those children group together in an orphanage with little propects for assistance. It’s depressing when you think about it, but just like the Swagath children, they have these bright smiles, and, even if I don’t speak a word of Nepali, they are perfectly content to just hold my hand and babble in their native tongue to me as I smile and nod, and pat children’s heads. I really do like seeing children, but to be honest, I’m glad I’ve been placed in a gender equality program this time—older women (my age—I consider myself old, apparently) are much less of a challenge to work with!
This post is already long, I realize, so I’ll end on a happy note of shopping and laundry, just to lighten to mood... Alli and I ventured out from our district, Nayabazar, to Thamel this morning to give in some long awaited laundry (50 rupees per kilo!), then went shopping for the first time. I’m sad to report I’m still utterly hopeless when it comes to bargaining (they agree so fast to the price I say, I realize I’ve messed up), though I did buy a pretty, and totally Boulder hippie OM necklace in a corner shop. I might just come home super hippie, guys. The clothes here are cheap, and pretty, and I really can’t help it! I'm beginning to think I might just donate some of the crappy t-shirts I brought out here, just so I can make room for other things...it's all so pretty! I'd personally just like to buy it all!
Good night for now…I’ll write more tomorrow!
In the Heart of Nepal
July 18, 2012
Whew! Action packed day here in Nepal…technically our first day of the program (since they give you a day to get over your jet lag and rest), and our long awaited orientation for our work here.
The orientation today consisted a brief, and to be honest, a highly vague idea of what I’m going to be doing here. I’m beginning to think that the laid back Nepalese people will just tell me what to do when I get to the actual site tomorrow morning (or I’m REALLY hoping they do). They did, however take us, to another place, about 30 minutes of a walk (almost a hike in the hilly city streets), to a Buddhist temple/stupa that they simply call, “the Monkey Temple.” All I can tell you is that the stupa is unimaginably beautiful. I can’t do it all justice, but I’m going to try here: After you climb a steep 365 mountainous steps (one for each day of the year), sweating profusely, and trying to avoid the pleading hands of begging children everywhere, you reach the most extraordinary view of the entire Katmandu. Colorful, mismatched houses, all within inches of each other, looking like an assortment of Lego pieces awkwardly stuck into the valley. The stupa itself was gorgeous; gold plated at the top with the iconic Nepali eyes of Buddha overlooking the entire valley. The “foothills” are almost our Rockies itself—tall and tree covered, though extraordinarily large, bathed at the top with thin clouds from the monsoon rains (when we called them “mountains” our tour guide shrugged and said that they were only foothills. My Karma for calling Appalachians “foothills!”). 108 metallic prayer wheels line the entire stupa, all with “Om Mane Padme Hum” written in Tibetan, while groups of devout devotees, and monks walked in circles around it, and chattering girls spun them almost absent mindedly. Somehow, everything seems to coexist in peace there. Monkeys eat offerings, dogs sit on the stupa steps, pigeons fly all around, people wind their way around…although it’s incredibly crowded, it’s obvious that everyone seems to fit together somehow or another. There are Hindu temples within the stupa itself, with the largest one being of Kumari Devi, and little ghee lamps lining most of the stone temples. Long strands of prayer flag fly torn, and yet, sturdy, in the breeze—hundreds and hundreds of them—and shops selling Nepali merchandise fill the entire outside of the temple. It’s all built in a traditional Tibetan style, with faces of Tibetan gods painted on the walls, and carved into stones, and the view of the mountains from every turn you make from the stupa makes it unbelievable with every step. At some point I stood there, just looking out, thinking to myself, “Oh my God! I’m REALLY in Nepal!!”
Although I couldn’t take pictures of the scene, we stepped into the monastery at the stupa briefly, to hear dark vermillion robed monks chantingTibetan Buddhist prayers in their deep, booming voices, reading off palm leaves (with breaks to sip Fanta and coke from glass bottles) in front of them. It was just like the movies—at the end of each chapter two child-monks beat large drums, while another two played the long pipes, while a golden statue of Buddha overlooked the scene. I can honestly tell you that even in my sweaty, overly hot state, the feeling gave me goose bumps to listen to and realize how sacred of a place I was standing. I even got to light three little lamps in the monastery in front of the Buddha: what our tour guide said was for the mistakes of the past lives, the mistakes in my present life, and the hopes of enlightenment in my future life.
True to its word, the way down from the temple is full of monkeys in every direction you look. They aren’t as feisty as the ones in those village temples in Karnataka…but they definitely know how to steal crackers from you with their babies clinging on to their backs! It’s somewhat depressing to see that even near the temple there are piles of trash heaped up on the sides, and people tossing empty water bottles along the side of the stone steps. Basically, if any of you come to Nepal, you will seriously be sitting in the lap of a place poverty ridden, confusingly full of people, and somehow, somewhere so auspicious and beautiful all at once.
I’ve settled into the dormitory that I’ll be staying in from now on as well. The girls here (because the guest house is basically all women), is actually quite fun. The toilets don’t flush (you have to pour buckets of water into the commode instead. (It’s disgusting. I don’t want to discuss it) and it’s about 10 girls sharing a bathroom (oh my god, its freshman year of college again), but all of them are talkative, friendly Americans, and everyone is so excited to be here and experience every little detail…the energy really rubs off on you! Our room is a small room with two cots, facing a busy construction site, though, if you open the windows and look out, you can see the foothills from our room itself. Alli and I, the girl that I met the first day, have become fast friends. Perhaps because we’ve had to, knowing we’re going to spend the next four weeks sharing a room together, but I genuinely like the Chicago/Denver-girl. She’s never been out of America, but she’s so passionate about being out here, and so utterly agreeable to see absolutely anything I’d like to visit with me (we already have a list on scrap papers of what we have to do over the weekend), and she says she feel much more comfortable travelling with me, for some reason. Whether we like it or not (which I think we do) I feel like we’re going to become fast friends out here. For some reason, after spending the entire day with her, I already feel like I’ve known her much longer than just a day…the staff here, for some reason, adore me. Possibly because they like that I reply to them in Hindi, or the fact that every seemed convinced that I look Nepali (I really could pass for a Nepali, I realized)…but really? I think they just love my name (good job, Mommy!). Even when they want to call the group of us together, they just repeat “Gouri! Everyone” or randomly ask me how I’m doing with a pat on my back. Their blatant interest in me also extends to the dinner table (somewhat unfortunately), when they want to feed me more and more food (I really need to learn, “I’m full” in Nepali!)… I have to admit that as much as I love it here, it’s kind of comforting to have all these Americans out here with me too. I feel like it’d be somewhat difficult to stay alone, or with a host family, struggling to communicate with anyone else in elementary level Hindi or completely nonexistent Nepali.
Other than that we spent the day walking around the city until our feet were literally aching. Everyone here is so friendly, and even though nothing seems to happen in a rush here, everyone seems to be in a hurry on the streets. Bollywood music plays in basically every shop (which makes me super happy—though the music is some ten years outdated(I think I’ve heard the whole “KabhiKushiKabhiGham” soundtrack in a single day). Everything is an obstacle course of gooey mud and dramatically large puddles in the streets…I feel like when you walk in Nepal, you can easily tell it’s a third world country, but like any of the developing world, the people and the simple natural beauty of the place makes you feel like it all matters much less, for some reason…
On that note, I’ll take your leave. I’ve promised to give Alli, who didn’t bring her computer, my laptop to borrow, and I’ve decided that I’ll do my laundry by hand on the roof before heading to the center tomorrow for my first day of work in Nepal. If I haven’t called you (mainly for the parents now), don’t freak out, please. It’s complicated enough getting settled here, and I do feel like it’s a bit difficult to make it at a reasonable time to the calling center every day. I’ll call when I can though! Promise! :)…I’m also going to try to put up some pictures, now that I’m borrowing another girl’s power adapter for now. Soon to come, so check out the pictures section as well, my friends!
Whew! Action packed day here in Nepal…technically our first day of the program (since they give you a day to get over your jet lag and rest), and our long awaited orientation for our work here.
The orientation today consisted a brief, and to be honest, a highly vague idea of what I’m going to be doing here. I’m beginning to think that the laid back Nepalese people will just tell me what to do when I get to the actual site tomorrow morning (or I’m REALLY hoping they do). They did, however take us, to another place, about 30 minutes of a walk (almost a hike in the hilly city streets), to a Buddhist temple/stupa that they simply call, “the Monkey Temple.” All I can tell you is that the stupa is unimaginably beautiful. I can’t do it all justice, but I’m going to try here: After you climb a steep 365 mountainous steps (one for each day of the year), sweating profusely, and trying to avoid the pleading hands of begging children everywhere, you reach the most extraordinary view of the entire Katmandu. Colorful, mismatched houses, all within inches of each other, looking like an assortment of Lego pieces awkwardly stuck into the valley. The stupa itself was gorgeous; gold plated at the top with the iconic Nepali eyes of Buddha overlooking the entire valley. The “foothills” are almost our Rockies itself—tall and tree covered, though extraordinarily large, bathed at the top with thin clouds from the monsoon rains (when we called them “mountains” our tour guide shrugged and said that they were only foothills. My Karma for calling Appalachians “foothills!”). 108 metallic prayer wheels line the entire stupa, all with “Om Mane Padme Hum” written in Tibetan, while groups of devout devotees, and monks walked in circles around it, and chattering girls spun them almost absent mindedly. Somehow, everything seems to coexist in peace there. Monkeys eat offerings, dogs sit on the stupa steps, pigeons fly all around, people wind their way around…although it’s incredibly crowded, it’s obvious that everyone seems to fit together somehow or another. There are Hindu temples within the stupa itself, with the largest one being of Kumari Devi, and little ghee lamps lining most of the stone temples. Long strands of prayer flag fly torn, and yet, sturdy, in the breeze—hundreds and hundreds of them—and shops selling Nepali merchandise fill the entire outside of the temple. It’s all built in a traditional Tibetan style, with faces of Tibetan gods painted on the walls, and carved into stones, and the view of the mountains from every turn you make from the stupa makes it unbelievable with every step. At some point I stood there, just looking out, thinking to myself, “Oh my God! I’m REALLY in Nepal!!”
Although I couldn’t take pictures of the scene, we stepped into the monastery at the stupa briefly, to hear dark vermillion robed monks chantingTibetan Buddhist prayers in their deep, booming voices, reading off palm leaves (with breaks to sip Fanta and coke from glass bottles) in front of them. It was just like the movies—at the end of each chapter two child-monks beat large drums, while another two played the long pipes, while a golden statue of Buddha overlooked the scene. I can honestly tell you that even in my sweaty, overly hot state, the feeling gave me goose bumps to listen to and realize how sacred of a place I was standing. I even got to light three little lamps in the monastery in front of the Buddha: what our tour guide said was for the mistakes of the past lives, the mistakes in my present life, and the hopes of enlightenment in my future life.
True to its word, the way down from the temple is full of monkeys in every direction you look. They aren’t as feisty as the ones in those village temples in Karnataka…but they definitely know how to steal crackers from you with their babies clinging on to their backs! It’s somewhat depressing to see that even near the temple there are piles of trash heaped up on the sides, and people tossing empty water bottles along the side of the stone steps. Basically, if any of you come to Nepal, you will seriously be sitting in the lap of a place poverty ridden, confusingly full of people, and somehow, somewhere so auspicious and beautiful all at once.
I’ve settled into the dormitory that I’ll be staying in from now on as well. The girls here (because the guest house is basically all women), is actually quite fun. The toilets don’t flush (you have to pour buckets of water into the commode instead. (It’s disgusting. I don’t want to discuss it) and it’s about 10 girls sharing a bathroom (oh my god, its freshman year of college again), but all of them are talkative, friendly Americans, and everyone is so excited to be here and experience every little detail…the energy really rubs off on you! Our room is a small room with two cots, facing a busy construction site, though, if you open the windows and look out, you can see the foothills from our room itself. Alli and I, the girl that I met the first day, have become fast friends. Perhaps because we’ve had to, knowing we’re going to spend the next four weeks sharing a room together, but I genuinely like the Chicago/Denver-girl. She’s never been out of America, but she’s so passionate about being out here, and so utterly agreeable to see absolutely anything I’d like to visit with me (we already have a list on scrap papers of what we have to do over the weekend), and she says she feel much more comfortable travelling with me, for some reason. Whether we like it or not (which I think we do) I feel like we’re going to become fast friends out here. For some reason, after spending the entire day with her, I already feel like I’ve known her much longer than just a day…the staff here, for some reason, adore me. Possibly because they like that I reply to them in Hindi, or the fact that every seemed convinced that I look Nepali (I really could pass for a Nepali, I realized)…but really? I think they just love my name (good job, Mommy!). Even when they want to call the group of us together, they just repeat “Gouri! Everyone” or randomly ask me how I’m doing with a pat on my back. Their blatant interest in me also extends to the dinner table (somewhat unfortunately), when they want to feed me more and more food (I really need to learn, “I’m full” in Nepali!)… I have to admit that as much as I love it here, it’s kind of comforting to have all these Americans out here with me too. I feel like it’d be somewhat difficult to stay alone, or with a host family, struggling to communicate with anyone else in elementary level Hindi or completely nonexistent Nepali.
Other than that we spent the day walking around the city until our feet were literally aching. Everyone here is so friendly, and even though nothing seems to happen in a rush here, everyone seems to be in a hurry on the streets. Bollywood music plays in basically every shop (which makes me super happy—though the music is some ten years outdated(I think I’ve heard the whole “KabhiKushiKabhiGham” soundtrack in a single day). Everything is an obstacle course of gooey mud and dramatically large puddles in the streets…I feel like when you walk in Nepal, you can easily tell it’s a third world country, but like any of the developing world, the people and the simple natural beauty of the place makes you feel like it all matters much less, for some reason…
On that note, I’ll take your leave. I’ve promised to give Alli, who didn’t bring her computer, my laptop to borrow, and I’ve decided that I’ll do my laundry by hand on the roof before heading to the center tomorrow for my first day of work in Nepal. If I haven’t called you (mainly for the parents now), don’t freak out, please. It’s complicated enough getting settled here, and I do feel like it’s a bit difficult to make it at a reasonable time to the calling center every day. I’ll call when I can though! Promise! :)…I’m also going to try to put up some pictures, now that I’m borrowing another girl’s power adapter for now. Soon to come, so check out the pictures section as well, my friends!
Welcome to Nepal
June 17, 2012
Oh my God. I'm in love! It took all of about five minutes for this place to just capture my heart! The entire Katmandu is surrounded by the greenest foothills of the Himalayas, and we were greeted by a drizzle of monsson rains as soon as we landed...the people, the language, the traffic, the peeling city walls plastered with ads of Bollywood stars drinking Coca Cola, the colorful and vibrant shops...it's all just India! (Graned, more like Bangalore some 15 years ago. There's an obvious sort of poverty rampant throughout. There are piles of trash everywhere in the streets, the ruffled puppies that I wish I could pet, people sleeping on the sides of the roads..) but still! I feel like I suddenly came to a place that combines my Boulder with all my memories of India. Can you tell what kind of a heaven that is to me?...Everything went smoothly with the visa and baggage in the airport, though I truly have to laugh at the lax security. These might be the most chill people in the world in terms of security checks--the scanning machines went off in a frenzy for every single bag placed though, but the gaurds seemed to care a lot more about thier conversations, really. Ooh, I have to mention that along with Indians looking for cheap labor (like the guy sitting next to me on the flight), and hippie white tourists with Sanskrit tattooed on thier arms, there were even Buddhist monks in those dark maroon robes on board the plane, meditating (or sleeping...I just wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt) the entire time). The country is yet to build terminals for thier planes but you walk off the stairs of the aircraft, and feel this cool breeze...it's what I imagine a hill station in INdia would feel like!..Yup, I get the feeling this place willl be a little heven for me for the next few weeks!
There are actually three others from the program that are already here, sho I met up with. One guy from Shanghai, and another two, who ironically study in Denver University...they're incredibly nice, and I've noticed, incredibly in need of that "culture shock" section of our information packed. I almost feel bad. They're so worried about everything and obviously overwhelmed (not the Chinese dude--just the Americans) with all the noise and crowds. One of the Coloradans, a giel named Alli, who's become my temporary roomate, sad she felt like she was being kidnapped until I started talking to her in the car (I guess the guy just told her to get in the car in broken English...it's bound to be frightening!). I think I really take my reasonable comfort in India for granted. To me, everything seems so obvious and easy...we spent part of the evening trying to find placed to eat in Thamel. My new white friends have already drilled me with a billion questions on life in South Asia, and whether it is because I'm the oldest, or my Hindi (which for once I'm not scared to speack since it's become obvious that a) I really need it and b) I'm talking to complete strangers), or my comfort level, I don't know. But it's rather flattering that they trust me, and throughly amusing to hear quite a few of the questions! (I think they're a little paranoid. They're even scared to brush their teeth because of the water)...hey, it pays to be an ABCD!
Oh, and did I say that the Indira Gandhi Airport is as good ask DIA or JFK? I totally, 100% take that back! It's still India! The idiots (I use that word very appropriatly in this case) overbooked my flight, and I spent two hours furiously nudging and elbowing my way to the front of the lines ,fighting with managers in English and Hindi, till I was finally booked into a later flight. FULL on panic mode. Ignoring any conception of politeness or any attempt to not seem forgein, I started yelling along with everyon eelse trying to fly to Katmandu, except in the only American style that I know. (While everyone is saying "Ma'am! Sir!" I decided to say things like, "You!! Pooja! I NEED to get on this flight! NOW!!")It took the kind help of a number of people (including a nice NRI man going to Milan, an old Punjabi couple who helped me get to the front of the security lines, and a man from Chennai who let me borrow his phone on the plane to make an international call to Nepal)...after all that hustle at the check in desks, I sprinted to the gates, sweating and gasping in breath, but just in time for boarding. Seriously though. Take a note from Spiderman. With a great airport comes some great responsability, people!
I do have to tell you that I finally got to see the India Gate, and the Raj Bhavan in Delhi, which was beautiful...but since I'm short on time, and I wanted to tell you about Nepal, I'm going to skip that detail for now. I'll let my pictures for the talking for now (or just fill this in later on)....
I'm obviously a day behind with all of this, since it's around 8:00 in the morning here in Nepal, but I do have to tell you all a few things. Alli and I decided to take a walk this morning after we showered (we automatically woke up around 5:00 this morning), and stumbled across a free (hatha) yoga session. Why not, right? It was actually quite fun! I'm obviously not as flexible as I used to be, but to do a surya namaskar, twelve times, on the rooftop of a Nepali building, with the sound of temple bells ringing, and people slowly opening up thier shops...it's something else. You all know I'm no fan of meditation whatsoever (and no that's nt changing), but it felt like such a good excersise to start the day. Especially after hours of travels on stiffled planes. I even went to a small Devi temple on the way back to the hotel this morning, which felt like quite an auspicious start to the trip. I still have a lot more photos to upload, but that will have to wait until I figure out if I can save things on my computer, and if I can find charger for my compter! Till now, this will have to do...
As a side note: Amma, you'd absolutely love it here-I think of you so much seeing the temples and the mountains! Apps, I can imagine if you went to that yoga session how long you'd sit there meditating. For some reason half way through I wanted to giggle thinking of what you'd say if you saw me actually doing some yoga! Gooie, OMG! THE PUPPIES! I want them all! Shall I bring one back with me? Rohit, you'd be so proud of me! I'm speaking in Hindi, dude--and people actually get it! Will write to you more later though...looks like the internet session is just about up!
Oh my God. I'm in love! It took all of about five minutes for this place to just capture my heart! The entire Katmandu is surrounded by the greenest foothills of the Himalayas, and we were greeted by a drizzle of monsson rains as soon as we landed...the people, the language, the traffic, the peeling city walls plastered with ads of Bollywood stars drinking Coca Cola, the colorful and vibrant shops...it's all just India! (Graned, more like Bangalore some 15 years ago. There's an obvious sort of poverty rampant throughout. There are piles of trash everywhere in the streets, the ruffled puppies that I wish I could pet, people sleeping on the sides of the roads..) but still! I feel like I suddenly came to a place that combines my Boulder with all my memories of India. Can you tell what kind of a heaven that is to me?...Everything went smoothly with the visa and baggage in the airport, though I truly have to laugh at the lax security. These might be the most chill people in the world in terms of security checks--the scanning machines went off in a frenzy for every single bag placed though, but the gaurds seemed to care a lot more about thier conversations, really. Ooh, I have to mention that along with Indians looking for cheap labor (like the guy sitting next to me on the flight), and hippie white tourists with Sanskrit tattooed on thier arms, there were even Buddhist monks in those dark maroon robes on board the plane, meditating (or sleeping...I just wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt) the entire time). The country is yet to build terminals for thier planes but you walk off the stairs of the aircraft, and feel this cool breeze...it's what I imagine a hill station in INdia would feel like!..Yup, I get the feeling this place willl be a little heven for me for the next few weeks!
There are actually three others from the program that are already here, sho I met up with. One guy from Shanghai, and another two, who ironically study in Denver University...they're incredibly nice, and I've noticed, incredibly in need of that "culture shock" section of our information packed. I almost feel bad. They're so worried about everything and obviously overwhelmed (not the Chinese dude--just the Americans) with all the noise and crowds. One of the Coloradans, a giel named Alli, who's become my temporary roomate, sad she felt like she was being kidnapped until I started talking to her in the car (I guess the guy just told her to get in the car in broken English...it's bound to be frightening!). I think I really take my reasonable comfort in India for granted. To me, everything seems so obvious and easy...we spent part of the evening trying to find placed to eat in Thamel. My new white friends have already drilled me with a billion questions on life in South Asia, and whether it is because I'm the oldest, or my Hindi (which for once I'm not scared to speack since it's become obvious that a) I really need it and b) I'm talking to complete strangers), or my comfort level, I don't know. But it's rather flattering that they trust me, and throughly amusing to hear quite a few of the questions! (I think they're a little paranoid. They're even scared to brush their teeth because of the water)...hey, it pays to be an ABCD!
Oh, and did I say that the Indira Gandhi Airport is as good ask DIA or JFK? I totally, 100% take that back! It's still India! The idiots (I use that word very appropriatly in this case) overbooked my flight, and I spent two hours furiously nudging and elbowing my way to the front of the lines ,fighting with managers in English and Hindi, till I was finally booked into a later flight. FULL on panic mode. Ignoring any conception of politeness or any attempt to not seem forgein, I started yelling along with everyon eelse trying to fly to Katmandu, except in the only American style that I know. (While everyone is saying "Ma'am! Sir!" I decided to say things like, "You!! Pooja! I NEED to get on this flight! NOW!!")It took the kind help of a number of people (including a nice NRI man going to Milan, an old Punjabi couple who helped me get to the front of the security lines, and a man from Chennai who let me borrow his phone on the plane to make an international call to Nepal)...after all that hustle at the check in desks, I sprinted to the gates, sweating and gasping in breath, but just in time for boarding. Seriously though. Take a note from Spiderman. With a great airport comes some great responsability, people!
I do have to tell you that I finally got to see the India Gate, and the Raj Bhavan in Delhi, which was beautiful...but since I'm short on time, and I wanted to tell you about Nepal, I'm going to skip that detail for now. I'll let my pictures for the talking for now (or just fill this in later on)....
I'm obviously a day behind with all of this, since it's around 8:00 in the morning here in Nepal, but I do have to tell you all a few things. Alli and I decided to take a walk this morning after we showered (we automatically woke up around 5:00 this morning), and stumbled across a free (hatha) yoga session. Why not, right? It was actually quite fun! I'm obviously not as flexible as I used to be, but to do a surya namaskar, twelve times, on the rooftop of a Nepali building, with the sound of temple bells ringing, and people slowly opening up thier shops...it's something else. You all know I'm no fan of meditation whatsoever (and no that's nt changing), but it felt like such a good excersise to start the day. Especially after hours of travels on stiffled planes. I even went to a small Devi temple on the way back to the hotel this morning, which felt like quite an auspicious start to the trip. I still have a lot more photos to upload, but that will have to wait until I figure out if I can save things on my computer, and if I can find charger for my compter! Till now, this will have to do...
As a side note: Amma, you'd absolutely love it here-I think of you so much seeing the temples and the mountains! Apps, I can imagine if you went to that yoga session how long you'd sit there meditating. For some reason half way through I wanted to giggle thinking of what you'd say if you saw me actually doing some yoga! Gooie, OMG! THE PUPPIES! I want them all! Shall I bring one back with me? Rohit, you'd be so proud of me! I'm speaking in Hindi, dude--and people actually get it! Will write to you more later though...looks like the internet session is just about up!
A Crash Course of Delhi Tourism
June 16, 2012
I’ve decided that two days in Delhi probably aren’t enough, but I’m trying to make do with it here!
Akshardham is just about one of the most incredible temples I’ve ever seen! Although it doesn’t have that mysteriously old charm that most of the other stone South Indian temples I’ve seen seem to hold, there’s something incredible to be said about the temple. They don’t let you take a camera inside, (to my great displeasure, you can imagine) and they have weirdlyintense security scan that even the TSA can learn from (they even wanted to take away my chapstick), so I’ll try to describe itinstead (don’tlaugh!).The first thing, without a doubt, that you notice, are the carved roofs of the temple. Even from afar, knowing that you can’t see all the details, you realize that it’s done so intricately, and meticulously. The entire temple is full of large stone domes, each with sculptures of Swami Narayan’s life stories, blooming at the top with carved petals that reach to the floor. The idol of Swami Narayan himself is inlayed in gold, and sits underneath yet another blossoming dome, under the eyes of gods and goddesses, and the marble floors leading around the temple take you through smaller alters of Hindu deities, paintings three times my height of Swami Narayan, and the spiritual leader’s footprints, hair, and sandals.
Outside, hallways of delicately carved arches of a reddish stone line each and every side of the temple, and the children running between the arches and people sitting in the large windows that overlook the gardens around the temple give it a kind of soothing feel, and the sounds of prayers or the shennai on the loud speakers fill the entire area. 108 cows’ mouths spouting water line the temple, along with stone elephants and lions and a brigade of palms. I was thoroughly pleased to see that, unlike the BAPS temples in the US, they did not actually separate men and women (though I have to note that I particularly noticed that they didn’t show a woman in a single painting), and more than any of the other temples I saw today, the people seem especially devout in their prayers. The place is full of people, and you can even see the traffic and the trams from between the temple’s pillars, and yet it seems so peaceful. If it weren’t for the heat, I’d have loved to see the temple at sunset. I can imagine that if this temple looks this beautiful in an afternoon sun, the entire place much look heavenly bathed in the colors of a sunset.
I know I’m supposed to hate the Muslim invaders and everything, but Qutub Minar was equally gorgeous in its own historical way. There’s something about the Islamic architecture’s symmetry and precision, and even though most of the building surrounding the pillars are in ruins, the whole thing has such an ancient feel to it. Perhaps it’s in part of my obsession with proportioned henna doodles, but the sunlight flowing through the stars and square cut out in the large windows, the elegant Arabic script in praise of rulers and Divinity, the carving you can run your hand over, knowing that they’ve been touched by thousands of people over hundreds of years… I find it all so fascinating. I know it sounds silly, and exceedingly “ABCD” of me, but there’s this one scene in the Namesake where Kal Penn’s character visits the Taj Mahal for the first time. They have the perfect, harmonious soundtrack in the back, and capture these scenes of the domes and arches of the entire monument. The scene finishes with the protagonist announcing to his parents that he’s going to be an architect. Somehow, that scene sort of resonates with me when I look at the monument. It’s so easily understandable how those buildings can inspire a person to design such beautiful structures.
I got to see the Ba’hai Lotus temple and the Birla Mandir as well. Both are gorgeous, in their own way. True to its religion, I heard everything from French to Tamil to Tibetan at the Lotus Temple, with sardars, burquka-clad ladies, and women dressed in saris and bindis entering in the same batches (I do not envy the temple volunteers who have to get the devotees and tourists to actually maintain silence in the hall!), and even though this will make me sound like a totally foreigner, I can tell you that the first thought upon seeing the Lotus temple was, “hey look! Sydney Opera house!” …Birla Mandir’s large marble white idols of Lakshmi-Narayana are stunning, and the entire temple, in my eyes, is what all the North Indian temples in America seek to be. Grand, and simple cuts in the marble that let light into the temple, and, of course, the usual crowds of Indians-this time mainly speaking Hindi and praying aloud. The temple even had a courtyard in the front, and it’s reddish roofs add something to the bust street surrounding it…Of course, the largest challenge in both temples was the fact that, with shoes off, the marble floors are scorching hot, and it almost becomes a painful game to reach the badly placed rugs before it hurts too much to walk! Seriously, I’m not kidding. Delhi is way too hot! The only other time I’ve had sweat poor down from my face like this was in Ahmedabad last summer, and I’ve come to the conclusion that about five minutes of walking around casually in the Delhi afternoon sun is equivalent of about an hour’s worth of sweating in an American gym work out (perhaps a little too much detail there, but I’m serious. This has made me rethink my overly casual, “oh, I’d not mind working in India” sentiments!)
Another noteworthy thing to mention, for my own international affairs fascination, is the embassy road. One long road down Delhi, lined with national capitals. It’s actually quite (for lack of better word) cool! From Sudan to Serbia to Pakistan and Iran, the embassies peacefully exist in a line down this stretch of forest-lined roads. The nations have all added their own native touches to their buildings as well (might I add, the US embassy is the biggest on the whole road), and you suddenly see a lot more white people (something I never really get used to seeing in India). Very interesting!...Originally I was under the impression that Delhi must be a fairly well off city, since I’ve seen more government buildings and little poverty—until I was made aware of the fact that because these high up officials and international diplomats live in the city, they’ve managed to tuck away the slums to a ways outside the city, widen the streets, and make the richer part of town truly look as if it hosted none of the problems that India seems to dominate on in developmental issues…Yeah, that needs to change, Delhi.
I leave for Nepal tomorrow at noon, and will be seeing a few more sights in Delhi early in the morning…which means, if I don’t want to remain jet lagged, I’d better sleep soon!
I’ve decided that two days in Delhi probably aren’t enough, but I’m trying to make do with it here!
Akshardham is just about one of the most incredible temples I’ve ever seen! Although it doesn’t have that mysteriously old charm that most of the other stone South Indian temples I’ve seen seem to hold, there’s something incredible to be said about the temple. They don’t let you take a camera inside, (to my great displeasure, you can imagine) and they have weirdlyintense security scan that even the TSA can learn from (they even wanted to take away my chapstick), so I’ll try to describe itinstead (don’tlaugh!).The first thing, without a doubt, that you notice, are the carved roofs of the temple. Even from afar, knowing that you can’t see all the details, you realize that it’s done so intricately, and meticulously. The entire temple is full of large stone domes, each with sculptures of Swami Narayan’s life stories, blooming at the top with carved petals that reach to the floor. The idol of Swami Narayan himself is inlayed in gold, and sits underneath yet another blossoming dome, under the eyes of gods and goddesses, and the marble floors leading around the temple take you through smaller alters of Hindu deities, paintings three times my height of Swami Narayan, and the spiritual leader’s footprints, hair, and sandals.
Outside, hallways of delicately carved arches of a reddish stone line each and every side of the temple, and the children running between the arches and people sitting in the large windows that overlook the gardens around the temple give it a kind of soothing feel, and the sounds of prayers or the shennai on the loud speakers fill the entire area. 108 cows’ mouths spouting water line the temple, along with stone elephants and lions and a brigade of palms. I was thoroughly pleased to see that, unlike the BAPS temples in the US, they did not actually separate men and women (though I have to note that I particularly noticed that they didn’t show a woman in a single painting), and more than any of the other temples I saw today, the people seem especially devout in their prayers. The place is full of people, and you can even see the traffic and the trams from between the temple’s pillars, and yet it seems so peaceful. If it weren’t for the heat, I’d have loved to see the temple at sunset. I can imagine that if this temple looks this beautiful in an afternoon sun, the entire place much look heavenly bathed in the colors of a sunset.
I know I’m supposed to hate the Muslim invaders and everything, but Qutub Minar was equally gorgeous in its own historical way. There’s something about the Islamic architecture’s symmetry and precision, and even though most of the building surrounding the pillars are in ruins, the whole thing has such an ancient feel to it. Perhaps it’s in part of my obsession with proportioned henna doodles, but the sunlight flowing through the stars and square cut out in the large windows, the elegant Arabic script in praise of rulers and Divinity, the carving you can run your hand over, knowing that they’ve been touched by thousands of people over hundreds of years… I find it all so fascinating. I know it sounds silly, and exceedingly “ABCD” of me, but there’s this one scene in the Namesake where Kal Penn’s character visits the Taj Mahal for the first time. They have the perfect, harmonious soundtrack in the back, and capture these scenes of the domes and arches of the entire monument. The scene finishes with the protagonist announcing to his parents that he’s going to be an architect. Somehow, that scene sort of resonates with me when I look at the monument. It’s so easily understandable how those buildings can inspire a person to design such beautiful structures.
I got to see the Ba’hai Lotus temple and the Birla Mandir as well. Both are gorgeous, in their own way. True to its religion, I heard everything from French to Tamil to Tibetan at the Lotus Temple, with sardars, burquka-clad ladies, and women dressed in saris and bindis entering in the same batches (I do not envy the temple volunteers who have to get the devotees and tourists to actually maintain silence in the hall!), and even though this will make me sound like a totally foreigner, I can tell you that the first thought upon seeing the Lotus temple was, “hey look! Sydney Opera house!” …Birla Mandir’s large marble white idols of Lakshmi-Narayana are stunning, and the entire temple, in my eyes, is what all the North Indian temples in America seek to be. Grand, and simple cuts in the marble that let light into the temple, and, of course, the usual crowds of Indians-this time mainly speaking Hindi and praying aloud. The temple even had a courtyard in the front, and it’s reddish roofs add something to the bust street surrounding it…Of course, the largest challenge in both temples was the fact that, with shoes off, the marble floors are scorching hot, and it almost becomes a painful game to reach the badly placed rugs before it hurts too much to walk! Seriously, I’m not kidding. Delhi is way too hot! The only other time I’ve had sweat poor down from my face like this was in Ahmedabad last summer, and I’ve come to the conclusion that about five minutes of walking around casually in the Delhi afternoon sun is equivalent of about an hour’s worth of sweating in an American gym work out (perhaps a little too much detail there, but I’m serious. This has made me rethink my overly casual, “oh, I’d not mind working in India” sentiments!)
Another noteworthy thing to mention, for my own international affairs fascination, is the embassy road. One long road down Delhi, lined with national capitals. It’s actually quite (for lack of better word) cool! From Sudan to Serbia to Pakistan and Iran, the embassies peacefully exist in a line down this stretch of forest-lined roads. The nations have all added their own native touches to their buildings as well (might I add, the US embassy is the biggest on the whole road), and you suddenly see a lot more white people (something I never really get used to seeing in India). Very interesting!...Originally I was under the impression that Delhi must be a fairly well off city, since I’ve seen more government buildings and little poverty—until I was made aware of the fact that because these high up officials and international diplomats live in the city, they’ve managed to tuck away the slums to a ways outside the city, widen the streets, and make the richer part of town truly look as if it hosted none of the problems that India seems to dominate on in developmental issues…Yeah, that needs to change, Delhi.
I leave for Nepal tomorrow at noon, and will be seeing a few more sights in Delhi early in the morning…which means, if I don’t want to remain jet lagged, I’d better sleep soon!
Back to India
June 15, 2012
After a grueling, over a day long flight through L.A, Japan, and Malaysia, I’m in India! New Delhi, to be specific. I woke up from an uncomfortable nap as the little in-flight screen showed our plane flying over India. You know what’s interesting? From the sky it all looks so dry, and almost deserted—you don’t seem to see that massive population that you anticipate until the plane goes lower…and lower…and you start to notice the little yellow tops of auto-rickshaws, the tops of temples, and massive Hindu idols that you can see even from a plane window. That, coupled with people shouting in Hindi across the plane to get help in filling out their immigration forms, and the flight attendant actually getting on the intercom to say things like, “will the man in the back please sit down? We haven’t come to the gate yet!” Make you smile a little and realize you’re back.
Indira Gandhi International Airport took me completely by surprise. It seems little like an Indian airport, and much more like JFK or even DIA, in its cleanliness and organization. The massive mudras on the walls, and the Indian touches throughout the airport maybe the only thing that truly set it apart as an Indian airport at first glance. Even my introduction to the country certainly seemed iconic. The immigration officer apparently found my American Passport teamed with the Oversees Citizen of India card amusing, and decided to ask me in heavily stereotypical accent, “So, you like it in India?” “Of course! I love it here,” I replied. “And why would you not,” he said, as he stamped my papers, “you can go anywhere, but you are still Indian, yes?” Very appropriate Bollywood-esque dialogue to enter the country!
I feel like I expected a dramatic change between Bangalore and Delhi—north versus south and all—but other than the language, and the fact that the thermostat is turned up to a sweltering 110 degrees in this city, they seem…the same. Is that weird? They don’t sell the long strands of jasmine flowers that they do in the south, and it’s definitely less green, but so far the people the scenes…there’s hardly much difference in my mind after a day of seeing the city (perhaps I should give it more time). I have, unfortunately, already seen the children, with a baby on their hip, stretching their hands out of torn clothing towards the car—which breaks my heart every time as I sit uncomfortably, desperately wanting to do something…
We took an excursion to Delhi Haat today—a marketplace for craftsman from all over India. The concept is interesting: the government, in hopes to promote their work, grants them space for a small fee, and in turn, craftsman who otherwise have a small market to sell to, gain a few months in a larger city to gain a little more money. As for the crafts itself…it’s stunning. If it wouldn’t make me look like an idiot, I’d have stopped at every stall and taken pictures of the people working them, and their goods. The most delicate black cups from the east-Asian looking Assamese, woven skirts and tops sold by Punjab men, women with saris-covered heads from Rajasthan selling the brightest puppets and strings of bright bandhini birds and elephants. It’s gorgeous! I had once read an article written by a photographer who said that it is an injustice to ever take a black and white picture in India—there are simply too many vibrant colors in every snapshot of the lens, and seeing some of these booths, I whole heartedly agree!
I know this has been a rather gushy blabbering of the city, I do have at least one harsh critique in general. I can honestly say that I cannotstand the idea of servants in India. It bothers me to see them always silently around, doing everything. I suppose that’s something I’m supposed to enjoy, but to me, I know I am physically and mentally able to wash my own dishes, do my own laundry and all those other little daily tasks…even if I complain about it back home, it’s just a part of how life goes, isn’t it? It makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable to just get up and leave my dirty dishes on the table, knowing that someone will quietly slip in and take it away later. My need to say “thank you” to them for everything seems out of place (and they never respond), while everyone just accepts the servent’s work for granted. Interestingly enough, my hosts (my dad’s cousin and his wife), both of who studied in the US, told me that that’s what they missed about India: being able to have everything done for you. To each their own, I guess…I love that independence of America. Even if I can’t cook to save my life, the fact that it’s my own charred sandwich that set off the fire alarm, and my own laundry that I have to haul upstairs every week, makes me feel somewhat useful I guess…
After a grueling, over a day long flight through L.A, Japan, and Malaysia, I’m in India! New Delhi, to be specific. I woke up from an uncomfortable nap as the little in-flight screen showed our plane flying over India. You know what’s interesting? From the sky it all looks so dry, and almost deserted—you don’t seem to see that massive population that you anticipate until the plane goes lower…and lower…and you start to notice the little yellow tops of auto-rickshaws, the tops of temples, and massive Hindu idols that you can see even from a plane window. That, coupled with people shouting in Hindi across the plane to get help in filling out their immigration forms, and the flight attendant actually getting on the intercom to say things like, “will the man in the back please sit down? We haven’t come to the gate yet!” Make you smile a little and realize you’re back.
Indira Gandhi International Airport took me completely by surprise. It seems little like an Indian airport, and much more like JFK or even DIA, in its cleanliness and organization. The massive mudras on the walls, and the Indian touches throughout the airport maybe the only thing that truly set it apart as an Indian airport at first glance. Even my introduction to the country certainly seemed iconic. The immigration officer apparently found my American Passport teamed with the Oversees Citizen of India card amusing, and decided to ask me in heavily stereotypical accent, “So, you like it in India?” “Of course! I love it here,” I replied. “And why would you not,” he said, as he stamped my papers, “you can go anywhere, but you are still Indian, yes?” Very appropriate Bollywood-esque dialogue to enter the country!
I feel like I expected a dramatic change between Bangalore and Delhi—north versus south and all—but other than the language, and the fact that the thermostat is turned up to a sweltering 110 degrees in this city, they seem…the same. Is that weird? They don’t sell the long strands of jasmine flowers that they do in the south, and it’s definitely less green, but so far the people the scenes…there’s hardly much difference in my mind after a day of seeing the city (perhaps I should give it more time). I have, unfortunately, already seen the children, with a baby on their hip, stretching their hands out of torn clothing towards the car—which breaks my heart every time as I sit uncomfortably, desperately wanting to do something…
We took an excursion to Delhi Haat today—a marketplace for craftsman from all over India. The concept is interesting: the government, in hopes to promote their work, grants them space for a small fee, and in turn, craftsman who otherwise have a small market to sell to, gain a few months in a larger city to gain a little more money. As for the crafts itself…it’s stunning. If it wouldn’t make me look like an idiot, I’d have stopped at every stall and taken pictures of the people working them, and their goods. The most delicate black cups from the east-Asian looking Assamese, woven skirts and tops sold by Punjab men, women with saris-covered heads from Rajasthan selling the brightest puppets and strings of bright bandhini birds and elephants. It’s gorgeous! I had once read an article written by a photographer who said that it is an injustice to ever take a black and white picture in India—there are simply too many vibrant colors in every snapshot of the lens, and seeing some of these booths, I whole heartedly agree!
I know this has been a rather gushy blabbering of the city, I do have at least one harsh critique in general. I can honestly say that I cannotstand the idea of servants in India. It bothers me to see them always silently around, doing everything. I suppose that’s something I’m supposed to enjoy, but to me, I know I am physically and mentally able to wash my own dishes, do my own laundry and all those other little daily tasks…even if I complain about it back home, it’s just a part of how life goes, isn’t it? It makes me feel incredibly uncomfortable to just get up and leave my dirty dishes on the table, knowing that someone will quietly slip in and take it away later. My need to say “thank you” to them for everything seems out of place (and they never respond), while everyone just accepts the servent’s work for granted. Interestingly enough, my hosts (my dad’s cousin and his wife), both of who studied in the US, told me that that’s what they missed about India: being able to have everything done for you. To each their own, I guess…I love that independence of America. Even if I can’t cook to save my life, the fact that it’s my own charred sandwich that set off the fire alarm, and my own laundry that I have to haul upstairs every week, makes me feel somewhat useful I guess…