The Epitome Project

All right, the Epitome Project still needs your help. They have another chance to win money to help build a platform on which these bands can perform. Please vote. The deadline is tomorrow. 


Even at home I'm still connected to Nepal. One of Sattya's latest projects is called The Epitome Project which is all about creating original Nepali music. Basically, three bands will be given the opportunity to perform twice a month for the next three months and they have to write one original song per month. (Lots of numbers, I know, but hang with me.) But, this will only happen if they get your help. This time all you have to do to help them is vote. Just click a little button and BAM! you're helping Nepali culture grow. Please take the time to check out this site. They really deserve the funds. 


For VOTING:


http://outdoors.maker.good.is/projects/theepitomeproject


For more info:


http://goodsummer.maker.good.is/projects/themusicfoundry

Spirituality

This is something I wrote over the course of the last two days at Kopan Monastery. This period of the meditation retreat was filled with a mandatory silence from all participants. I had been silence for the majority of our ten-day stay, but having everyone silent all the time was definitely different. To help us cope (or maybe just to remind us to think about why we were there) our leaders gave us the choice of two different prompts. This is the one I chose:

Drawing from your experiences in Nepal and particularly from your time at Kopan Monastery, reflect upon how your spiritual, or religious, beliefs have evolved or developed. 

Even from the time I was little I would call myself a spiritual person. I would find Jesus in heavy metal songs, heaven in the clouds when the sun shone through and I would tell my mom that if I died before her I wanted Mary to come down to take me to heaven. 

The almost obsession with Christianity ended when I got the the age where they actually start teaching you about the bible more in depth instead of just reading you stories here and there. I felt like they were trying to force it on me. I wanted to just believe by myself. 

Before this trip I would call myself a Quaker Buddhist. What wasn't to love about the Society of Friends and a generally open, loving, compassionate, wisdom cherishing group of people? Now, the real interesting thing about that is that there actually are other people who call themselves Quaker Buddhists, too. After doing some research I came to the conclusion that, no, I'm not enough of a Quaker to be a Quaker Buddhist. Only one god just doesn't work for me. Still sticking to the peace and friendship bit, though. And, after spending time in Kopan Monastery I don't think I'm enough of a Buddhist to be a Quaker Buddhist. Now, instead of trying to fit myself in a box I've learned that, for me, spirituality is too personal and far too complex to fit in one little box. 

I believe in love and compassion and kindness and wisdom and I believe that if whenever I get angry I just stop for a second and think I'll avoid many negative situations. I believe in the power of positive thoughts. I believe in the power of laughter and smiles and hugs. I believe that the closest thing to a god for me lives in the trees and flowers and rivers and streams. I believe in the power of multiple bracelets and necklaces to get me through a rough day. I believe in the healing power of the ocean. I believe in the power of sounds. I believe in the power of voices together. I believe music and chanting can bring people together and make them feel something. I believe in the power of light. I believe in the power of the sun and moon. 

I believe that the world is only my perception, and, because of that, I have the power to make it what I want. Naturally, there are things I cannot control--as there should be. I wouldn't want all the power. But, I also believe in myself. I am me. I exist. I live, think, breathe, feel, love, smile, laugh, hope, dream, fear, hurt, dance. I can do anything. I'm not saying other people can't do those things, too. Everyone can and everyone does. But, no one does them exactly like me, and I don't believe anyone will. 

I don't believe I am the center of the universe. In fact, I think I'm the farthest thing from it. I do believe that I am part of a bigger picture. There is so much more than just us. If enlightenment shows people that, great. If belief in God and heaven does, great, too. If belief in allah does, also great. If belief in science does, great. Yes, we are all part of one world--one universe--but my time at Kopan has shown me that I truly do believe we are all unique. We are all individuals and we all think and believe in different ways. There is no one right way to believe. 

I think, deep down, I knew all this about myself. My heart knew what I believed; it could just feel it. My brain, on the other hand, needed convincing. It just needed someone to present it with a few basic concepts it likes and a few specific ones it didn't to realize: Oh! I DO know what I think. Who knew?

So, my spiritual views haven't changed that drastically. They were just made a little stronger and little more definite. Instead of an outline they're now a short essay with a few footnotes. 

[Reading back over this shows me that spirituality isn't constant for me. It's always changing. As it should be. I still agree with a lot of this, but there are subtle things I would change. Thought it best to just show my thoughts from Kopan essentially unedited, though.]

Adaptation

Upon my return to Bowling Green I haven't written anything. My grandmother asked me if I had forgotten how to write and my response was, why, yes, I do believe I HAVE. It's definitely not that there isn't anything to write about here. That is completely not true. I'm inspired by something every day and there have been more than a few times where I say to myself "Ellie, you need to remember to write that down." 

But I haven't. And for that, I apologize. 

I'm will try to capture the mindset I had in Nepal and apply it to America. It was a better one. It's so much more fun to experience everything right in the moment--to see everything with wide open eyes--just absorbing it all as if it's the first and last time, then, after absorption, truly thinking about it.  


It's funny how life just keeps on going. Even if part of your brain is stuck in a time five weeks past, life around you (along with the other parts of your brain) keeps going. You meet people, you travel, you catch up with old friends and make new ones, you start getting your chai lattes iced because the seasons have changed. Heck, you start paying four bucks for a tea when a few months ago you could get one for less than fifteen cents. 


It's also funny how I totally stand out in Nepal and Eastern Africa. Without even considering culturally I stand out physically. When I'm as tan as I should be I still glow in comparison. Yet in America, I blend in pretty well physically; it's just the emotional and mental part that does't fit in. It's much harder to cope that way, I think. If people didn't know you before they won't notice the change. You might feel like they should notice because it was a big moment for you. But, I've learned that you can't force anything on anyone. It's not even that important that anyone else knows how your experiences have shaped you. They'll experience it for themselves when they're good a ready and then you'll both just know. 


You will always meet people who have had similar experiences and feel the same way. You stumble upon them randomly and when you do you realize that we're all connected. We shall share something. Sometimes you just have to feel it, but it's there. 


Something I kept telling myself in Nepal, and what I should tell myself here and for the rest of my life, as well, is to embrace everything. Live in that moment.


embraceverb1 hug, take/hold in one's arms, entwine oneself around2 welcome, welcome with open arms, accept, take up, take to one's heart, adopt, support.3 include, take in, comprise, contain, incorporate, encompass, cover, involve, embody, subsume, comprehend.noun: bear hug.


Exactly. 

Kathgirldu--Alone In The City

Before I go into a description of my monastery stay I wanted to update you on what I am currently doing and how you can be a part of it. 

I now have a new home, a new schedule, new friends. New everything. 

I'm staying in Patan, a part of Kathmandu, but on the opposite side of town from where I stayed before so it's an entirely new adventure. But not only that: the rest of my group is trekking. I'm basically figuring everything out for myself. 

My latest project is with Sattya Media Arts Colletive (sattya.org), a creative hub and resource network for artists and the community in Kathmandu. It has definitely become one of my new comfort spots. Everyone here is incredibly passionate, creative and welcoming. It's my second day here and I already feel like part of the team. Not only will I be doing logistical stuff for them, I'll also be able to participate in workshops they have to help improve my creative writing and photography skills, painting murals with local school children and learning more about gardening and sustainability. 

Before I jump into that, though, I have one main task. We're currently launching a new project on arts and sustainable design called Hariyo Chowk (green courtyard).The project aims to turn a small plot of unused land into a community green space which will be free and open to the public, able to support gatherings of people wanting to share art and knowledge about sustainable living, or anyone looking for a beautiful local space to get away from the chaos of the city. All are desperately needed. It combines two of my favorite things: art and the environment. 

If you could take time to donate, it would be so greatly appreciated. Every little bit helps. The link below provides both more information and is the place to donate. This organization really is radical for Nepal and I will do anything I can to make sure it prospers. They deserve it. 

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/sattya/hariyo-chowk

Wait, When Did I Get To Uganda?

My Chaukati homestay started out a little different than I expected. I was homesick.

But not homesick for America. I was homesick for Southern Uganda.

The hills, the terraces, the houses, the people, the random goats and chickens wandering about and everything else I saw reminded me of my experiences in Eastern Africa and it made me miss it like I hadn't in a while.

After the first few days of adjusting to the slower paced village life my thoughts grew less and less self indulgent and I realized how truly amazing the similarities were. Nepal and Uganda are not actually that close to each other. How is it that they developed so congruently?

Then I thought a little more and realized that it's not just people in Nepal and Eastern Africa who live like this. Agricultural societies have developed all over the world completely independent from each other. On every habitable continent there were and are people who lived directly off and with the land. It's almost like it's the way we're supposed to live. Some people might say it's a little too relaxed, but, although it may look that way, I feel like the people really are always doing something. Whether it's cooking or washing or walking (trekking) up to their barn to get food for the animals or gathering firewood or checking for lice or simply wandering the countryside, they were always doing something. Maybe that's the difference. In the village there's a verb for simply wandering about aimlessly. It's a different perspective than that of most people in bigger cities.

Don't get me wrong. I adore the cites. I loved every minute of the bustling craziness of Kathmandu while I was there and I always love exploring cities in other parts of the world. I definitely think I'll live in one at some point during my life. But, that's not where my soul feels truly at home. It's sitting out there surrounded by green and brown and natural--surrounded by goats and buffalo and chicken--surrounded by flowers and bees and fleas--surrounded by people who feel the exact same way I do, that truly makes me feel at home.

I think one of the reasons why this discovery made me feel so conflicted was because I thought it made my future much more difficult. Where on earth am I going to live? I'm happy everywhere. I'll have to pick one place?

But then I realized (lots of realizations in Chaukati) that my being adaptable and comfortable in multiple places around the world was an extraordinary blessing. Anywhere I go I can find a quiet village like that one. Anywhere I go I can feel at home.

Another reason I think I was so baffled and almost annoyed by how similar it was was because my idea of these Eastern African villages were in my Eastern Africa box. I didn't understand why elements from my Eastern Africa box were suddenly popping up in my Nepal box.

Why do I have boxes? Part of this journey is about removing boxes, generalizations and stereotypes.

And that's when it hit me: we really are all the same. Sure, we're separated by oceans and deserts and cultures and languages, but deep down, we all came from the same thing. And instinctually, we would probably all live in pretty similar ways. Families are families and I'm now part of probably more than I can count. Nature is nature and we're all directly dependent on it in some way. We all need food, water and shelter. We all need love.

What am I realizing now? 

I'm homesick for Chaukati.  

I miss the clean air and my bed on the balcony. I miss the light thunderstorms that would come almost without fail around 1 PM. I miss the giant boulders that are just part of the landscape and are perfect chatting or resting spots. I miss looking out into the mountains that might be clouded by a light fog but a fog of actual clouds and not pollution. My stomach has expanded enough to the point that it misses the lord knows how much rice it was eating (looked like it could fit in about 3 Nalgenes to me). I miss my family--my aapaa, mami, didi, baini, bhaai, and countless other random family members who came in and out of the house periodically. I miss my hajur aamaa trying to communicate with me through hand gestures. I miss my bhaai's fascination with my headlamp. I miss my baini's friends making fun of me. I miss my aapaa asking "where did you wander today?" every evening. I miss playing games in Nepali and not really knowing what was going on until everyone just starts tickling each other. I miss learning how to make mats out of corn husks and baskets out of bamboo. I miss washing my hair in the public taps. I miss hearing the rain on the roof and, however terrifying it was at the time, the rats scurrying across my legs as they try to get out of said rain. I miss the lizard randomly falling from the sky/ceiling only my lap as I sat journaling in bed. I miss my mouth burning at every meal.


I miss everything. 


But, it's all part of the adventure. We meet people and become a family and then we move on. Tomorrow I'll be in a Tibetan Buddhist monastery committing myself to silence for the next ten days and I know that my time in the village has prepared me exactly for that. Each day I become more and more me. Each day I learn something.

My Language

First things first. Devnagari is derived from Sanskrit. There are 36 consonants and 12 vowels. But also a few more that don't make the actual alphabet but occasionally show up like श्र (shra) and ऋ (ri). And there are also things called double letters like त्त (tta, kind of). There are double letter for all of the consonants, I think. Or at least most of them. And half letters (ex. instead of ka sound it's just k), where if there's a leg or line on the full letter you take it away or if there's nothing to take you add a halanta (ट् it's the little line underneath). I absolutely adore this language. Learning the devnagari has really helped my nepali get better, too, which is certainly a plus. I'm thinking about picking up a newspaper tomorrow morning. 

Ok, here we go. 

Consonants:

क  ख  ग  घ  _      
च  छ  ज  _  ञा
ट  ठ  ड  ढ  ण
त  थ  द  ध  न
प  फ  ब  भ  म
य  र  ल  व  श
ष  स  ह  क्ष  त्र  ज्ञ

ka  kha  ga  gha  ngá
cha  chha  ja  jha  yá
Ta  Tha  Da  Dha  ana
ta  tha  da  dha  na
pa  pha  ba  bha  ma
ya  ra  la  wa  sha
sha  sa  ha  ksha  tra  gyá

Essentially.

The second two lines look oddly similar with out alphabet, huh? The sound completely different. With the Ta line your tongue is supposed to hit the soft palate--the top of your mouth, basically. With the ta line, conversely, your tongue should hit the back of your teeth. ka and kha also sound very different. The first is a more aspirate sound whereas the second isn't. It really does just sound like there's an "h" in there.

 
Vowels:

अ  
आ  
इ  
ई  
उ 
ऊ  
ए  
ऐ  
ओ  
औ  
उं  
उँ 

a
aa
i
i (longer. like eee)
u
u (longer. like oooo)
e
ai
o
au
un (nasal)
ung (even more nasal)


There are also different symbols that you use when writing the word ko for example. 
Here are the vowels again with क


क
का
कि
की
कु
कू
के
कै
को
कौ
कं
कँ

It's seems like a lot. It is. But it's also some of the most fun I've ever had writing. It's like drawing, but there are actually sounds and meanings that go along with the lines and swirls. I love being able to look at the signs on the side of the road and read the words. Granted, I don't always know what they mean, but I can read them all the same. I hope this gives you some idea of what I'm seeing. Just imagine tons of letters in countless different fonts and you'll know my initial confusion. 


Know what I say to multiple fonts now?


I'm making my own.

My name in devnagari:

आशा 

aasha

hope.

This Is My City

I'm so thankful I had experienced some insane cities in Eastern Africa before coming here. Kathmandu is like Arusha, Dar es Salaam, Kabale and Kampala rolled into one and I absolutely adore it. As crazy as it is, there is always a peaceful neighborhood in which you can seek refuge before going out to brave the chaos again. Our program house, the Nepal Sangeet Vidhyalaya (Nepal Music School) and my house are three of those places.

The Dragons Program House is our base. We arrive here every morning for breakfast and then split into groups for language class. It's located approximately seven minutes from Chalkrapath, one of the craziest intersections I've encountered (except not really, because there are actually traffic police) and if you were only at the Dragons house all the time you would have no idea what lay beyond. 

Although I no longer have an excuse to go to the NSV, it was another one of those places. I could catch a bus from Chalkrapath, get off a little after the Gaushala stop, and then somehow manage to cross the street without being killed. Each turn I took brought me down smaller and smaller alleys bringing me further and further away from the crazy. The first time I went to the school I immediately felt at home. There were maybe five or six drum students practicing on the second floor which calmed me instantly and many of the walls displayed artwork and photographs. It had such a stereotypically artsy vibe and I loved it. I felt so lucky to be surrounded by calming places. 

My house with the Sharma family is located right off of Ring Road, one of the major roads in Kathmandu, in a little neighborhood called Sukedhara. It really is just off the road, but it somehow manages to capture a peaceful air. My family keeps emphasizing how small these quarters are (they're renting the bottom floor of a house--two bedrooms, kitchen, storage/ shrine room, "dining room", living room/my bedroom and one bathroom) as compared to their real house. I truly cannot emphasize how happy I am that we're not in their other house. If I were, I would probably have my own room and bathroom to myself, but that's not what this is about. That's not why I'm here. I'm here to be part of a family, which I truly feel like I am. Whenever I'm having a rough day I can picture Mamu's face and I immediately feel better. The last fifteen steps from our gate I'm overwhelmed with happiness. I know I'm home. It's such a comforting feeling. 

I really feel like this city was made for me. I love the people, the public transportation, asking random people in Asan market for random items, walking where I can, finding hidden nooks and crannies, wearing my kurta and surwaal, seeing Baba read Punku's Barbie books to test his English and watching the faces when I tell people my name is Aasha Sharma.

You know, once you get comfortable with the general feel of things it doesn't even seem that crazy. Some of my best thinking is done on the bus or crammed into a minibus with 30 other people. I love it. I love the things that wouldn't fly in the States but totally work and are completely however oddly functional here. I love hearing the boys working the buses calling out their destinations and knowing which ones I want and don't want. I love banging on the roof of the tuk tuks when you want to get off. I love sitting on the bus and watching the sun catch dust particles floating around like angels of positivity spreading the light (and sneezes) wherever they go. 


(Sorry for the overflow of posts. I didn't know when I would have access again and wanted to at least get you semi up-to-date now)

The Hills Are Alive

(From the yak board)

Stop for a moment and think about the ground. If you want, go outside and look at it. Preferably the actual earth, not pavement or some other man-made surface, but take what you can get. When this and the following thoughts hit me, I was seeing mostly tan-ish, light brown grass. Everything was dry yet the ground was still damp, and there were still a few green patches left. (I've learned to accept the paradoxes of life). While looking at each individual blade of grass my mind was blown by an appreciation for the small things. Our planet, our universe, everything is composed of small things. All of the little bits work together to form the bigger picture. Everything is dependent on everything else. We're all interconnected.

Moments after marveling over the blades of grass, I turned my view towards the mountains. I was sitting there in the Himalayas wearing light trekking pants, a short sleeved shirt and a thin wool top just soaking up the sun and staring at the snow covered peaks. They're so imposing and majestic and uncaring and beautiful, which makes them sound half awful, but they're not. They're amazing. I love thinking about how they're formed and studying their appearance. I love how they make me feel--so small but like I've accomplished something at the same time. And I hadn't even climbed Aamaa Yangri, yet.

The grass, mountains, and sky all reminded me of The Sound of Music. It might just have been on my mind because I had been singing it while climbing up to Tarke from Timbu, but I think I still would have felt it. The tan-ish brown I saw was part of this field and that combined with the fact that I was surrounded by mountains made me want to stand up, twirl around and sing. We had been asked by our instructors to take time to reflect and write in silence and for quite a bit of the time I simply sat and listened to how many sounds there were. The sound that reminded me most of The Sound of Music was the sound of the wind. It's one of the most hauntingly beautiful sounds I have ever heard. It's very different from the sound of the wind through the prayer flags or the wind through the trees; I guess the sound is really the wind through the mountains. Iis the sound of serenity. I don't think I can ever adequately describe it. It's far too perfect. When I stopped listening for only that, I was suddenly opened up to a whole new world of sounds: the birds, the prayer flags, the laughter of children playing with Phoebe, Bec, and Andie, the wind through everything, and the echoes of voices and every other sound in those hills. There was so much to absorb. Trying to be aware of all of noises was a lovely goal.

That awareness brought along the realization that everything can be music and everything is. Music has given me great comfort throughout this entire trip so far.Iit has helped me organize my thoughts on life, existence, humanity and Nepal; it has helped me feel connected to home when I most need to feel connected; it has helped me open myself up to he culture and environment around me; and it has helped me gather the strength to climb mountains.

Each place has it's own unique sounds. Bhaktapur was nice and calm; I remember specifically the sound of the fire at night. Tarkeyghyang was the epitome of peace; everything flows with the wind and seems to be carried to all parts of the world. Kathmandu is a chaos filled with dogs, motorcycles, buses, voices, horns honking, people yelling, TVs blasting when there's power, bells ringing at puja time, local music rocking the insides of many public transportation vehicles and so much more. Each sound zooms by so fast you hardly have time to process it before the next one comes along. Either that or there are so many at once that picking one to focus on is really impossible. But it's all music. It's the sound of the hills and valleys and rivers. It's the sound of the bustling cities and relaxed villages. It's the sound of my soul finding yet another place to call home.

Mero Pariwaar--My Family

(From the yak board)

Whenever I travel I gain a new appreciation for all things in my life in Kentucky--toilets, education, countless opportunities, drinkable tap water, hot showers, washing machines, dryers, and so much more. But one of the things I seem to appreciate most while away is my family. Sometimes it's through homesickness, but more often it is through seeing and experiencing things that remind me of how fortunate I have been and am. My family has always supported me no matter what. From the time I was little I never felt any pressure to do something specific. I had the entire world before me, and I still do. I never had to fight to take a gap year. My family loves me and knows that I will do things when I'm ready. They always have my back. 

My Nepali family is absolutely no different.

Before I met them I was feeling homesick and nervous. 

Then I saw Mamu.

She was smiling with her whole face and looked truly delighted to meet me. All of my fears melted away. I was home. My bhaai, younger brother, is so sweet. He's almost eighteen so I'm not sure if "sweet" is the word he would want me to use to describe him, but it fits well. He is always there to lend a helping hand, make tea for me, show me around Kathmandu--anything. I met my baini, younger sister, my second night and knew life would now never be boring. Punku is a nine year old full of energy and creativity. She's helping me learn Nepali, both spoken and written, and we are never lacking in the art project department. She reminds me of my sister in America in that she is not afraid to be herself and she sees the world in different ways. She's such a beautiful comfort.

But my Mamu is one of my favorite people in the world. Even though her English is not perfect (whose is?) we still communicate. We smile and hug all the time and I think she will soon be comfortable enough to let me help in the kithcen. She radiates warmth and kindness in everything she does. Her little songs and dances remind me of my American mom, another great comfort. I have never been underfed or uncomfortable in this house and do not think I ever will be. As my Nepali teacher says: "People love to feed you. They want you to be fat." Truly, they just love everyone in general. That's been my experience so far, at least. Everyone is baa, aamaa, dai, didi, bhaai, or baini. Everyone is family. Sure I get stares, but even people on the street look after me. Upon trying to enter my house by myself, I did not think to try turning the handle on the gate. I simply saw the lock on the inside as a barrier and assumed I could not get in. I fumbled around for about twenty minutes calling my bhaai's cell phone when suddenly a man came up and began trying what seemed to be a doorbell kind of thing, pounding on the gate and calling out to anyone who might be inside. I had not met this man before; he probably does not speak English; and yet, he stopped working to help me.

There are kind people everywhere, I know. I had met them in four other continents before this one, but being part of a new family and being so easily accepted has changed my view towards humanity. Every man is my father; every woman, my mother; every boy, my brother, and every girl, my sister. We are all connected by the very fact that we exist. We can never break that bond so why should we try to? It is so much nicer loving all and being loved by all. 

It is only my fourth night as Asha Sharma and I am already dreading the day I have to depart. It is lovely to be part of family I can see and talk to every day--so nice to hug a mother and say "I love you. Sleep well!" 

To my families scattered across the world, I love you. Thank you for perpetually supporting me. 

Working My Way to the Present

February 22

Woke up today in a new bed, in a new home, with a new mother and younger brother. This will be my home for the next five weeks. 


It's day three in Kathmandu, day fourteen in Nepal and I love everything. Before I go back and start from the beginning I think a little embarrassing story from this afternoon might brighten your day and give you a taste of the kindness of Nepali people.


After a bit of confusion I got on a familiar bus, got off at the correct stop and found my house all by myself. Sounds perfect, right? Not quite. Although this Kentucky girl can navigate the Kathmandu public transportation system, she cannot in fact manage to open a gate. Many of the houses are gated here and my brother, Shashank, told me it would be unlocked, so I was a little baffled when I couldn't get in. Now, this wouldn't have been too much of a problem if I had been the only one around. However, I was certainly not alone. There were people just going about their normal lives and marveling at the fact that there was a foreigner in their neighborhood. Instead of laughing at me or pointing, they all looked genuinely concerned for me. One man came up and tried what I think might have been the door bell, pounded on the gate and called out to the people who might be inside. Others stood around a little restlessly all looking truly worried. Turns out, I just had to turn this little doorknob to open a door in the gate...


Yep. Nothing like a little embarrassment to kick off the afternoon. 

Our journey began in Bhaktapur, a beautiful, almost medieval seeming city. It's one of the few living world heritage site meaning that the people still live just as they did when the city was first founded. Granted, some things are more modern and touristy, but, in general, if your dad was in construction, you are, too. Therefore, when ever an earthquake or simply the rain sends the building straight to the ground or perpetually erodes the delicate wood work, they know how to replace it exactly. It's not like these are simple fixed, either. Each is an intricate piece of art. 

How often does that happen in America?

Exploring Bhaktapur helped me gain a confidence that has been crucial to everything that has come since then and will continue to be crucial to the rest of this trip and my life. While on a scavenger hunt a task of ours was to collect the names of five saujis, shopkeepers, and as there were four of us in a group we decided to split up. I walked into a little shop and greeted the women with a polite "Namaste" then asked for the sauji. From there I asked her name--Tapaaiko naam ke ho?--and if she would write it down for me--lekhidinnus. Approaching people like that is something I struggle with, so I was surprised by how easy it was yo conquer my fear. Even when they started speaking more advanced Nepali and all I could do was smile and laugh I still felt like I had accomplished something and had made great progress. I felt secure and comfortable and that was only day three in Nepal. 


Another aspect of Bhaktapur I loved was how many temples and shrines there are everywhere. Where ever the people go they are reminded of higher powers and life meaning That's not something completely Bhaktapur specific, though. All the places we've been have landmarks reminding them to be thankful. They're even on top of mountains. 


But, there's always an exception. They aren't always in obvious places. Often one simply stumbles upon them. We happened to do this while searching for a Dhaka weaver. We were all drawn to a particular area of Bhaktapur because of these beautiful sounds we were hearing--drums, horns and much more. While wandering, we turned into this tiny alley because we saw a woman spinning yarn. Weaving and yarn spinning seemed to go together, so we tried to communicate that we needed and business card something completely lost in translation as I do not think she spoke any English at all. With her eyes sparkling she just kept on spinning her yarn and smiling the most beautiful smile. I know she came into our lives for a reason. Right behind where she was sitting was one of the most secluded places I saw. It was simply this little square filed with stupas--temples and shrines. I truly felt like I was walking on holy ground. I then realized that there could be hundreds of these places all over that city and others. One of the many good reasons to explore.


From Bhaktapur we stared to make our way to Tarkeyghyang. The bus could only take us as far as Timbu where we spent the time listening to and being calmed by the sound of the Mechi river and playing Would You Rather. By seven the next morning we were all up and ready to start the next part of our adventure which consisted of hours of hiking up and through the mountains/hills crossing sand dunes of doom and climbing stair after stair after never-ending stair until we hit the beautiful village of Tarke. One day of rest was all we allowed ourselves before making our way up the majestic peak of Aamaa Yangi--Mother Yangri. 


I've forgotten something: a house blessing. Our first evening in Tarke we were invited to attend a very special puja (simplest definition being "offering") being done to bless a house. We were first offered food (WOO!) which consisted of tea that looked like dud chhya (milk tea vaguely similar to a chai latte) but wasn't, spicey potatoes, and millet  chumbas. The tea, Tibetan butter tea, was made from black tea, salt and butter and definitely helped to lessen the burn of the potatoes and the chumbas were made simply from millet flour and butter and were some of the greatest things I have ever tasted. Butter was certainly valued as you can probably tell and was used for almost everything during this puja. Even the little decorations on the shrine were made from butter. 


Now, that was all amazing, but then the mind blowing part started: drums, chants, bells and cymbals. I was captivated. It started so suddenly and I'm sure would have ended the same way. Knowing what they chants meant would have been great, but at the same time, you didn't need to understand them to feel their power. I truly felt blessed to be there. They were all so welcoming and seemed to be delighted that we (the instructor Claire, Aidan and I) were there embracing one of their rituals. We didn't get to stay the whole time as it could have gone on for hours more. I love that I got to witness part of it, though. It was so interesting to see how much effort could go into the blessing of a house. 


Our "nature hike" up to the top of Aamaa Yangri was definitely a challenge. Some members of the group were totally in their comfort zone while others (like me) were struggling for many reasons. One of the first things I noticed was how hard it was to breathe. After maybe and hour I already had to pause every so often just to get more oxygen. Singing was something that really helped me. (Thank you Sleeper Agent, The Strokes, The Beatles and Fleet Foxes, and The Sound of Music, specifically). It sounds like it would make breathing more challenging but it was actually the opposite in that it reminded me to breathe and helped get me into a specific rhythm. Another thing that played a major role in getting me up that mountain was the view. Whenever I was feeling a little overwhelmed I could just pause, catch my breath and absorb the world around me. Whether it was a view of the surrounding mountains, a view of the sun shining through the branches of the trees, infinite rock stairs, inches of snow and ice slowly melting, or just a lovely green forest, there was always something new to see. I was not expecting as much variation as there was. It was an incredible surprise. I felt like I was traveling through multiple different worlds not just up one mountain. 


I'm still not sure my brain can truly process the view from the top. It seems so surreal. Looking out over the hills made it look like the world went on forever and also like that was all there was. Throughout that entire trek--up, absorbing and down--I felt like I had heaps to write about, but when I started writing that night and while trying now, I still can't find the words to sum up my thoughts. I decided that maybe all of the revelations I seemed to be having at the time weren't coherent thoughts at all. Just random words or, more likely, feelings. I'm such a firm believer in the power of feeling. Each person has such different connotations associated with specific words that trying to communicate with them is often futile. That doesn't mean we shouldn't try, obviously. And feelings can certainly fail us, too. I just want to add some emphasis to the importance of other ways of communication. 


"For seeing without feeling can obviously be uncaring, while feeling without seeing can be blind." 
--Pico Iyer


I feel like that quote fits the countries I've experiences this past "school year" pretty well. You always need balance. It's a hard thing to manage, but an excellent way to try to live.


We thankfully took a bus from Tarke to Kathmandu. Granted, sitting in one position didn't make my sore muscles feel any better, but I truly don't think I would have been able to walk anywhere. It was so crazy moving up and down and around what seemed like mountains but what, after seeing them from about, I know to be merely hills. 


Due to Shivaratri (Night of Shiva) many kids were sent out to blockade the roads to try to collect money from anyone who wanted to pass. They wanted to replace the money they were losing by burning the precious firewood being burnt in Shiva's honor. It was definitely an adventure. How strange that parents send their kids out to play in the middle of the street whereas in America I was always told to stay away from it. 


From my first views of Kathmandu I knew it was going to be exactly how I imagined it.

Just So You're Not Completely In The Dark

I must admit that I'm finding it difficult to reflect on everything here as it happens. Each day my senses are overwhelmed by new experiences and every day I learn something new. Long story short, I love it here. I feel so at home and have already pushed myself beyond many limits, mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Until I manage to find the light to share with you I would definitely recommend checking out our group's blog. You can find it by going to the Dragons's website (www.wheretherebedragons.com), clicking on the "yak yak" link, then finding the Himalayan Studies Semester, Spring 2012 option under Current Courses. We have a pretty amazing group that never fails to inspire me. 

Expect something new this week. :-)

Be The Traveler Not The Tourist

Many people view Zanzibar as a vacation spot. I view it both as that and as a giant educational opportunity.  The tourists demonstrated who I didn't want to be. I didn't want to be the girl walking around in the short, strapless dress in a place where women are covered from head to toe.

No, I didn't want to be that girl.

Instead, I wanted to be the girl who wore a long skirt, long-sleeved button down shirt and scarf wrapped around her head. Sure, I sweat like crazy. But in 85 degrees with about the same percentage of humidity they had to do it so I did, too. I was comfortable, though. I fit in the best I could AND received compliments from locals on both my Swahili and clothes. It's rewarding being a conscious, respectful traveler. Everyone likes to be respected. And everyone deserves it. 

I learned that I adore the call to prayer. It's one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard. It's powerful yet peaceful. Haunting yet calming. It's part of their lives, their culture, their history and I'm so inspired by their dedication. 

I became as much more confident independent traveler our last day in Stonetown. I wandered around the city by myself, made quite a few friends along the way, and made it back to the hotel in one piece by the required time. I loved the feeling of being semi-lost but still so comfortable. I loved being in the parts of Stonetown that are almost free of tourists. I felt like I was actually doing what I was supposed to do. That's why I travel. I am constantly looking for new places in which I can completely immerse myself. Besides focusing on culture though, I also learned to conquer my fears. I did NOT want to scuba dive after our first lesson in the pool. I was terrified. I didn't even want to try. Everyone told me I should, though. So I did. Peer pressure is sometimes quite beneficial. I was freaking out during the entire ride out to the reef and it didn't stop when I stepped off the boat into the water. It wasn't till I got to the bottom and realized that, oh, *equalize* look at this. *equalize* I'm breathing *equalize* underwater. *equalize* My entire world changed. When we came up from that dive I was truly proud of myself. Although it wasn't really my idea, I did conquer a fear. I was confident in my ability to open my mind and experience new things. I was confident in my ability to tackle anything that came my way.  That's not to say that I don't still have fears. I have many and still tend to stress about them. But, I am getting better. Zanzibar taught me to live in the moment, respect everyone, embrace everything, face your challenges, have confidence in myself, be the traveler and always wear sunscreen. 

Uganda in a Heartbeat

From Rwanda we moved to Kabale, Uganda. It quickly became one of my favorite places. I can still picture the streets, the rolex stands (no, not the watch. The delicious chapati, egg, cabbage, onion, and tomato goodness.), everything. It's such a friendly town. This was home to Edirisa, a company that offered us many volunteer opportunities all across southern Uganda. Two of these were schools in Bukinda and Kitanga. In Bukinda I was shown how music can dramatically increase a person's happiness--this was the only school I saw with a music program. I was shown a magic tree which reminded me of how close to nature we should be living. I was shown the rewards of hard work. In Kitanga I experiences the overwhelming power of positivity. We helped at SNEC, one of the most beautiful special needs centers I have ever come across. Each child was unique. All had their own special gifts and talents. Rebecca would cling to us like a little monkey; Joel could capture the world with his smile; Peter was full of perpetual happiness and enthusiasm; all inspired me. Children just yearn to be loved, as does everyone, really. And everyone deserves to be loved. Sure, they were not always kind to each other. Rebecca would simply be sitting peacefully in my lap and boys would yell at her telling me she was destroying private property and causing problems. What property? I asked. She's not doing anything wrong. I adore those children. We can all learn so much from them. 

Lake Bunyonyi then presented us with an opportunity to relax and reflect. I was rejuvenated by the water. I could swim out to the happy raft then think and attempt yoga and meditation. It balanced out the constant energy of before quite nicely. We then made our home in Jinja. After rafting the Nile we settled in with Soft Power and painted two classrooms inside and out with Wildcat blue waves. I do hope they brought some sort of inspiration to those beautiful children. This school was also where I took a moment to stop and literally dance in the rain. Sometimes you're just overcome by urges to do such lovely things. You heart flies out into the field and you can't help but follow it as you dance around trying to catch up with your soaring soul...and then proceed to wash your hair. 

 Our next stop was Mbale where we learned all about the coffee industry. It's amazing how much effort goes into one little cup. The people there were some of the kindest, most welcoming people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. They were so open minded and accepting of all. 

We were also lucky enough to be able to brave the chaos that is Kampala as various points throughout our Uganda stay. It is also one of my favorite places and for the total opposite reasons of Kabale. You never know what will happen in Kampala whereas you almost always knew what would happen in Kabale. Kampala pushed me out of my typical comfort zone and helped me develop a new one. I loved feeling lost yet knowing that everything would work out in the end. Home will always be found. 

Thanksgiving was spent in Sipi Falls which was absolutely beautiful. I loved exploring all of the different falls with the help of local guides and not knowing what was coming next. Exploration has been so crucial to my life.  I apologize for the brevity of this post. I'm sure I'll have more reflections on everything after I get back from Nepal and possibly even before that. 

Picture Location

Due to the fact that I took thousands of pictures and believe this poor little blog would die if I posted them all here (not to mention the fact that it would look incredibly cluttered) I shall be putting some of them on my mom's mobile me site: gallery.me.com/sojphotos. They will be there till around May or June. I'll still post some here, but I have far too many favorites to post them all. 

Reflections on Rwanda

After exploring the memorials in and around Kigali, Rwanda I become aware of how fortunate I am to have been able to lead the life I have. I have not suffered any great hardship in my life. I have not watched my family be tortured and killed before my eyes. I have never experienced fear for my life or for the lives of those around me. I have had no need to be afraid. As an American citizen, my passport allows me to travel essentially anywhere; I can learn about anything I want.There are countless opportunities for me to take and so many unique paths I can choose. I have the entire world before me. I am free to explore. Fortunately this means that I am able to educate myself about the horrors of the world, as well. If we ever want to reach a kind of peace I believe we all have to be aware of the disturbing aspects of life. We have to prevent them form happening over and over. We need to know how many innocent people have died for absolutely no reason at all. We need to see the churches in which thousands of women and children we killed. We need to see the blood stain and brain remains from the children under fiver years old on the brick wall in the Sunday school room. We need to see the clothes that the people were wearing when they died–the clothes piled on every pew in the church and on the floors reminding us that, less than twenty years ago, their wearers were murdered. They were shot, hacked, raped, beat, stoned, burned, tortured. One murder is bad enough, but in this case we’re not talking about just one. We are talking about millions. Everyone has been affected. Forgetting is not an option. Because of that, there is a glimmer of hope. The more people who know about these events the easier it will be to prevent them in the future.

Adjusting to life at Discover Rwanda Youth Hostel was fun. We all met and interacted with so many interesting people from all different places. All the perspectives and travel tips will definitely be taken to heart. It was nice to be able to talk to people in English, but not have them be American. Being somewhere foreign has really helped me appreciate fast, easy communication.

Our first full day was spent in the Kigali Genocide Memorial. We all felt like we should immerse ourselves in the history before we explored the modern city. Insight was definitely acquired. The memorial starts out by giving the general history then brings in the survivor testimonies, pictures of those lost, bones found in the area, an exhibit devoted to specific child cases and another informing us of other genocides that have taken places around the world. One of the hardest parts for me was seeing the walls filled with pictures. The difference between hearing a number and then seeing the actual faces of those who had their lives taken from them is powerful. I look at the pictures and I see lives; I see the lives they might have had; I think of their families, their hopes, their dreams. More than my brain can comprehend has been lost, but, somehow, the people here are still surviving. There isn’t a person in Rwanda who has not been affected by the genocide, yet, they are moving forward. Their hope for the future is inspiring. If they can continue on, anyone can.

The memorials on the second day were different from the first in that they were simply preserved churches in which the people sought refuge and then were killed. Around 10,000 people were killed in the first church. I have no idea how that many people fit inside. As I walked in I was immediately overwhelmed by the energy. It sounds crazy, but I swear I felt the people. Our group was the only one touring at the time but the air felt so crowded and heavy—filled with death and sadness. One whole side of the church was damaged by bullet holes. After the soldiers destroyed the door with a grenade the just fired into the building. I still have trouble comprehending the fact that I was standing where all of those people were killed.

Downstairs there were skulls displayed and a white coffin containing the body of a woman who suffered more than I can imagine They said that she was raped twenty times and then had a stake shoved through her vertically and then another through her chest. That was a pretty typical form of torture for women. I feel directly affected by events like that simply because I am female. My mind cannot understand some of the evils that are done to people in general but especially to women and children. Life is too precious to destroy.

The second church contained much of the same. There were more buildings but it was the same situation–the people had come to seek shelter and were then killed. Children were often burned alive or smashed against walls. The Sunday school room contained the remains of that. A section on one wall was stained completely. I do not know what would ever possess someone to pick up a baby and smash it into a wall. I understand that psychologically people can be made to do just about anything, but I hope that such extreme cases can be eliminated through further education.

Our guide there was a survivor of the genocide. He was nineteen at the time–a year older than me–and he told us that he fled home and hid in the swamps for two weeks to save himself. In his case, safety would not come in numbers. Some of his family probably sought refuge in the church at which he was a guide. After hearing his story it made me want to ask everyone I met about how they had been affected. That’s not the sort of question one can ask, though. Perhaps telling the world more about what happened would help them find closure. The world just has to be willing to listen.

That night we took a break from history and deep thoughts and immersed ourselves in music. A reggae band was playing at a local night club so many of us spent the night getting caught up in the rhythms and melodies, dancing in whichever ways our souls took us. It was great to have a bit of fun and also to see a different side of Kigali. The juxtaposition of intense history and westernized city is still difficult to grasp, but I think we all still had fun. Despite what our friends at the hostel say, it is possible to enjoy yourself without the use of alcohol.

The last memorial we went to, the Genocide Memorial of Murambi was similar to the one in Kigali in that it gave us the historical background but different in terms of physical evidence. There had been a school located in Murambi where around 50,000 people hoped to be safe. They weren’t. The soldiers came in with machetes, clubs with and without attached nails, hoes, and axes and killed everyone within a span of two days. Two days. 50,000 people dead. Fourteen known survivors. After the slaughter the bodies were bulldozed into mass graves and left.

When the mass graves were discovered and the decomposed bodies transported into more formal graves they also came across some bodies that had not decomposed simply due to the lack of oxygen as so many bodies were crammed into small places. These preserved bodies were covered with lime and put on display in many of the classrooms in the school buildings. Although I must say that I was expecting actual bodies, they were still incredibly powerful. The looked like skeletons really, but you could see the occasional face which made it all the more real. It gave us a view of the actual people. We could see the cracked skulls, broken legs, severed arms, smashed children and more. We viewed six rooms in total and the one devoted to children was by far the hardest for me. Seeing the crushed body of a baby with hands the size of quarters was truly devastating. I still cannot understand how a person kills a child or baby.

Taking in all the perspectives in situations like these is also hard. We automatically feel disgust towards those who killed but if you look at all of the psychological experiments it is very easy to see how people can become brainwashed and completely wrapped up in a given role or in conformity. While exploring Rwanda were were not simply seeing victims. We were seeing killers as well. One wonders how they feel. Do they regret their actions? Did they even realize what they were doing? Is their still tension? Many questions are left unanswered.

As I have mentioned, there is so much hope for and in Rwanda. Men and women who suffered and survived the genocide still smile at us as we walk down the street. With luck the children and young adults know enough and have been affected enough to prevent something like this from happening again. Rwanda cannot do this alone, though, and they don’t necessarily need us funneling money into their system for modernization. The world needs to recognize the horrors that Rwandans and countless other people have suffered and are suffering around the world. Only then can we achieve “never again.”

“There will be no humanity without forgiveness.
There will be no forgiveness without justice.
But there will be no justice without humanity.”
—Yolande Mukagasana

(Again, the majority of this blog was taken from a post I wrote while in country.)

HIV/AIDS Is Not Just Something to Read About

I had always heard and read about the problem of HIV/AIDS but I had never come into contact with people who actually had it. Plus, I had never really paid attention to the fact that it's not just something that effects people in Africa. It effects everyone, everywhere and it is very easily prevented. Because Jenny and Geoff work so closely with the clinic we were able to see first hand the implications of having AIDS. We, healthy teenagers, walked the two hours to and from the clinic and were exhausted. We went with local volunteers on house visits meeting people who are fighting for every day and trying to remain positive. We learned their stories and saw what was being done to help them and what they were doing to help themselves. One of my friends even provided money to purchase and install a new roof for one man. (Props to Emily Aronson)


One of the activities in which women can participate is a basket making group. Sila is in charge and her story is absolutely incredible. She was married to a government official and tested positive for HIV/AIDS. When she told him he kicked her and her children out of his house. Jenny and others helped her get started with the basket making, I'm pretty sure she didn't know how to make them before that, and she is now the best. Her baskets are perfect and her attitude is amazing. All of the wrinkles on Sila's face have been caused by smiling and laughter, you can just tell. She is surviving and inspiring other women to take up the hobby to help support their families. They are being educated and empowered. Women are not typically encouraged to speak up for themselves, a fact that definitely contributes to the 50+% infected rate in women in the Mufindi region. It's estimated that over 40% of the population in the area is infected. Craziness. I can't even comprehend. But, the minute you educate people, especially the women and children, I believe that change will come. The more they know the more they can prevent—the more they realize that they are in control of their own lives.


During the house visits the children impacted me the most. We saw two little girls, both with HIV, one was seven and the other nine and I could not stop thinking about the fact that they will suffer with this forever. They are so very young and already they have experienced more than I might ever. Yet, they are surviving. Although neither of them looked extraordinarily positive (can you blame them?) they are still fighting for this chance. Their lives will always be different, but it's a difference that has the possibility to make them so much stronger. I have such hope for them. As they grow up they can continue to share their experiences, teach and inspire people, and prevent this from happening in the future. All they have to do is try.


Learning about the implications of HIV/AIDS changed all of us, but two in particular were inspired to start a non-profit to help raise money for a program Jenny and Geoff started. Sally Caruso and Olivia Wilson started Food for Thought and the money they raise goes to a program that provides mothers in the Mufindi region living with HIV/AIDS with milk powder when their child reaches the age of six months. That's the age when the virus can enter into the child's blood stream through tiny cuts in the intestinal walls caused by the solid foods to which the child is being introduced. We can help these children. Sure, it's something small, but small actions can change more than we think. All these kids need is to be given a chance to succeed. They are the future.


Food for Thought: http://foodforthoughttz.weebly.com

Inspiration and the Power of Positivity

When we left safari things started to become more and more new to me. We made another short stop in Maji ya Chai, the town of my soul, but after that it was all new. Everywhere we went we met people from all different places with totally different stories. But they all had two things in common 1. They ended up in East Africa. 2. They all think positively.

I came across this fact first in Maji ya Chai, home to Pete and Charlotte O'Neal. Pete is an ex-Black Panther who was exiled in 1969 and hasn't been able to go back to America since. He and Charlotte found their way to Tanzania shortly after his exile took effect and worked odd jobs here and there till they were able to settle down and start their own organization, the United African Alliance Community Center (UAACC). The UAACC helps better the community as a whole by providing classes focusing on whatever people can teach and and by providing an orphanage and primary school for this kids there to help boost the area from the bottom up. On separate occasions they each told us that you just have to lead life with a purpose–believe in yourself and what you’re doing–and the doors will eventually open for you. I had always heard this growing up but it was more inspiring to actually see living proof that it works.

The second time the power of positive thought struck me and the first time I was exposed to and entirely new area of Tanzania was in the Mufindi region with Jenny Peck and Geoff Knight. Jenny was placed in this area when she worked in the Peace Corps, fell in love with the people and the communities, so she and Geoff have dedicated this stage of their life to improving the lives of others. They’ve been there for around five years building up their children’s village, garden, and clinic trying to ameliorate the situation for all. Their village gives orphans in the community a home. Chances are their parents died from HIV/AIDS and they might be infected as well. Whatever the case, they live with other children with two house mothers taking care of them. The garden is more like a small farm. It's so beautiful to see strawberries, broccoli, and everything we see all the time at the grocery, being made available to people who don't typically have access to such foods. It dramatically increases the health rate in that they get far more nutrients than before. And not only that, anyone who wants and needs a job can work in the garden. Gardening is something thats very natural to the people there so it's a great way to promote productivity in exchange for goods. The clinic is currently being used mainly for HIV/AIDS patients–testing, treatment, and education–but they're trying to expand it so it's like any clinic in the states; It will be a safe place for women to have children, it will take care of any dentistry needs people have, people will be able to get vaccinations; it will truly make a huge difference. Yes, most people will have to walk a minimum of two hours to get there; East African people see this short walk as a privilege rater than a burden. Not everything has gone smoothly for Jenny and Geoff, though. They have had their fair share of challenges, but they’ve kept working and are clearly successful now. The lives of so many people have been made better by the perpetual positivity they pour into their work. 

Further south we met Curry and Chev Anton in Njombe. They are a sister duo who moved here two years ago and are in the beginning stages of starting something like Jenny and Geoff. They plan on being really education based which will be an amazing addition to the town. All kinds of volunteers are accepted and classes will be held whenever someone is willing to teach. Locals and foreigners are all welcome which will really boost the empowerment factor. Many people feel like Africans are "helpless." They feel we have to provide everything for them. I'm here to tell you that that is not that case. Africa is made up of strong individuals fully capable of taking care of themselves especially if they are given access to education. Something Curry and Chev feel very passionate about is sustainability. Because much of Eastern Africa's economy revolves around agriculture it's important that they are aware of eco-friendly options. If these women take part in what they teach, which they do, then the ideas will spread even faster. Like I said, they’re still getting started, but just from our brief encounter with them I know they’ll succeed. They have such faith and confidence in themselves and in what they’re doing it would be impossible for them to fail. They're relaxed, yet focussed at the same time. Positive yet realistic. 

Again, I've always been told that I will succeed if I only believe in myself. Positive thoughts in all aspects of life are truly life changing. It’s amazing how much can be accomplished with a little happiness. Life is tough, sure. Each day everyone is presented with challenges. It’s easy and far more dramatic to complain about all of the problems. But negativity accomplishes nothing. Granted, no one can be happy all of the time, but what is happiness without something to compare it to? That’s the beauty of it. Nothing is perfect all the time. You have to accept the good and the bad equally. Then, with a little positivity, you will be happy.

(The blog was inspired by a post I wrote in country. I felt I needed to expand a bit more.)