Oh my Holi...we're almost at the end!

This past weekend was Holi...a massive festival in the Hindu world. It's called the Festival of Color...and boy was it. Basically, take bags and bags of colored powder, water balloons, water pistols, or any other kind of water distribution device (hoses and buckets included) and mix them all together with lots and lots of people and you have Holi. I spent Saturday running around the village with the other volunteers in a full staged color war against all the kids and a few fun-loving parents. By midday there was not a centimeter of my body that was not completely colored with the entire spectrum of the rainbow. And my legs were quite tired from full-scale sprinting after children, around houses, through fields of wheat and corn, and up into trees to cover them as thuroughly as possible. To finish off the day, and get some much needed rest and relaxation, the volunteers along with some of our Nepali friends headed down to the river (a walk which included further coloring of everyone we passed, as well as ourselves getting sprayed silver and gold by a group of revellers passing by on their motorcycles) where we spent the rest of the day having a few beers (ok, a lot of beers), singing, and, as it is every Nepali's favorite thing to make westerners do, dancing. A great way to end an absolutely amazing day. Holi is, by far, the best festival ever. All the volunteers have agreed that it is defintely something that should be instituted worldwide. And, it goes for two days! Sunday brought more color, more water, and more "Happy Holi" shouts filling the village. And many many showers trying to get all the color off at the end (I have washed my hair three times now and still have red and green streaks throughout, as well as down my arms and legs). For me, however, the end of the weekend brought a bit of a shock realization...I'm almost finished here. Holi was the last thing on my calendar before I leave PadamPokhari. It was the perfect way to end my time here, but also brings the sadness of leaving. This morning was my final class with my morning group and tomorrow will be my final class under the temple tree (those kids, the village kids, who have been a major part of my daily life, will be the hardest to part from). I don't think it's possible to summarize my time here. To put down just a few concluding statements wouldn't do justice to everything I've seen, done, and felt in my time in this village. I am forever indebted to everyone who's path I have crossed during my stay here and I can only hope that my footprint on their trail has had as much of an effect on their journey as theirs has on mine. Wednesday morning I will leave PadamPokhari and head back to Kathmandu where I will stay for about 10 days before leaving Nepal and going to India. I could never say good-bye to these people and this place, so, for now, "Pheri butala PadamPokhari. Ma tappaailai maya garchu!" will have to do. Next up...Kathmandu!

The rollercoaster week...

Hello all...well this week has been so all over the place, mentally and emotionally, that I don't really know where to begin or really how to summarize it all...so I guess, I'll just start from the beginning. The start of the week was pretty much filled with some of my last classes at the local school. Exams begin this coming week and so we just concentrated mostly on working with the students preparing for their English exams...Which included a practice exam for grade 8, and the following nights being consumed with grading the 44 exams. Favorite moment: grading the exam of one of my best students who in the essay portion, wrote his essay on his favorite book...the English Dictionary. Ha! Awesome...that little nerd never ceases to impress me :) With Wednesday came the national holiday of Shivaratri. The day began with celebrations at the local Hindu temple and women lining up early in the morning at the temple to pray for a good husband. Because apparently this was a particularly auspicious day to do this. Mothers waited with their daughters outside the temple for a chance to enter and make offerings to ensure a good match for the young girls. The rest of the day was filled with more celebrations at the temple and a county-wide volleyball tournement. Highlight match: the Police team vs. the Maoist team...brilliant! It was by far the best match of the day and you could really feel the underlying political tension throughout the crowd. In the end, the Maoists totally blew the Police out of the water and it was quite amusing to see the Maoist team riding off on their motorcycles, one clinging to the commically large winner's check. Wednesday night was filled with more music and dancing at the temple as well as a few older gentlemen and teen boys taking part in the tradition of "getting closer" to the god Shiva (whos birthday it was we were celebrating) by way of his favorite activity...smoking the mary-jane. Thursday was a typical village day, a few were slow to recover from the previous night, but life was back to normal. That is, until Thursday evening when our village was struck with tradgedy. On that night, a young girl in our village decided to take her life. A poisonous liquid was used and, convulsing and foaming at the mouth she was raced to hospital. She was dead before they got her there. Her name was Kamala...she was 13 years old. I am still struggling to come to terms with it all, especially in the face of a people who seem so matter of fact about the whole situation. It really makes you realize how much these people suffer through when they can be so accepting of death. Even my young students know what happened and seem fully understanding of the whole situation. It's just quite jarring to have anyone, let alone kids, speak so frankly and unemotionally about death. This sad event was soon followed on Friday by my last day at the local school. And, again, I still have conflicting emotions here as well. The day itself was lots of fun with singing and dancing in the classes and enjoying my final time with these amazing students. And it really hit me as I walked home from school that that was the last time I would leave that campus, the last time I would make that walk surrounded by all those wonderful kids, the last time that little girl would walk me the whole way to my house, her little hand grasped firmly around my pinkie finger. Part of me knows it's time to move on, and the other part of me is quite sad to go. It was definitely time for a nice break after such a long week, and that's what I got with my journey to the jungle this weekend. I spent two nights in an amazing resort (i.e. it had western toilets and a hot hot shower!) and filled the days with canoe rides, jungle walks, bird watching, cultural shows, and a safari through the jungle on an elephant's back. Animals seen: lots of birds (mostly kingfishers), crocodiles, many many deer, a wild boar (who went crashing into a group of deer with all the style and grace of Pumba from the Lion King), and, best of all, on our elephant ride, we came across a napping mother rhino with her baby. We watched them for a while before they roused themselves, stood up, stretched a bit, and then lumbered off. Pretty cool. But, as all good things must come to an end, so ends the weekend and now I am back in the city, waiting for the bus back out to my village. I have about two and a half weeks left in Padam Pokhari...I really can't believe it's almost over! I don't know how I am going to even begin to say good-bye to this place. I'm not sure good-bye will be possible...I think the best i'll be able to manage is a "see you later".

A busy week...

Namaste! This week has been pretty full on. It began with the arrival of Stevie the Stomachbug. I was the lucky first stop on his village tour. It was not a pleasant stay, at least on my end. It seems like he was having a grand old time. Luckily, for me, he only stuck around for a couple days. But, unfortunately for the other volunteers, his friends quickly took up residence in them. It has now made a complete circulation of our house and, knock on wood, we think the party is now over, with five westerners now recovering strongly. This week at school has been pretty hectic with students preparing for final exams. You can feel the end-of-school excitement in the air and the kids are definitely getting a bit crazy (more so than usual). But, it seems that in class more and more students are beginning to buckle down and work hard. Wow, tests are coming up soon, maybe I should pay attention and learn something. Haha. And, apparently, my time at a Nepalese school would not be complete without some bloodshed. Earlier this week one of my favorite little 3rd graders, Assis, (it's always the cute ones!) was sitting quietly at his desk when one of the other boys in class decided to whack him across the face with his backpack. Luckily it wasn't anything to hard or heavy, but the zipper caught Assis on the forehead and, as foreheads do, began to bleed quite profusely. And, as I'm becoming quite the pro with this whole blood thing, my hand was quickly there applying pressure and helping him out to the teacher's lounge. Two male teachers who were on break at the time (wait! teachers sitting around doing nothing at a Nepalese school!?!? No! Say it ain't so! haha), they got out the first aid kit (which clearly hadn't been used or restocked since the 70s) and began fumbling through it trying to find something I could use. They were able to find little bits of cotton, which were completely soaked with poor Assis' blood by the time they could find the next one. But, as it was a pretty small cut, I got it under control soon enough and had him cleaned up with a band-aid slapped on and back in class before the other teachers could figure out what some of the things in the kit were (it was as if they had never seen one before and were quite fascinated by some of it's contents. Assis was quite the trooper. And I spent the rest of the period trying to wash the blood out of his tiny little school shirt and then drying it in the sun because the wet shirt was, as he quite firmly told me, "chiso cha!" (too cold!) So ya, it's been a full week, but definitely always bringing more excitement. Oh, and a quick plug before I rush off...If you read just one book this year, make it SOLD by Patricia McCormick. It is a quick read but such an amazingly beautiful story. She is dead on with her descriptions of people and places. It will give you an excellent idea of what the area of the world I'm living in is like and some of the sadness these people see in their lives. I could not recommend a book more.

A small note about the concert...

So, the Bryan Adams concert was absolutely amazing. I would honestly see him again (even at western prices). But what made the experience even more incredible was this...I had no idea what a big deal this concert was to Nepal. And not just that the people here totally love him, which they do...it was a big deal on a larger scale. This was the first concert of a western artist in Nepal...EVER. This country has never had any act from outside the eastern world (i.e. there have been a few shows from Nepali, Indian, and Japanese groups, but that's it). So this was a massive moment in Nepali cultural history. And I got to be a part of it. The whole feeling of the crowd and the energy that he brought to the stage was so powerful. Deffinitely "a night to remember...January, to December"

Megan Live in Nepal

Namaste from Kathmandu...I am back for a quick visit to this wonderful city that, I have recently realized, I really love. The three other volunteers in the village and myself took the long and bumpy bus ride up for a weekend in the city for a few reasons. Firstly, most of us need to visit the immigration office (of which there isn't one in the lower half of the country) in order to extend our visas. Mine expires next week (I still can't believe I've been here nearly three months!) Secondly, and frankly the more important reason for our visit, haha, is to see Bryan Adams Live in Nepal! Yes, Bryan Adams (of "Summer of '69" fame) is playing one concert in Nepal before he heads back to the States and, through our Nepali contacts, we were able to get tickets. I probably wouldn't even go if it was back home, but to see an act like that, in the middle of a country like this, and for that price (i.e. CHEAP!), how could you pass it up? And thirdly, I think we all just needed a good break. I know that just after this past week, I definitely needed to get away for a bit. It began with Valentine's Day, and while the holiday is not really celebrated here, most kids were well aware of the western tradition and there just seemed to be something in the air that day that just had everyone at the school running amuck. To add to this, multiple events this week added to my frustration and, to be honest, growing disgust, with the Nepali education system. Corporal Punishment is still alive and rampant, with teachers (and even some students) now encouraging us to "beat" students that misbehave. And, as many times as I've seen a child hit with a stick or slapped across the face, I still cringe every time. Then, on Wednesday, the school principal was in our year 8 class to explain their upcoming exam to the students (what sections will cover what topics [grammar, spelling, etc.] and how many points each portion will be worth). The written English exam is worth 70 points and the Listening and Speaking portion is worth 30 points...although, it doesn't matter how they do on this second portion as it doesn't count into whether they pass or not (excuse me!?! It doesn't matter if a student can actually understand and speak English in an English exam?!?) No, all that matters is the written portion, worth 70 points. They need 22 points to pass. 22! Out of 70! For those of you playing at home, that's about 31% Are you freaking kidding me??? No wonder you have kids in year 8 and 9 that don't understand the language. And the principal told us that 75% of the students will NOT pass. (Now what does this tell you about your teaching, sir?) Then, after he had written all the exam sections on the board and how many points they were each worth, he asked the students how many points they felt they could get on each portion. Huh? The first part they guessed maybe half (4/8). On the second section, he didn't even wait for their answer. He wrote a big fat zero next to it and said aloud "they will not get any on this section" (What?!? Nice positive encouragement for your students there, sir!) By this point I was fuming and I'm sure it showed on my face. He turned and asked me what I thought. I said flat out "No! No 4, no 0. They should be trying for..." at which point I went down the list stating the highest possible points for each section. How do you encourage your pupils to try for only 50%, or, worse, 0%! On top of it all, we've spent the week taking other teachers' classes because they find it more important to sit outside in the schoolyard, reading the newspaper or talking with other teachers. I guess, on the plus side, we know that when we're in a class rather than their actual teacher, at least those students won't be getting a beating. But yes, it was a long, emotionally and mentally exhausting week. A break was definitely needed. Oh! And I didn't even mention the extremely drunk old man who stumbled into our year 5 class and started passing out candy to the kids! Well, that is a story for another time. Right now, I'm off to Bryan Adams..."Got my first real six string, bought it at the five and dime..."

Namaste from Narayangarh

Hello all from the lovely city of Narayangarh...and by "lovely city" I mean congested, single road town that serves as the bus hub for all traffic in and out of Chitwan. But it has a few stores and as our home has been out of toilet paper for three days now, necessity called for a trip into town. And so here I am. The past week has been pretty routine with teaching and daily life. There was one tragic passsing...Bessy, my beloved mode of transport each morning suffered a blow to the tire and has now been put out to pasture. And so I have begun a new journey...with Bertha. And quite frankly, it's just not the same. She is smaller, and therefore more difficult to ride. And does not take direction well, sending me into a rocky revine on one occassion. And if you think a grown woman standing in the middle of the road yelling at a bike sounds a bit strange, just imagine what all the locals working out in thier fields must have thought. But other than that, things continue to go quite well and each day I see new growth in my students which gives me further encouragement. There is one little boy in the village who, when I arrived, could not speak a word of English, and would constantly speak to me in Nepali as if I understood everything he was saying. But now, after talking with me and a few of the other volunteers for the past few weeks, he is slowly begining to learn the language. The other day, passing his house, and hearing him say "Hello Megan, how are you?" was like music to my ears. Definite growth! My cultural experience for the week came in the form of Puja, a Hindu ceremony marking the anniversary of a relative's death. A year ago, the father of the family that I am staying with passed away and, since then, the family has been in a period of what we would call mourning. The family was "juto" or contaminated in a sense. There were things they were not allowed to do or eat due to this for the whole year. But, in the Puja, a priest comes, offerings are made to the many gods, and the family is clensed of juto. It was definitely an interesting ceremony, long (i.e. 6 and a half hours in the scorching sun), but interesting. Over 200 people visited throughout the day, coming and going as the ceremony was taking place, and they all took part in the massive amounts of food served up by the family and their volunteers (i.e. we were the wierd white people carrying food...lots of strange looks from little old ladies). And when the ceremony was over, the dancing began. Drumming and dancing and singing. We were told that it would go on all night and the tradition is to dance until sunrise. Being quite tired by about 9pm, and having to teach early the next morning, the volunteers all left. And, I must admit, I assumed "we will dance all night" was a bit of an exageration. But sure enough, when I woke up at 3am, I could hear the drums still banging away on the other side of the village. They definitely know how to keep a party going here. And now a new week begins. I've been told we might have another public holiday this week...this is the land of public holidays...but we usually don't know until the kids at school tell us "no school tomorrow!" when we try to give homework. But for now, I am off to get the oh so needed toilet paper. Namaste :)

I'm back :)

I know, I know...it's been a while since I've written...it's also been a while since I didn't have to use a flashlight to go to the toilet! We are all just pons in the games played by the electricity gods here in Nepal :) But life continues on here, power or no power (this doesn't seem to be much of a problem for the villagers, as they pretty much still live a pre-electricity life, save for a few village women who seem a bit aggitated when they don't get to watch their Indian soaps on the tiny tv that they crowd around in their gathering area)...I have started teaching at the local public school and initially, found it quite overwhelming. The school I taught at in Pokhara had all of 80 students (making the largest class I had about 12 kids)...where as here, the school has over 600 and all the classes I teach have at least 35 students. Which, when you tell them to read a passage and they all begin to read, out loud, at different paces, can get quite loud. And no, they don't seem to understand what "read to yourself" means. But, after getting over the initial shock of it all, I've settled in a bit and am really enjoying it. And, as you would expect from so many kids, there is the typical range of students, from the teachers pet to the group of boys sitting in the back of the class, scarves wrapped around their heads, way too cool for school. But, slowly, I am getting to know them all, trying to memorize their names (NOT EASY) and really loving the time I spend with them. And they are all so eager to learn about me and where I come from. When I told a group of the year 8 boys that I live in Australia, they all went home and studied it that night and came back the next day with this massive list of facts memorized about Australia...many of which I didn't even know! (And yes, to all my Aussie friends, we will be celebrating Australia Day here on Wednesday...we have a full day of cricket playing and beer drinking planned). Outside of the village, I spent this past weekend in Lumbini, the birthplace of Buddha. And, after an exhausting 5 hour bus ride and a rickshaw excursion, I arrived in the most peaceful place I have ever experienced. At the center of the city is a temple which houses a stone that is encased in glass which marks the exact spot where Buddha's mother squatted down, grasping the low branches of a tree, and gave birth to the future god. The rest of the temple was filled with archeologists digging through piles of rubble and brushing away dirt from ancient bricks...I'm assuming to find the fossilized aforementioned tree branches with the gripping nail marks from the "peacefully blessed" event. The rest of the city is made up of temples and monastaries of Buddhists from all over the world, from Cambodia to Germany. On Friday night I stayed in the Korean Monastary, had dinner with the monks and got to sit in the temple and listen to their evening worship (quite a beautifully haunting experience...the dark temple illuminated by candlelight and the monks' chanting echoing throughout). And, at 250 rupees (just under $4) for a bed and two meals...best...deal...EVER! The next morning, as I walked around looking at the other monastaries, there was a thick layer of fog hanging in the air, making the whole atmosphere all the more mystical and peaceful. All in all it was a wonderful weekend. And now the week has begun again...more teaching, more rice eating (I'm actually beginning to crave the stuff), and, I'm sure, many more fun memories.

Running through villages and adventures in Kollywood

Namaste all! Things continue to go well here in Chitwan. The weather remains, for the most part, very cold and I look forward to the few hours of sunshine that we seem to get about every other day. I am feeling more and more comfortable in my little village here and have found that my novelty as "the foreigner" has, for the most part, worn off. People no longer stop and stare and kids no longer chase me down the street wanting to know my name, where I'm from, my father's name and my mother's name (strange questions, I know, but quite common here). No, now, they have asked all these things and everyone knows who I am. People now say hello and use my name, ask me how I am and where I am going. I feel like I have really become part of the community and that really feels nice. The only time this changes, however, is when I go running. One of two things happens when you go for a run through Padampokhari and the surrounding villages. If the villager is of the age of about 18 or older (and especially if they are female) they will look at you as if you are completely out of your mind. What in the world are you running for you odd odd person? their eyes seem to say. The idea of doing any kind of physical exercise for fun is completely lost on a people who's days are consumed by physical labor. However, if the individual is below 18, particularly those of the group of young boys just down the street, they will run out to the street, wave hello, cheer you on, and, quite frequently, try to race you. And when you are coming back from a long run, and that morning's dal batt is still sitting heavy in your stomach, sprinting against some of these boys of 10 or 11 years old can usually be quite defeating. But hey, I "let them win"...right? :) Two days ago I went into town with two other volunteers (Mitch and Katie) and one of our program coordinators (Bikash) to see a Kollywood movie. That's right, not Hollywood, not even Bollywood, but the Nepalese cinematic genre of Kollywood. We saw "Arrest", an action film starring Rajesh Hamal (the most famous of Kollywood actors, having apparently been in over 2000 films in his long career). He didn't have that much screen time, only a quick few minutes at the beginning and then coming in at the end to be the hero...quite a cush job. Anyway, the film was, well, comical to say the least. And yes, it was meant to be a serious action movie. None of us, save for Bikash, had a clue as to what was going on, but stayed thuroughly entertained throughout the show by the actors' cheesy expressions, constant overdone sound effects, hysterical dance sequences (which included some rather riaque clothing and dance moves [and somehow we western girls are the ones that are meant to be the sluts???] and rarely seemed to have anything to do with the movie [especially the final dance number of the movie which was set to, the only english we heard for the whole afternoon, Simon & Garfunkle's "Cecelia"]), fight scenes that looked so fake (including a man getting both arms cut off but you could clearly see his arms folded up under the "blood stained" shirt), and a girl falling into the same river twice and flailing around as if drowning only to be saved by a man who picks her up and walks out of the knee deep water (and the first time she is rescued, she emerges from the water with the lower half of a white fish flopping around out of her mouth...absolutely hilarious, and possibly a 'had to be there' type of thing to get it, but I had to mention it as an example of the random nonsensicalness of Kollywood). All in all it was a two and a half hour cinematic experience (with intermission) that left us all laughing and utterly confused. So that's it for now from my little village by the jungle. Must sign off before the electricity decides to end this post for me. Namaste!

Namaste from Padampokhari

Well, after an early morning departure from Pokhara and a thankfully uneventful bus ride (save for an uncomfotably low ceiling that added new bruises to my head with every bump in the road...again, this country was not made for tall people)...I finally arrived in Chitwan and made it to the small village of Padampokhari. And after only two days I am already feeling quite settled and excited about the months ahead. I am living in 'The Library House', and quite appropriately for me, my actual bedroom is also the library itself...pleanty of fun reading to do. The house is run by the volunteer coordinator for the area and his mother who is an amazing cook and absolutely lovely lady who takes care of us all very well. The "us" I just mentioned is the three other volunteers who are working in the community...a 24 year old guy from Sydney, a 21 year old girl from London, and a 22 year old girl from Germany. The two girls are working in the local orphanage while the guy is the other teaching volunteer. It is quite an enjoyable group of people and we get on quite well, spending much of our free time engrosed in very competitive games of rummy and uno with our host and his friends as well as nightly bonfires made of hay and bamboo. The house we share is in the middle of our tiny little village and the village is in the middle of miles and miles of fields of crops. Mainly lentils, rice, beans, and mustard. We are an hour bus ride from the nearest city, and it definitely feels extremely remote, but it is so peaceful and there is a wonderful community feel within the village. As one of the locals said "We are close, we share everything. Happiness, sadness, we share." I am truly enjoying it here. And, to make the situation even better, the teaching placement I have here is amazing. In the mornings, I ride my wonderful bike "Bessy" (she's just like an old cow, big and clunky, but dependable), along the gravelly dirt roads to another village just 20 minutes away to a man's house. This man has set up a morning English session for some of the less fortunate kids of the local area (by less fortunate, I mean that this is a group of 18 kids who are all of the lowest caste or orphans and therefore cannot afford any other schooling). They range from 5-13 and we meet every morning in the attic space over this man's kitchen. And they are awesome! These kids are all so bright and desperately want to learn everything they can. It is so refreshing to have a group of kids who are all craving that knowledge. We meet for two hours every morning and after just two days I am already feeling like they are really learning and understanding a lot of what I am saying. After class in the morning, I head back home and have the whole midday free to explore the village and meet some of the people, all of whom are just so warm and welcoming. In two weeks time, once another volunteer who lives in another house in the area leaves, I will be taking her teaching position at a local school during the midday, but until then, I get to explore and learn more about my new home :) Then, in the evenings, the other teaching volunteer from Sydney and I run a two hour English tutorial for four little boys in our village (all about 10-12 years old). They are amazingly bright as well and they just pick up everything we teach so quickly. During this time, I have noticed some other children hanging around, trying to see what we are doing, especially some of the village girls. I think one of my first big projects here will be to try and get a group of girls to participate in these evening lessons as well. So that's life at the moment in Chitwan. I will definitely be taking the opportunity at some point while i'm here to visit the jungles and try and see some of the wildlife...but for now I am just loving my village, the people in it and all the wonderful kids that I get to spend time with every day.

Last one from Pokhara, pt 2

Just a quick couple updates on the education side of things here that have left me quite optimistic for the future education of the kids that I have been working with. Yesterday, the district supervisor came to assess some of the teachers at our school. During one of his breaks we got to talking and he asked me about my time in Nepal and what I thought about the school. And I was completely honest. I told him all my concerns and where and how I thought things could be improved. And he was quite impressed with everything I had to say...so much so that he had me sit in on all the evaluations of the day, give my opinions of the teachers, and even asked me to keep in contact with him to share future thoughts about how the schools in the district could improve. He really seems like he wants to make some good, positive changes, and that was quite uplifting to see. Then today, on my final day at the school, I had the chance to approach one of the head teachers to discuss one big concern...his physical abuse of the students. I asked him why he did it and if he really felt it was effective. I tried to convey, as nicely, but directly, as I could that it really is not acceptable to ever touch a child in such a manner and suggested several other ways to go about punishing children for their misbehavior (i.e. detention during playtimes or extra homework) but never, never hitting a child. I also tried to make him see how him showing that hitting was appropriate was not only physically hurting the children, but also setting an example for them that it was okay to hit others and showed how many of his students were running around the playground hitting each other. I honestly think he took this all to heart and he seemed sincere in his plans to do better in the future. Fingers crossed but I think I made some good progress. All in all it was a positive final two days in Pokhara...and now...off to Chitwan :)

One last one from Pokhara

Firstly...Happy New Year everyone! Some of you still haven't quite made it to 2011 yet, so let me tell you, from what I can see so far, it looks like it's going to be a great year. Here's hoping, right :) Okay, so like the title says, this is my last post to you all from the wonderful area of Pokhara. On Tuesday I will be heading off to the Chitwan region in southern Nepal to begin my next teaching placement. It's been a great month here in and around Pokhara and I am really looking forward to see what the next experience brings. But, so that it will not be easily forgotten, Pokhara definitely gave me an excitement filled final week. There was copious amounts of blood and pleanty of celebration (odd combination, I know, and I promise one wasn't because of the other). So here we go...my final week in Pokhara...Unfortunately, it began with some of the blood shedding. On Sunday, while at school, one of my favorite little three year olds, Amsita, was running across the campus, pencil in hand. And, as three year olds do, she tripped and fell. Sadly, this sent the pencil in her hand straight into her neck as she fell to the ground. And with that came the blood. Oh the blood, and the screaming. (Just as a side note to all those who might not know me that well, blood and I have a very shakey history...it's been a constant battle in my life and, for the most part, it has won...the sight of it frequently sending me into a nice little fainting spell crashing to the floor...However...somehow, thankfully...I was able to keep my head about me and stayed relatively calm in the situation.) So, with thumb pressed over the hole in her neck, and doing my best to keep the screaming and writhing girl as still as possible, I looked up to see the majority of the teaching staff staring back at me blankly. 'How close is the hospital?' I asked in my broken mixture of Nepali and English. Which prompted them to begin discussing amongst themselves whether or not she needed to go to the hospital!!! Do we need to take her to doctor? they asked me. Gee...I don't know...there is a little girl here whos white shirt is now mostly red, she is screaming in pain, and I have blood pumping out from between my fingers...I'm not sure...let's take our time and DISCUSS THIS FURTHER!!! Not that I really said this so angrily to them, but I think I tried to convey that yes, it was quite important to get her to the hospital now. So, one of the male teachers reached down, scooped her up, and headed towards the front of the school to catch a taxi into the city. Meanwhile, I was on his heels, trying to get across to him that he really shouldn't be swinging her around so much, try to keep her stable, and dear God keep your thumb over the wound (versus holding her away from your body and letting the blood flow)... I truly had fears, as the taxi drove away, that she wouldn't even make it to the hospital. My dreams that night were filled with Amsita's screaming face and, yes, blood. But fear not readers, the next morning that brave little soldier came marching into school, sucking on a lollipop and showing off her massive bandage. She was the center of attention and absolutely loved it. To the rest of the kids she was a hero. It was just wonderful to see her little smile again.
The first bit of celebration came later in the week when, as per Nepalese tradition, it was time for the daughter of the family I'm staying with to return to her home. In Nepal, when a woman has a baby, she goes and stays with her parents for 2 months so that they can help her take care of the child and give her a chance to rest from all her household duties. But, come this week, Didi's two months were up and so it was time for her and her children to return to the house that they share with her husband and his parents. The night before, many of the women in our village came over to our house and helped make multiple different kinds of fried breads. (Delicious to say the least) And we made piles and piles of them which Didi would take back and distribute to her husband's family and his entire village (kind of an extension of the dowry system is how it was explained to me). And so, the next day a group of us set out, with all the breads and all of Didi's luggage, on a trek back to her home. About a half hour walk it would be, I was told. (I have come to take any estimate of time I am given here with a massive grain of salt). The grueling uphill climb, loaded with bags of heavy luggage lasted over an hour. But she was returned to her home and then we returned to ours, where the other bloodshed for the week occured...
As a quick background, the family I am staying with belongs to the Brahmin caste. The highest level in the Nepalese caste system. And, as members of this caste, they are not allowed to kill an animal. (Older, more traditional members of the community won't even eat animal flesh, but the younger generations are a bit more liberal thinking and, really, when you reach a certain level of poverty, are you really willing to pass up any kind of food??) So, in the past, when the kids of the family were to eat chicken, a village member of a lower caste would have to kill it for them. However, on this occassion, no one else was around at the time that the family rooster was to be killed. And so, I was asked if I would (and I quote) "do the sacrifice of the coq". (Let us pause a moment to allow the extreme feminists of the world to let out a joyful cheer). And I, somewhat hesitantly, said I would. I was handed the large curved knife, the rooster was laid across a wooden plank, I held the head and the son held the body. (He can't kill it, but he was certainly willing to show me exactly where and how to do it, haha) And, after a few quick blows, the coq was beheaded and I sat, somewhat dazed, hands covered in blood for the second time that week. I was, however, rewarded for my bravery with large portions of the rooster meat at both dinner that night and breakfast the next morning.
And, to end the week on a high note, we celebrated, with the rest of the world, the ringing in of 2011. (While it's not technically the Nepalese New Year, which occurs in March and will be ringing in the year 2068 this year, the Nepalese people seem not to be ones to miss out on an opportunity to throw any kind of party) And celebrate they did. Pokhara has been having a large street festival all week and last night, New Years Eve, was the final night of jubilation and merriment. There were food stands galore, balloons, flashing lights, carnival games, and loud music pumping from all the clubs along the city's main street. To say it was a festive atmosphere would be quite an understatement. And even the constant rain that fell for the majority of the evening could not hinder the spirits of the locals or tourists who partied together into the wee hours of the morning. It was a wonderful evening, spent with good friends and good drinks.
And that is how I leave Pokhara...it has been an amazing ride thus far and I can't wait to see what's around the corner. See you in Chitwan :) Namaste!

Traditions of Christmas

As many of you know, I'm quite the fan of Christmas (to say the least). So, not surprisingly, a few of you were very shocked when you found out that I would be away during Christmas in a country that doesn't really celebrate the holiday at all. (To give some quick background here, Christianity doesn't even rank in the top 5 religions in Nepal. In a census of the population, Christians fall into the 1% of the country's people catagorized as "other"). But fear not, I was still able to maintain some of the religion's, and my own, Christmas traditions. To begin, we start with some Biblical similarities. There was a long journey from a small village to the town of Pokhara (insert Bethlahem here). Differently this time though, and thankfully, there was room at the inn. And an amazing hot shower which I'm pretty sure Mary would have appreciated and enjoyed as much as I did (I believe I emerged about 2 kilos lighter from all the dirt that was removed). And, as the story goes, there was livestock all around. (A cow is even meandering past the window as I write this.) And, well, thats about where the Biblical traditions end. Now on to more personal, familial traditions that I was still able to carry over. It started with a trip to church on Christmas Eve. I know! I actually found a church. About a half hour walk from town there was a small building serving the tiny Christian population of Pokhara (and, probebly many of the city's tourists). There was no service going on, but the lovely minister said we were more than welcome to stay a while and enjoy the decorations. (Let me break here to tell you that the Nepalese people, always wanting to please visitors, have gone out of their way in Pokhara to do up Christmas. I think they believe it is more of a party in the streets, festival type celebration than it really is. Most businesses in the tourist strip, especially restaurants, were filled with decor...balloons, streamers, lights and more tinsel than I've ever seen. Most of these were in anything but Christmas colors (i.e. lots of pastels), but the effort was there. I even saw a few waiters wearing santa hats!) But back to church...we stayed a while, prayed a bit, and then headed back to town for a Christmas Eve feast. Merry Christmas and Mexican food! Oh the food from the gods! Not really a family tradition but I think it's high time it became one :) And it was delicious, and actually came reletively close to tasting like authentic Mexican food. But anything smothered in the amount of cheese that these dishes were has my vote :) Then after being thuroughly stuffed (a grand and time honored Christmas tradition) we headed back to the hotel. There I got to open my one present (another family tradition)(it was actually just a piece of chocolate, but it was unwapping something, so I think it counts) and had a hot buttered rum delivered to my room (very Christmassy and the closest thing I was going to get to eggnog here). And that sent me it to a lovely sound sleep. I thoroughly enjoyed a "silent night". This morning I awoke and headed to the nearby bakery where I got my cinnamon roll (not fresh out of the oven and dripping in wonderful warm frosting like at home, but close). And now I sit here, eating my Christmas breakfast, looking out at the snowcovered mountains (hey! a white Christmas! something many of you only "dream of") and await wonderful discussion with family and loved ones. So that's it :) I hope you all are having a very Merry Christmas and all your traditions are being fulfilled as well.

What can you say when you shouldn't say anything?

I have seen a lot in my short time in Nepal. Far more, I believe, than the average tourist would see in double the time. Living with a native family and exposing yourself to the day to day ins and outs of the Nepalese lifestyle truly lets you in to the culture and shows you a more intimate side of life. With this comes great blessings. I have grown very close to the family I live with and many of the children at my school, my knowledge of the language has grown exponentially, and I have learned a great deal about things in life that I never even knew existed. However, with this intimacy comes exposure to some of the less pleasant things in life...things I never expected (naieve as it may have been) and don't really enjoy seeing (to put it lightly). Above all in this category is the somewhat overwhelming amounts of child abuse and endangerment that seems to be quite prevelant here. In the home (where a nightly ritual has the baby screaming for ages), at school (where physical punishments seem to be the norm), even on the streets (where riding with your child on your lap while speeding down the street on the back of a motorcycle is typical). It is far from anything I have ever experienced and beyond what I was raised to believe is acceptable. In fact, I have spent most of my teen and early adult years working and volunteering with agancies and foundations that fight this kind of treatment of children. The whole reason I'm in Nepal in the first place is to help better the lives of children. So what does one do when you come from a culture where beating a child is punishable by jail time and go to a culture where it is not only accepted, but a large part of some of their most traditional events? As an outsider, it is not really my place to step in. Or is it? They truly believe that much of this abuse will make the child stronger (as for the motorcycle incidents, I think it must be purely for convenience). But for the other bits, they do believe it is for the child's own benifit. And, with years and years of these techniques behind them, they do have plenty of evidence on their side. They all seem to grow up to be quite strong individuals. But I would hope that this could be achieved without the brutal attacks throughout childhood. However, as visitors, are we right to step in? Or do we accept it as a piece of the culture that we must respect as their own? I must say it is quite difficult to hear the nightly screams of the baby, or watch the child being slapped at school, and keep quiet. Very difficult.

We're going on a picnic!

"Alright boys and girls, we're going on a picnic tomorrow. Remember to back your sack lunches with your peanutbutter and jelly sandwich, a few carrot sticks, a couple chocolate chip cookies and a juice box. And please remember to write your name on the outside of your sack. The bus will be here in the morning to drive us to the (park/beach/zoo etc.) so don't be late. Oh and make sure your parent has signed the permission slip." That's a picnic right? At least the ones I knew growing up. We let me tell you, boys and girls, that is NOT the way they do picnics in Nepal. A Nepalese school picnic is unlike anything I had or, I'm sure I can safely say, any western school kid has ever experienced. It started early yesterday morning when all the younger kids (this picnic was for the younger half of the school, so kids aged 3-9) and the teachers met at the front of the school. It was actually quite interesting to see all the kids without their uniforms on (casual day for picnic day you see). Many of them I barely recognized they looked so different. We then set about collecting the necessary items for the picnic from the schoolyard and surrounding homes. This included (and this is where things start to get real different) pots, pans, buckets, bags of food (and I mean massive shopping bags, no brown paper bags here) and loads of wood (for the fire of course!). We then loaded it all onto, nope, not the bus, ourselves. And then set out for the picnic site. The spot for the picnic turned out to be a mountain top about a half hour walk from the school. Imagine if you will a parade of youngsters and their teachers all carrying loads of assorted goods, weaving their way through villages and over rockpiles. Even the little ones joined in, carrying one large pot between two kids. Then we got to the mountain and had to scale, again with arms full of very heavy, in my case, wood, up the mountain to where our picnic would be. And there was no trail to speak of. It was a clammouring through brush and ocassionaly stumbling upon a few stones that seemed to form a few steps. Not an easy task with loaded arms and three year olds to look after. But we finally made it. I threw down my bag of wood and rejoiced that we had finally made it. Getting to a Nepalese picnic is, well, no picnic. I even had a chance to look around at the beautiful scenery...these people sure can choose a good location...before I heard "Megan, come for pani!" (water). Yes, we had gotten everything up the hill, including empty buckets which all the women, including myself and Jana, had to carry back down to the nearby village, fill with water, and carry back up to the picnic site. What else were we going to drink and cook with. I think that mountain grew about a mile higher when I returned with my bucket full of water (to be honest, by the time I got to the top it was really more like half full and must of my clothes were quite soaked from all the spillage). And now, the cooking began, also the women's work. We peeled and chopped our way through piles of peas, potatoes, tomatos, ginger, garlic, onions, and radish while the male teachers prepared the fire. In the massive pot it all went along with (praise the Lord!) chicken! The first meat i've had since I left home I think. And while this was all cooking, the massive speaker, which one of the teachers had also carried all the way up the mountainside, began playing music and the kids were dancing their little hearts out. And the teachers all joined in as well. It was mostly Nepali folk and pop music, but then something came on that completely threw me...Folks, I have spent the past year in the Western world doing my best to avoid hearing anything by this artist. I knew his name and had heard a short clip on the news of his hit sing, but was able to avoid any further exposure...but here, on a mountain in the middle of Nepal, Justin Beiber finally caught up with me. And the kids loved him! The song played at least seven times throughout the day and it was so funny to watch them all dance and "sing along" to words they didn't even understand. So we danced and ate and danced and ate some more. At one point while we were all eating some of the best veggie curry and coconut fried rice I have ever had, the school principle came up and filled mine and Jana's glasses with what, to me, appeared to be apple juice. Without a second thought I downed about half of it in one gulp. Ladies and gentlemen, rather than the expected apple juice, I now had a mouthful of pure, straight up whiskey! Quite shocking when you're not expecting it and I provided all the teachers with quite a laugh. They all were thuroughly enjoying the two litre Mountain Dew bottle full of the stuff being passed around their little circle for the rest of the day :) Guess teachers need a little pick-me-up on Picnic Day. And then came the clean up. No just throwing your brown bag in the nearby trashcan. We had to wash all pots, pans, and utinsils, and then burn the pile of rubbish that we had left over (mostly the paper plates we ate off). And then, as the sun began to set, we headed back to school. At least the load heading back was a bit lighter as we had cooked, eaten, or burned most of what we took with us. As we walked, the snow on the mountains that surrounded us began to change to lovely hues of orange and pink. Absolutely incredible. So that was picnic day. Completely exhausting, but also totally fun. Namaste from Sarangkot :)

Rice and a little bit of learning...

Hello again all...I am writing today from the lovely community of Lakeside in Pokhara. After nearly a week of village living I finally have the chance to come down and be a bit more connected to the world. So here we go... Well, as much as you read about and feel you are prepared for what comes with living the rural life, nothing can prepare you for the reality. It is definitely rough. And I am staying in one of the nicer homes in the area. We have electricity (occasionally) and a water tap within walking distance. But mind you, this water is very cold, coming from the melting snow of the mountains above us, and provides for a very shocking experience upon washing one's hair early in the morning. I now undrestand why the monks here shave their heads...long tresses do not serve for the easiest of upkeeps in these conditions. And it is these small, everyday menial tasks which I am quickly coming to realize I have severely taken for granted in my posh little suburban life. Things like cooking and cleaning can take up the majority of a housewife's day when you can't just throw the clothes in the washing machine or chuck the rice into some boiling water. (There is a great deal more work to getting rice to the state where you can put it in said boiling water than I ever realized.) But, as rice and I do not have the greatest of friendships at the moment, I won't comment much more on its making. Yes, after a week of nothing but dal batt for breakfast and dinner my stomach has finally held a strong protest and battled on through the night for the right for familiar food. Yes ladies and gentlemen, the infamous "Delhi Belly" has struck. And if you think the average case of food poisoning (not that this is poisoning, but similar enough) is bad when you have all the luxeries of your modern western toilets, I can promise you it is no walk in the park when all you have is a hole in the ground. I have become well aquainted with the family's squat toilet and I hope not to meet under such cercumstances again. (Here's to wishful thinking). But other than that, village life goes on and I am enjoying getting to know all its little interesting details. The school I'm teaching at is also quite different than anything i've ever experienced. What these children have in location (the views from the schoolyard and many of the classrooms are absolutely spectacular...scenic vistas of snow covered mountains with a center focus on Anapurna, the second highest mountain in Nepal) they do, unfortunatly, lack in educational structure and content. The teachers here seemed to be quite impressed by the neatness of a child's handwriting and not at all concerned with the fact that there is very little being taught. Sadly, the children of the area learn much more about the art of copying than anything else. They know how to read and how to write (quite well actually and at a very young age, with the 3 year olds at the school writing perfect letters A-Z and numbers too) but there is very little understanding behind what is being read or written. This is unfortunate when you consider the fact that very few jobs in this world will ask you to read a passage and then answer questions about the passage by filling in the missing word (simply find the sentence in the passage that seems to match the question, find the missing word, and copy it down). To show some fairness, the school has only been teaching English for the past two years, so it is a very new medium. But there doesn't seem to be much hope for improvement when you consider that all the teachers at the school once attended the school, making this methodology all they know, and that the teachers who claim to be "English teachers" can barely understand the language themselves. A simple question such as "How many classes do you teach?" or "How far away do you live?" seems to send some of them into a fit of questioning looks. But through this frustration comes a few glimmers of hope in the rare student that seems to really grasp what you are saying and shows a desire to learn more. The real challenge at the moment comes in trying to asses at what level each student is (age or "grade level" apparently has no importace here) and figuring out how to go from there. But all we can ask for is baby steps and pray that something, somewhere along the line, gets through to assist the learning of just a few kids. My biggest hope, at this point, is even if I don't teach them any English (to the point of usefullness) maybe they can start to think for themselves, rather than just repeating the cycle of mindless copying. Fingers crossed...week two, here we go :) Namaste!

Hello from the top of the world

I am sitting here looking at mountain tops that stretch on into the ditance, as far as the eye can see and know that I am completely romoved from everything I once knew...to say that my placement is remote might even be considered an understatement...to locate where I am on a map, well, you can't...the closest approxomation I can give you is if you find Pokhara on a map...then take an hour long taxi ride into the mountains northeast of the city...there you find a small town called Sarangkot...from there it is a half hour hike up rockslide formed hills to reach the tiny house where I am located...this computer I am using, found in a small guest house just north of Sarangkot, is the sole and only computer within an hour of where I am living...so yes, remote is the word. I am staying with a middleaged mother and father, their daughter, and her two sons (who are living there while the daughter's husband is "away", working somewhere I believe). They are all quite lovely and very welcoming. There is also another volunteer living with us who is teaching at the same school. Her name is Jana and she is a 20 yr old from Germany. So far I'm still trying to get used to everything...and after only one day of dal batt for both meals, I know I'm going to be real sick of rice by the end of this, haha :) But yes, I am okay...just trying to figure everything out and hoping I pick up the laguage quickly..it will be a great help...but for now...must head off before the sun sets...no electicity up here :) Namaste!

Ask and yea shall recieve...

So, after many requests by friends and family, an unfortunately expensive trip to the camera store (in getting my pictures placed on CDs from my camera, I forgot all about the multiple videos that I had taken and those were therefore transferred as well, leading to way too many CDs made), and now at my third internet cafe (having to migrate due to the power crashing in each one midway through my visits), I have finally been able to upload some pictures. So...if you scroll to the bottom, you will be able to catch just a glimpse of my life here in Nepal thus far. And enjoy these pictures and messages while you can. As of tomorrow I will be transferring to my first placement and I am really not sure as to the frequency with which I will be able to communicate with the outside world. For the next two months I will be in a village outside the town of Pokhara (basically the exact flip-side of Nepal from Kathmandu). I will then move on to Chitwan (an area just along the center of the Indian border) for the second half of my stay here. So an early rise for me in the morning with a 7-9 hour bus ride (depending on traffic) to follow. Hopefully I can write again soon...Namaste!