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.
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.
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