In Hopes of Leaving Kathmandu

It's everywhere: More filth than I've ever seen.  I can't get used to it. I don't want to get used to it. I've never been so eager to get out of a city. 

There is trash - piles of it - on every corner and in every gutter. The sidewalk is often 4 feet above the street, and the trash pile attains at least the 3-foot mark. The smell is suffocating.  I fight the urge to throw up every time we reach the main road.
 

My only hope is in the Himalayas. I know things will be much different there.  I can handle few amenities: no hot water, dirt floors, a simple mattress on the floor to sleep on, rice & lentils three times a day.  But I absolutely cannot warm up to the trash.  One volunteer - a girl from Perth, Australia - has been here a week or two and said yesterday, "Oh, you get used to it. After a while the trash doesn't really bother you so much."

I'd rather not wait and find out.  After my one-week intensive language course, I will be so glad to get out of Kathmandu and fly up to Lukla in the high Himalayas.  From there it's not a 2-hour trek to the monastery, as originally suggested, but rather a 4-hour trek.  I'm happy to hear we'll be even more removed from the incessantly littering public.

First Night in Kathmandu

A girl came to open the door for Mr. Bhagwan and I when we arrived at the hostel nearing 11 pm on Saturday.  Her name is Alex; she's from Sydney, Australia, and we share a room in the hostel.  It's a hostel solely for volunteers, and Alex is on her way out.  She's been here six weeks, working in an orphanage.  Today was her last day, and when she tells me how hard it was to leave those kids, I can see genuine love and care in her eyes.  Tomorrow is her birthday - she'll have drinks with friends in Thumel, the tourist part of Kathmandu - and then the next day she leaves to trek up to Everest base camp alone.  

"Alone!" I almost squealed in surprise.
"Yeah," she said in her no-worries-mate Australian accent, "hundreds of people are up there trekking each day; you can't get lost, and if your bag is light enough there's no need to pay a porter. You could easily do it!" 

It wasn't part of the original plan, but I'm thinking about it now. It would be a shame not to try, since I'll be living in a monastery so close by.  It wouldn't be like the 4-day backpacking trip I took with my dad & family friends a few years ago up the Lost Coast in Northern California.  We packed in all the gear we'd need for the entirety of the trip -- sleeping bags, tents, food, cooking equipment, etc.  No need for any of that here, since there are tea houses and hotel/hostels along the way which house trekkers and provide meals.  I can imagine I'd meet some incredible people along the way.

Alex borrows some of my intensely concentrated mosquito repellent to resolve the cause of her insomnia tonight, and we finally go to bed. Though I slept the better part of my past 32 hours of traveling, somehow I'm still tired and fall asleep almost immediately. It's warm, really warm, and I'm wearing long pants - nurse's scrubs, since they're functional, multi-purpose, and affordable - and a long-sleeve Under Armour top.  In the same 85-degree night in the U.S., I'd strip down to shorts and a loose tee, but I'm more concerned about protecting myself from mosquitos and other bugs than almost anything else tonight. 

Stray dogs bark all through the night. Around 4 am one of them starts so loudly that, judging by the sound coming through the open screened windows in our room, I'm almost certain that he's sitting on the veranda right outside.  The sun comes up around 5:30 and what starts with the loud sound of construction nearby and a few scattered voices morphs into a growing din of city life - traffic, horns, children crying and laughing, kitchen utensils, brooms sweeping...  It's Sunday, a work day in Nepal. 

Arriving

It was warm when I stepped off the plane. Like most Asian airports at night, the Kathmandu terminal was dimly lit and sparsely populated.  I filled out a visa application and watched as it, along with my passport and receipt for $100 visa fee, was passed down the line from one immigration officer to the next.  They joked and laughed among themselves, largely disregarding me, and plopped my passport down at the end of the counter without so much as looking up.

Having collected my checked pack from the baggage claim, I walked out to the taxi waiting area to look for a driver with my name on a plaque.  I doubled back 2 or 3 times to make sure I hadn't missed him, all the while politely declining a long list of services offered to me by other drivers.  I finally stopped walking, not quite sure what to do next since my driver was nowhere to be seen, and I was suddenly surrounded by no less than 12 Nepali men eager to help, all talking at once in a mixture of English and Nepali. Four of them were policemen and all were shorter than me.  I hesitated, but since I didn't have a cell phone that worked yet, I finally acquiesced and pulled out my list of contact numbers for the policeman who offered his cell phone.  He held it up and the rest of the men gathered around behind him, all studying my paper.  I learned long ago not to expect any level of privacy in Asia, and was somewhat thankful that neither my passport no., social security number or bank account were printed on that sheet. 

I was the center of intense curiosity as I tried to get in touch with Hom. But the connection was so bad, I couldn't even understand when he finally answered.  Four times I started to talk before the call was dropped almost immediately.

They kept asking me what hotel or tour company I was with, and though I imagined it might help find my driver, I was hesitant to respond because I'd just come in with a tourist visa, under which volunteer work is strictly prohibited.  I finally confided in one young man, who persistently asked me to identify some kind of company or individual.  "I don't know what the company is called in Nepal, but in the U.S. it's called IFRE - they planned the whole trip for me."
"Oh! IFRE! You're a volunteer! I know your driver, his name is Mr. Bhagwan and he's my friend. I'll call him now."
When the call was made & Mr. Bhagwan's location confirmed, I was glad I took the risk of accepting help from a stranger.

Once in the micro-van with Mr. Bhagwan, I was surprised to find that they drive on the left side of the road in Nepal, like in India.  Though it was dark, I could make out lots of trash alongside the roads.  As we emerged from the outskirts of the city and made our way into the city, an overpowering smell of urine penetrated the vehicle.  We dodged various trucks, cars, and motorcycles, nearly missing two cows that were laying, totally relaxed, in the middle of what we'd call a highway in the U.S.

Traffic started to build behind one car up ahead. It stood out because it was a nice, full size Jeep - not a miniature vehicle like all the rest.  As we passed it, I noticed the red diplomatic plates and had a flashback to being picked up from the airport in Russia just last February.  Of course traffic was building behind that car. I know from experience that diplomatic cars are the only ones who even attempt to respect traffic laws. Arriving in Nepal as a diplomat would include a certain sense of security; the scene of my airport pickup in St. Petersburg was literally me stepping away from the customs desk, taking one step into the arrival hall, being approached immediately by a consulate representative, and whisked away immediately into an atmosphere where everyone spoke English and everything about the American way of life was understood and appreciated. I didn't really even have the opportunity to get outside my comfort zone that first day.  How different my experience in Nepal has been already!  I'll always remember the response I got when I said to the policeman who tried to help me, "Okay sir, thank you so much for your offer to help, but I really don't have any money. I couldn't pay for your services."
"Don't worry, Ma'am, don't worry! This is Nepal!  You are safe in Nepal and the people are very friendly. No need to pay. Never pay police, never pay. We here to help you."

And that they did.

"Please leave your expectations at home"...

These are the final words my Nepali program coordinator said as he wrapped up the international call yesterday.  It had to be 4 am his time, so I was touched that he made the effort to touch base with me again right before I left.  

I'm sure he's used to airport visits in Kathmandu to pick up shell-shocked westerners who've never traveled in Asia before. Some are devastated as the reality of third world living conditions surpass their preconceptions of what has often become, in America at least, a somewhat romanticized view of developing countries. 

So I took Hom's request to heart and - though I genuinely have no expectations for anywhere I travel - have prepared myself for the worst.  Which is pretty bad, considering some of the conditions I've endured in the past.  I think that having spent time in Asia in the past will prove to be helpful in adapting to my new lifestyle. I'm sitting in the airport in Guangzhou, China right now. It's funny how everything about the Chinese way of doing things, which once seemed so strange and foreign, feels familiar and even a little comforting on my second visit - as this is just a stop on my way to somewhere even more unknown.  

A rule of traveling in Asia is that you will encounter some unforeseen circumstance.  This time, it's my flight itinerary. It didn't specify the date I would arrive in Kathmandu, only the time. I must have miscalculated, because I'm arriving an entire day earlier than expected. Crossing the date line always makes things complicated.  Fortunately, Guangzhou has free airport wifi, but unfortunately you need a valid Chinese cell phone number to retrieve the password. I employed the help of a sweet Chinese girl to get me online and was very lucky to be able to call Hom and let him know I'm arriving early.  "No problem, Shirah, no problem! I call my driver now and send him to airport."  Fantastic.  I won't be homeless in Nepal tonight!

Nepal in T-32 Hours

Tomorrow is the big day!  It's hard to believe how much my life has changed in only a few weeks.

In late April I finally finished the thesis I'd been working on for at least two years -- the one that took me to Russia to collect primary data on perceptions of entrepreneurship among Russian college students.  The project was a lot of hard work and certainly more of a challenge than I had originally (and naively) anticipated, but the learning in life and research gained from this experience has made it more than worth it.
On May 5th, I graduated from Belmont University with a BBA in International Entrepreneurship.

Dalai Lama Awarded World's Largest Annual Monetary Prize

I've always taken an interest in world religions, but given that I'll soon be living and teaching in a monastery following the Tibetan Buddhist tradition, I've started paying especially close attention to happenings in this part of the world. Today, I read this article from the John Templeton Foundation, a really neat foundation supporting the intersection of science and life's "big questions," and the sponsor of the prestigious Templeton Prize. This year, the prize has been awarded to the Dalai Lama -- "the Tibetan Buddhist spiritual leader whose long-standing engagement with multiple dimensions of science and with people far beyond his own religious traditions has made him an incomparable global voice for universal ethics, nonviolence, and harmony among world religions."

Nepal: Summer 2012

My summer plans have finally been confirmed... In just six weeks I'm moving to Nepal to live in a Buddhist monastery and teach English to the monks for three months!

Pema Chuling Monastery is one of the oldest Buddhist monasteries in the Khumbu region. The monastery is situated on a hill, about 20-30 minutes from Jorsale, which lies on the main trekking route to Namche Bazaar and Everest Base Camp. The monastery is situated at an altitude of 2900 meters (10,000 feet). From the monastery, you can see spectacular views of Thamserku and Kusum Khangare Himalayas. If you hike 2 hours straight uphill from the monastery, you can enjoy spectacular views of all the Himalayas, including Mount Everest. The monastery belongs to Nyimgpa sect of Tibetan Buddhism and considers Guru Rinpoche as its patron saint. The young monks mostly come from Sherpa communities, while there are few from Tibetan families also. There are at present 25 monks from 20 to 25 years of age, and 20 young ones from 7 to 12 years of age. A resident Lopon (teacher) is called Lopon la Ngawayng Ladup. Volunteers must address him as Lopon la; la is paying respect to a teacher who has deep knowledge of philosophy and practice of Buddhism. Lopon la also conducts classes and will help volunteers during the class as he can speak English, Nepali and Sherpa languages.