Monday, August 27, 2012

One more post

This is it. My last blog post. It won't be much, because I've already said everything there is to say about my experience. I've used up all the sappy and sentimental words in my lexicon.

Oh, but I haven't said anything about my final days in Nepal.

You can read about that in the Observer-Reporter. It is the final article of my travel series.


Once again, a big dhanyabad (thank you) to everyone who has kept up with my blog and articles. For those who have commented (and those who haven't, because simply reading is enough for me), thank you for all your kind words and encouragement. 

I'm certain this won't be the end of my travels. I'm setting my sights on a job in India after I graduate and hoping it will also bring back to Nepal. But until then, I'll leave you with a cheesy but appropriate travel quote, because I don't know how else to end this thing.

“Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.”
 - Pat Conroy

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Some final words

I haven't abandoned this blog, even though I have safely returned to America. I still have a few things left to say, but it's been hectic these past couple days, especially now that I'm moving into my new apartment in Pittsburgh and getting ready to start the school year.

But, for now, I'll leave you with a reflection piece I wrote for The Kathmandu Post. I was hoping to write about something more interesting than my experience (I'm really getting bored writing about myself), but I think it still turned out OK. 




Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Miscellaneous adventures

“Peculiar travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.”
-Kurt Vonnegut, “Cat’s Cradle”

Well I don’t believe in God, but I have this theory that the strangest ideas turn out to be the best ones. So when a friend from work asked me if I wanted to go see a 143-foot statue of Lord Shiva, I said yes, of course.

It’s the tallest Lord Shiva statue in the world, although I’m guessing it probably doesn’t have much competition. My friend Krishna filled me in on some juicy, little-known facts about Shiva, and apparently he was quite fond of marijuana. The weed god, if you will. I guess I can get behind a god who blazes every now and then.



Me and Krishna


Krishna and Dipendra laughing about something. Throughout the day, Krishna kept making me say "match-ik-nee," which is the Nepali word for "motherfucker." I guess it's pretty amusing when foreigners try to say local slang/swear words. 

There was also a beautiful view. I feel like I have a hundred photos that look just like this, 
but it never really gets old.

Goat

Close-up of goat, which is clearly copping an attitude with me 

So we hung around the area for a while, relaxed and worshipped Shiva in the way we saw fit. It was a nice day, but on the way back I had a little episode on the bus. There were no seats left, and the aisles were packed with people. I was already feeling a bit spacey, and it didn’t help that the bus was overwhelmingly crowded and hot, or that I get motion sickness when I’m standing in a moving vehicle, or that I’m prone to fainting when my system gets overheated (or something like that, I don’t know how the human body works). With all of these factors combined, I knew something bad was going to happen. I took a few deep breaths, but I couldn’t keep standing any longer.

“I feel sick. I have to sit down.”

And no sooner than I spoke those words, everything went black. When I opened my eyes again, Krishna was holding me up and trying to help me into a seat. Everyone was staring at me. Then some Nepali guy was pouring water on my head. Apparently my eyes rolled back in my head and it scared the shit out of Krishna because he tried to make the bus stop. It wasn’t a huge deal for me because I’ve fainted before, and I knew I would be fine. But still, it was pretty embarrassing that it had to happen on a public bus in Nepal. 


After that ordeal, my next task was wading through a foot of water to get back home. Apparently the monsoon rains had been especially heavy that day (although it hadn’t rained under Lord Shiva’s watch) because the streets and sidewalks were entirely flooded. There aren’t any drains in the road, so it becomes problematic post-rainstorms. Another classic Nepali experience.







Lately I’ve been gloating that I’m one of the only volunteers in the house who hasn’t had an intestinal parasite or a bad case of diarrhea. Well karma came back to bite me in the ass (literally) because now I have bed bugs. If I were in America, I’d be throwing a hissy fit. But since Nepal has toughened me up a bit, my reaction is more like, “Wow, this really blows, but at least it’s not dengue fever or malaria.”


I think my mom is more freaked out than I am, because she already has her panties in a bunch over the possibility of me bringing the buggers home in my suitcase.


She said she’s putting me in a “disinfectant chamber” when I come home and that she’ll make me “a nice comfy bed on an air mattress on the porch.” So now I have that warm welcome to look forward to. For the record, she’s probably kidding, but you can never be so sure.

This weekend I’m going back to Pokhara for my last full weekend in Nepal, and hopefully it will inspire me to write a perspective piece for the Kathmandu Post. I've given up on getting a byline in the newspaper because I've lost motivation, but the EIC keeps pushing me to do it anyway. So I'm going to make something happen, even if it's just another first-person, travel writing piece. 

I've thought about a career in travel writing, but I can't imagine that it would be widely successful. Sometimes when I'm writing or blogging I bore myself to death and think, "Who actually wants to read this? Why should people care about what I'm doing?" Well apparently some people do, and for that you are all awesome, and I'm very grateful. Keep up the reading, and I'll try to keep up with not being boring. 

Belated Chitwan post (it's short and sweet)

As you already know, I went to Chitwan. I wrote about it. I also took photos.

Here you go:


On our elephant safari 

Our elephant driver (for lack of a better term) bundled up in a...tablecloth? 


Climbing back on the elephant after a quick pee break

Elephant bathing! 



The canoes we took to the start of our jungle walk

I can't decide who is more attractive/better dressed in this photo. Our guide said the leeches could suck my blood through my socks, so I tucked my pants in. Also, sexy red poncho makes a comeback.



Monkey in a tree

Croc!!


Our jungle walk was very...swampy. My shoes smelled so putrid afterward that I just threw them away.

Friday, August 3, 2012

The festival of cows, sans cows

When I heard about Gai Jaitra, which literally means "cow festival," I just assumed that cows would be there. So when I went to Bhaktapur for said festival today and didn't see a single cow, I was a bit confused. Where were all the cows? I mean, there's only a bajillion of them roaming the streets of Kathmandu, usually in the middle of a busy highway, so why weren't they here for their big day?

I'm still a little puzzled by this, but what I can tell you is that Gai Jatra is kind of like a Dia de los Muertos for Nepal. It's a day when family members can honor loved ones who have died in the past year, and they celebrate to help move past mourning. Young boys often dress up like cows, and my good friend Krishna tells me that it symbolizes the Hindu belief that people who die are guided to heaven through a cow's tail. 

Cows or no cows, it was still a pretty cool festival. As a foreigner, I can't tell you what any of it meant, but photos can somewhat convey what the experience was like.

Furry people dancing and tumbling and what not 

 Breakdancin' furry people


Entering Bhaktapur


Durbar Square



Dancing with sticks

Photos of the deceased

Cute baby face. I also asked another woman if I could take a picture of her baby, and she said yes, and it's adorable, but I can't figure out how to get it from my phone to the internet. Sad face :( 


I wasn't judging this guy for wearing a sari. However, I was judging his outfit choice 
of a ball cap and sneakers. Big fashion no-no. 


Today was also a successful shopping day because I got a pretty cool souvenir for my dad, who was difficult to buy for because they don't sell anything science-y or guitar-related in Nepali shops. The only things that come close to guitars are these god-awful fiddle things that every salesman and his brother tries to sell you in Thamel. "You want something??" NO. "I make good price." NO. "1,000 rupees." NOOOOOOO.

Also, I bought the umpteenth useless souvenir for my boyfriend. I bet he can hardly wait for me to bestow these gifts upon him! 

Tomorrow I'm meeting with a Nepali woman who manages a radio station with all-female employees to chat about women's rights in the country, so I'll likely have a blog post about that. 

Then I'm going to see a Nepali movie and, of course, party hardy until 2 am (closing time for the handful of clubs in all of Nepal that are open past midnight) because it's a Saturday night and, well, why not? 

Also, I only have two weeks left. Is this real life?? I don't want to think about it. I refuse.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Retreat, cult or loony bin? You decide.

"When you start dancing, the ego says, ‘What are you doing? You will look foolish. Such an intelligent man like you dancing like a primitive?’ The ego will say, ‘Do not do it! Control yourself!’ If you control, the ego remains. Be uncontrolled; do not listen to this controlling force. Just allow yourself for the first time to be simply alive without any control and immediately you will feel that the ego is not there. Existence is there, forces are there, but the ego is not there."

-Osho


I’ve been neglecting my blogging duties, I know. It’s difficult to find a quiet space, functioning Wi-Fi and some free time (especially because I don’t want to waste any time in my remaining two weeks). I did go to Chitwan, as I said I would, and it will be the subject of the latest installment of my travel series. I will post that with photos when it's published.

As for this past weekend, I relaxed, spent some time in Thamel and went to a meditation retreat on Sunday. An editor at work recommended that I go to Osho Tapoban, a retreat on the edge of the Royal Nagarjun Forest, which is guarded by the Nepalese Army (Don’t ask me why. Maybe the forest contains a population of centaurs). It sounded nice and peaceful, so I went on Sunday morning with Andrew and Adrian.

When we arrived we were given a schedule of the day’s events and burgundy robes to wear. My robe-dress made me look like a Mennonite, but I guess fashion shouldn't be my primary concern at a meditation retreat.

We had a few hours before the first meditation session, so we explored our surroundings. The area is beautiful, with wild monkeys, a small waterfall and green all around. We climbed up a hill and saw some horses, and I wisely stayed behind while Andrew and Adrian went closer. As unbroken horses tend to do, one of them charged at Adrian. I even captured the moment on camera.  








We crossed this unsafe-looking bridge


Run!

This is my "the hills are alive with the sound of music" pose.

On our way back to the retreat, I had another first-time Nepali experience: a leech bite. In Chitwan, I took such careful measures to protect against leeches. I tucked my pants into my socks like a kindergartener and wore my ridiculous red poncho, in case any leeches decided to make an aerial attack from the trees. And here I was, on dry soil at a meditation retreat, totally oblivious to the dangers of blood-sucking creatures around me, and I got bit. I wish it would have happened in Chitwan instead because we made a deal that the first person to get a leech bite gets a free beer. Talk about a missed opportunity.

I don't trust any creature that is smaller than my thumb but can draw that much blood. Slimy bastards. As if my legs weren't already pockmarked with scabs from mosquito bites. 

I should also mention that everywhere around the retreat were quotes from Osho, pictures of Osho, a statue of Osho. Who the hell is Osho? I had no clue at the time. But now, thanks to the good ole internet, I can give you some background on this interesting Osho character.

A photo in my room



Osho became Osho in 1989. He was born in India in 1931 as Chandra Mohan Jain, and he changed his name several times over the decades. Wikipedia (I know, not the most reliable source of information, but it’s good enough) describes him as a mystic, guru and spiritual teacher.

Some interesting facts about Osho:



He was against the idea of institutionalized religion (For which he gets bonus points in my book)



He was also a critic of socialism and Mahatma Gandhi (I take back those points. How can you not admire Gandhi?)


For four years he lived in the United States, more specifically Oregon, where he drove a different Rolls Royce each day and attracted a slew of wealthy followers. He was a self-proclaimed "rich man's guru" and believed that "material poverty was not a genuine spiritual value," according to Wikipedia. (Isn't materialism contradictory to the values of inner harmony? I don't think I'm buying into this guy's philosophy.)

I didn't know any of this at the time, though, so I was able to enjoy myself without feeling like I was taking part in some strange cult (that feeling came a little later).

Anyway, at our first meditation session we were greeted by a man who had hair longer than mine and a beard so thick you couldn't see his lips. Something about all that hair just radiates wisdom and enlightenment. Or maybe it was his calm demeanor. At any rate, this dude was a total free spirit. He gave us our instructions for our first session: "For 40 minutes we are going to dance. Don't think about the steps. Don't think about anything. Just feel the music and become like a child. Do whatever you are feeling. Then, for the last 20 minutes, we sit in complete silence."

Dancing and silent sitting? Got it. I could handle that. Yet when the music started playing, I immediately felt uncomfortable. A few people in the room closed their eyes and started dancing freely, not to mention poorly, but they didn't care. They were in their element.

I knew I had to drop my ego if I was going to make the next 40 minutes bearable, but it was difficult at first. From the ages of five to 13 I took lessons from a fairly strict dance company where dance was not about having fun. Dance was about memorizing the steps and performing them perfectly. It was about kicking higher than everyone else, pirouetting the longest and having the best splits in class. And have mercy on the poor ballerina who isn't pointing her pinky finger the right way.

With that said, the first 10 minutes of dancing were a bit awkward. I mostly swayed from side to side and glanced nervously around me, sometimes exchanging glances and giggles with Adrian, who was clearly feeling just as uncomfortable. And then it happened. I don't know how, or the precise moment, but I was able to let go of my ego. I closed my eyes, felt the music and danced. I wasn’t thinking about anything at all, and my only feelings were of relaxation and harmony and sheer happiness. The 40 minutes felt like five, and after it was all over I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

The other meditations weren’t as successful for me, however. During one session, we sat with eyes closed and listened to calm music for an hour. I felt relaxed to an extent, but my mind kept wandering to all the American food I missed (which is probably what I think about most during the day).

For the third meditation, we listened to this upbeat music and shook our bodies for 20 minutes. It was basically like twerking in place. Then we danced for another 20 minutes. If nothing else, it was definitely a great workout. Maybe Osho’s goal was to get people as tired as possible so that it would be easier to relax.

That evening, after dinner, a “celebration” was held. Everyone wore white gowns (except for us, because we had only purchased the burgundy ones) and crowded around the statue of Osho. People were burning incense, calling out “Osho!” periodically, singing along with music and more or less worshipping this statue. For a guru who spoke out against organized religion, it seems a little strange that his philosophy has attracted a cult following. But it is a happy cult, for what it’s worth.


Then we went inside the meditation hall and – surprise! – danced some more. It was actually a lot of fun, but also surreal. Imagine the worst dancers you know, remove all their inhibitions and then add a spiritual element. That’s what it was like. Plus, the white robes added a psych-ward feel, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought everyone was a raving lunatic.

We stayed overnight at the retreat, and the only noteworthy thing is that I spent a good half hour trying to capture this grasshopper/praying mantis/unidentified green bug in my room after it flew into my face.

I was honestly going to let it live, because I was feeling peaceful and what not, until it 
made a bee-line for my eyeballs. Bad choice.

The following morning, we ate breakfast – fresh mangoes, which are incredible here – and went to our final meditation session. It was quite the grand finale. 

After doing some boring floor exercises, we moved onto the active meditation, which has five stages. We started off by doing some more shaking/rapid breathing to music. Next up was 10 minutes of catharsis. Our instructor told us to “scream, cry, shout, do whatever you are feeling.” As the music began to change, signifying the second stage, a woman dropped to the floor and started sobbing. Then another woman started screaming at the top of her lungs. Within a few minutes, the whole room was a cacophony of screams, wails, curses and fists pounding against the floor, all while the music grew more frantic. 

Do you know that tunnel scene in Willy Wonka (Yes! The danger must be growing, For the rowers keep on rowing. And they're certainly not showing any signs that they are slowing!)
where it keeps getting more and more intense? It felt like that to me. One woman was even talking in tongues. It was overwhelming.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just watched and took it all in. I’m not an emotional person to begin with, so it would take a lot of practice for me to tap into my emotions on command. I wondered how these people could vent their frustrations in the same way every morning. Aren’t there some days when you just feel totally happy? Maybe this is a sign of how un-enlightened I am.

After that, everyone jumped up and down while shouting “Hoo!” almost like some kind of tribal ritual. Then came a totally silent period, and the last stage consisted of more dancing.

My first meditation experience has left me with mixed emotions. I caught a glimpse of what it’s like to lose yourself and achieve total relaxation, and I liked what I felt. I might try it again someday, but I don’t think I’ll be going back to Osho Tapoban any time soon.