Oh Tihar, how I do love thee!

Dear all,

(Sorry, this one’s gotten old. I wrote awhile ago, but I’ve only just had the time to post it!)

Whew! What a day! Today was Bai Tika, my absolute favorite Nepali holiday. And as expected, it was an absolute blast. I went to the home of one of my many older brothers, though not the one I usually write about, early this morning, and I stayed there for most of the day. The morning felt terribly long though, because sisters are supposed to fast until they’ve given their brothers the tika blessing. The entire family didn’t gather until sometime around one, so until then the girls only had a few cups of tea and an apple and banana each. I was surprised by how hungry I was, especially considering how often we fast here, and how little I normally eat anyway, but I was starving all the same. Luckily, there was a lot of family I hadn’t seen in a long time, so the fun of meeting up with everyone kept me distracted.
When everyone had finally gathered, we all went up to the roof, where we gave our blessings to our brothers, and they, in turn, blessed each of us.



The blessing consists of multiple parts. First, all of the sisters walk around our brothers three times in a large circle, holding onto each other’s clothes as we go. The oldest sister goes first, and sprinkles water on the ground as she goes. Then we each sat in front of one of our brothers and painted the tika on their foreheads. Usually, tika is a mixture of red powder and rice which is applied to the forehead, but for Tihar, we use a special, (and prettier) tika. We first make one long white line on the forehead using white flour and water. Then we make a series of colorful dots on top of the white line. You can see this in the tihar pictures which are going up soon. After we give each brother this tika, we present them with a leaf plate overflowing with food, and we feed each of them a spoonful of yogurt. Once, we’ve fed them, the girls’ work is done.

While us girls are in charge of preparing an enormous feast for the boys, and of course, not eating any of it until much later in the day, the brothers are expected to give us gifts. And so this tihar, after receiving the same colorful tika, I was gifted two beautiful new kurtas. I’m wearing one in the pictures, and the other is so fancy it’s going to have to wait for a very special occasion. But between the gathering of family, the enormous amount of food, the lights, and of course, a gift or two, Bai tika is really the closest thing to Christmas we have here.

Of course, that’s not to say I don’t miss Christmas, but it does mean I really enjoy this time of year here in Nepal. And Didi and I have already started planning for next year’s Bai Tika, as it will be Buffalo’s first major holiday in the states, so we want to make sure he enjoys it. Speaking of Buffalo, he and I went to begin the marriage process last week. I’m also uploading, though incredibly slowly, pictures from our trips to the CDO office where marriages have to be registered. We now have to return their on Nov. 6th to complete the marriage process. But my new bedroom will be ready before that, so I’ll be moving to Buffalo’s house on Halloween. This means that my next blog post will probably come from my new home! Oh how exciting!

But I better get back to uploading all these photos. Mom has been complaining I’ve been neglecting you.

Missing you all!

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Christmas in Nepal...well sort of!

Dear All,

Today was another wonderful day in Kathmandu. In fact, it was a lot like one huge party. Today is the second day of Tihar, a huge Nepali festival (known as Diwali in India). It’s also called the festival of lights, and at least tonight, the name fits perfectly. All the houses are decorated in blinking lights of every color (like our Christmas lights) and firecrackers and fireworkers are being lit on at least half of the roofs of the city. Most people are having dinner and sweets with their families today, and doing a special “pooja” worship for the goddess Laxshimi, the bringer of wealth and good fortune. I’ve done what I could to get my flat ready as well, putting up a few marigold garlands and a couple strings of light, but I skimped on the pooja.



Instead, I went to one of my “brother’s” shops and watched as they worshipped. The main event of the worship is making pathways with multicolored sands or a white paste, and lighting the paths with small candles or oil lamps. The plan is that the goddess will follow the paths into the houses and bring them a year of blessings. My landlord was kind enough to paint a path to my door while I was out today, so I got to follow Laxshimi’s “footprints” to my door.

And even though, I didn’t join in any of the big family celebrations today, mostly, because I’m waiting for Bai Tika, the main event, I did enjoy a very nice vacation type day. Buffalo, myself and 9 other friends caught a matinee around 9 this morning in the new theater, and then Buffalo took me shopping for a new Kurta Surawel (the long tunic top, matching pants, and shawl typical of Nepal and India). Buffalo is a very patient shopper and a great bargainer, so I love shopping with him. And I love the kurta I finally picked out. I can’t wait to wear it Monday. Buffalo was also sweet enough to give in to my addiction and buy me yet another set of bangles for the holiday. I suppose I could have worn old ones, but we were in the bangle shop district and I just couldn’t help myself. I was practically drooling.

After shopping, Buffalo headed back home to work a half day, and I settled in for a nice nap. After my nap, I went into Thamel, the tourist district, and watched all the shopkeepers doing pooja. There were also a lot of children going from shop to shop singing Tihar songs for a few rupees from each shopkeeper. It’s a lot like our caroling and it was super fun to watch. But the singing has died down now that’s it’s gotten later, so all that’s left is the booms and cracks of the last few fireworks. And now that I’ve thought about my whole day, I realize I’m pretty sleepy. So I guess I’ll head off to bed. More Tihar stories after Monday, I promise.

Oh, and for those of you who keep asking, no, I’m not married yet. And I promise to tell you when I am. We are going to go to the office next week, maybe Tuesday, but it may still take some time after that. I’ll keep you posted.

So until Monday, sending happy festival filled wishes your way. Hope your night is as bright as ours is today! Lots of love,

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Another year, another holiday! :)

Dear all,
The Saturday before last saw the end of one of the two most important holidays here in Nepal, Dashain (pronounced Desai). This year, my Dashain was very short (it’s actually over a week long), because I’d only just arrived home from America, and neither of my families were having big celebrations this year, for various reasons. All the same, I did manage to have two wonderful days with both of my wonderful families.

My first day was more of a welcome home celebration than a Dashain celebration per se, but we still managed to give it a little Dashain flavor. I went over to Buffalo’s house to visit the family. I was thrilled to see everyone and everyone was excited to see me. And I felt a little like Santa Claus because I’d come with a big bag of gifts for everyone. I had a ton of fun handing them out, and most everyone seemed to like what I’d gotten them. (I may have been a tad off on one of the gifts, but you can’t please everyone, right?) I had expected we’d spend most of the day simply chatting, but to my delight, a deck of cards appeared and my mother in law handed each of us a stack of crisp five rupee notes to play with. Many Nepalis spend the Dashain holidays gambling at home, and I was glad to finally get a chance to join in. Sadly, it turns out I am really terrible at Nepali gambling games. They taught me three different games, not one of which I know the name of, but they were all much simpler than poker, and much easier to lose. My stack of money dwindled very quickly. For a change, and to try and keep playing once my money was out, I taught the family ERS (Egyptian Rat Screw). It took a second for them to catch on, but after the second pair came up, we were all rushing to pick up the pile. Little sister (Buffalo’s middle sister) was laughing so hard, I thought we were going to have to stop the game. And one of the younger cousins liked the game so much, he kept asking if we could play again. Maybe next time, I’ll have to teach them Euchre.
Shortly after that first wonderful day, Buffalo and I were invited to Didi and Dai’s house for a small Dashain dinner. I arrived extra early to pretend to help Didi by playing with the baby. (Despite my best efforts, I’m still largely useless in a Nepali kitchen, so I’m often relegated to babysitter on holidays.) I had hoped that after a month away, the baby would be thrilled to see her auntie, but I was greeted simply by, “Mero chocolate koi?” (English: Where is my chocolate?) I patiently told my little one I’d brought her a gift instead, and in exchange for a few hugs and kisses, I presented her with a set of baby bottles for her dolls. She was thrilled, and we spent the afternoon feeding the baby dolls and each other.



Didi and bahini had finished all of the preparations by about five o’ clock, and soon after people began arriving. I was particularly excited for this Dashain, because it was the first holiday my American bahini and I would be celebrating together. My American bahini has just arrived in Nepal for a “nursing Trek”. In Nepal, in order to help spur development there are many volunteering/vacation opportunities available to foreigners. My American bahini’s trek is a perfect example. Bahini and the other nurses will be trekking to several remote villages where they will refill the health posts with medicines their trekking fees help pay for and where they will volunteer their expertise along the way. In a lot of ways, despite my stance on development projects, it’s a wonderful idea, but it’s an expensive volunteering opportunity as it often costs as much or more than a pure vacation would. But her reasons for coming aside, it’s wonderful to have her in Nepal again, and it was even more wonderful to spend a holiday with her.

So Buffalo and Didi’s younger brother were kind enough to pick up American bahini and one of her nursing friends, and we all settled in with the rest of the family for a wonderful Dashain dinner. Dai gave each of us tika, the red powder and rice placed on the forehead as a blessing, and a little bit of Dashain money. Many of Dai’s sisters had come to receive blessings from their brother, blessings they will then return in the next big holiday, Tihar. I’m especially looking forward to Tihar this year, as both of the American sisters (me and American bahini) will be here to give Dai our blessings. And then next year, we will all be together again, celebrating Dashain and Tihar in the United States.

While dinner and blessings with the whole family were wonderful, my favorite part of the night was riding in the taxi with American bahini and her friend back to their hotel, while Buffalo went ahead on his bike. It was the first time I’d been able to introduce my Buffalo to someone from back home, and when American bahini spent the entire taxi ride telling me how much she liked him, I ate it up. Of course, she may have been flattering me a tad bit, but I’m still hoping she goes home and gushes to all of you about how fantastic my Buffalo really is. I know you will all see for yourselves soon enough, but hopefully hearing it from someone other than me will hold you over until we get home.

In the meantime, everyone is recovering from Dashain and heading back to work for the week or so that’s left before Tihar begins. It looks like I’ll also be heading back to teaching in a few days, and then perhaps back to the field during the Tihar holiday. But that’s yet to be determined. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to keep in touch, but I don’t have internet in the new flat, or at Buffalo’s house at the moment, so it will be a little touch and go for awhile. So not to worry, I haven’t gotten lost, just disconnected! But my thoughts are with all of you always!

Lots of Love,

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Home Sweet American Home

Dear all,
As many of you know, I’ve just returned from a month long visit back to the states. Wow, what a beautiful mess that was. I was so busy, I hardly had time to breathe, let alone write about the adventure. Ok, that’s not entirely true, but I consider resting a part of life’s necessary work. So when you factor in all of my resting time too, I really was manically busy. That said, instead of trying to give you a play by play of the trip, I’d rather tell you about what it feels like to return home after so much time away and about what this short pilgrimage showed me about how I’ve changed…and how I haven’t.

I have to say, I found the visit a very strange experience. I had been forewarned about “reverse culture shock”, but that’s not how I would describe my reaction to being home again. Sure there were some American habits I’m no longer proud of, but largely, I was amazed by how, within a few days of my returning, life continued on as though I’d never left. For me, this was both a miraculous and puzzling return to the life I had left behind. In some ways it was thrilling; the secret fear of all travelers is that home will change beyond recognition while we are gone, or worse still, that our little place in what was once our whole world will close up and we will never have a space to fit in to again.



But at the same time, it was disturbing, for the space that I’d left behind no longer fit the me I’d brought back, and I couldn’t fathom how my world didn’t have room for the things that had become so essential to who I am. Of course, part of this is Buffalo’s fault. I can’t even begin to express how strange it is to visit a place called home and find nothing of my soon to be husband in it. It was as if he’d simply been a dream, and I’d awoken to find him gone. But it was more than just this estrangement from a loved one. It felt as if an entire year of my life had vanished, and I had no way of accounting for it. I could try to describe that long year to those around me, but again it was like trying to describe a dream world to the waking. As an anthropologist, I often think of myself as a translator of cultures, as someone who can explain the meaning beyond what is simply said aloud. And in this sense, I felt like a failure on this visit home. I had come to know Nepali culture, but I realize now, I hadn’t learned how to make it known to others. It’s a mistake I’m earnestly going to work to rectify.

Of course, part of me wants to blame others for asking the wrong questions, or for being too caught up in the exoticism of it all, but I know most of the fault was my own. And in particular there was one question that was asked again and again, but I was never able to answer well. In fact, the answer didn’t come to me until yesterday morning. Time and time again, people asked me why I liked living in Nepal given all the creature comforts I forgo. It’s a question I probably should have asked myself before now, but I knew myself to be happy here and thought that was enough. I told some of you, it was the mountains, or the people, or the challenge. But the truth dawned on me quite simply the other morning just as I woke up. I opened my eyes as a cool breeze from the window swept across my room and guided my gaze to the just waking city several stories below my flat. It was 7 am, and I was glad to be awake. I got up slowly, truly enjoyed a cup of tea, and thought about the day that was stretching out in front of me. Though I was back in Nepal, back to the “grind” from my vacation in the states, I felt a relaxation and a peace I only know here. In the US, mornings, even lazy mornings that don’t start till 10, are something I dread. The day is undoubtedly going to be hectic, the work will be on someone else’s schedule according to someone else’s ideas, and everything I need to do, I will have to do alone. But in Nepal, that’s simply never the case. My line of work allows me enormous freedom, in Nepal, even more so. Nepalis recognize that stress is useless, and they simply avoid it. They see no need to rush to get something done, simply because there’s some sense that it’s important. The mentality of now, now, now, simply fades away. And the things that are truly enjoyable in life, finally get a few minutes to be, amazingly, truly enjoyable. Even now as I write, there’s still a list of things I’ve yet to do today in my head, but I also know, that not a single one of them is worth another knot in my back, a horrible headache, or being short with my buffalo simply because I’m stressed out. And it seems like such a simple thing, but to me, it makes the difference between being alive and living. Someday I hope to master this enough on my own that I can feel this way no matter where I go, but for now, I can only enjoy this Nepali life here, in Nepal.

More to follow very soon, (This time I swear it's already written!)

Lots of Love,


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Fun with friends…..and Fiancés!

Dear all,

Today, I’ve a small confession to make. There’s been a lot I haven’t been telling you about my life here in Nepal. And there are a couple reasons for this; mainly that I don’t really know who reads my blog, but also because I try to keep this blog from getting too personal, too often. After all, I started this blog to tell my friends and family about my life in Nepal, but also to keep them updated on my work. But in light of the adventures I want to share with you today, I think it’s time for the big announcement: I’m getting engaged!

You may ask, what do you mean getting engaged? Here in Nepal, engagements are usually formal organized parties, almost like a mini-wedding, and therefore, the engagement itself takes planning from both the bride and the groom’s family. And today, Buffalo and I (perhaps I should start calling him Fiancé) headed out to Bhaktapur in search of engagement rings. Like most things he and I do together, we made as much of an adventure of it as we could and we had a wonderful time. So here’s the run down:



Buffalo picked me up around 11am this morning, and we went and had lunch at his house, with his mom, dad, and his older sister (who happened to be visiting today). Lunch was delicious as always, and his sister made sure to give me extra potatoes in my curry because they all know how much I love potatoes. It was a small gesture, but it made me happy all the same. I feel so fortunate to be welcomed into such a warm and loving family with such open arms. But the littlest rascal of the house, Buffalo’s nephew, wasn’t home and somehow it felt just a tad too quiet. All the same, it was a nice peaceful lunch with family.

Then we hopped on the bike and headed out to Bhaktapur. Bhaktapur is an ancient city just outside Kathmandu. It took us a good half an hour to get there, but there was a light rain falling so the dust and the heat were both much more manageable than they have been of late. We chatted the whole way out, and by the time we reached the jewelers, I was giddy with excitement.

The jewelers (we met with two of them) are both childhood friends of Buffalo’s and they were among the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. They were a bit surprised by our news at first, but within minutes, they were teasing me as if we’d been friends for a long time, and I felt right at home with them.

To my own surprise, I’m being a little picky about my ring, but the boys were very patient and they are going to do everything they can to get the design just as I’d like it. But in order to do so, we have to go see a more experienced goldsmith tomorrow. I was a little disappointed, because I was in such a hurry to order the ring and just being at the shop was so exciting. But Buffalo teased me today that he has a big “American” proposal planned, though I have no idea what that means, so it could be a long while before I get to see my new treasure.

The good news is we found a ring he liked a lot today too. I’m going to tweak the design of it a little, and then order it from the jewelers when Buffalo isn’t around. There’s a picture of the ring he likes in the slideshow, so feel free to make suggestions if you have any.

The other good news, at least in my opinion, is that stones are ridiculously cheap here. My ring is still going to cost far more than I would like, because of the high cost of gold here, but it looks as though the white topaz I’ve chosen will cost less than a dollar! ( I refuse to wear diamonds because of the many well known evils of that industry.) I know some brides-to-be may not think that’s something to brag about, but I’d much rather spend that money on plane tickets for Buffalo and I, so I’m thrilled.

Ok, but enough about the rings themselves. As much as that’s exciting to me, it probably isn’t so much so to all of you, and it ended up being a small portion of the day anyway.

After the ring business was taken care of, we sat in the shop and sipped sodas and chatted with the jewelers for awhile. Then they sent us off to do some exploring throughout Bhaktapur, but not before promising to give us a guided tour later in the afternoon. So off we went, giggling at the people who mistook Buffalo for my guide, taking pictures of “tourists” and wandering through centuries old streets enjoying the chance to live among the ghosts of that place. We particularly liked an old well whose edges now appear scalloped, not by design, but because the stone had been worn into that pattern as people leaned over the edge year after year, pulling water up for their homes.

We stopped for a quick snack in one of the most touristy (True story: spell check is recommending the phrase: touristiest!) restaurants in the whole city, and Buffalo was very taken with the couches. (He owns a furniture shop, and hopes to open another soon.) It made me laugh to see him taking pictures of the furniture in the café, especially when only minutes before he’d been snapping shots to use in his sketches and watercolors. But perhaps it’s not a good idea to laugh at him when he’s being responsible. Still, I can’t wait to bring him pictures of IKea from home!

Then it was time to catch back up with the jewelers. As we headed back to the shop, Buffalo realized he’d misplaced his bike key. Panic should have ensued, but instead, I went back to the jewelry shop and he set off with the jewelers in what was now a slightly heavier rain to find the key. While I sat at the shop, one of the jeweler’s assistants asked me if I was worried, but I told him that I knew Buffalo and I knew exactly where he’d left the key and that he’d be back with it in a few minutes. And as I predicted, Buffalo and his friends came back a minute later on the bike laughing because the key was still dangling in the ignition when they got to it. So from now on, I am the key keeper!

Now that we had the bike and the key, the four of us headed out on a quick motorbike tour of the city. We stopped and took pictures here and there, but then the off again on again rain started to get the best of us, so the jewelers head back home. Buffalo and I had planned to go home too, but as we got near another of the big sights in Bhaktapur the rain cleared up again, and so we decided to make one more small stop.

There is a huge, beautiful fish pond just outside of the main city and we finished our sightseeing there. We took silly pictures, fed the fish, and relaxed as the sun went down. After that, Buffalo and I grabbed a quick dinner on the way home; where we talked about things big and small, (yes, mom that includes your babysitting comments!!) and then he dropped me off at my flat. After spending the whole day with him, it felt a little strange to have to say goodbye at the end of the night, but I can’t complain too much because the alone time has given me the chance to write to all of you.

Anyway, I must confess to feeling that today’s post is probably very boring to those of you who are not happily enjoying the love bird stages of your life right now. If that’s the case, I do apologize. But I know others of you are curious about this mysterious seeming new man in my life and I thought that seeing some pictures and hearing about what was actually a pretty normal day out for us was like might put you a bit at ease. And even if the post is a little boring, the pictures are cute, so maybe that’ll balance things out.

As always all my love..because there will always be enough of that to go around!!!

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My New Roommate

Dear all,
Today, I’m writing with a guilty heart. Not because I’ve done anything terribly wrong of course, only because once again, I’ve gone so long between posts. Fortunately, this time I have a more legitimate excuse; I’ve been busily preparing for a presentation I’m giving this coming Monday to overview the work I’ve done as a Fulbright scholar. Surprisingly, I’m enormously excited to talk about my work, and I’m even fairly proud of the work I’ll be sharing. I think it’s going to be a decent presentation, and I’m sorry I can’t share it with more of you. I will try, (though this does not constitute a promise) to write up a summary blog post after the presentation for those of you who may be interested. Anyway, if you’ve a moment to spare on Monday, being the good Irish girl I am, I’d appreciate any luck you send my way.



In other news, I now have a new roommate. His name is Babu (which is a term of endearment for little boys in Nepali), and he is a big, white, south Asian house cat. I “inherited” him from a friend who needed a place to put him up for a year. And fortunately, he suits me quite well. He, like me, is a bit of a traveler. He was born in Bangladesh, and traveled with a previous owner first to Cambodia, and then here to Nepal. He’ll be staying with me for this year and then he’ll be headed to Canada to be reunited with his very first owner. He’s a very particular and vocal cat, and (also like me) he gets a little cranky when things don’t go exactly his way. Fortunately, he’s also a lover, and I think he’d spend the entire day on my lap or in my arms if I’d let him. In fact, he’s at his grumpiest when I wake up from our cat nap earlier than he’d like me to. I like having him around, and I love that he slows my days down a bit and coaxes me into sitting and doing nothing on occasion rather than rushing around as I’ve been prone to do as of late.

In fact, life has been very hectic, and looks as if it is only going to get more so. Soon I’ll be starting Nepali classes at a local college here, and then I’ll also be teaching English (potentially as many as five classes a day). And of course, I’ll still need to find time to write and research, be a friend to my cat and my buffalo, an Auntie to my baby, and a younger sister to the rest of the family. It’s a little daunting but also exciting. It’s also helped to distract me from some serious hurdles I’m facing at work as of late. I’m really trying to find a better way to do my research and to structure my “research days”, but it’s a bit of an uphill battle and at times, I’ve found myself feeling decidedly dejected. Fortunately there are a slew of people who believe I have “talent” and their faith in me keeps me going. Still, I’m trying to sneak in a day or two break between the presentation and the big EVERYTHING. Ideally, I’d like to spend a day or two meditating at a nearby Buddhist monastery, but that’s still to be determined.

I’ll keep you posted. And of course, I’m sending all my love back home to you all!
me

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Can miracles be made of sugar? I think they can!

Dear All,

So once again, it’s been a little while since I’ve written. It’s not that I didn’t want to write, it’s just that as every day becomes more everday-ish, I find it harder to think of things to write to you about.

Lately, my life has been very full of planning. Planning my trip to the states (WOOHOO!), planning my upcoming presentation, planning my next year here, planning one last Fulbright sponsored trip to the field, and above all, planning the deep breathe I’ll take when all the planning is done.

Mostly, my plans are progressing nicely. For a bit, I was in quite a funk, and I had difficulty accomplishing much of anything. Fortunately, life didn’t let me stay that way for more than a few days, and now I’m both busy and productive. My trip dates are set (Aug 28^th through Sept 14^th). And my flight details are in progress. My presentation is all but done, I’m registered for my class, I’ve got a decent (and perhaps even fulfilling) teaching job lined up, and my visa is taken care of. Looking back on it, it seems like a long string of small miracles.

Of course, life isn’t all work, so I’ll just finish briefly with my “sweet shop” story. I apologize for those of you who may have heard this already, but frankly, it continues to make me happy (and fat) so I keep talking about it! So there is a sweet shop very near to my house that I occasionally visit. The sweet shop sells all sorts of delicious Nepali and Indian treats. But for weeks, I’d only order one thing, the julabi. Finally, the very friendly shop owner asked me, “Why do you only order Julabi?” and with no small degree of embarrassment, I admitted, “because it’s the only thing I know the name of.” The owner chuckled, handed me my snack, and asked me to come back tomorrow.

Because I would never dare upset a sweet shop owner, I dutifully appeared the next morning. He smiled, and instead of heading toward the case where the julabi usually sits waiting for me, he ushered me to a table. In a matter of moments, I was surrounded by sweets of all kinds, each arriving with a polite introduction. I was absolutely giddy. 30 minutes later, I was absolutely roly poly, but still just as happy. And I can now say, with certainity, that dudh malai is my favorite south asian sweet, followed closely, by my old friend julabi. Now whenever I visit the sweet shop, the owner gives me a little something to take with me. Buffalo is very lucky I’m not too fickle, or I may have been swept away by sugary goodness.

Of course, this new found friend is quickly helping me recover all that weight I’d lost from being sick, but I’m taking the advice of my favorite priest, and not fretting over it too much. Once I had begun to tell say, “Well, if I ate chocolate as much as I’d like..” and he quickly chimed in, “you’d be happy.” And I think it’s an excellent point. So, in short, if you’re wondering what I’m so busy doing as of late, I’m planning, planning, planning, and eating chocolate and sweets!

Oh and in completely unrelated but equally exciting news, I’ve just received a manuscript of another much more established anthropologist’s upcoming book (yes, it’s the anthropologist’s equivalent of getting to walk the red carpet at a world premiere). Thus far, it is fantastic, and it’s both fantastically exciting and humbling to have the privilege to work with such great minds. If you ever wonder why I’ve moved to Nepal, the simplest answer is because of manuscripts like this!

Still missing you all! But I’ll see you soon.

All my love,

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Bombs and Brownies

Dear all,

Tonight's post is going to be brief, because I'm frightfully tired, but I need to write a little to get some thoughts out of my head. As some of you may have already heard, the largest Catholic church in Nepal was bombed yesterday. Two people were killed and another 14 were injured, among them one of the many Jesuits that I've come to love in my time here. It is a shocking and heartbreaking event that we are all still trying to deal with.

But before you all get too worried, let me assure you, I always attend the much smaller private mass in the Jesuits' residence, so despite the attack being on my parish, I've never actually been in the building that was bombed. Of course, it looks as if there will be a memorial mass held there soon and I will be in attendance, but after that I plan to continue attending the Jesuits' mass as the setting suits me better.

Anyway, the reason I'm writing about all of this is because I'm trying to understand my own reaction to it. You see, since the first phone call yesterday from a friend checking to see that I was safe, I've only been able to think about one thing: baked goods. Even from the shards of information about the bombing my friend told me over the phone, I knew it was our parish, I knew one of my priests was there, and I knew it was a big deal. But to my suprise, my first thought was "I want a cookie" and my second thought was, "I should bake brownies". And while the cookie lust has long since be satiated, the intense desire to drown the priests and the rest of the catholic community here in chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and, of course, fudgy brownies has yet to subside.

I guess on some level it must be my small battle against helplessness; yes, there's nothing significant I can do, but I can still bake chocolatey happiness. On the other hand, one of the guilty pleasures I get out of going to the Jesuit mass, is helping some of the older priests afterwards at their breakfast. They remind me of grandfathers without grandchildren, and putting sugar in their tea or listening to their stories gives my Sunday mornings meaning. So perhaps that same nuturing need is just going in to overdrive. All the same, I feel as though the kitchen is calling to me and it's an urge I can't really understand.

In particular, I'm worried about the injured priest. He's not a local Nepali, which means he has no family here, and since I've visited others in Nepali hospitals, I know that the hospital does not provide food to patients. Instead, the families are expected to bring food from home for their loved ones. And this leads me to this equation One badly burned priest - family = brownies. Still, I'm trying to control myself, as I know 1) that the sisters from the Catholic school are doubtlessly fussing over him even more than I want to 2)that father may not be able to see visitors yet, and even if he is able, he may not be willing to see many people until the burns have had some time to heal and 3) that sometimes over eagerness to help just gets in the way. So I'm trying to control myself, at least for a day or two, so that I can see where and how I'm really needed.

That said, if any of you feel like sending some cookie recipes along, I'd sure appreciate them. They might be just the thing to calm me a bit. But all in all, I'm fine, as are most of the people I met with today. We are heartsore, but nothing more, and really I'm impressed by the patience and compassion with which the Jesuits are facing this challenge. So try not to fret, and just send some good thoughts our way.

I'm, of course, sending good thoughts back.

All my love,

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The Lure of the Exotic

Sometimes I try to see myself as some of you must see me. I try to explain my behavior the way some of you must…the way I in fact often explain the behavior of many friends who are far more adventurous than I, and this exercise often leaves me considering the term “exotic”. It is easy to believe that when people go off to live somewhere new or to learn about other people and other places, they have gone off in search of the exotic. We tell ourselves, they are looking for something new, exciting, perhaps even undiscovered in a place or a people we describe as exotic. We, as Americans, (or as Westerners as the literature would call us) have a strong sense of the exotic. There are the things we know; the shopping malls, the parking lots, the churches, the bowling alleys, and then somewhere, over there, there’s the exotic. Sometimes, that word calls to mind beaches and palm trees, but despite the images, for most of us, it has a much broader general meaning.

As anthropologists, we are trained to look more deeply at this type of “othering”, and called to ask ourselves and others what we’re really saying when we mark something as exotic. In a sense, it’s similar to the way some feminists deconstruct terms like “mankind” in order to find the unsaid or unacknowledged in those terms. And like the term “mankind”, exotic is in fact a very loaded word. When we claim something is exotic on a very basic level we mean something that is new and different. And yet, though I’ve never visited California, people would surely look askance at me if I described it as exotic upon arriving there. So at this point, let’s extend our definition to mean “not American” or better yet, “not European or American”, as I’m certain England generally doesn’t qualify as exotic either.



But let me throw a wrench in the works at this point, and ask about that little state of Hawaii. I think that many people would in fact describe Hawaii as exotic, particularly those who have yet to visit there. My first explanation of that description would go back to beaches, palm trees, and luscious weather, but I think that misses the mark. After all, there are plenty of dreamy vacation spots on the US mainland. So exotic can’t simply mean nice place to visit. But the answer does lie once again in our shared imagination of Hawaii. Hawaii is not just a place of beaches, and palm trees, and it’s not just a place that, at least in our minds, is free from strip malls and traffic jams. It is also the home of grass skirts. Of course, grass skirts are in and of themselves, really just a symbol of a whole slew of other cultural practices; dances, food, language, ect, but they are a potent symbol indeed. In one simple skirt, mainland Americans are able to contain the entire Hawaiian archipelago. And more to the point for this discussion, by recognizing that skirt as “exotic”, they label all of the islands of Hawaii and all of their inhabitants as exotic as well.

So now what do we mean when we say “exotic”? I think in some senses, we mean “tribal” or perhaps, “uncivilized”. And now the problem with the term, the hidden negativity, comes to light. Though I’ll allow a certain amount of glamour to the term exotic, in that it tends to carry with it some admiration of what we imagine to be a freer and more spiritual way of “tribal” life, I think above all else, “exotic” is really an unconscious judgment call based on a hierarchy of civilization that is firmly biased towards the “West”. Exotic is the word we use when we want to describe the pull of the “primitive” on civilized beings like ourselves. And in doing so, we place ourselves above those exotic peoples and places which we know little or nothing about, but which we imagine ourselves to understand quite well.

But why this long rant on a particular word? Nepal, for me, has never been exotic. I’ve never looked at it with the romanticism or criticism necessary to apply that term. But yet, today, for a moment, I caught myself mentally criticizing another’s adventure for its lack of exoticism as if exoticism were a necessary ingredient of all good adventures. In that moment, I bought into the stories I’d been told, and I relied on the symbols I’d been given by American culture without thinking. And so, as an act of atonement, and an exercise in careful critical thinking, I’ve written this small piece. I decided to share it with all of you because I know that at least a few of you will never cease to believe that it is not a yearning to experience the exotic that has brought me here. I doubt this post will be enough to convince you otherwise, but all the same, I challenge you to think about your preconceptions about Nepal, about Hawaii, and about any other place that strikes you as different enough to be exotic. At the very least, I challenge you to use the word, the image, and the symbol cautiously. Perhaps, you may find yourself, as I did, discovering more about yourself and the way you see the world, than you will about an exotic other.

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I have Mountains

Dear All,

As some (perhaps most) of you have heard, I've decided to stay on for at least another year here in Nepal. While is wasn't the most difficult decision I'd ever made, I can assure you a lot of thought has gone into it, and I'm as confident as I can be that this is absolutely the best thing for the me I am right now. But as at least one friend has very emphatically asked, "Why would I want to stay another year?". I'm not sure I'll do it justice, but let me try to explain.



I'll be the first to admit that at times life here is remarkably challenging. We face water shortages, electricity shortages, and as of late, even governance shortages. The weather is often hotter than any good Michigan girl should ever have to endure. I haven't had good ice cream, worn cowboy boots, or sang karaoke in longer than I care to count. I've danced to a swing song with a partner a grand total of two times and I've only had one shopping trip with the girls.

But, here, I have mountains. No matter where I am, they are always looming in the background, looking peaceful and calm, kind of the way I picture God to be. And when it rains here...well I'm yet to find the perfect words. But more than that, I have a job or rather, a project, that occasionally drives me to the brink of insanity, but in the end, always leaves me feeling contented and accomplished in ways I'd never even dreamed of before. I face a million challenges here, both as a foreigner and as a single woman, but with these challenges my confidence continues to grow. And though I've yet to climb Everest, I'm now certain that if I wanted to, I could. It's as simple as that. (I don't want to. Just for the record)

Here, I've also grown a family that I cherish and worry over as much as I do all of you. I've worried with them over the failing health of some of the older people in our family, and I've rushed to the hospital to welcome our newest nephew. Here, I have a group of friends who will sit with me when I have a concussion, who will shower me in chocolate on my birthday, and who will patiently explain everything that's happening in a Hindi movie, no matter how much it annoys the people around us. And yes, here I have my Buffalo, who is a constant source of support, comfort and laughter in everything I do.

None of these things alone would be enough to hold me here, so far away from all of you, and all the things at home I've always loved, but together, especially now as I continue to grow in to the academic, and the person I've always hoped to be, the pull is to much to resist. So I'm apologizing now for another year of missed birthdays, Christmas parties, and trivia nights, but I've no doubt in my mind, when I come near to you again, my new glow will be enough to convince you this time apart was all for the best.

Neither time nor space could ever dim my love for you,
Me

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No More Prime Minister!?!

Dear All,
“It’s a strange world I live in.” A friend wrote to me the other day. Today, I share that sentiment completely. This morning, as I came back from my Nepali reading class, I noticed one of the colorful rickshaws that typically carry tourists around town moving unusually slowly through the street. On second glance, I realized that instead of tourists, this particular rickshaw was carrying a large black Honda street bike. Apparently, I’d stumbled on the Nepali version of a tow truck. I instantly wished I’d had my camera, but at the same time, I was surprised by how normal the incident actually seemed to me. In fact, it still seems like a completely logical way of moving a broken down bike, despite the paradoxical appearance.

Later in the afternoon, I was at home with my roomie, and she asked me if I smelled anything burning. At first, I asked if she meant the incense I had lit, but she replied, “No, it smells like wood.” I went to the door where she was standing, and without even thinking, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Oh, torches.” She shrugged too and I went back to the chocolate chip cookie dough I was mixing as though nothing had happened. Yet, as I think about it now, it is indeed a strange place that we all have been living in for the past few weeks, since the government here in Nepal collapsed.



For those of you who may not have been following what’s been going on over here, let me catch you up. Just before my arrival in Nepal, the king abdicated his throne, and a full fledged democracy was put into place. After elections were held, it was determined that the Maoists, who had previously engaged in a ten year civil war and numerous guerilla tactics, were the dominant party and thus were tasked with heading the government and spearheading the creation of a new constitution for the “New Nepal”. But two weeks ago, the Prime Minister, the Army, and the President, all representing different interests came into conflict regarding who should be the army’s top commander. For a few days, following a news report based on leaked Army information, whispers of an eminent military coup crept through the city. My Nepali family and I kept a little closer to home than usual, and the baby’s cartoons were switched to news channels for about a week. Time went by, and the political squabbles intensified, but life in the city continued very much as it always had.

Finally, the Prime Minister tried to take power into his own hands, and he dismissed the Army Commander. The President immediately countered the move by declaring it unconstitutional and instructing the Army Commander to continue with business as usual. In a shocking move, the Prime minister then responded by resigning from his post. As this particular Prime Minister has been the most powerful man in the country for several years, (previously he was the leader of the Maoist rebel army), the move caused an uproar. The Maoist flocked to support their leader, and to counter accuse the President of behaving unconstitutionally (which is in and of itself interesting in that Nepal has only been operating under an interim constitution, because all progress towards a new full fledged constitution has been stalled by political infighting.)News reports from sources as varied as Nepal’s own Kantipur, to Al Jazeera, to the New York Times have been documenting the many strikes and protests which have followed the move. Even now, the city is dotted with protests and almost all of the political parties have been calling for the formation of yet another “new” government.

I could of course go into more detail about all this, but I suspect that at least some of you may be wondering how myself and others are affected by what is technically a state of complete anarchy. But to my surprise and delight, the affect is slight to say the least. Yes, there are protests almost every day, but they are easy to spot, and even easier to avoid. In fact, it feels a lot like trying to avoid a bad traffic jam back at home in the states. Basically, you just need to see where the streets start to become unusually packed with people, or notice when the traffic is uncommonly sparse, from there, it’s just a matter of determining what direction the strike is in and, of course, heading the other way. And other than the protests, daily life continues on pretty much just as it always has.

That said, I did witness one evening protest the other day. I was visiting Buffalo in his shop as I often do after I’ve finished the day’s work, and at first, it seemed as though there was nothing amiss. But then I saw several trucks loaded with policemen drive by. Not even five minutes later, the traffic on the road cleared (the police had set up blocks farther up the road). Another ten minutes went by before we could start to hear the chanting. The people were saying something in Nepali I didn’t understand, and Buffalo explained that it was because they were calling the President mean names, and that they were words a nice girl like me wouldn’t know. As the chanting got louder, so did the heat, and after another moment, the glow of hundreds of torches lit the street. For a full five minutes, people paraded by with torches, a few burning effigies of the president, and for a few women, their small children. And while the scene was a bit unsettling, it was far from frightening. The people were clearly angry with the government, not with each other, and the whole event had a very peaceful, though purposeful tone to it. In fact, throughout this whole ordeal, I have been continually impressed with the patience and endurance Nepalis exhibit in times of “crisis”. Dai explained it by saying that Nepalis have excellent coping skills. At times, I’m immensely impressed with the civility and calmness of the people around me, but I have to admit, that I also occasionally wonder if it is that same patience and tolerance which allows the discord in the government to continue as it does.

But in short, we’re all fine here and other than a rise in vegetable prices and an occasional detour, the difficulties are mostly the burden of the politicians at this point. While there were a few tense days, I never felt seriously afraid or concerned, and my life continues very much as it has for the past several months. So there’s no need to worry. In fact, I’m rather excited to be here at such a crucial point in Nepal’s history, especially when the people, if not the government, are handling it with such grace and fortitude.

Anyway, if you’re terribly curious about anything, please feel free to ask and I’ll be happy to elucidate. And on an unrelated note, I’ll be buying my plane ticket for a visit home in the beginning of Sept soon, so get ready, because here I come. In case you’re wondering, I miss hamburgers and ice cream the most, so if you want to meet up with me while I’m state-side, please plan on doing it at a burger joint or an ice cream parlor, otherwise I just might not have the time to meet you! :)
As always, sending my love your way!

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Auntie, Ma Sanchai Chu!

Dear all,

So I’m writing today out of a need for some literary catharsis rather than because I have anything terribly exciting to say. In fact, I’m afraid the story I’m about to tell will be a bit vague, because it involves people I hold to be very dear and I’m hyper sensitive to saying too much about them on the internet where the whole world can peek in on their lives. My sensitivity to this is heightened today by a post on one of the other blogs I follow, Janice's Blog. While the most recent blog post is unarguably an enjoyable story, I have to wonder about the prudence and sensitivity about posting it, particularly about a child. So as I also want to talk about a little one today, I hope you’ll excuse me for leaving out some of the details.

Anyway, many of you know that while I have an apartment which has been provided me by the Fulbright program, I often stay with my didi’s family in Satobato. I really enjoy staying with them because it makes my life in Kathmandu feel more homey, and because my Didi, my Dai and their beautiful two year old daughter are just a ton of fun and I love them to pieces. Staying with them has also really been a crash course in Nepali familial structure, and I’ve learned a lot of intimate details about the way Nepalis live that I think many other foreign students may miss out on. My involvement in Didi’s daughter’s life is a perfect example. In Nepali, the word for daughter is “Chori”, and while parents use the word to talk to their daughters, in sentences like “Daughter, come here.” or “Daughter, what are you doing?”, it’s culturally acceptable for many other relatives to also use the term “Chori” when addressing a small girl. Therefore, while I occasionally address my sister’s daughter by her name, I more often simply call her “Daughter”.

As I’ve written on before, kinship terms are indeed powerful words, and I’ve found that my use of this term has changed my perception of this bright little girl from being my niece, to being “our little one”. I find myself fussing over whether she’s behaving well at her preschool, what she’s eaten on a particular day, and how long of a nap she’s taken. And while I certainly don’t have as many responsibilities as her own mother when it comes to her care, I am much more involved than the typical American aunt. This has created a deeper bond, both with my Didi and with our Chori, and it’s an aspect of Nepali life I will always treasure and admire.



That said, I’ve also found that I now exhibit some very maternal feeling which I find hard to understand, as I’m (thankfully) not really a mommy. Tonight is a perfect case in point. This week I’ve been unable to stay even a single night at Didi’s house, and it looks as though the coming week will be much the same. So today, I called “home” to check in on everyone, and after chatting with Dai on the phone for a minute, a smaller gigglier voice came on the phone. “Auntie!”, she exclaimed. I started to respond, but before I could really say anything, she said “Auntie, ma sanchai chu.” In Nepali, this simply translates to “Auntie, I’m fine.” Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Ok, that makes sense.”, but that’s not at all how I responded. I was, at first, joyfully surprised, as our daughter had completed a full sentence perfectly, and even more excitingly, was learning what typical phone conversations consist of. The mommy in me beamed at how smart our two year old is getting to be. But as soon as I’d hung up the phone, I found myself feeling something else completely. I suddenly felt very very sad.

It was as if with that one sentence our daughter had crossed the border of babyhood, and was now fully a little girl. Of course, I’ve been watching this transformation with some excitement for the past several weeks now, but it was only after that brief window of absence that I realized just how much she was learning, and how quickly. And I’m excited to continue watching her grow and learn, but I’m also going to miss her baby talk. And for me, this is a strange sense of nostalgia to have. When I worked as a teacher, or even as I watched the younger kids in our family at home grow, I always noted these little achievements with pride and excitement. But now that it’s my own “chori”, I can’t fight a small sense of loss at this passing of time.

I know my own parents must also be reading this post with their own mixture of loss and pride. I’ve always been a challenging little girl to raise, but I think now that my achievements have pulled me so far from my family, the tug of both ends of the spectrum must be stronger. I know that’s true for me. The things I’ve accomplished here, and continue to accomplish, give me a sense of purpose and achievement I can’t ever imagine having obtained back home, but I’m still acutely aware of all the minutes I’m losing with all of you. Thankfully, occasionally, I can come here and write all these feelings out and send them along to you, and at least for me, it makes everything just a little bit easier.

Anyway, I guess I’m just saying what I’m always trying to tell you all; that I love and miss you no matter where I go or what I do.

Now on a lighter note: our daughter’s recent mastery of full sentences also means that I am once again in danger of being the weakest Nepali speaker in the house and if she keeps learning at this pace, she’ll be speaking English in no time. I’m trying not to let that wound my pride too badly, but I enjoyed having the ability to teach her new words in Nepali. I guess from now on, she’ll be teaching me. Oh well, at least I’ve still got her beat at reading! :)

All my love,

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Magical Places: Raja Rani

Dear All,

So I’ve just returned from yet another trip to the field. This trip was much shorter than I had anticipated, as I managed to get a little bit of a stomach bug pretty early on and had to return to Kathmandu in a hurry, but it was still an enormously eventful few days. In fact, there’s so much to tell you about, I’m not certain I can fit it in a single blog post, but I will do my best.

As is true of any journey, just getting there was half of the fun. This trip Dai was accompanying me so I was able to travel by bus instead of having to fly to Biratnagar and then hire a cab to Dharan. I know I’ve mentioned before the route to my fieldsite, but let me just remind you in case you’ve forgotten. My fieldsite is in the south eastern part of Nepal, not that far from India. In order to get to the villages that I’m working in, I generally fly from Kathamandu to Biratnagar which is about an hour flight. From there, I take a cab another hour to Dharan, which is where Dai’s family lives. I usually stay one evening there, and then I take a public bus in the morning another 2 to 3 hours depending on how busy the roads are, until I finally reach my Dhimali mother’s home. But going by bus is an entirely different adventure. By bus, we board in Kathmandu and ride 15 to 16 hours to the Koshi river. Every time I’ve crossed the Koshi it’s been at a different point and by a different way. I’ve crossed it once in the small wooden boats, just after the flooding. I’ve crossed it once using a bridge that had been quickly restored after the flooding, but which was closed due to strikes this time, and finally, this time, we crossed on the big bus ferries. So far, I prefer the bridge, but only because the crush of people on either of the two types of boats makes me nervous. Here’s a picture of the ferries, so you can get an idea what I’m talking about. (There are more pictures in the slideshow box too.)



While the ferries were in and of themselves a spectacle to see, the bigger spectacle for me occurred as we drove through the foothills in the evening on the way to the Koshi fording point. As we drove through the night, I glanced out my window expecting to see nothing but rolling green hills, but this time, I saw something amazing. Long red lines cut across the hills, glowing in the dark. Apparently, the recent heat had caused a rash of forest fires, and the hills looked as though they’d been transformed in to volcanoes. I tried to take pictures for you all to see, but my camera didn’t do a good job capturing the thin lines of fire in the dark. But I’m not certain a photograph could ever have captured how truly beautiful and slightly heartbreaking those fires were. It was really incredible.

It was only after this evening journey through burning foothills that we arrived at the fording point. As the pictures will show, the buses were literally lined up for days. So we were told to get off our bus, hike down to the river, crowd on to one of the ferries, and catch a bus on the other side. This prompted me to wonder why they actually bother to take any of the buses across the river, but I never got an answer to that question. I suspect some enterprising bus driver will think of it eventually. Dai and I were able to crowd on to the first ferry and so we were up the hill on the other side and back on a bus by around 9am. We arrived in Dharan later that afternoon and I was pleased to find that while the summer heat had set in, cool winds were still dancing through the city, making Dharan seem to be as much a paradise as it always has been to me. We rested for the day and determined to head off to Raja Rana the next morning.

Raja Rani is the sight of one of the more important Dhimali festivals and houses one of their community temples. It is located about an hour drive from my study village, and is situated at the top of a rather large hill. Raja means king in Nepali, and Rani means queen (yes, just like Hindi). Raja rani is actually named after two ponds at the top of the hill, one called Rana pond, the other, Rani pond. The Dhimals travel as a community to this spot once a year to begin their new year and to conduct the year’s first worship. It was both exciting and humbling to be able to join them on this pilgrimage.

Many Dhimals had told me that Raja Rani was a magical place, and as we approached the hill, I began to take these claims more seriously. The landscape was stunningly beautiful and the fields were a green that is seldom seen in the Terai. Usually, the harsh heat of the area leaves most of the land, even the fields, looking decidedly brown. But here, the irrigation streams were well fed, and as soon as we got off the truck, you could hear the whispering of the water as it rushed to keep the young plants growing. But we only took a few seconds to take in the sight before we started the climb up to the top of the hill, where we would be staying the night. (Funnily, it was only at this point that it even occurred to me that I had no idea where I would be sleeping that night, just as I had no idea where I’d be sleeping the night before, or the night after. It seems I’ve grown accustomed to surrendering myself completely to the plans that life and my study community make for me. It still surprises me to think that I’ve become such an adventurer.)
Since I’m not now, nor do I ever plan to be, a trekker, the climb to the top of the hill, especially in the heat, was brutal. I tried to bear it as best I could, but I kept thinking about all of the other American friends I knew in Kathmandu who actually paid money to climb hills like this. It still seems strange to me, but to each his own I suppose. After a brief eternity and a half, we reached the top of the mountain. I was drenched in sweat, and my friends were kind enough to try and stifle their laughter at my exhaustion. Still, after only a half an hour’s rest, I was ready to head off in to the forest to see the ponds, and the temple.

It was in the woods that the most exciting part of the trip occurred, the thing that really convinced me this place was indeed magic. As we were walking we came to the following bridge:

I froze, terrified to cross such a small and shaky bridge, but work was calling on the other side, so there was nothing to be done. (It turns out, there are very few crazy things I won’t do in the name of work.)I started haltingly across, but in the middle, one of the logs teetered and I froze again. In an instant, it seemed as though a million brown leaves began to rain on me from a tree above. It was only on second glance that I realized it wasn’t leaves that were surrounding me. It was hundreds and hundreds of monarch butterflies! I know I may have to apologize for this, but I think that may have been the greatest moment of my life. For that one instant, all my fear and worries vanished, and I was filled with a joy I’ve never known. I stood there basking for a moment before I realized a hand had been outstretched and was gently pulling me across the rest of the bridge. It was a sweet and comforting gesture, but it also startled me, as I realized that for my fellow traveling companions a butterfly downpour was nothing spectacular. And to think, sometimes I pity them because they don’t have running water. I wonder (hope?) that sometimes they pity me because I don’t have an endless supply of butterflies.

Wow, it seems this post has already become obscenely long, so I’ll gloss over the rest of the trip. As I mentioned above there are pictures in the slideshow box, including a picture of the huge spider that was protecting my bed when I reached my Dhimali mother’s home.

I’ll write again soon, as I have more exciting things to tell you including a little bit about my Easter and the amazing priest I’ve been lucky enough to meet here. (He gets in street fights, shares my love of chocolate, and is potentially the most gentle, humble human being I’ve ever met.) I hope that you all also had a very blessed and joyful easter.

If I don’t say it, do you still know I’m thinking it?...Ok, ok, I love you all sooo much.

All my love,

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Rafting

Dear all,
First of all, I’m heading out to the field again this coming week. The Dhimals are going to be celebrating their biggest festival of the year. I’m terribly excited, but I’ll also be gone for awhile. So please forgive me if I go silent again for awhile. But I am resolving now to write more often as soon as I get back. And I’ll try and write at least one letter from the field. That said, last time in the field, I wrote personal letters to a few of you, but then I realized I don’t have your addresses. So I’m including a form here, if I know you, please give me your address so I can write to you. Of course, you don’t have to, but if there’s no address there’s no chance you’ll get a letter.






Ok, so, today I have another adventure to tell you about. Yesterday, I went rafting with 35 of my closest friends here and it was sooo much fun. We all met at 6:30ish and climbed on to the bus we had reserved. From the first moment, I was completely impressed with how well organized the whole event was. My friend, we call him Buffalo, was the organizer, and he’d not only secured the bus, but he’d gotten us all boxed breakfasts, and he’d remembered to get two huge jugs of water. So before we’d been on the road even half an hour, we were all enjoying a breakfast of vegetable pakoda and my favorite Nepali sweet, julabi. (actually, they call it something else here, but I seem to only be able to remember the hindi name for it right now. Sorry) Once the sugar from the julabi had kicked in, the silliness began. Another of my friends, who has the biggest most constant smile I’ve ever seen, started to sing, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t stop for a full two hours. It wasn’t long before most of the bus had joined in. Sadly, I only know one song in Nepali, a child’s rhyme, but to make sure I didn’t feel left out, we all sang that too. It was hard to hear over the laughter, but it was there.
The trip to Tirsuli, takes about 3 hours, so we stopped once to buy bananas (which were fresh and sweeter than any banana I’d ever eaten in the US.) We actually thought we were stopping for tea, but we’d mistaken a big house for a tea shop, and the woman who lived there was only polite enough not to chase us away with a stick. It was actually pretty funny. Then we climbed back on the bus, and didn’t stop until we’d reached the rafting place. At the rafting place, all the girls needed to change, but there were no changing rooms, so we had to borrow a room from a neighboring farmer. We changed in the room where they kept all their corn, and as we changed we made jokes about how we’d become just like goats. Once we’d changed, we walked down to the river. I was so excited, it was hard not to rush a head. There were a couple groups of tourists as well, but we mostly kept to ourselves. We all got geared up in helmets and life jackets, and looking back at the pictures, I think we all looked pretty silly. Then we split up into four different boats, and headed to the water.
Fortunately, our rafting guides were friends of Buffalo and Skeleton, because we were quite a handful. I got the sense that other rafting groups actually have an interest in rafting, whereas we were mainly interesting in waging war on each other and being mischievous. It reminded me a lot more of a game of battleship than rafting. One boat even had the foresight to bring a bucket. Sadly, that wasn’t my boat. We weren’t even 10 feet from the shore when the splashing and chasing began, and for a good twenty minutes all of our boats simply rotated in place as we were all more interested in splashing neighboring boats than moving forward. Eventually, our guide was able to gain control of our rambunctious crew and we headed out in to the river.
Our rafting route was actually pretty long. We went about 16km before we stopped for lunch and then after that we went another 5 or 6km. It ended up being about three hours all together. The river was tamer than I had expected and we only hit a few really big rapids, but I still managed to lose my seat a couple of times. We also had plenty of chances to jump in and swim, and the water was so refreshingly cool and deep. It was really nice. In fact, being a Michigan girl it was just nice to be near water again, and I couldn’t help but think of all the canoeing trips I’d taken back home. The scenery wasn’t all that different from home either, except for the occasional waterfall and of course, the ever present hills looming in the background. Buffalo caught me looking dreamily at the water, and being as intuitive as ever, worried I was missing home too much, but it was more a happy nostalgia than a heartsick feeling. In a weird way, it felt good to miss home that way. But it also made me resolve to get at least one afternoon of jetski-ing in when I get home.
After rafting, we climbed back on the bus and headed back towards Kathmandu. We stopped once for fried fish on the way. At the fish shop, there were 5 or 6 different kinds of really small fish, all about the size of my palm, and they were fried whole in oil. Everyone said they were delicious, but I’m a strict veggie over here, so I didn’t try them. They smelled pretty tasty though. After our quick fish dinner, we headed back home. Despite our exhaustion, the singing picked back up in a matter of minutes. We played a game where one side of the bus would sing a song and then the other side would have to sing a song that began with the last letter of the last word in the other side’s song. It was very summer camp-ish, but it was also a ton of fun. Once again, I wasn’t able to contribute much, but I did sneak Happy Birthday in, which made everyone laugh. When most of the bus had drifted off to sleep, a few of the guys started singing old nepali love songs, and I fell asleep to their soft singing.
In short, it was another wonderful day full of great friends and great fun. I uploaded the pictures and you can see them in the slideshow for now.
As always, I’m sending my love your way.
Sarah
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On writing and rain

Dear all,

So as my mother noted, now that I have a new super sleek laptop, I have no excuse for not writing. So I will try, though I can’t promise, to write more. That said, if my blog becomes progressively more boring, I will take no responsibility. That, mom, is your fault.

Let me start with a brief knitting update (I warned you this was going to get boring.) I have finally finished the super cool shawl I’ve been working on for the past year or so. It turned out beautifully and I’m really happy with it. However, it turns out I’m terrified to wear it because there always seems to be something on the street threatening to snag one of those lacy loops. I’m more than a little disappointed (afterall it looks so cute), but I just can’t stand to see all that hard work unravel. On the bright side, finishing a knitting project can only mean one thing: It’s time to buy more yarn.

So I headed to Asan bazaar the other day in search of the yarn shops I’d been hearing all about. Asan bazaar may be one of the craziest, most crowded places in all of Kathmandu. Essentially, it’s street after winding street of tiny shops filled with everything from pots to shoes to the newest Britany Speare’s album. Really, you can find pretty much anything you like in Asan, as long as you know where to look. Heading out, I was a little worried, because I hadn’t been able to find the yarn shops before, but this time, I was fortunate enough to ask the right person, and after only a minute or two of confusion, I found myself in a small shop surrounded by yarn. Of course, the selection isn’t quite what it would be at home, but I managed to find a pretty sport weight yarn for a hat I’m making, and a pretty blue/purple mix whose future has yet to be decided. And yesterday, I finally found a shop that carried the fabled “sari silk” yarn. I have purchased any yet, but I’m not certain I can resist the temptation for much longer. I have no idea what I’ll do with it, but it just looks so pretty. If any of you knitters have any patterns that are perfect for a super colorful heavy weight yarn, please send them along. I’m just waiting for the right excuse. :)

Other than knitting, I’ve been pretty busy “writing”. By writing, I mean reading, thinking, meeting with other students, doodling, writing poetry, and consuming a large number of coffee-ish beverages. However, I’m fairly certain that all of these activites are, in fact, fruitful, and that eventually, I’m going to open my notebook (which like Lassie, follows me everywhere) and discover a brilliant paper on one of the pages. Seriously though, my ideas are coming together really nicely and I’m really very happy with the progress I’m making. On the other hand, trying to write has turned me into a complete computer junkie. It’s gotten so bad that the other day, I considered making a trip out to one of the most famous buddhist temples, Bouddha stuppa……to see if I could get wifi there and write for awhile. In fact, if it weren’t for the entrance fee, I’d probably still do it. But hey, don’t judge me to harshly, it really would be a beautiful place to write.



I’ve also been busy with various classes (and not just salsa, though that’s by far my favorite.) I’m taking a refresher course in Dhimali, which is really proving to be helpful. However, it’s also a little difficult as it means that I have to get up at 5:30 every morning, and thus it’s cutting in to my evening work time. But I was able to write a letter completely in Dhimali to my mom and dad today so I think it’s paying off. Additionally, I’m taking a class to improve my nepali reading ability. Right now, I’m reading a small book about caste discrimination in Nepal. The book itself isn’t very exciting, but I get giddy every time I read a big word and actually know what it means. I’m hoping that before I leave here I’ll at least be profecient enough to read the news.

Oh, and perhaps most exciting of all, the rains have come! We aren’t quite to the point where we have rain every day, but we’ve had a few good storms. The rainy season here is absolutely magical, and I feel as though that first rain washed away all the dust, frustration, and complacency that was starting to build up in me, and I’m looking at Kathmandu with fresh eyes once again. Storms here are particularly wonderful because when it rains, it’s as if the whole city simply stops, sits and waits. Perhaps that will go away as the rains become more frequent, but right now, I feel as though we all stop together and take a moment to just breathe in the rain washed air. I cherish those moments of communal meditation, and I’m looking forward to a long monsoon. Even now, as I write, the thunder is shaking my house, and the city is sleeping quietly underneath it. The rain and thunder only make the peacefulness that much more apparent. But the more I think about it, the more inviting my bed and my book of poems seems, so if you’ll forgive me, I’m going to go fall asleep to this raindrop lullabye.

My love for all of you only grows with the distance!

Big hugs,
Sarah

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Holi

Dear All,

Tomorrow is Holi, a huge day of celebration here in Nepal, but largely the fun has already begun. I’m fortunate enough toi be at Didi’s house today, which means I’m sitting at a desk facing a huge wall sized window with a mountain view. On the rooftops of the neighboring houses, the faces of young girls and boys are popping up over the railings like gophers in a carnival game. For a moment, a young girl’s face appears. She launches a small plastic bag filled with cold water over the edge of the roof. There’s a peel of laughter but I can’t say if it came from the girl or her intended victim. Either way, the girls already vanished, her long black pigtails chasing her back behind the railing and to safety. She hides there, protected from similar attacks from neighboring roofs. I’m told that in other parts of Nepal, Holi is only celebrated on the actual date of Holi and that friends and family chase each other around covering each other with colored powders. Here in Kathmandu, water balloons have been in flight for 2 days already. Sitting here and watching, outside the center of the city, the games seem sweet and playful, and since the little girls are joining in the fun, I’m enjoying the scene (even as I remain inside; safe, dry and hidden). But the holiday does leave me feeling a little critical. What right now seems to be innocent fun can easily turn to antagonism and bullying. Back in the city, many little boys were showing their worst side, picking on women of all ages without impunity. Ironically, today is international women’s day, and yet neither Didi nor I have been brave enough to venture out of the house unless forced. (And even when Didi did rush out, she dressed as though it had been pouring rain all day.) All the same, the giggles of that neighbor girl have put me in too good of a mood to be overally critical. Though I can’t give her all the credit. The sky is decidedly dark and gray today and the hope of rain gives me butterflies. It’s been months since I’ve seen rain and while the monsoons mean I’ll soon be leaving, I’m still waiting for them with the greatest anticipation. After all, the rains were one of the first things I fell in love with here and after enduring the heat of the summer, and the cold of the winter, I’m anxious for my season to start.



Of course there are a million other things I could tell you all, but I’ll finish only with this bit of news: I’ve started writing my paper. I’m not entirely caught up in it yet, so there are pages of letters and poems filling the spaces between thoughts but I’ve started all the same, and I’m content with where I am thus far. But that’s all for now.

All my love.

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