I've returned to NYC. I should probably do a post about what I learned in Nepal, but I think all my posts - 49 of them! - speak for the experience. Maybe I'll feel compelled to do one later, but for now I'll say goodbye.
Thanks for reading!!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Dogmandu
It's really easy to take the name "Kathmandu" and change the first syllable into another word that fits with whatever theme you like. Like: Dogmandu. Mapmandu. Madmandu. Stupidmandu. It all works. I don't know why.
That had nothing to do with this new post which is, you guessed it, about Dogs. As I get ready to bid farewell this strange and wonderful city, I think about the things I will miss the most and they are: Meredith (she'll be staying on for a bit), the Dogs, the people, especially: Shusila; Sara; Pia; Netus; Prajwel, Dal Bhaat, my apartment, tikas, and the mountains.
So here's a tribute to my favorite pups (and one alternating goat).
In no particular order, except that I mention my favorite dog at the end.
Warning: There will be an indecent amount of anthropomorphizing in the following statements. And some sad stories, also.
1. The Couple
This is a pair of dogs that Meredith and I met when we moved into our new apartment in Sanepa after having lived for a month in Kupondole at Alberts' place. We've been at this apartment for 3 months and have only just convinced The Couple that we won't hurt them and want to be their friends. After months of saying "hello" to them, trying to pet them, and occasionally offering them food, we finally got to pet them for the first time a few days ago. I didn't feel as triumphant as I thought I would have. In fact, I felt a little silly considering how much I wanted them to like me.
These dogs are never apart. They almost move as one. We never really gave them separate names, except for that I started to regard the skittish, nervous, slightly interested one as representing me, and the relaxed, aloof one as Meredith. So, I would say things like: "Oh, look, there's me. I'm licking my butt."
2.Mangy Reynold and Mangy Benji
To earn a name that has a "Mangy" in front of it, is no easy feat. You really have to be dirty, scabby, hairless, eyeless, and smelly to deserve the Mangy adjective.
Mangy Reynold and Mangy Benji were two of the first dogs Meredith and I named. They live a few blocks away from our apartment, on a small road with a few shops. They would sit there together (never touching) all day, waiting to scavenge for food at the mini-restaurant. They never wandered from their home. Ever. I would see them there day and night.
Sad story: one day I went to do some errands and noticed Mangy Benji lying near a pile of trash. When I came back a few hours later, he was in the exact same spot. I thought it was strange, but dismissed it as a comfy position. The next night Meredith and I were coming home from dinner and I noticed he was still there, in the same position. There was no doubt about it, he had died. There he lay for almost a week before someone took his body away. It was really sad. I wondered if any of the shop owners had become attached to him (from a distance, because this was not a dog you touched or cuddled) and were sad, too.
I don't have a picture of Manjy Benji, but here's Mangy Reynold, who seems to have soldiered on despite the loss of his buddy:
3. Crazy Eye
Crazy Eye is a dog we see infrequently because he lives farther away from us than the rest of these dogs. There were times I thought maybe he had an owner because we was so clean and shiny. We call him Crazy Eye because he is one of the most beautiful dogs, and you think this until all of sudden you notice his slightly off-center eye. And you only notice it because of his all-around studliness.
4. Bloody Eye
Poor Bloody Eye, his eye is bloody and I'm always avoiding him. I noticed this fella one day with an eye full of blood and pus and a large blood-covered protrusion that may have been his eye but probably was just an inflamed part of his eye socket. His eye healed daily and for a while was just bloody with a weird white string poking out from his socket. Now, it's just bloody. Here he is:
5. Changba
Changba is my least favorite thing in Nepal. Like, worse than all the trash in the street and oglers who stare at my chest. Changba sucks and I live with him. He's our landlords' dog and he lives right next to the entrance to my apartment. Despite the fact that we've lived here for three months, he still barks at us like we're about to rob the place. We fed him food a few times and he would bark ferociously in between mouthfuls. He's mean. The guy who lived here before us got Changba to stop barking at him and be his friend after a year. Except one night Changba took a bite out of his leg. Here's his stupidface in all its glory:
6. Mangy Griselda
Mangy Griselda is a boy dog, but Meredith named him without checking his privates first. Now we notice his sad little balls and feel bad for calling him a girls name - but it's too late to change. Mangy Griselda seems to have an owner, but the owner only feeds him and puts a cardboard mat outside the house as a bed for him to sleep on. His eyes are small and seem to be covered with a weird film that makes me think he can't see very well. His tail and the back part of his torso is virtually hairless. He's not a dog you pet with your hand, but he clearly wants affection. We've started pulling small branches off of trees to pet him. I don't think he realizes the difference. He's a sweet little thing:
7. Death Row Goat
This is not a particular goat that we love, but rather a weird phenomenon that happens on a street near our apartment. It's a goat that is tied up in front of a butchers, like an advertisement. He or she sits there munching on greenery until someone decides they want mutton for dinner and that's that. One goat made it for almost two weeks, and we'd always wave at him with disbelief at his staying power.
We can't take credit for this name (Death Row Goat), our American friends Keri and James made it up. Here's one goat, creepily smiling:
8. Baby Daddy
This big boy has clearly sired many of the little pups in our neighborhood. He is a bossy, big shouldered, manly dog that wants to have puppies and then move on. Meredith thinks Baby Mama (see below) is his steady girlfriend - I'm not so sure. We've pet him a little bit, but he really only comes around when we have food.
9. Baby Mama
Finally, I come to the best dog in the world (besides Bodhi) that makes me reconsider leaving Nepal. She is the sweetest, most lovable little thing and was the first dog to make an effort to get to know us. We started noticing her around about a month and a half ago. I don't think she has an owner and mostly resides around our neighborhood and down our little dirt road. At the beginning, we would pet her as we left our apartment and say a little hello. She's pretty clean, a little oily and some scratches, but nothing too bad. Sometimes when we would come home at night, she would meet us a few blocks away from our apartment and escort us home. Sometimes Mangy Griselda would be there with her and we would hope he didn't notice us only petting her.
One day, we noticed Baby Mama had a huge cut on her eye. Mainly it was on the bottom part, but it was a pretty nasty abrasion. I thought it would heal itself, just like Bloody Eye had healed on his own, but as the days went on it seemed to be getting worse and she was looking exceedingly fatigued. She stopped roaming around, and would sleep all day near our apartment. I tried calling some local veterinarians, but no one would pick up.
Finally, my brave little Meredith took matters into her own hands. She started washing the wound with water and applying Neosporin to it. We got some antibiotics that were designed for kids and gave her bread soaked in it. It seemed like she wasn't getting better and she started refusing to eat anything. She was barely walking and would shake when she stood up. We thought it was over for good and she would surely die soon. It was really depressing.
Then, suddenly she started getting better! She would eat more and was wandering around and her eye seemed to be healing. Now, she's back in full health. She eats ravenously and (sadly for us) is barely around our apartment. She roams the streets during the day and sometimes stops by to visit a neighbors puppy we believe she is either the mother or grandmother of. We see her maybe once a day. Last night we came home later and she escorted us home. She was so excited when she saw us, that she started whinnying like a wounded horse. It was adorable.
Here we are:
And that's our Dogmandu.
That had nothing to do with this new post which is, you guessed it, about Dogs. As I get ready to bid farewell this strange and wonderful city, I think about the things I will miss the most and they are: Meredith (she'll be staying on for a bit), the Dogs, the people, especially: Shusila; Sara; Pia; Netus; Prajwel, Dal Bhaat, my apartment, tikas, and the mountains.
So here's a tribute to my favorite pups (and one alternating goat).
In no particular order, except that I mention my favorite dog at the end.
Warning: There will be an indecent amount of anthropomorphizing in the following statements. And some sad stories, also.
1. The Couple
This is a pair of dogs that Meredith and I met when we moved into our new apartment in Sanepa after having lived for a month in Kupondole at Alberts' place. We've been at this apartment for 3 months and have only just convinced The Couple that we won't hurt them and want to be their friends. After months of saying "hello" to them, trying to pet them, and occasionally offering them food, we finally got to pet them for the first time a few days ago. I didn't feel as triumphant as I thought I would have. In fact, I felt a little silly considering how much I wanted them to like me.
These dogs are never apart. They almost move as one. We never really gave them separate names, except for that I started to regard the skittish, nervous, slightly interested one as representing me, and the relaxed, aloof one as Meredith. So, I would say things like: "Oh, look, there's me. I'm licking my butt."
2.Mangy Reynold and Mangy Benji
To earn a name that has a "Mangy" in front of it, is no easy feat. You really have to be dirty, scabby, hairless, eyeless, and smelly to deserve the Mangy adjective.
Mangy Reynold and Mangy Benji were two of the first dogs Meredith and I named. They live a few blocks away from our apartment, on a small road with a few shops. They would sit there together (never touching) all day, waiting to scavenge for food at the mini-restaurant. They never wandered from their home. Ever. I would see them there day and night.
Sad story: one day I went to do some errands and noticed Mangy Benji lying near a pile of trash. When I came back a few hours later, he was in the exact same spot. I thought it was strange, but dismissed it as a comfy position. The next night Meredith and I were coming home from dinner and I noticed he was still there, in the same position. There was no doubt about it, he had died. There he lay for almost a week before someone took his body away. It was really sad. I wondered if any of the shop owners had become attached to him (from a distance, because this was not a dog you touched or cuddled) and were sad, too.
I don't have a picture of Manjy Benji, but here's Mangy Reynold, who seems to have soldiered on despite the loss of his buddy:
3. Crazy Eye
Crazy Eye is a dog we see infrequently because he lives farther away from us than the rest of these dogs. There were times I thought maybe he had an owner because we was so clean and shiny. We call him Crazy Eye because he is one of the most beautiful dogs, and you think this until all of sudden you notice his slightly off-center eye. And you only notice it because of his all-around studliness.
4. Bloody Eye
Poor Bloody Eye, his eye is bloody and I'm always avoiding him. I noticed this fella one day with an eye full of blood and pus and a large blood-covered protrusion that may have been his eye but probably was just an inflamed part of his eye socket. His eye healed daily and for a while was just bloody with a weird white string poking out from his socket. Now, it's just bloody. Here he is:
5. Changba
Changba is my least favorite thing in Nepal. Like, worse than all the trash in the street and oglers who stare at my chest. Changba sucks and I live with him. He's our landlords' dog and he lives right next to the entrance to my apartment. Despite the fact that we've lived here for three months, he still barks at us like we're about to rob the place. We fed him food a few times and he would bark ferociously in between mouthfuls. He's mean. The guy who lived here before us got Changba to stop barking at him and be his friend after a year. Except one night Changba took a bite out of his leg. Here's his stupidface in all its glory:
6. Mangy Griselda
Mangy Griselda is a boy dog, but Meredith named him without checking his privates first. Now we notice his sad little balls and feel bad for calling him a girls name - but it's too late to change. Mangy Griselda seems to have an owner, but the owner only feeds him and puts a cardboard mat outside the house as a bed for him to sleep on. His eyes are small and seem to be covered with a weird film that makes me think he can't see very well. His tail and the back part of his torso is virtually hairless. He's not a dog you pet with your hand, but he clearly wants affection. We've started pulling small branches off of trees to pet him. I don't think he realizes the difference. He's a sweet little thing:
7. Death Row Goat
This is not a particular goat that we love, but rather a weird phenomenon that happens on a street near our apartment. It's a goat that is tied up in front of a butchers, like an advertisement. He or she sits there munching on greenery until someone decides they want mutton for dinner and that's that. One goat made it for almost two weeks, and we'd always wave at him with disbelief at his staying power.
We can't take credit for this name (Death Row Goat), our American friends Keri and James made it up. Here's one goat, creepily smiling:
8. Baby Daddy
This big boy has clearly sired many of the little pups in our neighborhood. He is a bossy, big shouldered, manly dog that wants to have puppies and then move on. Meredith thinks Baby Mama (see below) is his steady girlfriend - I'm not so sure. We've pet him a little bit, but he really only comes around when we have food.
9. Baby Mama
Finally, I come to the best dog in the world (besides Bodhi) that makes me reconsider leaving Nepal. She is the sweetest, most lovable little thing and was the first dog to make an effort to get to know us. We started noticing her around about a month and a half ago. I don't think she has an owner and mostly resides around our neighborhood and down our little dirt road. At the beginning, we would pet her as we left our apartment and say a little hello. She's pretty clean, a little oily and some scratches, but nothing too bad. Sometimes when we would come home at night, she would meet us a few blocks away from our apartment and escort us home. Sometimes Mangy Griselda would be there with her and we would hope he didn't notice us only petting her.
One day, we noticed Baby Mama had a huge cut on her eye. Mainly it was on the bottom part, but it was a pretty nasty abrasion. I thought it would heal itself, just like Bloody Eye had healed on his own, but as the days went on it seemed to be getting worse and she was looking exceedingly fatigued. She stopped roaming around, and would sleep all day near our apartment. I tried calling some local veterinarians, but no one would pick up.
Finally, my brave little Meredith took matters into her own hands. She started washing the wound with water and applying Neosporin to it. We got some antibiotics that were designed for kids and gave her bread soaked in it. It seemed like she wasn't getting better and she started refusing to eat anything. She was barely walking and would shake when she stood up. We thought it was over for good and she would surely die soon. It was really depressing.
Then, suddenly she started getting better! She would eat more and was wandering around and her eye seemed to be healing. Now, she's back in full health. She eats ravenously and (sadly for us) is barely around our apartment. She roams the streets during the day and sometimes stops by to visit a neighbors puppy we believe she is either the mother or grandmother of. We see her maybe once a day. Last night we came home later and she escorted us home. She was so excited when she saw us, that she started whinnying like a wounded horse. It was adorable.
Here we are:
And that's our Dogmandu.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Making Do Thanksgiving (Or, How To Cope With a Baking Holiday When You Don't Have an Oven)
Thanksgiving this year just wasn't the same. I don't really mean that in a bad way. Given the option I probably would've chosen to be home for this holiday, but my friends here and I scraped together a pretty fine substitute that I wouldn't trade for anything now. Sure, it was hard, and took three days, and didn't turn out perfect, but it turned out pretty good enough and after I ate I got that too full feeling that is indicative of yummy Thanksgiving.
This endeavor began because our new American friend Sara has the same enthusiasm for Thanksgiving as I do. When we met on November 5th it was one of the first things we brought up and decided, then and there, to do it. Since, Sara and her friend Keri had to leave Kathmandu before the actual day, we had it 6 days early. The preparations began on Wednesday. Sara, Mer, and I went to Bhat Battini Supermarket - a 5 floor monstrosity of food and clothing and other goods that would only be common place in the States. There we found a frozen $80 turkey that was too puny and too expensive for our tastes. However, this was a triumph for me because no one would believe there were any turkeys in Nepal. We gathered all the big supermarket items that we wouldn't be able to find in the local Nepali stores (things like confectioners sugar, whip cream mix, peanut butter) and had two cups each of this weird perfect corn stuff.
On Thursday we started gathering more ingredients near our houses. Sara lives in Patan and has a great open air market near her. Here's James (Sara's roommate), Kumar (Sara's boyfriend), Mer, and Sara walking to this market all Reservoir Dogs Style:
At the market, Mer busted out one of her many thousands of lists. I wish I had gotten a picture of all the lists together, but basically there were about ten lists all of which had the same ingredients on it, just in different orders. Here's Kumar, Sara, and Mer (with a list) at the market:
Then we headed to Sara, Keri, and James' apartment to cook the baked items. We had convinced a bakery called Fiji to bake some of our food items at around 7pm that evening. We made a pumpkin pie with fresh cinnamon, here's James grinding it in a bowl with the bottom of a wine bottle:
Sara instructed us all on her specialty: the no-bake peanut butter squares. Here's Mer doing her special double-boil-thing to heat up the chocolate and peanut butter:
Keri doesn't cook, so she hung around and kept us company:
At night we rushed over to Fiji Bakery to bake our pumpkin pie and stuffing. There was only one available oven and it didn't even go high enough to rightly cook the pumpkin pie. We knew we were going to be there for a while. Here's the owner (who studied cooking/baking in Japan), one of his daughters, a bakery employee, Mer and blurry Sara:
While we waited, we played with the owners kids doing boring things like shooting rubberbands and making funny faces. Here's Sara being less boring and tossing them around, they LOVED it:
After two hours of waiting and the pumpkin pie refusing to be finished, we went home with the promise to come pick things up in the morning. The next day we all went our separate ways: Sara picking things up around town, Mer cooking, me picking up things around town, James cooking at his apartment. Shusila came over early to help us finish up the cooking and make some saag:
Shusila brought her nephew Netus with her, and Kumar and I started playing cards with him. I taught them how to play Spoons and they taught me a Nepali card game. Here's them playing:
Sara made some excellent home-made apple cider in a coca cola bottle. She would heat it up and you could mix rum in it. Shit, it was good:
And here's the final spread (there's salad in that red bucket)
For my own reference, here's who came:
1, 2 Lauren/Mer (USA)
3 Sara (USA)
4 Kumar (Nepal)
5 James (USA)
6 Keri (USA)
7 Bhakta (Nepal)
8 Pia (Finland)
9 Naba (Nepal)
10 Albert (USA)
11 Rich (UK)
12 Arielle (USA)
13 - 17 Shajjan + 4 (Nepal)
18 Saroj (Nepal)
19 Shusila (Nepal)
20 Netus (Nepal)
21, 22 Min + 1 (Nepal)
23 Komako (Japan)
24 Mike (USA)
25 Danielle (USA)
26 Miriam (Austrailia)
27 - 30 Landlord and Co. + 4 (Nepal)
This endeavor began because our new American friend Sara has the same enthusiasm for Thanksgiving as I do. When we met on November 5th it was one of the first things we brought up and decided, then and there, to do it. Since, Sara and her friend Keri had to leave Kathmandu before the actual day, we had it 6 days early. The preparations began on Wednesday. Sara, Mer, and I went to Bhat Battini Supermarket - a 5 floor monstrosity of food and clothing and other goods that would only be common place in the States. There we found a frozen $80 turkey that was too puny and too expensive for our tastes. However, this was a triumph for me because no one would believe there were any turkeys in Nepal. We gathered all the big supermarket items that we wouldn't be able to find in the local Nepali stores (things like confectioners sugar, whip cream mix, peanut butter) and had two cups each of this weird perfect corn stuff.
On Thursday we started gathering more ingredients near our houses. Sara lives in Patan and has a great open air market near her. Here's James (Sara's roommate), Kumar (Sara's boyfriend), Mer, and Sara walking to this market all Reservoir Dogs Style:
At the market, Mer busted out one of her many thousands of lists. I wish I had gotten a picture of all the lists together, but basically there were about ten lists all of which had the same ingredients on it, just in different orders. Here's Kumar, Sara, and Mer (with a list) at the market:
Then we headed to Sara, Keri, and James' apartment to cook the baked items. We had convinced a bakery called Fiji to bake some of our food items at around 7pm that evening. We made a pumpkin pie with fresh cinnamon, here's James grinding it in a bowl with the bottom of a wine bottle:
Sara instructed us all on her specialty: the no-bake peanut butter squares. Here's Mer doing her special double-boil-thing to heat up the chocolate and peanut butter:
Keri doesn't cook, so she hung around and kept us company:
At night we rushed over to Fiji Bakery to bake our pumpkin pie and stuffing. There was only one available oven and it didn't even go high enough to rightly cook the pumpkin pie. We knew we were going to be there for a while. Here's the owner (who studied cooking/baking in Japan), one of his daughters, a bakery employee, Mer and blurry Sara:
While we waited, we played with the owners kids doing boring things like shooting rubberbands and making funny faces. Here's Sara being less boring and tossing them around, they LOVED it:
After two hours of waiting and the pumpkin pie refusing to be finished, we went home with the promise to come pick things up in the morning. The next day we all went our separate ways: Sara picking things up around town, Mer cooking, me picking up things around town, James cooking at his apartment. Shusila came over early to help us finish up the cooking and make some saag:
Shusila brought her nephew Netus with her, and Kumar and I started playing cards with him. I taught them how to play Spoons and they taught me a Nepali card game. Here's them playing:
Sara made some excellent home-made apple cider in a coca cola bottle. She would heat it up and you could mix rum in it. Shit, it was good:
And here's the final spread (there's salad in that red bucket)
For my own reference, here's who came:
1, 2 Lauren/Mer (USA)
3 Sara (USA)
4 Kumar (Nepal)
5 James (USA)
6 Keri (USA)
7 Bhakta (Nepal)
8 Pia (Finland)
9 Naba (Nepal)
10 Albert (USA)
11 Rich (UK)
12 Arielle (USA)
13 - 17 Shajjan + 4 (Nepal)
18 Saroj (Nepal)
19 Shusila (Nepal)
20 Netus (Nepal)
21, 22 Min + 1 (Nepal)
23 Komako (Japan)
24 Mike (USA)
25 Danielle (USA)
26 Miriam (Austrailia)
27 - 30 Landlord and Co. + 4 (Nepal)
Friday, November 28, 2008
Changu Narayan
Another great hiking place in the Kathmandu Valley is around the Changu Narayan temple. Mer and I did this hike a while ago, and I'm writing about it now because I don't want to forget it or pretend like it was any less than the other hikes we went on. Anyhow, we were dropped off about 40 minutes away from the temple and then hiked up to it along a little hill ridge. The best view was from the hike, where you could see the steeples (I know that's a church word) rising above the trees. When we got there we found only a few other tourists, which I always consider a success when visiting special places. I mean, as a "foreign resident" I think you're entitled to explore the secrets of the city and be seen as cool by the natives for being one of the few foreigners to know about those secrets. Here's Changu:
Changu Narayan is supposedly the oldest temple in Nepal. Though, I've also heard that a temple in Panuati is the oldest. When I asked my landlord if Changu was the oldest temple in Nepal he said "Yes." When I asked him if the Panuati temple was the oldest, he said "Yes." So, that's helpful.
The best part of Changu besides the requisite Kali slaughter/sacrifice temple, were the dogs going around eating the wax after the candles expired:
Then we started our hike back to the city. This is when we started realizing that if we were not specifically in a hiking zone, no one would direct us to the dirt road hikes - only the main paved roads. Luckily, we found a few roundabout dirt roads on our own that led us past farms and the like. Here's a picture to prove it:
Back on the paved road we started feeling real dorky for pretending like we were hiking when we were really just walking on the main roads. Especially when there were buses going by us every ten minutes headed to our destination. So, we hopped on one of them and headed to Bodhanath Stupa.
We hung out at the Stupa for a bit and then ate at our favorite restaurant there called Tibet Kitchen. We took my Dad to this place when he was here, too. This is our standard meal there:
Potatoes with cheese sauce (Bhutanese)
Sampa (Tibetan thing that you mix yourself: wheat, tea, butter, sugar)
Brown Flour Momo's (Nepali - large dumplings)
Not healthy unless you count the Brown Flour. I do count it.
Mer wasn't ready to quit the day, so we walked over to Pashupatinath. It started getting dark and this is where Mer and I butt heads many evenings. When it gets dark, I start walking really quick and getting really nervous. When it gets dark, Mer acts like it's light out. So, while I'm trying to get to crowded places with lots of activity and light, she is just taking her sweet.....old.....time. For her part, we've never been threatened in any way at night. However, our old landlord always warned us to get home before dark and he's old, so he's wise, and must know.
Anyhow, Mer decides that it would the most awesome if we went up the back way around Pashupatinath. The back way is kinda like a hike. Which, I mean, wouldn't really be fun in darkness, but that doesn't matter! We find the back way despite a bunch of people trying to direct us to the front entrance. As we hike around the back of the temple we see a bunch of deer and monkeys playing together which, I guess, makes it worth it. Finally we come upon the temple which is all lit up with singing and dancing and people. According to some people who were there, the jolliness happens every night, but none of the Nepali's I've ever questioned have heard about it.
After getting stared at for a while, we went home.
Changu Narayan is supposedly the oldest temple in Nepal. Though, I've also heard that a temple in Panuati is the oldest. When I asked my landlord if Changu was the oldest temple in Nepal he said "Yes." When I asked him if the Panuati temple was the oldest, he said "Yes." So, that's helpful.
The best part of Changu besides the requisite Kali slaughter/sacrifice temple, were the dogs going around eating the wax after the candles expired:
Then we started our hike back to the city. This is when we started realizing that if we were not specifically in a hiking zone, no one would direct us to the dirt road hikes - only the main paved roads. Luckily, we found a few roundabout dirt roads on our own that led us past farms and the like. Here's a picture to prove it:
Back on the paved road we started feeling real dorky for pretending like we were hiking when we were really just walking on the main roads. Especially when there were buses going by us every ten minutes headed to our destination. So, we hopped on one of them and headed to Bodhanath Stupa.
We hung out at the Stupa for a bit and then ate at our favorite restaurant there called Tibet Kitchen. We took my Dad to this place when he was here, too. This is our standard meal there:
Potatoes with cheese sauce (Bhutanese)
Sampa (Tibetan thing that you mix yourself: wheat, tea, butter, sugar)
Brown Flour Momo's (Nepali - large dumplings)
Not healthy unless you count the Brown Flour. I do count it.
Mer wasn't ready to quit the day, so we walked over to Pashupatinath. It started getting dark and this is where Mer and I butt heads many evenings. When it gets dark, I start walking really quick and getting really nervous. When it gets dark, Mer acts like it's light out. So, while I'm trying to get to crowded places with lots of activity and light, she is just taking her sweet.....old.....time. For her part, we've never been threatened in any way at night. However, our old landlord always warned us to get home before dark and he's old, so he's wise, and must know.
Anyhow, Mer decides that it would the most awesome if we went up the back way around Pashupatinath. The back way is kinda like a hike. Which, I mean, wouldn't really be fun in darkness, but that doesn't matter! We find the back way despite a bunch of people trying to direct us to the front entrance. As we hike around the back of the temple we see a bunch of deer and monkeys playing together which, I guess, makes it worth it. Finally we come upon the temple which is all lit up with singing and dancing and people. According to some people who were there, the jolliness happens every night, but none of the Nepali's I've ever questioned have heard about it.
After getting stared at for a while, we went home.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Better and Better
I feel morally responsible to brag about the fact that I went to temple that is only open one day a year. It wasn't that fun, I didn't intend to visit it anyhow, and Mere took more pictures of it than I though humanly possible - but nonetheless, I've been to a temple that you probably haven't been to and I wanted you to know that. This temple is on a little pool in the middle of Kathmandu - if you live here you probably have seen it and thought "that's pretty" and then promptly moved on to more important things. Here's one of millions of shots Mere took:
The most interesting part of being at this temple were the Cool Nepali girls giving tikas. I assumed that you needed to be ordained or at least sanctioned in same way by Hindu priests to give out tikas - but I doubt these Cool girls had been authorized by anyone. Nonetheless, they seemed to having fun and making money.
Just thought I'd share.
The most interesting part of being at this temple were the Cool Nepali girls giving tikas. I assumed that you needed to be ordained or at least sanctioned in same way by Hindu priests to give out tikas - but I doubt these Cool girls had been authorized by anyone. Nonetheless, they seemed to having fun and making money.
Just thought I'd share.
Daddy Blog #5: 1000 Places to See Before You Die
The book,"1000 Places to See Before You Die," includes Nepal's Royal Chitwan National Park. What they don't tell you is that you have 1000 chances to die on the drive from Kathmandu to the park. It was the most harrowing drive of my life made worse by the thought that my daughter would die as well. (I didn't want Mer to die either.) The highway twists and turns through beautiful mountains and river valleys with picturesque villages scattered along the road. Fortunately I took a lot of photos along the way because there's no way I could appreciate the scenery while contemplating the final moments of my life. The problem is that sleep deprived and often drunk truck drivers pass each other on the winding, turning road. If they're going uphill then one truck is driving 8 mph in a valiant attempt to pass another truck going 6 mph. Its like a glacier race. Which would be so bad but who wants a head on collision with a glacier? I asked our driver (we hired a car and driver for the trip) if he liked his job. The 19 year-old young man said "No." He said the drunk, sleep deprived truck drivers make his a rather hazardous profession not to mention the cost of petrol. He wanted to complete his schooling and get a safer job. After we got to Chitwan I really enjoyed looking at all the photos I'd taken along the way.
Royal Chitwan is almost 400 square miles that were once the private hunting grounds of the King of Nepal and his guests. According to Wikipedia, its one of the finest protected forests and grassland regions in Asia. (That's good because King George V on one trip shot 39 tigers and 57 rhinos.) The best part are the elephants and their capable mahouts (handlers) who stood ready to take us into the jungle in search of rhinos, Bengal tigers and assorted other creatures. (I could have done without the leeches.) We weren't there for it, but one of the guides said elephant polo matches take place during one of their holiday festivals in December. I bet that registers at least a 7 on the Richter Scale.
Happy to be alive, we met one of our guides, Shiva, at the hotel and safari camp. He took us on an early evening walk as the sun was setting over the river where we relaxed and watched dug out canoes floated leisurely by. It was lovely. However, it took a while to get used to Shiva's 'instructions'. His words were friendly but his tone didn't match. He must have been in the military or a dog trainer before the hotel job. It felt like he was barking orders at us to enjoy ourselves: "Sit here!!! Watch sunset!!! Do you want lemonade!!! Enjoy!!!". Later Shiva turned up again as one of the servers in the resort dining area. I was afraid he would be yelling at me to eat my veggies. But no. He was really a great guy and after dinner made a special effort to take us to visit the elephants in their outdoor stalls. Shiva calmed down and we had about an hour just standing in the moon light with the elephants. They are truly magnificent, awesome (I hate that word) creatures and I felt privileged hanging out with them. I resisted the urge to set them free.
The next day after the three hour safari on elephant back into the jungle (we saw a rhino mommy with her cute baby in a muddy little lake) we got to help give them a bath.
After a hard day of carting tourists around the elephants enjoy cooling off in the river and getting a bath. We were allowed to ride elephant bareback into the river with them. The mahouts gave them the signal and they shook us on into the water. Then they filled their trunks with water and sprayed us. It was a childhood fantasy come true. Fortunately when they plopped over for their bath they didn't crush any tourists in the process. At least I didn't see any. I did see some mighty elephant turds floating by but I reminded myself that elephants are vegetarians. Organic poop can't be that bad.
It was reassuring to hear that the new Nepalese government has done a lot to save from near extinction the one horned black rhino. There is also a wonderful elephant breeding area which we were able to visit. Unfortunately, pollution from upstream industries is endangering the rivers flowing into Chitwan. Dolphins have dissappeared from one of their prime habitats and the main species of crocodiles are barely hanging on thanks to special efforts from an environmental group. As usual, tourists are a mixed blessing, but at least our dollars help make the animals worth a little more alive than dead from the poachers and pollution.
The end of our time in Chitwan came too soon. As we got into the car for our return journey to Kathmandu and for part two of "1000 ways to die...", we waved goodbye to Shiva and his enthusiastic approach to herding tourists.
Royal Chitwan is almost 400 square miles that were once the private hunting grounds of the King of Nepal and his guests. According to Wikipedia, its one of the finest protected forests and grassland regions in Asia. (That's good because King George V on one trip shot 39 tigers and 57 rhinos.) The best part are the elephants and their capable mahouts (handlers) who stood ready to take us into the jungle in search of rhinos, Bengal tigers and assorted other creatures. (I could have done without the leeches.) We weren't there for it, but one of the guides said elephant polo matches take place during one of their holiday festivals in December. I bet that registers at least a 7 on the Richter Scale.
Happy to be alive, we met one of our guides, Shiva, at the hotel and safari camp. He took us on an early evening walk as the sun was setting over the river where we relaxed and watched dug out canoes floated leisurely by. It was lovely. However, it took a while to get used to Shiva's 'instructions'. His words were friendly but his tone didn't match. He must have been in the military or a dog trainer before the hotel job. It felt like he was barking orders at us to enjoy ourselves: "Sit here!!! Watch sunset!!! Do you want lemonade!!! Enjoy!!!". Later Shiva turned up again as one of the servers in the resort dining area. I was afraid he would be yelling at me to eat my veggies. But no. He was really a great guy and after dinner made a special effort to take us to visit the elephants in their outdoor stalls. Shiva calmed down and we had about an hour just standing in the moon light with the elephants. They are truly magnificent, awesome (I hate that word) creatures and I felt privileged hanging out with them. I resisted the urge to set them free.
The next day after the three hour safari on elephant back into the jungle (we saw a rhino mommy with her cute baby in a muddy little lake) we got to help give them a bath.
After a hard day of carting tourists around the elephants enjoy cooling off in the river and getting a bath. We were allowed to ride elephant bareback into the river with them. The mahouts gave them the signal and they shook us on into the water. Then they filled their trunks with water and sprayed us. It was a childhood fantasy come true. Fortunately when they plopped over for their bath they didn't crush any tourists in the process. At least I didn't see any. I did see some mighty elephant turds floating by but I reminded myself that elephants are vegetarians. Organic poop can't be that bad.
It was reassuring to hear that the new Nepalese government has done a lot to save from near extinction the one horned black rhino. There is also a wonderful elephant breeding area which we were able to visit. Unfortunately, pollution from upstream industries is endangering the rivers flowing into Chitwan. Dolphins have dissappeared from one of their prime habitats and the main species of crocodiles are barely hanging on thanks to special efforts from an environmental group. As usual, tourists are a mixed blessing, but at least our dollars help make the animals worth a little more alive than dead from the poachers and pollution.
The end of our time in Chitwan came too soon. As we got into the car for our return journey to Kathmandu and for part two of "1000 ways to die...", we waved goodbye to Shiva and his enthusiastic approach to herding tourists.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Hiking Frenzy
Mere and I are still obsessed with hiking the entire Kathmandu Valley. However, day treks in Kathmandu have their ups and downs (wah wahh). Here’s a list that I’ve compiled:
Good Things About Hiking in KTM Valley
1. You end up getting to see beautiful, remote stupas and temples
2. There are less tourists in the hills and the temples
3. I get to/have to practice my Nepali
4. You get above the pollution that blankets the city
5. You get to see the cycle of the Nepali crops and their various beauteous versions
6. If you hike in the north part of the valley you can end up in Boudha Nath which is THE best way to end a six hour trek
7. You get to try really good traditional Nepali food, like Dal Bhaat (lentils and rice)
8. Taxis are relatively inexpensive for foreigners so you can take them to the hiking starting points
Not Great Things About Hiking in KTM Valley
1. If you ask for directions you usually are directed to paved roads instead of dirt roads – and if you’re trying to hike, then you’re not really hiking anymore or you are but it’s more of an “Urban Hike”
2. There are maybe two directional signs in the entirety of the Valley
3. If you’re a foreigner, locals like to look at you – a lot
4. You might not get above the pollution that blankets the city
5. Buses take a while to get to the starting points
Recently, Mere and I decided to hike around Dakshinkali and Pharping, which is southwest of the city. We took two buses, which ended up taking about two hours to get to the famous Dakshinkali temple. A taxi would’ve been around 700 rupees ($9) but we are trying to be thrifty.
The Dakshinkali temple is situated at the bottom of a hill and has animal sacrifices on Tuesdays and Saturdays. We happened to be there on a Tuesday - Mer was psyched and I got a stomach ache. Goats and chickens met their doom inside the temple where only Hindus can go. However, the temple isn’t entirely enclosed so tourists can view the majority of the ceremonies and headchops. Here’s a picture of the pools that lead to the temple and people waiting in line to go inside:
I watched people get their tika right outside the temple and noticed one man getting his incredibly awesome tattoo of Shiva tika-ed as well. I went to go admire his arm and as I tried to initiate a conversation in Nepali it turns out (of course) that he lives in Texas and is just visiting his parents here.
According to our hiking map there was a little uphill hike from the Dakshinkali parking lot to Pharping, which is a little town with a “Pilgrimage Route” through various Buddhist and Hindu temples. The 45 minute “hike” consisted of a short dirt path straight up hill and then the main road the buses go on. On the main road we came across Sekh Narayan, which consisted of little pools and temples:
After walking a little further down the paved road and trying to weave through the various villages to make things more interesting, we came upon some women dealing with their rice harvests. Mere took a great picture of the rice on the woven mats:
Finally, we came to Pharping and the “Pilgramage Route” route. My favorite part was this strange monument of Padmasambhava in a glassed box:
Neither Lonely Plant nor my our hiking map was specific enough to get us to the “true” hikes of the Pharping area so at 3:00pm we started making our way home. Although we were unsuccessful in terms of hiking the hills of nature, we managed to see nearly 10 different temples and stupas and get pretty tired.
Good Things About Hiking in KTM Valley
1. You end up getting to see beautiful, remote stupas and temples
2. There are less tourists in the hills and the temples
3. I get to/have to practice my Nepali
4. You get above the pollution that blankets the city
5. You get to see the cycle of the Nepali crops and their various beauteous versions
6. If you hike in the north part of the valley you can end up in Boudha Nath which is THE best way to end a six hour trek
7. You get to try really good traditional Nepali food, like Dal Bhaat (lentils and rice)
8. Taxis are relatively inexpensive for foreigners so you can take them to the hiking starting points
Not Great Things About Hiking in KTM Valley
1. If you ask for directions you usually are directed to paved roads instead of dirt roads – and if you’re trying to hike, then you’re not really hiking anymore or you are but it’s more of an “Urban Hike”
2. There are maybe two directional signs in the entirety of the Valley
3. If you’re a foreigner, locals like to look at you – a lot
4. You might not get above the pollution that blankets the city
5. Buses take a while to get to the starting points
Recently, Mere and I decided to hike around Dakshinkali and Pharping, which is southwest of the city. We took two buses, which ended up taking about two hours to get to the famous Dakshinkali temple. A taxi would’ve been around 700 rupees ($9) but we are trying to be thrifty.
The Dakshinkali temple is situated at the bottom of a hill and has animal sacrifices on Tuesdays and Saturdays. We happened to be there on a Tuesday - Mer was psyched and I got a stomach ache. Goats and chickens met their doom inside the temple where only Hindus can go. However, the temple isn’t entirely enclosed so tourists can view the majority of the ceremonies and headchops. Here’s a picture of the pools that lead to the temple and people waiting in line to go inside:
I watched people get their tika right outside the temple and noticed one man getting his incredibly awesome tattoo of Shiva tika-ed as well. I went to go admire his arm and as I tried to initiate a conversation in Nepali it turns out (of course) that he lives in Texas and is just visiting his parents here.
According to our hiking map there was a little uphill hike from the Dakshinkali parking lot to Pharping, which is a little town with a “Pilgrimage Route” through various Buddhist and Hindu temples. The 45 minute “hike” consisted of a short dirt path straight up hill and then the main road the buses go on. On the main road we came across Sekh Narayan, which consisted of little pools and temples:
After walking a little further down the paved road and trying to weave through the various villages to make things more interesting, we came upon some women dealing with their rice harvests. Mere took a great picture of the rice on the woven mats:
Finally, we came to Pharping and the “Pilgramage Route” route. My favorite part was this strange monument of Padmasambhava in a glassed box:
Neither Lonely Plant nor my our hiking map was specific enough to get us to the “true” hikes of the Pharping area so at 3:00pm we started making our way home. Although we were unsuccessful in terms of hiking the hills of nature, we managed to see nearly 10 different temples and stupas and get pretty tired.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Tika Galore
This is a brief interlude from my fathers blogs.
Right after my dad left, Nepal got ready to celebrate Tihar. This is the festival that everyone describes as "my favorite festival." Now I understand why: there are pretty lights everywhere. It's basically a combination of Christmas and Fourth of July.
Anyhow, Tihar is five days long and the following things are worshiped on each succeeding day:
1. Crows
2. Dogs
3. Laxmi the Goddess of Wealth
4. Oxes
5. Brothers
I had question about the crows: Don't crows eat crops, and since I know that's true, why would you spend a day worshiping them? I got a good answer, but still I feel this is a valid question that shouldn't go unasked.
The best part was day two when every mangy dog in Kathmandu had a tika on their forehead and a garland of marigolds around their neck. Like this pretty pup:
Even Changba, the horrendous dog at my apartment, had one. Which was awesome because his attempt to be fearsome was thwarted by the ridiculousness of the red mark on his forehead and the flowers around his neck.
On the Laxmi day, Nepalis took really pretty vermilion colors and made pathways to lead the goddess of wealth to their abodes. Here's Prajjwel, our landlords son doing just that:
At night on Laxmi day everyone lights candles to brighten their vermilion pathways and sets of fireworks because they're fun. Groups of singers and dancers go around to houses to perform for rupees. Everything is lit, everyone is awake until late.
On brothers day (which is really brothers AND sisters day but only called brothers day - yes this is indicative of Nepali culture) siblings give each other the most extensive tika in life. Seven colors of vermilion are applied to each others foreheads and garlands of flowers placed around their necks. They also exchange money, clothes, and other presents. Below is Prajjwel and his nephew who have both been adorned with their tikas by their respective sisters:
I'm jealous there's no U.S. holiday to celebrate the bond between sibling. Right??
Right after my dad left, Nepal got ready to celebrate Tihar. This is the festival that everyone describes as "my favorite festival." Now I understand why: there are pretty lights everywhere. It's basically a combination of Christmas and Fourth of July.
Anyhow, Tihar is five days long and the following things are worshiped on each succeeding day:
1. Crows
2. Dogs
3. Laxmi the Goddess of Wealth
4. Oxes
5. Brothers
I had question about the crows: Don't crows eat crops, and since I know that's true, why would you spend a day worshiping them? I got a good answer, but still I feel this is a valid question that shouldn't go unasked.
The best part was day two when every mangy dog in Kathmandu had a tika on their forehead and a garland of marigolds around their neck. Like this pretty pup:
Even Changba, the horrendous dog at my apartment, had one. Which was awesome because his attempt to be fearsome was thwarted by the ridiculousness of the red mark on his forehead and the flowers around his neck.
On the Laxmi day, Nepalis took really pretty vermilion colors and made pathways to lead the goddess of wealth to their abodes. Here's Prajjwel, our landlords son doing just that:
At night on Laxmi day everyone lights candles to brighten their vermilion pathways and sets of fireworks because they're fun. Groups of singers and dancers go around to houses to perform for rupees. Everything is lit, everyone is awake until late.
On brothers day (which is really brothers AND sisters day but only called brothers day - yes this is indicative of Nepali culture) siblings give each other the most extensive tika in life. Seven colors of vermilion are applied to each others foreheads and garlands of flowers placed around their necks. They also exchange money, clothes, and other presents. Below is Prajjwel and his nephew who have both been adorned with their tikas by their respective sisters:
I'm jealous there's no U.S. holiday to celebrate the bond between sibling. Right??
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Dad Blog #4: Ashes to Ashes
Today we hit a few 3000 year old Buddhist and Hindu temples including Pashupatinath (pronounced,posh-potty-not). It's the holy of the holies for Hindu followers of Shiva (she-vah). Shiva isn't a she, she's a he and no one to mess with: God of Destruction. I learned from our guide that Hindus have literally millions of gods and are coming up with new ones almost daily. I'm okay with that because there's a holiday or festival associated with most of them. Nepalis don't get a lot of work done but they're incredible partiers. Posh Potty is an amazing enclave of temples, shrines, half naked sadhus (wise men - most of them extremely colorful, hash baked con men beckoning to be photographed for a few rupees). According to legend Shiva supposedly discovered the transcendental powers of ganja (marijuana) which grows wild in Nepal. With each hit the sadhus chant "I am Shiva".
Advertisement for one of the most famous Sadhus: Milk Baba.
Then there are the cremation ghats. These are concrete platforms next to the river. After they burn the body down to ash someone sweeps whats left into the river. The sight and smell of public cremation is pretty raw. If its a dead parent the process begins with the oldest child placing a burning stick into the mouth of the deceased. (My mother died less than a year ago making all of this a bit overwhelming.) Then the man in charge gets the pyre going like a huge backyard bar-b-que. (At this point I made one of my many broken vows to become a vegetarian.) Adding to the atmosphere are wild monkeys just hanging out and grooming each other. We were warned to keep a safe distance from them. They reminded me of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. I wanted to click my heels and go back to Kansas but had to settle for a wonderful balcony dinner with Lauren and Meredith at sunset overlooking the city as it quieted down for the night.
Pashupatinath:
Advertisement for one of the most famous Sadhus: Milk Baba.
Then there are the cremation ghats. These are concrete platforms next to the river. After they burn the body down to ash someone sweeps whats left into the river. The sight and smell of public cremation is pretty raw. If its a dead parent the process begins with the oldest child placing a burning stick into the mouth of the deceased. (My mother died less than a year ago making all of this a bit overwhelming.) Then the man in charge gets the pyre going like a huge backyard bar-b-que. (At this point I made one of my many broken vows to become a vegetarian.) Adding to the atmosphere are wild monkeys just hanging out and grooming each other. We were warned to keep a safe distance from them. They reminded me of the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. I wanted to click my heels and go back to Kansas but had to settle for a wonderful balcony dinner with Lauren and Meredith at sunset overlooking the city as it quieted down for the night.
Pashupatinath:
Friday, October 31, 2008
Dad blog #3: Playing Ping Pong with the Yeti
That's right. The abominable snow man loves table tennis...but as usual I'm getting ahead of myself.
We got up at 600AM the next morning to catch a one hour flight to Mt. Everest on Yeti Airlines. Sure, you can spend a minimum of 3 months and $100,000 trekking to Everest but for $150 do the whole deal in 60 minutes. Either way you get a certificate of having done the mighty Chomolungma ("Mother Goddess of the Universe") as its known to the sherpas.
I had recently proven my manhood by enduring the 24 hour flight from LAX to Kathmandu not to mention having finished Peter Matthiessen's "The Snow Leopard" on the plane. Matthiessen's detailed account of what its like to spend the night in a rain soaked sleeping bag in the Himalayas (as he pondered the koan given to him by his Zen Master: "All the peaks are covered with snow---why is this one bare?") is the Eastern counterpart to Proust's 50 page description of a Madeleine cookie.
Back on the ground we faced a danger more frightening than doing Everest without oxygen: the taxi ride back into Kathmandu. There is no other way to do it. We'd been invited for breakfast at the three star hotel managed by two of Lauren's Nepalese friends. I won't give their names or the hotel because then I couldn't say how much I envied their life of managing the hotel by smoking the best Nepalese grass and playing ping pong all day on the viewing deck on top of the hotel. We had a delicious Nepali breakfast and then got out the paddles.
I was expecting to be easily beaten by anyone who plays hours of daily table tennis but I hadn't factored in the world's most powerful majijuana. I could have beat them with my eyes closed. I probably had some kind of contact high because I began to see my worthy opponent as a yeti with gold jewelry. Then he morphed into cookie monster. We went back to Lauren and Mer's apartment and took a three hour nap. I was beginning to see the attraction of this place.
We got up at 600AM the next morning to catch a one hour flight to Mt. Everest on Yeti Airlines. Sure, you can spend a minimum of 3 months and $100,000 trekking to Everest but for $150 do the whole deal in 60 minutes. Either way you get a certificate of having done the mighty Chomolungma ("Mother Goddess of the Universe") as its known to the sherpas.
I had recently proven my manhood by enduring the 24 hour flight from LAX to Kathmandu not to mention having finished Peter Matthiessen's "The Snow Leopard" on the plane. Matthiessen's detailed account of what its like to spend the night in a rain soaked sleeping bag in the Himalayas (as he pondered the koan given to him by his Zen Master: "All the peaks are covered with snow---why is this one bare?") is the Eastern counterpart to Proust's 50 page description of a Madeleine cookie.
Back on the ground we faced a danger more frightening than doing Everest without oxygen: the taxi ride back into Kathmandu. There is no other way to do it. We'd been invited for breakfast at the three star hotel managed by two of Lauren's Nepalese friends. I won't give their names or the hotel because then I couldn't say how much I envied their life of managing the hotel by smoking the best Nepalese grass and playing ping pong all day on the viewing deck on top of the hotel. We had a delicious Nepali breakfast and then got out the paddles.
I was expecting to be easily beaten by anyone who plays hours of daily table tennis but I hadn't factored in the world's most powerful majijuana. I could have beat them with my eyes closed. I probably had some kind of contact high because I began to see my worthy opponent as a yeti with gold jewelry. Then he morphed into cookie monster. We went back to Lauren and Mer's apartment and took a three hour nap. I was beginning to see the attraction of this place.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Dad Blog #2: Held Hostage for 75 Cents
Day 2 started off innocently enough. We were invited to the rice harvest at a farm about 2 hours South of Kathmandu owned by the son of Lauren and Mer's landlord, Projjwal Khadka. I was looking forward to getting out into the pristine countryside after less than a day in Kathmandu. After being on an cramped airplane for 24 hours and then in Kathmandu (which I swear means "Klaustrophoia" in Nepali) I was ready for the wide open spaces of the green terraced hillside farmland I'd see in travel guides.
So after some embarrassing bargaining with a taxi driver (I felt like the fare we bargained for would probably mean one of his children would starve to death that night) we were off. It was a delightful day. Projjwall is a Che Guevera tee shirt wearing, four gold earring humanitarian farmer (and Kathmandu DJ). Here's Lauren and Proj inside Proj's families house where they're storing and drying the corn they harvested before the rice:
He is trying to introduce organic farming back into his region of Nepal. Through a combination of successful results and his low key charisma he is succeeding is changing decades of destructive farming practices by his fellow Nepalis. We watched the rice harvest where they used centuries old methods for gathering the rice, threshing it using a pedal driven device, and then seeing women carrying 100 pounds of rice up the hill for eventual transport to the mill. Hopefully this blog entry will be accompanied by at least one photo of this backbreaking task (which never seems to break their back and for which they are richly compensated, about $1.50 per day).
Threshing:
Carrying:
We had lunch with the rice field workers that was as good as any Indian (Nepali food and Indian food are indistinguishable for me) restaurant meal I've had. I was completely inspired by our day which felt like an Asian combination of Walden Pond, Johnny Appleseed and a Winslow Homer watercolor painting. I felt all warm-and-fuzzy and very "clean" as we got into the same taxi for our ride back to Klaustrophia.
After about an hour of bumping down pot hole ridden roads a young man suddenly stepped into the road in front of our taxi. I caught the look on the taxi drivers face which gave me a bad feeling, I didn't think the young fellow in the road needed a ride into town. No, he was a Maoist guerilla and he was demanding money. He didn't ask for our wallets, he didn't make us get out of the vehicle. He was extorting us for about 75 cents. I guess his mother taught him not to be greedy, but come on. . . what kind of self-respecting terrorist asks for 75 cents? And then he wrote us out a receipt which would allow us to get back any other Maoists we might encounter on the way home. I think I'll check the receipt for the guys address, I'd like to send him some more money. Feel free to send me any contributions you feel moved to donate. However, it occurred to me that maybe the taxi driver and the "Maoist" were in cahoots and they've developed a small business (shake down the tourist) with a microbanking loan courtesy of Muhammed Yunus ("Banker to the Poor").
So after some embarrassing bargaining with a taxi driver (I felt like the fare we bargained for would probably mean one of his children would starve to death that night) we were off. It was a delightful day. Projjwall is a Che Guevera tee shirt wearing, four gold earring humanitarian farmer (and Kathmandu DJ). Here's Lauren and Proj inside Proj's families house where they're storing and drying the corn they harvested before the rice:
He is trying to introduce organic farming back into his region of Nepal. Through a combination of successful results and his low key charisma he is succeeding is changing decades of destructive farming practices by his fellow Nepalis. We watched the rice harvest where they used centuries old methods for gathering the rice, threshing it using a pedal driven device, and then seeing women carrying 100 pounds of rice up the hill for eventual transport to the mill. Hopefully this blog entry will be accompanied by at least one photo of this backbreaking task (which never seems to break their back and for which they are richly compensated, about $1.50 per day).
Threshing:
Carrying:
We had lunch with the rice field workers that was as good as any Indian (Nepali food and Indian food are indistinguishable for me) restaurant meal I've had. I was completely inspired by our day which felt like an Asian combination of Walden Pond, Johnny Appleseed and a Winslow Homer watercolor painting. I felt all warm-and-fuzzy and very "clean" as we got into the same taxi for our ride back to Klaustrophia.
After about an hour of bumping down pot hole ridden roads a young man suddenly stepped into the road in front of our taxi. I caught the look on the taxi drivers face which gave me a bad feeling, I didn't think the young fellow in the road needed a ride into town. No, he was a Maoist guerilla and he was demanding money. He didn't ask for our wallets, he didn't make us get out of the vehicle. He was extorting us for about 75 cents. I guess his mother taught him not to be greedy, but come on. . . what kind of self-respecting terrorist asks for 75 cents? And then he wrote us out a receipt which would allow us to get back any other Maoists we might encounter on the way home. I think I'll check the receipt for the guys address, I'd like to send him some more money. Feel free to send me any contributions you feel moved to donate. However, it occurred to me that maybe the taxi driver and the "Maoist" were in cahoots and they've developed a small business (shake down the tourist) with a microbanking loan courtesy of Muhammed Yunus ("Banker to the Poor").
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