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.