Take Me (Back) Out to the Ball Game

My original plan with Marisa involved me coming back to KTM in February/March, and being home by April. I don’t typically have much going on at home, which is probably why I always want to leave, because my boredom makes me crazy (or crazier than I already am), which leads me back into my depression. But I was actually excited for the month of April at home. I had plans every weekend, starting with the most important holiday, Opening Day, followed by 2 weekends of out of town friends, and ending with the Harris cousin Spring Fling. So it was a BIG decision for me to make and accept that I would be in Nepal during this month. And I knew I would have a serious case of FOMO. And it has officially begun. I haven’t even been able to scroll through Facebook today, because I am so sad to have missed my first Opening Day in years. And I know the FOMO is going to happen again when the next few weekends roll around. When I finally bought my plane ticket, I had made peace with my decision that I would be missing all of these events because, well, I would be in Nepal. But now that it’s actually happening, the sadness is seeping back in. Although I am in a place that I have come to love so much, there are some things back home that just can’t be beat. Lesson learned…maybe…for now at least. Although I do have Nepali New Year to look forward to this weekend, so I will definitely make the most of that! In the meantime, I’ll have to stay updated on the Cards via the Internet, including my personal favorite Cardinals blog, http://cardsdiaspora.com/. GO BIRDS!

Taxis and Tuk-Tuks

I’m honestly not sure why I feel the need to willingly put myself in situations where I know I will be riddled with anxiety, stress, panic, loneliness, guilt, and the like. I have it in my head that I need to prove something to myself. That I can feel like a normal, independent person who isn’t afraid of Every. Single. Thing.

What’s that, Al? Bo, Marisa, Roseanne and countless other people you know can travel the world solo, why can’t you? But let’s practice first in a place you are somewhat familiar, even if it’s not blind-friendly. Let’s go back to Nepal and see if you can be more independent, even though you know you are going to freak the f out when you are alone on a busy street, or in a taxi, or at a new and unfamiliar place. Let’s try to do things on our own without anyone’s assistance. Let’s try to be comfortable in our own skin for once in our life, shall we? Great, let’s go then.

So, yeah, this first week back has definitely been stressful. I knew it would be incredibly different from when I was here in the fall, since I was coming with no set plans and would have to be more on my own because I wouldn’t have the ELI staff taking care of me. But I NEED to learn how to live with myself, no matter where I am. If I can get over the anxiety of being alone on the other side of the world, maybe I can finally get over the anxiety I feel when being by myself in my own hometown. That being said, I still have yet to actually WALK anywhere by myself here. I’ve taken cabs almost every day, which is not good for my Fitbit stats. Or my waistline.

I have been volunteering every day at SASANE, the human trafficking NGO I wanted to work at last time I was here, but my plans were thwarted by the election, strikes, and other unforeseeable issues. My friend Ashish took me there the first day on his motorbike, so that was easy. And then I took a taxi home with Shanti, one of the SASANE girls who lives near Thamel, where I am currently staying. The next day, Shanti said I could go with her, but we would be taking a tuk-tuk, instead of a taxi, because it is so much cheaper. I’m all about saving money, and going with someone instead of by myself, so I was down. Just FYI, a taxi from Thamel to SASANE costs 200 rupees ($2 USD) and a tuk-tuk costs 17 rupees (17 cents). Those are some good public transit prices!

So, what exactly IS a tuk-tuk? The best way I can describe it is that it is a sort of small truck on 3 wheels, one in the front and two in back. You essentially sit in the bed of the truck, which is covered, and you get in by climbing through the small door/opening in the back and attempting to find a seat on either side of the truck bed. They are usually pretty crowded, and people don’t like to move, so you might have to crawl over people to get to an open spot. There’s no way more than 12 people could fit, and even that is pushing it. The ride is incredibly bumpy so you have to find a place to hold on and brace yourself to stay seated. Basically, it’s terrifying, and completely unsafe. I’m glad I can’t actually see what is going on outside amidst the traffic.

Most days, I have to take a taxi to and from Marisa’s apartment. Getting to SASANE is fine, someone from the apartment building finds me a taxi, and tells the driver the general area I am going (Dillibazar, near the immigration office). Then, when the taxi gets there, I call Indira at SASANE and she talks to the driver to explain where exactly to take me. Getting home, however, is a different story. Someone from SASANE finds me a taxi, and tells them to take me to Thamel Apartments. I have a business card that has a map with the location, as well as Nepali directions written on it. None of this seems to help. My 10-15 minute taxi ride has been no shorter than 35 minutes (sometimes closer more like 45-50), as the driver gets to Thamel, then proceeds to drive around, stopping to ask directions no less than 4 times as to the whereabouts of Thamel Apartments. It’s frustrating because I can tell that I am in Thamel and know we are driving past places that I probably know, but I just can’t see outside to tell if we are near any landmarks that are recognizable to me to assist the driver in finding the apartment. I’ve even called the guys in the office at the apartment to talk to the drivers and they STILL have trouble finding it. And it’s on a main road; it’s not hidden away or off a side street or anything. A few times, the driver has tried to tell me just to get out and walk the rest of the way. And I WISH I could get up the courage to get out and try to do just that. But I can’t. It’s scary enough for me to get out of the taxi once they FINALLY find the building, because they drop me across the street, which is very narrow, so I don’t have much of a street to cross, but with the incessant onslaught of cars and bikes coming down the street, I have to figure out a good time to jaunt the 6 steps in front of me to get to the building.

Moral of the story: I’m still not being completely independent, as was my intention. But I’ve decided that in a place like KTM, it’s probably better for me to be safe and stay alive than risk getting hit by a car/bike/bus/tuk-tuk/scooter, right?

The Wolf of Chisopani

On Thursday night, my friends “surprised” me by telling me that we were going on a trek the next day. I immediately started to panic. We would take the bus an hour and a half from KTM to Sundarijal and then make the 15 kilometer (roughly 5 hour) trek up to Chisopani. According to my friend Ashish, who is a trekking guide, this was an “easy” trek. Too bad none of these guys have ever tried to do a hike with a partially blind girl, much less an all out trek. And with a girl who isn’t all that into nature and still had yet to use a Nepali squat toilet. But because they were so excited about it and because I did come back here for new adventures, I reluctantly agreed. Plus, who comes to Nepal 3 times in a year and never does a trek? I suppose it was inevitable and past time.

Friday morning I was ready to go at the appointed time of 8:30 (and then we didn’t leave until 10, as all the guys run on Nepali time – much to my “I like to be everywhere 15 minutes early” chagrin). I was definitely nervous and uptight on the bus ride to Sundarijal, mostly because I wasn’t entirely sure my Nepali guys realized the extent of my vision issues, so I was worried about the level of difficulty and whether I’d be falling down all the time or not. From the very start in Sundarijal, we began the steep, 2150 meter climb, taking us through the Shivapuri National Park, then the tiny Mulkharka village and finally through a forest area before reaching the small mountain village of Chisopani. The entire way it was either steep stairs, or rock formations made to resemble stairs, or narrow and winding dirt pathways. The only break in the incline came when we were finally nearing Chisopani, and then had to descend a lot of stairs. More than once we had to move over to the side to let stray cows pass us. I started out going slowly, but soon picked up speed, as it was mostly shaded and, for the most part, I could see the stairs and uphill slopes fairly well (or at least well for me). The guys had to keep stopping to rest and I wanted to keep moving!

About 2 hours into our trek, we stopped at a shack that for all intensive purposes I will call a restaurant/café/snack bar (?), where we sat outside in a small hut for about an hour and a half drinking chang (a milky white beer made from fermented barley) and eating dried buff meat (I forgot it was a Friday during Lent…oops). I also decided I was tired of being the only one not involved in animated Nepali conversations, so I made the rule that only English could be spoken, and whoever spoke Nepali first had to gampei (chug) their drink. As my luck would have it, after only a few minutes, Karma made a statement that was clearly not true, and I immediately exclaimed, “jhoot na bol!” which means “do not lie” in Nepali, and is one of the few phrases I know. Madan quickly called me out and my own game came back to bite me. Consequently, 15 minutes after we left the hut, the chang kicked in and I needed to break the seal, leading to my first successful attempt at the squat toilet. As most people who know me can attest, after a few drinks I gain some liquid courage and confidence in my mobility skills and will often wander ahead by myself with no reservations. So the chang definitely helped me to continue staying ahead of the guys. Ekindra kept up with me for the most part, but then would make me stop to wait for the others (although I think he just wanted to rest). During one of the rests, when the other guys caught up to us, Ashish started calling me the wolf, since I was leading the pack. So I’d say I had a pretty successful first day of trekking.

When we finally reached Chisopani around 6:30, we were greeted with (apparently) stunning views of the Himalayas, as well as a much needed break! My only requirement for the hotel was that it had a Western bathroom, which, luckily, it did. Our choices were slim so it was fortuitous that we arrived when we did, as we got the last few available rooms meeting my requirement. We finished our evening with a traditional Nepali meal of dal bhat, some koto (Nepali rice wine), and a small bonfire, before going to bed to do the reverse trek in the morning.

Sadly, I couldn’t be the wolf forever, and the trek back to Sundarijal was brutal. The sun was blazing, causing me to squint even harder than usual, resulting in a massive headache, and it was virtually impossible for me to walk at anything close to a normal speed, as I could barely see in front of me regarding the downhill slopes, steps, and uneven rocks. Ekindra was awesome and held on to me the entire time, and kept telling me to slow down when I would attempt to speed up and almost fall, but I still rolled my ankle a few times. And my lower back is still killing me from all the tripping and stumbling over the unevenness of the ground. Needless to say, I was extremely relieved once we reached the bus in Sundarijal. But I am really glad that I agreed to go on this excursion, seeing as I was trying to find excuses to get out of it for the entire 12 hours prior to going. It was definitely a time I’ll always remember, and, even though it was short and “easy,” I have now officially (and finally) done a trek in Nepal.

Survival of the Fittest?

I came home from my second trip to Nepal on December 11, just in time for the holidays. So while I was missing my KTM life like crazy, I didn’t have as much time to allow the depression to set back in, as I was immediately busy with holiday parties, meeting Brady Quinn, and spending time with family and friends. At least I don’t think I let it set back in. Maybe I did, but now that was 4 months ago, and I never got around to writing those posts about the end of the last trip and how it was to go home again, so I kind of forget. Maybe I blocked it out. Alright, moving on. As soon as the holidays were over, I busied myself with getting healthy again by recommitting to my (mostly) Paleo lifestyle and lifting weights, and I even added yoga into the mix. And although I was feeling better physically than I had in a very long time, I was still a mental basketcase regarding my life and purpose.

Before leaving KTM in December, Marisa had asked me many times to come back with her in February. And of course there was nothing I wanted more than to do just that. February came and went, and then all of a sudden March was almost halfway over. When I saw a ridiculously cheap fare on Etihad Airlines, I took it as a sign that I should just go back and figure life out as it happens, as it seemed too good to pass up. But, being the indecisive person that I am, I wrestled with the idea of booking it for almost a week, not because I did not want to go back, but because the plans with Marisa were constantly changing. Because I was going to have to be much more independent in this completely non-blind-friendly city. Because Devon was not going to be there, who was my ultimate source of support. Because what if part of what made KTM so wonderful for me was all of the friends I had made while there, and most would not be there now. Because what if I should just accept the happiness I felt this past fall in KTM and try to move on with my life and enjoy the memories. Because what if I hate it this time since I will be more alone and on my own. Because I’m super anal and need fixed details and had no set living or working arrangements. Because I’m not one of those people who thinks everything will work out and fall into place. Because I have ridiculously low confidence when it comes to my vision regarding my travel and mobility skills. And on and on.

On the other hand, what if I regret not going back and finding out if I could survive there on my own, despite the above reasons (fears) holding me back? And if I can’t handle it or don’t love it as much this time, I can always go home. But isn’t it worth finding out? I have so many regrets over past decisions, and I now have a really hard time making them in the present as I always wonder if the choice I make will just end up being tacked on to that long list of regrets. Which I need to get over, I know. So while trying to come to a decision of “should I stay or should I go,” I had a long overdue, 2 hour conversation with my friend Bo, mostly about traveling and Nepal (shockingly one of the places he has never been, as he is one of my most well-traveled friends) and generally just doing what makes you happy in life and forgetting about everything (and everyone) else. When he asked me what was holding me back from going back to Nepal since I was happy there, I replied, without skipping a beat, “my eyesight,” to which he replied, “Aly, you are smart and capable. I have no doubt in my mind that you would adapt because your body and mind will be forced to and you WILL be fine.” And that was the final push I needed. I booked my ticket and, still without all my plans set in stone, prepared to head back to the other side of the world. Survival of the fittest style. Maybe. We’ll see.

It’s now been over a week since I’ve been back and yes, I’m already having some regrets about coming, as my stress, anxiety, and panic levels have all been running pretty high. But I’m working through it. And it really is awesome being back with some of my friends here. And I’ve been working at SASANE everyday, the human trafficking organization that I really wanted to work at last time I came back, but the election and strikes thwarted those plans. And I’ve been doing work for back home. And I’ve been trying to find time to catch up on writing about my experiences thus far, because my Harris aunts are probably freaking out that I haven’t blogged yet. So…here’s hoping I will be more dedicated to updating this time, for their sake.

Little Victories

There was an interesting article in the paper last week entitled “Defying Darkness.”  It discussed a group of 9 blind people who live and work together as street musicians around popular areas of KTM, as this is the only way for them to make (somewhat of) a living.  Some days they make 300 Rupees each (which converts to $3 USD), and some days they don’t make anything.  They discuss the trials and tribulations of being ostracized from their families because of their blindness, as well as the difficulty they have in crossing streets and navigating the city.  This makes me feel a little better knowing that it’s not just me having a hard time getting around here, but then it makes me feel worse because this is their country, and they have a right, and a need, to have accessibility and independence.  According to the article, there are more than 95,000 blind and visually impaired people in Nepal, and only 386 of them are gainfully employed.  386!  That’s only 0.4% (the employment rate in the United States among this population is 36.8% – still a low number)!  There are no government programs, such as vocational training, available for them, and access to education is lacking, as only around 1000 of these individuals have received secondary education.  It makes me glad for the support people with disabilities DO have in the United States, but even our system still has a long way to go.  While there are many, many issues that need to be addressed in Nepal by the government, I sincerely hope that they will keep people with disabilities on their radar and begin fixing some of these major discrepancies and inequalities.

After reading this article, I decided I had been here long enough that it was time for me to become more independent, so last Monday I did something huge.  I left the volunteer house, turned left and walked the 20 yards down the alley to Yogesh’s shop on the corner…alone.  Yes, any 3 year old could probably have done this, but as I have said before, I don’t go anywhere by myself here.  The road conditions, the insane traffic, and my lack of confidence have all kept me in the safety zone of always being with someone else (and always someone who knows I need a little extra help).  I was meeting my friend Leiben there, but he runs on Nepali time (always late), so I was a little nervous going by myself, primarily because it has been hard to articulate to some of our other Nepali friends the extent of my visual impairment.  So all I could think about was if Leibs isn’t there yet and I go by myself, what if some of our other friends are there and I walk by them or don’t say hi because I don’t see them?  And then they think I’m being rude or weird, but they don’t understand why?  And actually, let’s talk about the alley for a minute.  It is above a sewer, has about seven random, uneven concrete slabs which are separated by giant cracks/holes, and at the end is a ramp which, if you don’t make it all the way up and if you turn too quickly, you will basically fall off the edge of a very steep step.  And just at the top of the ramp is a pole to the right (where I have to turn to get to Yogesh’s), so if I didn’t already know it was there, I could run smack into it.  Luckily, Leibs was there waiting for me outside at the end of the alley (he understands about my blindness, but he couldn’t come up to the house to get me because we have been told not to bring our Nepali guy friends around, even though they all know where we live since they are all friends with Yogesh), so it was fine, and we had a lovely time together, as usual.  Once again, I stressed myself out over the short jaunt for no reason, but it really was a big deal to finally go somewhere by myself here.  It felt so liberating!  Ever since, I have had no qualms about heading to Yogesh’s by myself, although I usually go after dinner when it is dark out and I can see better. 

A few days after that, I made the first trip to Thamel sans Devon, Bijaya or Santos.  I was with Liz, Shree, and Andrea, none of whom I had walked with before (without Devon).  Even though it’s pretty rare for Devon and I to go anywhere without each other (don’t worry, she met us at the restaurant we were headed to, so we weren’t separated for too long), it was another step forward in my independence here in KTM.  The next night, I walked with just Shree and Andrea to the Funky Buddha in Thamel, where neither of them had been before, and I was able to direct us there easily, which was super exciting to know that I am able to finally use my awesome directional skills in some parts of this crazily confusing city!

By Saturday, I got brave enough to walk with a Nepali friend (one with limited English and limited understanding of my vision) from Thamel to Yogesh’s…in the daylight, when it is especially difficult for me to see, and it went perfectly fine.  I’m sure a huge reason is the fact that after almost 2 months of walking back and forth along this same stretch, I am pretty familiar with the route, I know where the more treacherous parts of the street are and I know when we get to the quieter part of our street, where I feel pretty safe and confident.

These little victories might sound incredibly minute, but for me, they were encouraging and empowering.  In a city that I have come to love, despite feeling limited and sometimes helpless, these few incidents have helped show me that I will be able to make anything work, no matter where I am, and no matter who I am with (or without). 

A Very Nepali Thanksgivukkah

Belated Happy Thanksgiving to all my family and friends!  This marks the second year in a row (and only the third time in my life) that I have missed being home for the holiday (another reason I can’t miss Christmas – I would never be able to live down missing two major holidays within a month).  Despite not being at home with my family, I would not trade my two days of celebrating here with my KTM family for ANYTHING!

The day started with Devon, Liz, Andrea (the newest volunteer at the house) and I going to a wedding – one that we were actually invited to attend!  The bride is a girl from SASANE, so Liz was able to score us the invite, as she had gotten to know her over the past 3 months (and it doesn’t seem to take much to get invited to a wedding here).  We met up with Laxmi and Indyra, two of the women who work at SASANE, at 11 so that we could go to the wedding with them.  We were originally supposed to meet them at 10 and be at the wedding at 12:30, but being Nepal, times and plans change constantly.  So even though we met them at 11, we did not end up leaving until 12.  And we still had to walk to get a gift.  And get on a bus for a 10 minute ride before transferring to another bus for the hour long ride to Bhaktapur.  We finally arrived around 2, afraid we might have missed the ceremony because of the late departure.  We should know by now that NOTHING is EVER on time here, and our arrival was still a good hour early.  From where we got off the bus, we walked about 10 minutes through a small village to the rural countryside area where the homes of both the bride and groom were located.  Despite being neighbors, they had only met each other a few times prior to the wedding.  And unlike the last wedding we attended, which was a love marriage, this one was arranged, and the difference was quite obvious.  The bride was petrified, and the groom was completely solemn, his face empty of any emotion whatsoever. 

So here’s what went down.  We were instructed to sit on the front porch of the bride’s home and forced to drink soda, which has happened numerous times here – I hate, hate, hate soda (except as the occasional mixer with alcohol).  Then we were told to come inside to the room where the bride was getting ready, and we all took pictures with her (weird, since she had no clue who most of us were, but whatever).  Then it was up to the roof of the house to hang out and take more pictures.  Although we were actually in dresses/skirts instead of yoga pants and t-shirts like the last time, we still didn’t look “wedding good,” especially compared to all the Nepali women in their beautiful outfits.  But for some reason they wanted to take pictures of us 4 Americans, so we went with it.  Then it was across the field to a large tent set up with rows of plastic patio chairs facing each other.  And again we were forced to drink some gross orange soda.  We really tried to say no, but I guess “no means no” doesn’t fly here.  Then the band started to play so we went back outside, where the bride’s family circled the groom and threw rice at him.  After that, we went to another small tent where we stood as onlookers as the stoic groom was brought in and sat in his groom’s chair.  We turned around to see the bride being carried piggy-back style by her brother, who was the one to “give her away.”  He put her down inside the tent in front of the groom and she “honored” him by circling him, giving him flowers and placing a necklace around his neck.  He then put a necklace on her, they quickly exchanged rings, and that was it.  They were now married and it was time for the blessings to begin.  We went back to the big tent where we sat and were given appetizers and offered beer and wine (which, shockingly, we were able to refuse – but we only did so because of the absence of Western toilets and the upcoming hour long ride back to KTM – I don’t think our bladders could have handled it).  We then went back to the wedding tent, where guests were still lined up to bless the couple with tikka, and we congratulated the couple and bade them farewell.  We needed to leave by 4:30 in order to get home and get to Marisa’s for dinner, but we were immediately ushered back to the big tent and told to eat dinner.  Luckily, we were able to serve ourselves so could make small plates!  By 5:15, we were in a cab (to save time) and headed home to pick up the momos we ordered from Yogesh to take to our Thanksgivukkah dinner!

We arrived at Marisa’s around 7 for our very untraditional, but VERY delicious dinner.  Buff momos, samosas, latkes, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, stuffing, biscuit cake, pumpkin momos, and various other desserts.  And the company at one of Marisa’s dinner parties was once again unparalleled – another melting pot of amazing people from America, Nepal, Germany, Scotland, Canada, and India.  We talked, laughed and ate a ton of food, while Leiben and Rajiv provided the musical entertainment.  It was lovely.  We were even given an extended curfew of 11 pm for the occasion!  Exciting stuff!

On Friday, Devon and I continued the Thanksgiving celebration at the monastery, since we had to miss the day before due to the wedding.  We took blankets to spread out on the ground picnic style, and we brought buff momos from Yogesh (obviously – would you expect anything else?), some Jerry’s (basically fried sugar) and juice.  Not the healthiest meal, but what can you do?  The boys LOVED it.  They licked their plates clean – seriously.  Then we taught them how to draw turkeys with their hands and ended the day with a dance party.  It was the BEST DAY EVER.  They were so cute.  The few older boys were too cool to dance, but most of the younger ones were really into it.  I was teaching them to twirl me and then we all started twirling and spinning each other.  Devon said a lot of the older monks were peering out their windows watching us in amusement (and probably also thinking “who are these crazy girls, they are clearly not teaching English today”).  But they had so much fun, and they probably needed it.  I think it is important to just let them act like kids and be crazy and carefree.  Sadly, we only had Devon’s phone with us, which we used for the music, so no pictures were taken.  Which just means that it WILL happen again by the end of this week so that we can take pictures of the dancing cuteness. 

This year, I am most thankful for the opportunity I was given to spend 2 months of my year here in Nepal, which in turn gave me the ability to feel happiness again.  And for random dance parties with the cutest little monks in the world – life doesn’t get much better. 

Camping with Curfews

My stay in Nepal thus far has been…interesting.  After 9 days of bandha (strikes that disrupt transportation and commercial activity), today, 19 November, is finally Election Day, where the people of Nepal will cast their ballots to elect the members of a Constituent Assembly, whose job it will be to draft a Constitution.  While most major political parties are in agreement regarding the election, some parties missed the deadline to participate, and are disrupting life in Nepal by causing the bandha, political rallies and demonstrations, and spontaneous protests.  Vehicular transportation is (technically) not permitted between the hours of 6 am and 5 pm, as confrontations can occur between motorists and protestors.  The strike started on Monday, 11 November and will most likely last until tomorrow, the day after the election.  Because of this, most businesses are closed and volunteer sites cancelled. 

Needless to say, I have barely scratched the surface of my volunteerism this time around.  Devon and I went to the monastery only three times last week (where, on Monday, my first day back, I was greeted with big hugs by my favorites, Dorjee and Ajay), and I have yet to get to Peace Buddha to see the girls.  I am also supposed to be working at SASANE (an organization that helps human trafficking victims with life skills and getting rehabilitated back into society), but I will most likely not get there until next week, giving me only two weeks there.  While it is exciting to be here during this election time, it is also frustrating to know that my work time is being cut short (unless I get crazy and decide to extend my stay, but I did promise to be home for Christmas, so that probably won’t happen). 

So back to the past 9 days.  The CPNM (Communist Party of Nepal – Maoists) started the strike, with the purpose of keeping people from voting by shutting down transportation, thus preventing them from going home or to the area in which they are registered to vote (clearly there is no absentee voting here!).  Here’s a breakdown of what we have observed during this time. 

Monday 11 November – Devon and I walked to the monastery, and there were noticeably less vehicles on the road (I totally could have crossed the streets on my own), although they were not completely empty, as they were “supposed” to be during the bandha.  No one (Anish, Santos, Bijaya) came into work that day.

Tuesday 12 November – Again, we walked to the monastery, and there were more vehicles out on the roads.  Anish came to work (by motorbike and using the back roads), as did Bijaya (via taxi), but they definitely seemed stressed out. 

Wednesday 13 November – Anish and Bijaya both came to work, but told us to stay home that day.  On Tuesday night, there had been reports of 7 petrol bombs being thrown at buses, and already 3 incidents were reported on Wednesday morning.  We found out that these attacks were happening in more rural areas, not Kathmandu, and the reason for them was to scare the people who were defying the bandha and attempting to get home to their villages. 

Thursday 14 November – The city seemed almost normal.  Back to a lot of traffic, although no one came into work that day, but we attempted to go teach at the monastery, only to find out class was cancelled once we arrived.  At least we got out of the house! 

Friday 15 November – Back to the monastery as usual, and Anish and Santos both came into work that day, although still seeming unnerved.  Then the 4 of us volunteers at the house were told that until after the election, we needed to be home by 6:30 pm at the latest, and that on Monday and Tuesday (18^th and 19^th) we shouldn’t leave the house, except to go across the street to Yogesh’s restaurant for food.  There was definitely some tension in the air around that conversation.  Partly because we had fun plans for Friday night, and partly because, as adults (or more realistically, as stubborn Americans), we didn’t like being told what to do.  Particularly because from everything we had read and heard, Kathmandu, and especially our area of the city, was perfectly safe.  Also, as tourists, we weren’t the ones being targeted (although our moms are probably happy we are following orders).  Plus, Jimmy Carter is in town looking out for us, right?  But out of respect for their wishes, we agreed (for the most part).  Which obviously meant we had to go have happy hour on Friday afternoon at Marisa’s in order to make it home for our newly imposed 6:30 curfew.  During our happy hour, a friend referred to our living situation as a “concentration camp,” in the home of our Jewish friend, by the way, and we are all now known as “campers.”  Too much?

Saturday 16 November – Again, the city seemed to be mostly back to normal.  We took advantage of our outside time during the day by going to the Farmer’s Market and having an early dinner before heading home. 

Sunday 17 November – The last day before lockdown was spent at Marisa’s apartment in Thamel, where Leiben taught us how to make momos and we had an impromptu dance party.  I am not a good momo maker, but I can most definitely put them away.  To date, my record stands at 21 momos in one sitting.  Definitely not losing weight on this trip. 

Monday 18 November – Day 1 of Lockdown – We made it out of the house around 1 to head across the street to Yogesh’s for (what else) momos.  There were a lot of cars and people out, just like any other day.  By 3 we decided we were fine to walk to Thamel, which is only a half mile away, but we decided to be home by 5.  And all was fine. 

Tuesday 19 November – Day 2 of Lockdown – We made it to Election Day.  Today is what we envisioned the past 9 days would look like because of the imposed bandha, as there really are no vehicles outside today.  We know this from going up to the roof to check out the scene below and from talking to Yogesh during lunch.  And as much as we have gone back and forth about going out today, we decided to stay in per Anish and Santos’ request (although our friend Bishal, a member of the Armed Police Force, asked us to come to the polling center where he is stationed and he insisted that everything outside is fine and that people are enjoying the election).  So here’s to a day of sitting on the computer (although the Internet is currently down), continuing to scour the newspapers in a futile attempt at understanding the whole election/strike situation, and stuffing myself with momos. 

I attempted to start writing about the current political situation here in Nepal over a week ago when the bandha first began, and again a few days later, and a few days after that.  But the truth is, I still don’t fully understand everything that is going on.  The many newspaper articles, Google searches, and discussions with Nepali people have yet to clear everything up for me.  Obviously I didn’t get any of my Dad’s smarts when it comes to understanding political issues.  And I am genuinely interested, but it’s a lot to take in when I didn’t know anything about it before.  So if you want a real rundown on the issues at hand, check out CNN (I read that they are in town for election coverage), because you clearly won’t be able to find it here.

Here’s what I do know.  The people of Nepal are not all taking this lying down, as is noted by the fact that many of them are ignoring the transportation strike.  And good for them.  They shouldn’t let one party who is pissed off about not being able to get on the ballot in time control their lives.  Nepal was declared a democratic country in 2008, and it’s good that some of the people are recognizing this to be true.  They have a voice and a right to be heard.  On the other hand, there are still many people who are following the rules of the strike, afraid to drive, afraid to get too far from home, afraid to vote.  For change to happen, people cannot be scared, apathetic and hopeless.  For many people, they don’t see voting as a chance for change because no progress has been made in their country in the last 5 years.  They don’t seem to think it is possible; therefore they just refrain from even voting.  Others, however, such as Leiben, Bijaya and Yogesh, have expressed that they truly do want to vote, but there is too much of a risk for them to take the public bus the 5 plus hours back to their hometowns, which is both sad and understandable.  Then there are the those people who told us they just didn’t want to wait in the 45 minute line in the hot sunlight.  My opinion is that if you are able to vote, even if there are no good candidates or choices, there is always the lesser of two evils, and even the smallest step towards progress is better than no step forward at all. 

Human Nature

During my 4 weeks away from Nepal, Devon and Liz made plenty of new friends for me to come back to.  On Sunday night, we went to an apartment-warming party for Marisa, another American who has been here for just under 2 months and has decided to stay indefinitely.  We became fast friends, perhaps partly because of our similar backgrounds, as both of us are single, thirty-something, non-practicing lawyers who are each on a journey to find happiness after going without it for so long (and we don’t care if we have to go across the world to find it), and partly because she is just plain awesome. 

As we sat on her floor eating a fantastic dinner made by our new friend Leiben (daal bhat of course, with lamb – yum!), I looked around the room and thought about how amazing it was to have such a diverse group of people sitting, eating, talking, laughing like old, long-lost friends.  The 14 of us represented 4 continents, coming together from the United States, Australia, Nepal, Germany, Finland, China, and Canada.  It was awesome.  And so refreshing to meet more Nepalese people and hear about their much more progressive views on many topics of interest (my favorite, if you haven’t noticed, being the whole arranged marriage/marrying within a caste system situation).  These new friends told us that they believe in marrying for love, regardless of the person’s caste, culture, and even religion.  Leiben said it best, “I am a human being first and Nepali second.”  I couldn’t agree more.  We are all human beings first, and we shouldn’t be defined or limited by our different backgrounds.  It is still hard to grasp that such a simple concept is so hard for many people to carry out into real life.  There is absolutely no reason people should be discriminated against because of gender, race, disability, sexual orientation, etc.  Inherently, we are all human beings, and we are all equal. 

Sidenote – the girl from Germany and the girl from China are both dating Nepali men.  I love that there are people here who are willing to defy their cultural norms.  Maybe there is still hope for me…

Back to the Land of Dust and Daal

My “someday” wish to return to Nepal ended up happening much sooner than I could have dreamed.  My regrets of not extending my original trip prompted me to call ELI to see if I could go back and resume my volunteer work, preferably now while I still had some friends there to help me, as Devon, Liz and Andrew are all still there.  All involved parties immediately gave a resounding “YES” to my request to return, and I quickly had a flight booked back to KTM exactly 4 weeks after I had left.

As excited as I have been the past 2 weeks, my nerves have once again started to get the better of me on the day of my flight.  This time, I would be flying completely solo on the way there, meaning when I get to KTM I will not have the assistance of Anna and Farrah as I go through customs, procure my visa, and locate my luggage, obviously making me nervous.  No panic attacks or freezing up this time though, just some normal anxiety and knots in my stomach, which is progress!

I am flying Turkish Airlines this time, leaving from Chicago and going over the Atlantic rather than the Pacific.  A 10 hour flight from O’Hare to Istanbul, a 4 hour layover and a 7 hour flight to KTM.  I easily survived the first flight and am now in a random office at the Istanbul airport where I have been instructed to sit and wait for a few hours before someone takes me to my gate.  After all these years, I still have not learned the virtue of patience, and am already annoyed by the layover, and have to keep reminding myself how short it is after those 14 and 16 hour layovers in China!

While I am beyond excited to get back to KTM, this does not discount some of the doubts and worries I am having.  It will definitely be a different experience this time, as I won’t be with Anna and Farrah, and the house will be fairly empty.  I also missed 2 of the biggest festivals of Nepal, just in these last 4 weeks, so it will probably be a lot quieter around town in general.  But lingering questions still remain at the forefront of my mind.  What if it’s not as wonderful as I remember it being?  What if the reason it was so good last time was because of the people at the house, many of whom will not even be there this time around?  What if, like some people have suggested, I really am just using it as an escape from life, and while it worked well the first time, might not work again?

As usual, I can’t (and won’t) let these “what if’s” hold me back, and they will definitely be answered in the coming weeks.  When I voiced these doubts to Devon a few days ago, her immediate response was that, while it won’t be the same, there’s also the chance that it might be better this time.  So instead of me focusing on the “what if” questions and resorting to my pessimistic, cynical self, I am trying to take on her optimism, and believe that it will be just as good, if not better.  So as I sit here, in this random office, with random workers coming in and out wondering what the hell I’m doing in here, I am thinking about how fortunate I really am to be going back to the land of dust and daal.  And then I remember I still have 2 hours before boarding and get impatient again because I just want to be there NOW!

Update: My 4 hour layover ended up being 7 hours, so you can only imagine my level of annoyance and impatience.  I finally arrived in KTM at 11 am on Saturday, instead of my scheduled 7:15 am arrival time.  Poor Anish and Santos had been waiting for me at the airport for those 4 hours, so they were probably just as annoyed as I was!  But I am finally back at the volunteer house, and have already satisfied my craving for buff momos at lunch yesterday, had daal bhat for my first dinner back, and back to my Faux-tella for breakfast this morning!  And Devon and I were happily reunited and spent hours catching up, although I’m not sure on what considering we have spoken almost every day since I left last time!

Home Sweet Home?

Let me preface this post by saying that I absolutely adore my family and friends.  I have, hands down, the best, most amazing and supportive parents, brothers, and extended family imaginable.

That being said, I have never been so unhappy to be home in my life.  As soon as my plane touched down at LAX on Saturday night, I began to cry.  And again at my cousin’s house on Sunday night.  And again on Monday night.  And when my parents picked me up at the STL airport on Tuesday afternoon, I was just about the grumpiest person ever, yet they were still thrilled to see me.  I, on the other hand, went straight to my room to cry again. 

It finally hit me as to why I have been so upset.  For the past 3 weeks in KTM, I have actually been happy (we can’t count that first week, where the first few days were filled with intense stress and anxiety, and the next 5 days were living a surreal life of traipsing through the jungle and riding elephants).  During those subsequent 3 weeks, not once did I think about how depressed I was, or how much I hated my life, or about my student loans, or that most of my friends are married/have kids.  Not once did I think about how lonely and empty I feel all the time at home, despite being surrounded by friends and family.  I simply had enjoyed life again; enjoyed feeling like a normal person again, enjoyed my new friends and family in KTM, and enjoyed the feeling of being loved by people (and loving them in return) that I’d only just met. 

And it wasn’t until I left did I even recognize having these wonderful feelings.  Because as soon as I hit the States, all the old feelings started to resurface – the loneliness, the dread, the pressure, the knots in my stomach (yes, all of which I know are self-imposed).  And only then did I realize that these familiar “friends” had been absent for 3 weeks, and it had been glorious.  I had felt lighter, freer, and more at peace than I can ever remember feeling. 

One of the few people who reacted negatively to my trip told me, before I left, that being an adult meant not being able to say yes to certain opportunities in life.  This same person told me, upon my return, that I had to get back to real life.  Which made me wonder, why can’t this be my real life?  Who says there are rules to being an adult, or that my real life has to include a husband, kids, and a typical, American M-F, 8-5 job?  Yes, obviously I have bills to pay, so that’s a factor.  But shouldn’t I be able to make my own rules, for my own life, that lead to my being happy?  Isn’t making the most of this life and being happy more important than following the rules of how life “should” be done? 

Nevertheless, I’ve spent the last 2 days trying to get back into the swing of “real life.”  I’ve managed not to have a meltdown since Tuesday afternoon.  Today I saw my dentist, who is also a friend, and she told me, “You look great! You look so happy!”  That’s something I haven’t heard in a long time, because I haven’t been happy in a long time.  And while I’m still regretting not extending my stay in KTM, and I’m missing my KTM friends and family terribly, I must still have that happiness of my time there exuding from me as I regale others with my stories.  But all the while, in the back of my mind, I’m wondering when I can get back to my monks, my orphans, my friends.  Because somehow, someway, I’m determined to make them a part of my “real life.”  Home really is where the heart is, and half of my heart is currently still on the other side of the world.