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.