Swimming with Dolphins, SeaWorld, and Solitary Confinement

A few different links popped up on my Facebook newsfeed today that I shared without having time to write my thoughts on them. (I have since added comments). 

What started it was an article about the dangers of swimming with dolphins. Danger not to the human, but to the dolphin. 

Nothing in the article was a surprise to me. It wasn't disturbing, simply because I've been fortunate to know about these horrors for a while. 

There were about 5 months in my 9-year-old past where I wanted to be a dolphin trainer, but then I saw marine mammals in the wild and people educated me about the problems with keeping these creatures in captivity. 

I remember being somewhere around the age of 12, on a whale watching expedition with my family, having a "discussion" with one of the dads on the trip about places like SeaWorld and how terrible I thought it was and how I thought they should all be closed. He and others talked about how great they were that they could bring marine mammals to places that wouldn't normally have them—to people who would not normally be exposed to them. 

Sure, I get it. The first time I saw dolphins was at the Shed Aquarium. But there's no excuse for the torture we put marine mammals through. 

At the time I could only fight back tears, now I have more words. That was ten years ago and the fact that it's still happening is just fueling my fire. 

It's really easy for me to be cynical right now simply because I have been fortunate enough to have people in my life telling me about this from a very young age and passionate enough to have wanted to learn more on my own. I don't understand how people could not know that swimming with dolphins against their will is torture, but not everyone has had the same experiences I have. If you have taken advantage of some of the swimming with dolphins facilities around the world I'm not going to blame you. Obviously it's not in the corporations' best interest for you to know how terribly they are treating the animals. 

Again, nothing in the second article surprised me either. I've known about the pod of orcas it mentions who face some of the same dental issues because of their diet of skates and rays ever since I read Alex Morton's book Listening to Whales years ago. I know that these creatures have never harmed humans in the wild and the only reason they're aggressive is because of the huge amount of drugs they're on and the fact that they are literally going crazy. 

We're putting marine mammals in solitary confinement. There have been studies done on the dangers of solitary confinement and how people put in these units very often go insane, become more aggressive, even kill themselves to get out of the torture. 

This is exactly what we're doing to marine mammals. And it needs to stop. 

The last article is long—I haven't even read all of it—but here's a quote I pulled that I think really sums up what I wanted. 

The article was written by an inmate who was in solitary confinement for 26 years. What he describes is probably very similar to what orcas, dolphins, whales, and other marine mammals are experiencing in captivity everywhere. The only difference is that we don't have the intelligence or apparent emotional or intellectual capacity to understand the signals they're giving us. Just because they don't speak our language doesn't mean they shouldn't be respected. 

"I’ve experienced times so difficult and felt boredom and loneliness to such a degree that it seemed to be a physical thing inside so thick it felt like it was choking me, trying to squeeze the sanity from my mind, the spirit from my soul, and the life from my body. I’ve seen and felt hope becoming like a foggy ephemeral thing, hard to get ahold of, even harder to keep ahold of as the years and then decades disappeared while I stayed trapped in the emptiness of the SHU world. I’ve seen minds slipping down the slope of sanity, descending into insanity, and I’ve been terrified that I would end up like the guys around me that have cracked and become nuts. It’s a sad thing to watch a human being go insane before your eyes because he can’t handle the pressure that the box exerts on the mind, but it is sadder still to see the spirit shaken from a soul. And it is more disastrous. Sometimes the prison guards find them hanging and blue; sometimes their necks get broken when they jump from their bed, the sheet tied around the neck that’s also wrapped around the grate covering the light in the ceiling snapping taut with a pop. I’ve seen the spirit leaving men in SHU and have witnessed the results."

If humans can't even respect each other it seems hopeless to think that they could respect other species, but damn, we have to try. 

Body Positivity

I debated posting something about this ever since I saw a Humans of New York post about it. I just haven't been able to get it out of my mind, so I figured it was time. 

The majority of my life I've been pretty freaking skinny—tan, skinny, and blonde. Many people see this combination and think "Oh, she must have no self-esteem issues at all! If I looked like that, I would be happy." I didn't try to look like this. It was just my genetics. I came the way I came. I had a fast metabolism and was dancing and swimming and in general pretty active, just because I liked it. 

I remember a moment my freshman year of high school when I was walking to the cafeteria and I head someone behind me say something about anorexia. Who knows if it was actually about me, but I took it that way and became more embarrassed about my awkward teenage body than I already was. There's all this hype about fat-shaming and I'm not saying skinny-shaming is the same thing, but it's definitely out there, too. 

People always talk about the "freshman fifteen," a splendid moment that hit me as the "gap-year fifteen." As much as my 13 year old self couldn't wait to have boobs, my 18 year old self was mourning the stretch marks, the dimples, the multiple necks that I felt plagued my body. People would comment on the change, some saying I was still beautiful or that it didn't matter what I looked like. 

But I didn't feel beautiful and it didn't matter what anyone told me. I was never going to feel beautiful because I couldn't see myself as such. 

My point is really what we all should know to be true. 

Body positivity doesn't come from a weight, or a diet, or how "in shape" a person is. Recently I've been looking at myself in the mirror, at my reflection in a window, or just down at my body as I sit, walk, dance, type, anything, and feeling good. Sure, it's summer and I'm more happily tan and blonde and thinner than my gap-year self and that makes me personally feel pretty. Last summer, though I was tanner and blonder and my thought process wasn't the same, though, so the only thing that has really changed is my brain. 

Posts from women about their own lightning strikes of stretch marks, countless illustrations, and aerie's incredible (although shouldn't be) campaign for unretouched women all remind me of the different kinds of beauty. 

Obviously just viewing these things is not what made me more body positive. I've had to push myself out of my comfort zone in order to feel comfortable in my body. Through Carleton's Skin Deep, rock climbing, dancing more and in different ways, talking about my body, and wearing short shorts—all things that scared me, believe it or not—I've been able to come to see myself as beautiful. 

The point is:

It's a constant battle. You do have to tell the little judgmental side of your brain to shut up sometimes and other times you have to listen to it in order to motivate yourself to push a little harder, if that's what is going to fuel your beauty fire. 

In my "gap-year fifteen" phase my mom was always the one to tell me that I was the only one who could change how I felt. I always kind of hated it when she did, because I would commented on my body while I was eating ice cream or something complaining about one of my chins and I knew she was right, but couldn't admit it to myself or could't find a way to change it. 

Mama, you were right. As always. 

Late-Expressed Gratitude and Love

For a while now I've known and have been thankful for the countless women who have acted as mothers and role models in my life. I am surrounded by strong, independent, caring, kind, hilarious, genuine, positive women who inspire me every day to be the best person I can be. Something I am only recently becoming aware of is the number of men who have played similar roles. 

Two such men were Bhim Jyoti Shakya and Jeff Kalbach. 

I've been meaning to write about Bhim for a few months now, but somehow couldn't find the words. My learning of the death of Jeff Kalbach pushed the emotions over the edge. 

Bhim Jyoti Shakya was one of my home stay fathers the first time I was in Nepal. We never had intense intellectual conversations—we mostly laughed as he teased my aamaa and when he was otherwise getting himself into trouble. Still, we were never able to say goodbye to each other. We both would have cried, and if I'm being honest, did anyway. Some of my most treasured moments are the simple times we would be sitting together, drinking tea, eating biscuits, and watching something on the Discovery channel. I will always be able to recall the gleam in his eyes as he smiled or laughed, the way he would ask if he looked ok, and the way he would justify the tiny shots of Nepali wine he would take with dinner. I spent a total of 2 months with him, but I will always consider him to be my father. Sometimes souls connect and there is absolutely no way to describe it. 

Jeff Kalbach was the captain of the ship the first time my family went to Baja California. This trip changed my life. I was nine years old and I found my passion. Jeff was one of the first people to inspire me to pursue marine biology and give me advice on what I should do to make my dreams realities. This trip represents the time I became truly aware of the importance of nature and our role in conserving and engaging with it. Even today I had so many plans of meeting with Jeff again and pushing myself further into the world of marine biology and conservation. 

I don't tell people enough how much they inspire me—how influential the memory of their smile can be to my every day. I hope Bhim and Jeff (and the many, many others still living) can feel the motivation, passion, love, and gratitude currently radiating from my core. Hugging the universe. 

Kolor Kathmandu

Nepal: a country approximately the size of Kentucky; a country with 75 districts and more ethnic and cultural groups than you can imagine. 

Kathmandu: a city of such chaos, yet a culmination of many of the cultures; a rapidly developing city in need of fresh perspective. 

Kolor Kathmandu: a project. A project to educate and stimulate thought. A project to bring people closer to art—art that is meaningful and backed with purpose. It's a way for the artists to express their own truth and for viewers to discover theirs.

Kolor Kathmandu is an initiative by Yuki Poudyal under the Kathmandu-based Sattya Media Arts Collective whose goal is to replace "visual pollution" with 75 murals representing the districts of Nepal. Many of the walls are covered political slogans, calls for strikes, and cheesy movie posters—even for a foreigner who often stops to take pictures of (or at least admire) everyday things, they get old. If the city could become a kind of art gallery containing images that inspire constructive thought instead, it could be engulfed by a sense of positivity and hope.

That's exactly what it's doing.

Local and international artists alike have come together to create the 75 murals due to be finished by the end of the month. Each artist brings a unique view to their mural when they combine the elements, impressions, and stories that make up their district. Whether they're focussing on a specific event—a mass suicide, a battle, an endangered animal—or tackling a broad spectrum of life and culture, they all prompt a reaction. It's difficult to walk by one without stopping to ponder. They are so different from anything else seen in the city. 

Not only are they different from everything else on the walls, they are also different from each other. Each represents some aspect of Nepal's diversity. This is a way of educating the people about the other districts. One of Nepal's current challenges is finding the balance between diversity and unity. Education through art makes this possible. 

Kolor Kathmandu is about being different. It's informative. It's thought provoking. It gives a voice to the people—artists, viewers, districts. As Poudyal put, "sometimes, it's meant to shake you out of you comfort zone." It always, however, makes a impact. 


http://kolorkathmandu.sattya.org/

https://www.facebook.com/KolorKathmandu?fref=ts

Save the World

Maybe signing all these petitions is a little idealistic of me, but I feel like it's the only way I can make a difference right this very second. Here are just a few things on my mind:

"The governor is proposing a $5 million cut that currently helps to support Connecticut after-school programs, many of these programs would have to close, leaving thousands of children to fend for themselves between the critical after-school hours of 3pm to 6pm.   

However, this cut may occur while at the same time the governor is proposing $1.5 BILLION in financing be given to the University of Connecticut to refurbish the facilities and campus."

As a college student, I say support the kids. They are the future. And, while I'm at it: really? to refurbish the facilities and campus? Come on. Sure, we all complain about little things on campus that could be "nicer" but is that really more important than after school programs, or, I don't know, IN SCHOOL PROGRAMS? What about the teachers? What about giving the money to kids who can't pay for school? There are so many things we could do with $1.5 billion and our first idea is beautification. 

http://www.causes.com/actions/1732060-support-ct-after-school-learning-programs?utm_source=causes&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_campaign=WE813_1417

"The USDA projects that this year's corn crop will cover 94 million acres, all of which will be planted with seeds treated with neonicotinoid pesticides. In small doeses these pesticides damage the bees' immune systems and homing abilities; in large doses the pesticides are lethal."

I...really don't like corn. And I really don't like pesticides. What is our world coming to? Do we really NEED 94 MILLION acres of corn? I don't think so. 

http://www.causes.com/actions/1686797-ban-the-use-of-neonicotinoid-pesticides-before-they-devastate-bee-populations-in-the-usa?utm_source=causes&utm_medium=newsletter&utm_campaign=WE813_1417

20for20

What did YOU do for your twentieth birthday? I can almost guarantee you that it didn't have as big of an impact as what this girl is doing for hers.

On January 28th Rebecca Kuntz turned 20. What is was her wish? To build an Education Center in Ghana for 5,000 children. She is moving there permanently to run the center herself. 

This girl is incredible. 

All she needs is 20,000 dollars. I know that sounds like a lot, but if 1,000 people each donated 20 dollars she would reach her goal. Just 20 dollars! You money can actually buy these children a place to learn, grow, play and be loved. 

Please consider donating. You don't have to donate 20 if you don't want to--even just 5 will help. 

For more information:

http://www.together-we-are.com/20for20/

To DONATE:
(or purchase a super cute shirt, the proceeds from which will be used as donations)

http://www.together-we-are.com/donate/

No Words to Express My Grief.

First, a link: http://intentious.com/2012/02/17/kayapo-damned-brazil-government-oks-hydro-plant-condemns-40000-lives/

The date the article was written: February 17, 2012. 

The first license to start the construction of the dam: February 2010.

The first report filed by staff members of FUNAI, Fundação Nacional do Índio, (National Indian Foundation): January 14, 2011.

Today's date and the day part of this article made its way to me on Facebook : January 29, 2013. 

Years later and people are finally hearing about this. 

In case you don't actually want to read the entire article, I'll summarize it for you. The world's third largest hydroelectric dam is being built in the Amazon. The lives of 40,000 humans in the Kayapo community will be destroyed. That's not including the other plants and animals in this region. The dam will flood 400,000 hectares of forest. (One hectare is 10,000 square meters, 2.471 acres). Naturally, the government and government-funded environmental agencies (just wrong. the government and the environment are not compatible) are claiming that this will not displace the people, and actually, they will benefit from the building of the dam! Tell me how the following quote from Roberto Messias, head of Ibama, the government-funded environmental agency, makes any sense at all:

“Many of them currently live in wooden riverside shacks. They are likely to benefit from the dam’s constructions.”

It doesn't. How are those sentences related? 

And what about this: 

"Minister Of Environment Carlos Minc told Brazilian TV stations, “There is not going to be an environmental disaster. Not a single Indian will be displaced. They will be indirectly affected, but they will not have to leave indigenous lands.”

That's what they always say. I've seen this happen. TI'm sure I mentioned the dam in the Nile. Same reason--hydroelectric power. They said it wouldn't effect anything. I was there and I have pictures. And no, I have no idea how to use photoshop. It was flooding. Rapids were turned into lakes. Little shacks by the banks, gone. Little islands in the middle of the river, also gone. 

Everything we do has an environmental impact. Maybe we should stop thinking about power and energy and go back to how we started. We're not living sustainably or constructively. We, my friends, are killing ourselves. And maybe that's the only way to do it. Maybe we have to destroy the majority of the world we know in order for us to begin again. I'd like to think there's more to us than that, though. 

Update: After reading comments from others on Facebook and doing some of my own research, the cause of the chief's tears is debatable, which brings up other interesting points. We are such visual creatures. We need pictures to help motivate us to do things, whether it's working out more, or donating to a "feed the hungry" organization, or trying to protect the environment. And then, we are so easily manipulated into believing incorrect information. 

Why are the facts not enough? Why are people no longer inspired by words alone?

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.