Sunday in Durbar Square, Kathmandu

Candles at a shrine

Between temples

Several of thousands of pigeons near one of the temples

Same place, two different sentiments

Same place, two different sentiments

Boy with pigeons

Centuries old bird's eye view

People and places we'll remember from our first few weeks

Fruit seller, Patan

Street scene in Patan

Back side of a fruit seller's cart, Patan

Young boy, Kailali District, Terai

Cart wheel, Patan

My favorite photographic subject, bikes!

A friendly man we met in Kailali District, Terai

Dogs are ubiquitous.

Detail from a sidewalk carving, Patan.

Wall with multiple layers of paint.

Our new badminton court

Two pictures of Lucie, Eli and Betsy in our new house

Explore Nepal

This week, Lucie and Eli have participated in “Explore Nepal” week, a 5-day immersion experience involving some aspect of local living. Lucie goes West of Kathmandu to work with school children and Eli heads South to work in the arts and music. Lucie feels a bit shafted because she spends the entire week camping and uses only pit latrines dug by sherpas, whereas Eli is in a hotel and goes on his first elephant ride. But, as you can see from the picture, Lucie’s views aren’t too shabby.

First trip to the field

This week I am in the Far Western Region of Nepal--very removed from what is going on in Kathmandu. My trip is nothing short of amazing. We fly to the Terai (lowland jungle in the South of Nepal) and spend a few days there visiting Village Model Farms initiated by Helen Keller International (HKI), the NGO where I work. We also see health promotion sessions on nutrition.

While there, we visit dalits (untouchables) who have been marginalized for centuries. Some of the ones we meet aren’t benefiting from the program and some of the Village Model Farmers are unwilling or unanxious to associate with them. Later, when we travel to Baitadi, we meet dalits who were quite involved in HKI’s work and seem to be doing quite well.

The trip to Baitadi, which is in northwestern Nepal, is quite an adventure. Considering infrastructure challenges in Nepal, the road is good, though after looking at a map of Nepal, I see that the road we’re on is the only major route along the western border with India. We travel over lots and lots of hills and mountains. After 8 hours, I feel a bit nauseous (though never really sick).

The hills in Nepal remind me of a combination of Bolivia and Guatemala—very steep with lots of terracing. The accommodations are basic. The food is good but one night I crave something different so I make hot chocolate. The restaurant staff don’t know what hot chocolate is so I ask them to heat milk while I go next door to buy EIGHT (small) Cadbury chocolate bars. I split them with the driver and we melt each one in the warm milk. It is so much fun doing this that I’ll make a tradition of it when I return to Kathmandu. The people we meet (HKI staff and locals) are incredibly accommodating. It is really a great experience meeting so many of them.

One of my favorite moments is meeting a 70’s-ish woman who has been leading a local NGO for decades. She is full of energy and VERY short. When she stands next to me for a picture, she is slightly above my waist. One of the HKI staff members takes a snapshot of us but doesn’t know how to use the zoom. The picture is mostly of me (waist up) with only the woman’s head showing in the left corner of the frame—as though she’s been decapitated. Even so, she sports a smile.

Celebrating Tihar/Diwali

This morning, Betsy and I get up early and walked a few short blocks to the Tibetan Weavers’ Guild. We visited this place with Sam back in 1993, a month after it opened. Of course, now the complex is no longer sitting in a field but has been surrounded on all sides by other structures. There are a number of buildings here. We start with the largest building. It has many, many rug looms (rigid and upright) with carpets in various states of completion. Most looms have women sitting on the floor in front of the looms—rather backbreaking work. We watch each step of the process: wrapping different colored threads around a small metal rod placed in the shed of the warp, checking the pattern overhead to make sure each thread is the right color, removing the rod, energetically beating the knots so that they meet with the previous row, cutting the threads and, once the row is complete, changing the shed and moving on to the next row. There are up to ten rows (picks) per inch, so this is very much a laborious process. Since our visit—in an effort to put myself to sleep when the dogs bark, I’ve calculated how many knows are in a 4’ x 6’ rug: 350,000 if my math is correct. After watching the weavers, we venture to another building where we greet 20 women, middle-aged and older. They spin wool on simple spindles. I marvel at how easily they make it all seem—keeping the thread on the spindle, making the thread even, and chatting and chanting at the same time. We then visit several shops selling various trinkets, thangkas (idealized Buddhist paintings), prayer wheels, hats, sweaters, shawls and carpets. We remember Sam as a 2 year old running from one stack of carpets to the next and showing satisfaction when he managed to climb on top of each one. I ask whether I can buy yarn so that I can weave on my own but am informed the yarn isn’t for sale. In the late afternoon, despite my own challenges with a stomach bug, we walk to Durbar Square in the center of Patan. Patan, Kathmandu and Bhaktapur—the three original kingdoms of Nepal—all have their own squares filled with stupas, shrines and other buildings and monuments—many of them hundreds and hundreds of years old. The walk to Durbar Square (pronounced more like “Darbar” here) is wonderful. For weeks, young and old have been preparing for Diwali (called Tihar here), the festival of light. Marigold garlands are everywhere. Tuesday, Nepalis placed them on dogs and today they are on the cows. A loud 4 piece band (trumpet, tuba and two drums) serenades a pig’s head at the local butcher shop and children run from house to house singing songs and hoping for money or treats. There are tens of thousands of small oil lamps and colored lights here and they adorn every street and building. The closer we get to the Square, the more windy and narrow the roads. Then, a sudden opening to Durbar Square. The buzz is palpable: street children playing, adults who wish they were younger “playing” with firecrackers and fireworks, the old milling about the streets, perhaps thinking that this year’s celebration is just like last year’s celebration…and the one before that, and the one before that.

I love the artwork that adorns the sidewalk in front of each store. It starts with a layer of brown dye. On top of the dye, people “paint” simple as well as elaborate symbols with brightly colored powders. All are unique. Some have rice scattered about while others have small butter lamps in the middle. Each one is said to attract Laxmi, the goddess of wealth and good fortune. Halfway through our walk around Durbar Square, the electricity fails and the whole place is reduced to a wonderful glow of candles burning everywhere. It would be a magical moment if the discotheque next to us didn’t have a back-up power supply! But both are celebrations: the raucous one with lots of people dancing and the silent one with candles placed around the temples. On the way back to the hotel, we duck through an alley and find it opens into another large square, complete with stupas, a large statue of the Buddha and a very large gate. I go home with the sting of incense in my nose and the aroma of butter lamps that mitigate the sting. The Dalai Lama once coined a thought that I find particularly true: "People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost."

So we've made it! It was a very hectic 2 or 3 weeks as we prepared to come. But we're finally here.

Here is a list of some of the things I'll remember from our last few days in Boston and our first few in Nepal: Saying goodbye to 100+ friends and neighbors from the Belmont congregations who attended a huge get together for us Lucie looking out the plane window as we descended into the Kathmandu valley and being overcome with emotion when she sees the Himalayas Eli celebrating his birthday at the monkey temple--doing exactly what he wanted to do: see monkeys (and lots of them) Us sitting in Lucie and Eli's 3rd floor hotel bedroom and noticing that a large monkey is on our balcony Eli and I having the pleasure of a personal urinal in our hotel bathroom Seeing a number of nice houses we can rent, all of which have plenty of space for Sam, Ben, other family members and friends Being reminded of Bangladesh when our taxi driver talks to us so rapidly I don’t know whether he’s speaking Nepali or English Watching people play badminton (and recognizing that they’re a lot better at it than I am!) Not being stared at…even though we’re different Staff at Lincoln School being very kind to Lucie and Eli Meeting my boss and other colleagues and really, really liking them Eating lots of good food, including Mexican food at the “Lazy Gringo” restaurant “Hanging out” (overnight) at the Delhi airport Enjoying the amusing signs around the city: (1) “Human tailors” seamstress shop (2)"Mmm ATM” (believe it or not, that’s the name of the ATM; I doubt it’s tasty) (3) Warning. Dog Kennel Club! (4) Warning: Dog. He’s VERY sarcastic (5) Pretty Family Restaurant and Bar

People we'll miss!

Things we're giving up

In Transit (Boston to Kathmandu)

We are waiting at the transit desk in the Delhi airport. We’ve been here 45 minutes trying to determine whether, as in-transit passengers, we can pass through security to get to bunk beds—which we pay for by the hour, or whether we’ll simply have to camp out on the floor until we can board our flight at 6:30 a.m. More precisely, we are next to a PepsiCo vending machine. On it, there is a semi-angry looking Indian man painted green and red and doing some sort of karate chop. I want to buy bottled water. A young Indian with a turban approaches. It appears his sole job is to sell items from the vending machine. We buy three bottles of Himalayan brand water. A few minutes later, Betsy and I decide Lucie and Eli should try nimbu pani, a lemon water that saved Betsy and I from the oppressive heat when we were in Delhi 5 years ago and the mercury soared to 115 degrees. Again, the vending machine man approaches, appearing from nowhere like a genie out of a bottle. He charges us 20 rupees above the advertised price, gives us the bottle (brand name = Nimbooz – no alcohol), and writes us a receipt. The stuff is good!
We are still waiting to determine where we’ll spend the night and whether we should pass through security. Going much further than where we’re at will likely earn us a scolding (or worse) because we don’t have visas for India. We notice a man wearing a distinctly Nepali hat (someone we tried to follow when we exited the plane but his pace was too quick for us—especially with 6 carry-on items and a trombone in tow). He’s already spoken with the folks at the transit counter and emerges with two suitcases. He’s wearing a grin that would be more fitting if he’d just returned from a safari, shortly after the kill.