Home at last

I'm back! Where to begin? Well, my two weeks of traveling with my friends Ranjana and Ananda were absolutely amazing. Chitwan was kind of a bust but our trek was epic and totally kicked my butt after not moving for over three months. We ended up doing a loop in the Annapurna region when we realized that our language teacher is totally nuts and told us to do the Annapurna base camp trek (a ten day trek according to lonely planet) in 5 days.... good thing we checked. We met some really amazing Nepalis along the way and realized that being able to speak Nepali put us at such an advantage over the other trekkers. We were the only ones trekking without a guide and we got discounts from all of the guesthouse owners whom we made friends with and told us to come back and visit again next year.

My goodbyes with my family were both heartbreaking and comical. I told my family I needed to leave for the airport by 12 o'clock but my aamaa insisted that we first cook some barra pancakes because they're my favorite. So the clock strikes twelve and I'm standing in my closet sized kitchen flipping lentil pancakes and trying to explain that I actually need to leave. My aamaa brings be downstairs to give me tikka with the fam and of course I instantly start tearing up. The tears turned into sobs and my daai decides now would be a good time to take photos. As I'm crying and the camera is flashing my aamaa and baa give me tikka and I frantically try to shove two giant pancakes down my throat so I don't miss my flight. Aamaa road with me to the airport and we held hands the whole way. She watched me through the window until I disappeared into the madness that is the Kathmandu airport.

My last conversations in Nepali were so wonderful. First I tried bargaining for 7 bounty bars in the airport with a man who was extremely unimpressed with my speaking abilities. He mockingly repeated "mahango bhayo?" (or that’s expensive) when I emphatically declared that bounty bars in Sukedhara (my neighborhood in Kathmandu) were much cheaper. Our argument attracted a lot of attention and people in the store gathered around to watch. Sadly, I lost and boarded the plane bountybar-less. My next conversation was with a young Nepali woman checking the contents of my bag. It was a typical conversation that would have usually annoyed me but I ate up every moment of it. She told me how Nepali I looked and asked me whether I would marry a Nepali man and when i planned to return. I've realized that my Nepali face will not earn me such attention anymore in the US.

Fortunately I had my friend Ananda with me for my 8 hour layover in the Delhi airport. We decided we would meet at an Italian restaurant (if that even existed in India) in the food court and sure enough we found each other in front of a dominos. We shared a large pizza, played cards, wandered aimlessly looking for bounty bars (which I found and bought at a fixed price) and watched a Bollywood film. Then we parted ways and I realized I was on my own for the next 30 hours or so.

So, 40 hours and many tears later I'm home, in my new house. It's so strange to be back, especially in a home that is not my own yet. Lucky for me I have wonderful parents who unpacked my entire room and set it up for me so I didn't have to come home to a room full of boxes. The combination of being in a strange house and a strange country is a little unnerving for me right now but I'm happy to be back safe with my family.

I miss Nepal a lot already. During my last days I complained about the chaotic nature of everything and felt fed up Nepal’s general disorder. Now I’m in the epitome of suburbia and I miss the chaos of the poo. Most of all I miss my SIT group and my family. It's surreal that my time in Nepal has come to an end when it became my reality for what felt like so long. If I can say anything about the last four months it's that I'm grateful to have had this experience with such a close group of amazing people.

This is my last entry so thanks to everyone for reading my blog and have a very merry Christmas!!

With mayaa,

Rupa

Teahouse trekking

My lovely SIT group

Me and aamaa

Chitwan and Trekking Photos

Here are some photos from my last two weeks of traveling in Nepal!

http://picasaweb.google.com/rachwil/ChitwanAndAnnapurna02?authkey=Gv1sRgCO39rfSa85qz0wE#

Himalayan Sunset

The past few weeks I’ve been conducting a research project on young Newari women’s views of marriage and my research has led to many unexpected opportunities to attend wedding parities, hang out at fun spots in Kathmandu, meet Newari women and their families, get dressed up in saris, and have motor bike lessons. Overall I’ve gotten to see Kathmandu in a way that’s totally changed by experience here. Meeting young Newari women my age has allowed me to see Kathmandu from a local young person’s perspective. These women were more than willing to take me out to their favorite teashops and restaurants and invite me to gatherings with their friends.

One of my favorite nights began with a motorbike lesson. My brother’s friends, who were helping me meet young Newari women to interview, offered to teach me how to drive a motorbike. We rode out to an empty field near the airport and I had my first lesson on how to drive a scooter. I initially wanted to learn how to ride a bike but they convinced me to start with the scooter in case I pulled anything crazy. Turns out driving a scooter is harder than it looks, at least for me. After a while I got the hang on it and drove around in figure eights until the sun set and I could no longer see where I was going. At one point an airplane took off right above our heads and I slammed on the breaks, shocked at how close the plane was to us. Turns out we were right at the end of a runway.

Not quite ready to navigate my way around on a bike, I let my daai’s friends take over the bike again and we headed out to get some tea. There’s a stupa here called Swayambhunath, also known as the monkey temple, that is known for being beautifully lit up at night. We headed over to temple, which has a spectacular view of the city, and climbed the many stairs to reach the stupa. It happened to be a perfect night to be there, with a full moon lighting up the sky. We still had a few hours til my curfew, (which is 9 here by the way, it’s not safe for girls to be out late at night…) so we headed back across the city to Durbar Square for some more tea drinking before heading home.

My adventures continued with two wedding parties two nights in a row and an engagement the following day. This meant wearing a sari three days in a row, which is actually quite a hassle. Since I still have not mastered the art of putting on a sari, my aamaa would have to dress me every day. Not only do my nepali parents prepare all my meals for me and give me a 9 pm curfew but now my aamaa was dressing me on a regular basis. I’ve actually regressed to being a twelve year old.

The wedding parties lived up to the hype—Nepalis know how to throw a party. One of the parties was outside at a very classy hotel and everyone was dressed to impress. Nepalis, unlike many Americans, aren’t afraid of wearing color. There were saris of every hue imaginable, most decorated with glittering sequins and jewels. The party was similar to the other wedding party I’d previously attended in that the bride sat at the front on a throne like couch/chair where all the guest come to see her and give her presents. The groom, however, wasn’t present. Apparently it is Newari tradition for women to have their own party before the actual ceremony. The only thing that struck me as odd was that the dance party was taking place in the bottom of a drained pool. I had to do a double take when I first saw that dance floor. It was a sunken dance floor, yes a bit odd, but when I looked closer I saw depth markings on the side. People were indeed dancing in a pool. After a few beers my Nepali cousin convinced me to join them and I spent the majority of my time dancing around in my sari, constantly checking to make sure the giant sheet of cloth hadn’t fallen off my body. To top off my night, I rode home on a motorbike, side saddle in my sari. I have never felt so Nepali.

After submitting our final reports and presenting our ISPs, we headed to Dhulikhel again for our “re-entry” program, which is supposed to prepare us for the reverse culture shock we will go through upon return to the US. It was sad realizing that these were some of the last days we’d all be spending together in Nepal but the location couldn’t have been more ideal for our programs wrap up. We sat in the sun looking out at the himals and terraced rice fields sipping chiyaa and eating daalbhaat. That night we watched the sun set over the himals. It was one of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve ever seen.

Out of the Gaau and Back to the Poo

Yikes, so much to catch up on... Well to start, I just returned from a two week stay in Tukuche, a village in the Annapurna region of Nepal. Tukuche is famous for it’s apples, apple brandy, and walnuts. Needless to say it was a delightful place, with some of the most welcoming people I’ve ever met. Upon arriving in my new home stay house, I felt like I was in a luxury hotel. That’s a bit of an overstatement when you see what my house actually looked like but we had been told we would be living in the “gaau,” which translates to village, implying super rural—think squatting in the dark, no running water type deal. So when I saw that my family’s home was comparable in size to my Kathmandu home, complete with a rooftop view of the Himalayas, I was stunned.

Unfortunately I was very ill for the majority of our village stay. Most of my days were spent in bed when I would periodically come out of my room to eat daalbhaat only to take more medicine and fall back asleep. My aamaa was crazy worried about me and insisted I go to the Jomson hospital, the district hospital about 40 minutes away. Since the busses don’t run on any sort of schedule, you have to take any ride you can get. Sometimes that means helping men load boxes in their Tata truck (the biggest truck company in Nepal) and then hopping in their cab for a ride. Myself, the SIT director, and another SIT staff member stuffed ourselves in the front of a Tata cab along with four other Nepalis and a large container of gasoline. The ride was no less scary than being on a rollercoaster without being strapped in. I was airborne for at least half the ride, lofted on an unsecured bench with only the people squished around me to hold me in place. The truck driver, fortunately, needed to stop for his morning chiyaa (tea) and during his break there happened to be a bus passing through. The rest of the ride to the hospital on the bus was a little more tame, which suited me fine in my fragile state.

The hospital in a word was sketch—deserted, super run down buildings, paint chipping, curtains for doors, and a quote written on the wall that read “in every parting there is an image of death.” No joke. I was supposed to let these people draw my blood. The only reason I went through with the test was because I saw the needle come out of the sterilized package. Fortunately, nothing was seriously wrong with me. No typhoid, no giardia, and most importantly, they informed me that my fever and diarrhea weren’t caused by pregnancy. Phew. So I spend my next few days again on bed rest taking medicine, drinking chiyaa and eating daalbhaat.

Aside from my illness there were a few highlights that made the whole trip worth it. Seeing the himals was enough to get me out of bed everyday and the apple juice was so fresh that it was still foamy from just being pressed. We also discovered a Dutch bakery that served apple crumble and swiss roesties. Such a treat and SUCH a nice break from daalbhaat. Our stay also happened to coincide with a village wide festival during which monks dressed up in masks and costumes, performing many dances and interpretive skits. To be truthful, we had no idea what was going on but it was still fun to watch. During our concluding ceremony of our village stay, one of our host parents addressed us with some parting words. In short, he said that while in Tukuche, we all ate daalbhaat. Some of us ate good daalbhaat, and some of us ate bad daalbhaat. But in the end it all balanced out because we ate daalbhaat. So appropriate and so Nepali. 

Before venturing out to the Himalayas, we had a 4 day holiday for Dashian, the biggest holiday in Nepal. It’s like Christmas, Easter, and Thanksgiving all wrapped into one. My four days were spent with family doing puja (worship), playing cards, flying kites, pinging (swinging) and watching animals get slaughtered. One of the more shocking images I saw was a decapitated goat’s head getting torched in front of its brother goats waiting in line to get slaughtered. The streets were literally running with blood. My Dashian break was filled with adventures, most notably my first motorcycle ride and mountain biking experience. Both were extremely fun and totally unexpected. Sadly though, my aamaa thinks I got sick from mountain biking (oh nepali aamaas..) and has prohibited me from going again… but we’ll see.

This week will be filled with final tests before my month long ISP (independent study project) begins. One of my tests is in my Nepali proficiency, during which I will talk with someone for half and hour about my experience thus far in Nepal...yikes. After my finals I’ll get to celebrate with another Nepali holiday, Tihar. 

Sweet Escape

Last week our Nepali teachers had us write poems in Nepali. (note: there’s nothing I dread more than writing poetry, well, besides improv) All week I was having severe anxiety about our poetry assignment. Writing a poem in a language I can’t yet think in proved to be quite a challenge so I wrote about a very prevalent issue in my life—my dog Jenny. With some broken Nepali and the help of a Nepali-English dictionary, I managed to communicate my bittersweet (tito-mitho) love for Jenny and my simultaneous feelings of compassion and resentment for him. My very elementary poem somehow won me first prize in my class, the only poetry award I have ever and will ever receive.

This weekend I escaped to the small town Dhulikhel, just two hours outside of Kathmandu. When we arrived we were all covered in a layer of dust from the bus ride, but no on cared because it was so rejuvenating to be breathing non-polluted air. Saturday morning I awoke to mountains that appeared to be floating in the clouds above sweeping green valleys of terraced rice fields. I was amazed that just a couple hours outside the city we could see the Himalayas. To be able to breathe AND see mountains… what a foreign concept. I realized that this was the Nepal I had been expecting and romanticizing in my head for so long. We spent the day outside on a 6 hour hike to Namobuddha, the site where a past Buddha sacrificed himself for a starving tigress.

I wish I could wake up to this every morning

View on our hike

Our hotel

The home stretch

Namobuddha!

I had a big day yesterday—I got my nose pierced and went to a Nepali wedding party. Both were very exciting experiences… The nose piercing probably needs no explanation but the Nepali wedding was like nothing I’ve seen before. It went something like bat mitzvah meets South Asian interior decorator meets in da club. The bride and groom sat in throne like chairs on a decorated platform at the front of the room watching the party from afar. Meanwhile a mini dance party to 50 cent was happening in the corner while others chowed down on some daalbhaat. My friend Iyla and I were fully clad in saris while many other guests were in jeans in t-shirts. It was all very confusing but a wonderful experience nonetheless. We unfortunately were unable to go to the actual wedding ceremony so I hope that I will be able to attend a traditional wedding before I leave.

Wild and (Flea) Free

I’ve moved back into my family’s house and so far, great news—no fleas! I’ve loved being back with my family. My aamaa has been teaching me how to cook nepali food, which often takes place in the dark because of load shedding, making it extremely difficult to discern what exactly we’re cooking sometimes (although it’s usually safe to assume it’s daalbhaat). My dog Jenny however is still the devil. No one here likes Jenny, including my friends and Nepali teachers, who all talk about how crazy Jenny is. But my aamaa just adores him. People are so funny about their animals.

Today I feel like I had a real break through in my Nepali speaking abilities. We visited a gau called Khokana and our only assignment was to find out as much as we could about the village. I had two very successful conversations with some villagers and was able to learn about their daily lives, development in the village over the past ten years, farming and agriculture, problems they are experiencing in the village, and a little bit about their marriages. It was rewarding to be able to converse with such receptive villagers. Speaking Nepali opens up a whole new world here, taking down the wall that divides bideshis (foreigners) from Nepalis.

Lately life here has been exhausting. After a month of living here things aren’t any less werid… if that makes sense. It’s still strange to see cows eating trash on the side of the road, femur breaking pot holes aren’t any less scary, the smell of shit isn’t any less potent, getting attacked by monkeys remains an ever present fear, the pollution is just as suffocating and seeing all the suffering doesn’t get any easier. With that said, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else right now. I finally feel a sense of purpose in being here and I’m so excited to (slowly) be adjusting to the culture.

This weekend I saw a bollywood version of a western movie called Annjana Annjani. It was a highly entertaining love story that took place in both New York and San Fransisco, portraying all Americans as fat and ugly and America as a giant desert. There was also a cheating American whore named Rachel. Not the most flattering portrayal of Americans and Rachels a like. Despite the extremely offensive suicide and gay jokes that would never fly in American movies, I was thoroughly entertained. Hindi movies double as a great escape and cultural experience. For just three dollars a film, I plan to see many more Hindi films in the future.

Snapshots from Kathmandu

http://picasaweb.google.com/rachwil/Kathmandu?authkey=Gv1sRgCMbkpsm0o5uKuAE#

Don't let the bed bugs bite

My asain-ness and dark hair has earned me the name "Nepali face" wherever I go in Kathmandu. The didis (elderly Nepali women) are always so excited to tell me how Nepali I look and then giggle at me. At the moment I’m staying with my friend Leti's Nepali family and her baa immediately picked up on my Asian side. He excitedly announced, Nepali face! and then asked, Chinese? The family was very excited to point out china to me on the television. I proceeded to tell them I've never actually been to China... I've never been so in touch with my Asian heritage.

I have yet to experience any extreme homesickness but last night I was super homesick for my Nepali aamaa. I'm currently staying with another family until the fleas in my house are gone. To put it simply, bugs in Nepal dig me. Bugs will literally go to extreme lengths to find me. I woke up one night to a cockroach trapped inside of my mosquito net and Jenny's fleas have successfully destroyed my legs. Sadly I can no longer live at my house until Jenny and the rugs are flea-free. I had no idea how attached I’d be come to my Nepali family until I was forced to leave. It’s been less than 24 hours and I already miss the comfort and routine of living with them. I know this is very temporary (at least I hope) so I realized that this is semi melodramatic, but starting over with a new family a month into the program is proving to be more of an adjustment than I was expecting. There are, however, some wonderful perks that come with my new living situation though. I get to live in the biggest house I will probably ever live in—it's 5 stories and has stunning rooftop view of the rangichangi (colorful) city with rolling green hills as a backdrop. I also get to experience living with a big Nepali family. I’ve become accustomed to a quiet house with just my aamaa and baa. Now I have an aamaa, baa, sister, brother, aunt, brothercounsinuncle, and others that seem to come and go, many of whom I have no idea how they are related to the family. 

ParyaTaks

Yesterday we did the tourist thing (tourist in Nepali = paryaTak, sounds like partyattack, how wonderful is that?) and went to Durbar Square to see Kumari, the child goddess, lead a procession through the streets of Kathmandu. The square was overwhelmingly packed with people trying to push past Nepali guards. As we made our way through the crowd to the line of guards, they suddenly parted for us, letting myself and my friends pass through, while continuing to hold back hundreds of Nepalis. I assume we were aloud to pass because we obviously stuck out as partyattacks. It was as if being white gave us and unmerited power… it felt very strange and wrong but completely worked in our favor. To add to our status as partyattacks, we were shown later that night on Nepali TV. My aamaa was very pleased I finally made my debut on Nepali television, even if I wasn’t dancing.

I spent the past week in the hills of India in Darjeeling. Unfortunately in order to get to and travel anywhere around Darjeeling, we had to spend many hours in jeeps on the horrendously maintained roads that felt more like an Indiana Jones ride than a mode of transportation. To make the car rides more bearable, we had Shakira playing on loop, our driver’s favorite artist (note- our driver was a male in his late 20s) and shag carpet lining the dashboard to spice up our ride.

Just two minutes from our hotel we caught a glimpse of 3^rd highest mountain in the world! I believe it is called Katchunjunga… or something along those lines. We arrived at the site around 6am but as always, it was too foggy to see anything. Some locals informed us that “she” was scheduled to clear at 6:30am and that we should hang around for the view. Sure enough the clouds parted right on schedule and we all stood in awe of the spectacularly huge mountain before us. The whole week it felt like we were living in a cloud, but on the rare occasion the fog cleared, we realized we were surrounded by lush green hills in all directions. The area looked like it should be pristine but trash had found its way from Kathmandu all the way to the hills of India. We came upon a beautiful drainage only to look down and see it littered with trash. It was sad, but the falls were breathtaking nonetheless.

Returning to a place for the first time is always an interesting experience. I wasn’t anticipating a warm return to Kathmandu, but I’ve been happily surprised by the familiarity of the city and how much Kathmandu feels like home. It’s amazing how quickly I’ve adapted to this environment--it’s been exactly four weeks since I arrived here. I remember how overwhelming and inaccessible the city felt during the drive through Kathmandu from the airport. I can’t say I have a clear understanding or real grasp of Kathmandu but I do feel like I’m starting to find my place here.   

Rupa in Red

September 10, 2010

Laughter transcends all cultural boundaries- even if you don’t know what you’re laughing about. I’ve found that laughing with my family has been our greatest bonding moments, whether it’s at my constant mispronunciations in Nepali, something funny that happened, or laughing because that seems to be what everyone else is doing and I have no idea what’s going on. Regardless, the laughter has broken down the cultural and language barriers with my family making my Nepali home feel more like a real home.

Tonight I fulfilled my little fantasy of escaping Kathmandu and eating at a pizza place, though not pizza hut, thank god. I would have felt really guilty for eating at an Italian restaurant in the tourist capital of Kathmandu had I only be visiting for a short while—however since I kind of live here and will be doing so for the next 3 and a half months, I think it’s excusable to occasionally indulge in American culture and food while being in Kathmandu. With that said, I’m still struggling to find balance here—balancing my own wellbeing amidst the chaos while also focusing on the purpose of my studies, which is ultimately to do some good here. Kathmandu is a beast I’m constantly battling. It is easy to get caught up in the frustration and discomfort of living in such a horrendously managed city. I've never seen so much suffering before. But remaining in a state of shock, I’ve realized, is a waste of my time and will get me nowhere I want to go. Although it’s easier said than done, I’m trying to embrace everything that comes my way whether that means getting hit by a bike on my way home, seeing burning trash everyday after school, or watching a goat get slaughtered on a playground on the side of the road.

September 12, 2010

Rupa and Ratna, ready for Teej.

Yesterday I went teejing again with my aamaa and Ratna and family As soon as we stepped outside we were lost in a sea of red and pink saris. Many of the streets were shut down because there were so many people roaming about. We happened upon a huge gathering of dancing women and Ratna and I immediately knew what we were in for. Our aamaas, thrilled at the idea of making us local celebrities, shoved us in front of a TV camera man and started screaming at us to start dancing. Ratna’s family watched out for us on TV today but we didn’t quite make the cut. Our nepali dancing skills could probably use some work.

Just some chijbij

Kathmandu is so disgusting, dirty, and intense that I can’t help but want to escape this place, even briefly, whenever possible. On my walk to the bookstore yesterday I longingly gazed into little cafes, ice cream shops, and even a pizza hut imagining a little oasis of peace. Who knew you could find peace in a pizza hut? Come to Kathmandu and you will understand.

My family here has a dog named Jenny. Note—Jenny is a boy. My family laughed at me when I called Jenny a girl. They also laughed at me when I asked what kind of meat we were eating and they said “kukura,” to which I exclaimed, “KUKUR?!???” (dog). It turns out that when you add an “a” to kukur it means chicken. This is now the running joke of the family whenever we eat kukura. I’ve run into a few other pronunciation issues with Nepali recently. I was practicing how to ask my mother to teach me how to cook Nepali food. One of our lecturers overheard me and proceeded to tell me that I was asking my mother how to seduce someone. Obviously I was mortified.

Some of my favorite Nepali words:

Bongo tingo (windy road)

Uku smukus (full)

Rangi changi (colorful)

Chijbij (stuff)
Agli (tall girl)

Money Pants

Pants in which you can put your money. Brilliant.

Pharping Pictures

http://picasaweb.google.com/rachwil/PharpingNepal?authkey=Gv1sRgCOvS5-n03crfyAE#

Catching Up

August 30, 2010

Kathmandu is absolutely insane-- the streets look more like a parking lot than a road, there are no street signs, stray dogs and trash piles everywhere, dilapidated buildings, so much pollution it hurts your lungs, people bustling in the streets, gorgeous view of mountains in all directions, and general disorder and madness. It’s difficult for me to explain what I’m experiencing here because virtually everything I see, hear, and learn about is totally new and foreign, especially the customs and social norms. One of the funnier customs we've learned about is "jutho", a concept that literally means contaminated. When you eat with your hands (literally shoveling food into your mouth) and you touch your mouth, everything you then touch with that hand is then considered jutho. Women who are "in period," as they say here, can't be in the kitchen or touch their husbands because they are very jutho. Your left hand is jutho, the bottom of your feet are jutho, undies are ekdam (very) jutho... it's out of control. As my friend Kailash says, women in menopause are super jutho ho. 

I was practicing field notes in the village a couple days ago and I was observing a procession of about 20 people and in the midst of my note taking, I suddenly became the center of the procession and was being accosted by an aggressively dancing man dressed up like a demon, who made lunging and striking motions at me and my friend Leti over and over again for at least 2 minutes. It was a really unsettling situation because we were surrounded by so many people and children that we couldn't stand up and walk away. Eventually we were able to push through the crowd and get away from the wild demon man. It was one of those moments where I was like, yeah, I’m definitely in Nepal. 

I meet my home stay family in just a couple hours! It’s a little daunting to all be going our separate ways today. I’m a 45 minute walk from school but I have 4 other people who are also in my neighborhood. Fingers crossed I don't get lost in the nameless streets of this unfamiliar place.

August 31, 2010

I now truly understand what it means to experience culture shock. After getting picked up by my host mom or aamaa, we headed to a women’s festival in Kathmandu with my friend Rachel and her new aamaa. Needless to say, we became the focus of everyone’s attention, seeing as we were the only white people in the room. I felt like I was on display, being touched, stared at, and scrutinized in a language I have yet to grasp. I felt like a two year old stuck in the body of a 21 year old—someone who is hyper aware of the social implications of the situation but is not capable of verbalizing any thoughts nor interpreting the meaning of the critical and constant jabbering. I’ve never felt more like a foreigner. To my surprise, it wasn’t that painful a situation to endure, largely because my friend Rachel was there to sympathize with me. We walked back on the road to my new home, a three story house that feels similar to a typical San Francisco home with a South Asian twist. The road, which is barely wide enough for one vehicle, let alone two way traffic, is best described by the Nepali phrase bongo tingo, or winding road. Around every bend a frantically honking car or motorcycle would zip by us leaving just inches between us and the side of the car.

For dinner we cooked momos, or dumplings, which was by far the best meal I’ve had here in Nepal. My dad, or baa, taught me how to fold the dough to create little dumpling sacks, which started out looking more like a 3 year olds play dough creations than artistically folded food. Eventually I got the hang of it and they put me to work. This would have been a fairly normal cooking experience aside from the language barrier, but midway through the process the power went out (load shedding) so we did as Nepalis do and continued cooking in the dark with the aid of a small light as if nothing had happened.

September 3, 2010

Today is the one week mark of my time in Nepal! Never has time passed so slowly. Although not in a bad way. I just feel like I’ve been here for weeks already.

I had a rude awakening to Nepali manners at dinner the other night. Generally Nepalis have very polite and refined demeanor-- their clothes are always neat and clean, they are respectful towards their guests, they take of their shoes when entering someone’s home, etc. Yet they somehow have adopted an eating style that almost completely zaps me of my appetite. Most Nepalis eat their food using their right hand and no utensils. This in itself is not so bad. I learned the other night how to delicately shovel daalbhaat into my mouth by scooping up the rice with my fingers and then using my thumb to push the food into my mouth—a surprisingly effective technique. However it does not stop here. I’ve recently witnessed Nepalis aggressively stuffing small mountains of rice into their mouths, which is followed by very audible and sloppy chewing, slurping, lip smacking, full-mouth talking and finally finger licking. My intention is not to sound judgmental, but I must say I was taken aback by the stark contrast of Nepali manners when mealtime arrives. It’s as if all rules go out the window and any pent up frustrations or aggressions from the day are projected onto the mounds of food on your plate.

September 4, 2010

Today at Teej, the women’s festival, I danced on stage in front of hundreds of Nepali women (the largest crowd of my dancing career). Unfortunately I did not go on stage by my own free will. One of my aamaa’s friends insisted that Ratna and I join all the Nepali women on stage and dance around in our saris. Needless to say we were the only white people on stage and thus the focus of the entire room. Ratna and I attempted to join in and awkwardly moved around, mimicking the movements of other women on stage. After about 5 minutes of humiliation we were finally put out of our misery and the music stopped. Of course when leaving the stage we realized that not only were we the only white people on stage, but the only people who forgot to take their shoes off, a basic Nepali tradition. I can’t wait for the day that Nepali customs become second nature and I feel like less of a foreigner. 

September 6, 2010

Tonight was the best night I’ve had so far at my home stay. I felt overwhelmed by the ISP proposal assigned to us today and was really dreading going home when I had so much reading and Nepali homework to do. To my surprise, spending time with my Nepali parents actually made my homework much more fun and interesting than sitting alone and doing it by myself. They helped me with my sentence completion and I then asked them in Nepali about their favorite colors. Then I had a long discussion in English with my baa about the state of the Nepali government and how nothing can build or develop until a stable government is finally put in place. After eating some delicious or swatilo fried rice made by my aammaa, my baa and aammaa taught me how to write the names of both my aphno (real) family and my Nepali family in Devnagari.

I realized today the extent to which my hygiene has plummeted. Not only do I not shower very often, but when I do shower, it’s hard to say how clean I actually get since I’m literally washing myself in dilute crap. So the process goes—poo, soap, poo. I’d like to think I’m at least a little cleaner than I was before but when you shower with poo water… who knows.