Narayanhiti Tragedy

Today I left school early to join Steven to see the Narayanhiti Palace Museum in Thamel, being one of his last days here before his trek, and something he has wanted to see. I stayed until my last class at 1, ate a quick lunch with the principal, then went off to find a micro that would take me to Ratna Park where we were to meet. After asking directions from multiple confused Nepali men, all waving me in the most general of directions, I finally found my way to the park. I waited for him in front of this beautiful white temple that is extended out over a once-serene pond, now fenced off to the public. Once united, we walked together to the museum a few blocks away, talking about my art class and all of the talented little children I get the pleasure of teaching everyday. Upon arriving at the front gate we bought our tickets, checked our bags, and passed through a small “security checkpoint.” There was one for males and one for females, where we walked into a small tent made of sheets where a woman but grazed my hip, supposedly checking for concealed weapons, while her baby bounced in a baby chair in the corner.

            We then made our way up to the front doors of the palace, walking up the glistening stone steps, lined on either side with shining black stone statues of exotic animals. The great doors were made of ornately carved wood, rising up far above our heads, hauled open by abnormally large door handles. The main entrance hall held beautiful Victorian furniture, a great tiger stretched over the center of the floor, its ferocity claimed by the hunter and the taxidermist that repurposed it into its new form of floor covering. Several other tigers stood upright as if lunging for attack strategically placed about the corners of the room, finding many other unfortunate victims placed throughout the palace.

We walked from decadent room to decedent room, each named after a mountain, painted in white above the door. A placard stood in every room, explaining what it was once used for; the lounge where the heads of state waited for meetings, the tearoom where the royals entertained their honorary guests, the smoking lounge where one would sit before and after meals, speaking of the events of the time. We passed down narrow, high-ceilinged hallways where pictures hung of the royal family posed with their many important guests, all placed uncomfortably high on the wall, forcing us to crane our necks, as if looking at those lofty men and women should remain uncomfortable, even after their deaths. Entering the bedroom for visiting heads of state, we were amazed by the painted-silk walls, curving in soft indentations, a large mirror capturing the whole room and reflecting back into a mirrored dresser placed just below it. We were shocked by a strange trend of severed elephant and rhino foot tables and stools placed in almost every room, taking the name “foot-stool” to a whole new level. The ancient trend of big-game hunting was evident, the decapitated heads of all of the greatest animals staring us down as we passed innocently through the museum.

Before bringing this post further I would like to give a brief background of Nepal’s political history and present standings. As I have come to know, Nepal was ruled by the royal family and known as “the Kingdom of Nepal” until as recently as 2001, when the monarchy fell. This breaking is actually quite intriguing, a sudden occurrence within the family itself that brought about its end. As it is told, the king and queen had a son, among other children, and when this son was a young man he found love outside of his future arranged-marriage. In Nepali culture this is not allowed, and the parents made that very clear. He then went totally violent and crazy and massacred the whole royal family, then killing himself, eerily, at the palace that is now a museum. If that’s not wild enough it just blew my mind it was so recent, and after the family’s death a new king stepped into place, but was soon overthrown when Nepal plunged into a civil war, only ending a handful of years back. The country now stands as a democracy, though it is not very successful, the infrastructure being non-existent and poverty consuming much of the population. I have seen the politics of Nepal in action in the form of strikes, which have picked up because of the coming election, full stoppages of traffic and transportation for days at a time.

So back to the palace. Since the royal family’s inhabitance of the estate was so recent much of the furniture reflected that, a clash happening between fine Victorian-style pieces and art deco inspired vintage shelves, desks, chairs and tables. This made the collection together look like something out of vintage collector’s dream. Even the architecture flowed in this way, strangely modern with its rounded edges and large cylindrical forms. The throne room was the oddest, almost indescribable, its ceiling nearly reaching the sky, supported by large white supports, elaborate murals of the gods painted on them, almost like a Hindu interpretation of the Italian frescos. Like many great things in Nepal the throne was elaborate and glistening with gold and red, taking on the appearance of a large day bed.

Once through the entire palace with its endless rooms and corridors we found ourselves on a small path leading to the garden, placed on the land in the back of the estate. Our joking of wanting to see some action and blood of where the family fell suddenly became real. Confused, and slightly creeped-out we followed signs marked “massacre sight,” finally finding ourselves in front of a large diagram, showing the precise spots where each royal had fallen. Placards marked the places where they breathed their last breaths, watching in horror as their prince mercilessly shot down their family. The building in which it happened had been torn down after the occurrence, but the foundations of the rooms still stand, letting your imagination get the best of you. One wall of a remaining garden house was marked with a sign pointing out bullet holes from misfires. The whole experience was so surreal, the rest of the garden now falling to a sort of forgotten jungle, mismanagement overtaking it.

We left the palace amazed at its grandeur and many rooms. Making a quick trip through Thamel, we found our way down the narrow streets back to the buses, and then finally back home to our small flat, the evening falling upon us.

Stay up to date through my pictures also!

Take a look at my photo album! enjoy :]

Day 5: The Rat Race to Sight

      Today started before the rising of the sun. Waking up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes I peered out the corner of my window to see the deep blue street below, empty, except for some street dogs wandering in the morning haze. I could hear roosters crowing in the distance and water dripping from the heavy rain the night before. My small travel clock illuminated the time. 4:40am, with that I jumped up, hurrying through a freezing cold shower, and grabbing a poptart, brought with me from America, then skipping my way down the 3 flights of stairs to Khai waiting for me at the bottom. We then set off on our journey, todays project: taking 9 children from the Buddhist Child Home orphanage to the hospital for eye exams. Khai had just been in Nepal last March and had brought about 7 children to get eye exams, arriving back to the orphanage with 4 kids with new glasses. Since then he had raised more money with his organization in Germany and was prepared for the next lot of kids.

Upon arriving at the orphanage we found the children half-awake and not yet prepared to leave, to Khai’s great disappointment. The reason for the rush was because you were seen for exams in the order of the ticket number you would get according to how early you arrived at the hospital. Finally, after some preparation we are ready to leave, cramming the children into taxis with us like crayons in a box, and cruising over to the hospital.

            Now for the waiting game. First we had to wait outside for the front gates to open, then we were filed into a large waiting room full of chairs in lines all pointed towards a single tv, playing only infomercials for skin whitening creams. The children, restless and bored looked to us for entertainment. I pulled out my phone as an offering, the children swarming over Angry Birds, a very big fad here. Khai 1-ups me, pulling out a deck of cards, drawing the attention of the whole room with some slight of hand, entrancing them like a Vegas show. After some time things start moving, the little boys that have made themselves part of my lap start to stir, excited to be examined and tested. Like balls in a pinball machine they flew off in every direction, being tested in one room, asked to read a chart, look into a machine, then sent off to another room. Some had long lines, their waiting areas full of crying babies and napping elderly. We helped lead them best we could from floor to floor, room 104 to 40, and then back to 104 again. This went on for hours, chasing down the younger ones and speaking in broken English to the older ones. My mind wanted me to believe it was all just a dream, a strange sleepwalk through hallways and crowds of strangers, as if to symbolize my search for a direction in life. Then just like that they were done, wandering out of their last assessment, clutching a small receipt either prescribing them glasses or eye drops.

Lucky for us only two needed glasses this time, Khai taking those two in one taxi and sending me and the two remaining in another, all of the rest of the children having left earlier with one of the orphanage directors. I feel the weight of this day pushing down on me, all of my energy deflating out of me like a balloon with a small pinhole, not big enough to see until you are left with a limp form. We cruise down the dusty road, our cab driver suddenly slamming on the breaks, pulling me back into reality, not surprised to find us nearly touching the back wheel of the motor bike in front of us. Unfazed, our driver, a scruffy man around 40 years old, reaches forward, stabbing the play button with his oily finger. I wait for some Bollywood beats to flow from the speakers, but instead am surprised by a familiar tune. Suddenly our small tin-can of a car transforms into a club, the song of choice, only the most bumpin’ Justin Bieber, Baby remix. The children perk up to this electronic tornado, first starting out with a quiet hum, but slowly, as our car jumps from pothole to pothole their voices become more confident. I look around trying not to laugh, seeing now that I am the only one not singing, the song coming to the end, only for the cab driver to enthusiastically “pon de replay.”

Once back at the orphanage I am offered a plastic lawn chair where I wait for Khai to arrive back with the others. The children swarm, climbing on my limp, tired form like a new playground installment. The little girls chat with me in Nepali, not pausing for a reply, playing with my hair, strange and straw-like compared to their dark, smooth locks. I am handed a scorching metal cup of tea, a customary service everywhere you go here. Khai comes wandering through the gates with worn children in tow, his exhaustion being hidden behind the little Nepali he knows and never-fading smile.  We then find ourselves on the floor of the living room, a wet-bottomed child on my lap and a full game of memory spread out before us. Now taking on the appearances of fading ghosts we say our goodbyes and jump into a microbus heading for Boudha. There we climbed to a rooftop restaurant, my first experience with one, admiring the beautiful view and chomping down on a Nepali-style veggie burger. Finally arriving home and passing out till the sun had set and dinner was on the table, but knowing that a good thing had been accomplished. 

My Mummy's in Pokhara

I sit and hear a baby scream and cry
and know a child should never sound like that.

Jhorjina in all of her four year old glory
crying on the front stoop
because Daddy decided he would
take out his anger on her tonight.

We sit and talk about the
darkness we won't ever really
be able to understand.

"My mummy gave this to me"
"My mummy's in Pokhara"

Sit and show me how
you know the whole alphabet
by heart little one,
even if you do stumble over
                 
                          L,    M,    N,    O,    P

Tonight the rain will fall
for you nanu, and tomorrow,
well tomorrow the sun will
strike up the clouds and
dance with the women in red
through the streets.

You may see a cockroach
on your knee tonight,
but I see a beetle,
and with the taste
of that new word in your mouth
you will chatter on in a language
I am yet to understand.




- Dedicated to Jhorjina in admiration of her strength

Day 3: Part 2: The Land of a Thousand Steps

After leaving Cafe Cheeno and all of its wonder we hopped on a microbus and headed across to the village of Thamel where we could see the monkey temple, Swayambhu. Upon arrival to Thamel we now had to find the temple, weaving our way though the busy aged streets, asking show owners if we were headed in the right direct, the common response being yes and just a unclear wave in the general direction we were heading. We trekked down the alleys, passing butcheries with counters of decapitated goat heads, and walked alongside children pushing old bike tires with sticks, laughing about how surreal that was. Finally after about a half hour of walking towards the distant temple we could see in the clouds above the buildings we found ourselves at the base of many stairs.

All around us music was playing and monkeys were jumping from statue to statue. We began our climb up the many steps that would bring us to the temple in the sky, passing stalls selling silver cuffs and singing bowls. The only thing I can directly compare these stairs to is the ski jumps at home and how we would run them for track and how thrillingly terrifying it was. Puffing along with Steven at my heels we fell into concentrated silence, our only thoughts: make it to the top and, why did I wear pants today. Then at last, there it was, the Stupa. Walking around the side we saw the magnificent view, the best I had seen since arriving in Nepal, laughing at our own naivety in thinking our rooftop view was beautiful. After spending some time walking through all of the temples, bowing to all of the gods, and laughing at all of the clever little monkeys we decided to head back down. Only then did we really realize the how steep the steps really were, making it to the bottom in but a few jumps, or what seemed like anyway. We met back with Cara at the base and found a microbus that would take us directly back to Chabahil, or so we thought.

The thing about microbuses is that they are not exactly taken for the convenience of the journey... more for the cheapness of the ride. The most you should pay on a microbus is 20 rupees, but on average it is 15 rupees to get where you need to go, that is less than 15-20 cents for a 15-30 minute ride. So we get on this bus and we have lots of room, but not for long. Soon there are more people in this thing than you ever thought possible. I found myself squeezed into a corner, practically sitting on this girl around my ages lap, both of us in extremely close proximity to a middle aged man with a very active phone and social life apparently, and a little old Nepali women that had decided to bring all of her groceries home by microbus. So we rode on for about 20 minutes, people coming and going of all shapes and sizes, smells and ages. Then we realize... we were right back where we started, in the village of Thamel... we had literally just done a 20-minute loop. We stagger off the bus and onto another one, this time going to the right place. Finallyyy after what feels like an eternity we get off at our desired stop and slightly carsick, walk back to the hostel. Later that night I met my last housemate Kai, a Vietnamese boy from Germany. It is his 4th time in Nepal and he is here to help children in need with donations he had collected since his last visit. All in all it was a pretty exhausting, cram-packed day...

                                         But what an adventure it was.

Day 3: Part 1: Oasis

Today was the first day of big adventuring and left me in awe of the beautiful country and people of Nepal. Steven, Cara, and I left the house at 10:30am for Patan, a village two microbuses away from Chabahil, where we live. There was a strike going on unfortunately though, and all of the microbuses were not running, so we had to wait until noon when they were to start up again. The streets were so quiet in comparison to normal, and only a few cars and tuk-tuks zipped along. We went to the grocery and department store while we waited and looked at underwear, none of them marked with sizes, and most above the belly-button. We then hopped on a microbus at noon and arrived at Ratna Park within 20 minutes for the change-over to the next bus that would take us to Patan.

Arriving in Patan we walked a short distance to the purpose of our journey, a restaurant called Cafe Cheeno, owned by a woman named Rita, a sort of friend of a friend of Stevens. It was a beautiful little cafe, almost felt like something of America with its coffee machines and high-stooled bar. We were then led through a beautiful garden, hidden from the street with a high cement wall, painted pink, like many buildings in Nepal. We were then called into Rita's house, a woman of about 60 handing us cups full of mango nectar and telling us to make ourselves at home. Within no time at all we had met her whole family and were being fed a big Nepali lunch with a side of deep thought. We sat for hours in her beautiful western-style home, speaking of the charities she has founded and careers she has had that have brought her to live in this immaculate home. I had not sat on couches such as hers since arriving in Nepal and admired the beautiful Nepali art that hung on her walls and wood carved furniture that decorated the space. 

She told us about how she used to work for the UN and had the one grant given out a year from the university she attended, but felt that something just wasn't right about the way she was living. She had it all, the fancy house, business trips all over the world, nice clothes to wear, but she knew that what she had wasn't pure, and wasn't actually helping her country she loved so dearly.

"Why be privileged if it is not helping the people you love? I believe that the privileged should take it as their responsibility to help their country and its betterment."

With the loss of her husband she decided to drop it all and restart. She then took the strength she saw in Nepal and its people and started Twa, a Nepali-funded charity for women empowerment. With her help women would now be able to start their own businesses and take control of their own destinies. She chose to call it Twa, the nepali word for 'support' so that those in need would know exactly who they were and where to go. Her drive and selfless care astounded me and left me speechless. The incredible hospitality to us strangers and foreigners non-the-less, gave me a comforting warmth I needed so dearly in this strange, new land.

With that we were on our way, with her number in our phones and replenished souls we snapped a picture together and were off. I feel comfort in knowing their are people like her out there, leaving us with the offer of a good meal and a warm conversation any time we are feeling overwhelmed by this crazy city and its dusty streets. 

an article on Rita:

http://pulitzercenter.org/reporting/womans-place-nepal

Day 2: Pashupati

I started out my day today with a walk around surrounding Kathmandu to help acquaint myself to the area. I live very close by to the Boudha Supta so I decided to revisit it on my walk. After wandering around the crowded streets for some time I found my way home again down the maze of dirt alleys that lead to the flat where I am staying. After a quick lunch from Garret I grabbed my shawl and backpack and we headed over to Pashupati, a temple and Hindi sacred ground maybe a 15-20 minute walk from our flat. It has been very warm here lately because the sun is so bright so wearing the mandatory long pants worn by all of the women here can get quite exhausting and sweaty :P On our walk we went alongside a river for part of it where children were bathing naked in the dark, dirty water. Trash had collected in sort of industrial beaver-damn in some of the river bends, creating a pollution swell where the people would bath.

Once at Pashupati we saw an elaborately dressed couple that had evidently just been married. There were many monkeys at the temple and men that had given their lives to dressing up like the god Shiva and sat around in the small temples, praying and meditating. Pashupati is also where they do cremations and along the river there were a few happening at the time. Garret said something like 45 a day happen, or maybe more. After seeing the whole area we made the trek home, by then I was feeling fairly hot and tired from climbing the many stairs at the temple and was ready for a rest. At home I met Cara my other housemate and her friend that had been on Jewish holiday. After a short rest Garret led us down a back way to Chabahil and we went shopping in the street stalls.

Day 1: Taxi rides, Cold showers, and the Boudhanath

They say that Nepali and Indian traffic is insane, but the truth is you'll never understand how insane it really is until you experience it. Thanx to my oversized luggage I got the wonderful opportunity to ride in one of the many small taxis that zipped around the city of Kathmandu. Our little suzuki maruti 800, aka a matchbox car, raced along the cramped streets, nearly running down pedestrians taking their chances at human frogger and crossing the street. My brain churned, taking in all of the new sights, full families on motorbikes, women sitting side-saddle in beautiful saris, children jammed between parents, eyes full of black eyeliner. Cruising down alleyways and worn dirt paths we stopped in front of a light pink building, draped with garlands of flowers and the cluttered network of wires bringing internet and power into the homes. I was then led up to the top floor and shown to the bedroom I am staying in, a cute pink room with two low beds and a raw bamboo wardrobe. Sitting down on the bed looking out my barred window to the street below it hit me. I was here, really here, and tired, extremely tired. With that I unpacked my bag, organizing my basic necessities on the bamboo shelves, and locking away my valuables in an ironic wooden floor safe. Next step was showering, something I had not gotten the chance to do in days, and was not willing to give up quite yet. The bathroom is definitely something to get used to. They say it's Western-style, but it is all new to me. The entire room is tiled and there is just a shower head and faucet on one wall that you stand underneath to wash yourself, the water going everywhere and a meager single drain for it all. This wasn't so bad, even though the hot water, that is solar powered, isn't working right now, it was just nice to be clean again. It is a nuisance to walk through the wet bathroom after anyone showers though, but something that will seem minor in time. After my shower Garret fed me lunch and told me how there are two other volunteers living here at this time, both med students working at the hospital, one named Steven that lives downstairs, and another named Kara that is on Jewish holiday at this time and I am still yet to meet.

We then walked to the main road and a few blocks down to the Boudhanath. I was astonished at how big it is and loved looking at all of the little shops surrounding it. There are little prayer wheels all around the base that you spin as you walk by them and pray on, then there is a room that you can walk into that had the biggest prayer wheel I have ever seen, comparable to the base of a redwood tree. We walked all around the top of the temple, seeing the beautiful colors of the prayer flags blowing in the warm breeze, and many monks and people meditating in the small gardens on the sides of the temple. We then walked to the super store that had 5 levels and just about everything you could ever need, where I got some groceries then headed back home. Along the way we saw a few cows laying in the street and on the sidewalk. It was hilarious, they were totally in everyones way and we had to like climb over it but no one seemed to notice. There are also street dogs everywhere that are adorable, but are all super mangy, and sometimes are fighting each other.

Some other interesting things I have picked up here:

- Chi tea is delicious. (Pronounced Chia in Nepal)

- The most beautiful part of the day is around 6pm when everyone is home from school and work and are hanging out on their porches and stoops, washing their clothes and preparing food. The children are in the vacant lot next to our house playing ball and run to the rooftops to fly their kites before dinner.

- Our housemaids little girl is the cutest, we played and she showed me how she can recite the whole english alphabet (maybe with a little help)

- street vendors will always try to rip you off if you are white, I haggled and ended up walking away from 3 today haha :P

- face masks are a godsend when walking on the streets, the cars aren't exactly hybrids. 

- I start school on Wednesday and the orphanage on Sunday!

- Nepal and India both have an obscene amount of holidays, there is literally a holiday every other day and no school because of it...

-Bollywood soap operas are the best thing ever, who knew the stories of the Hindu gods could be so dramatic ;] haha

Okay well that is all I have for now! I'll blog more tonight if I'm not too tired! Love you all :]

Traveling through infinite space.

Hey there loves! Sorry it's been so long without any updates, I've been wiped from the trip and eager to make myself accustom to my surroundings! So let me start at the very beginning, I left my family in Boston three days ago, which actually feels like weeks ago, and boarded a plane to Chicago where I had a two hour layover and just enough time to catch my breath before my extremely long plane ride to Doha, Qatar. I rode Qatar Air and it was a very nice plane :] It was quite large and was very accommodating complete with complimentary pillows, blankets, headphones, eye masks, and all that jazz. Once settled I found myself between an Indian family with a very intrigued dad that never ceased smiling at me for the 13 hours... and an old man with a very disapproving look, though I did get one smile out of him :] Anyway enough about that. While on the plane we were given two meals, dinner and breakfast, then a surprise snack at about 5am of chocolate ice cream. By the time we landed I was in a sleepless haze and had lost feeling in both legs, finding myself in the weird dreamland I found Qatar to be. I stayed in the Doha airport for 6 hours, what felt like 60 hours, surrounded by women in burqas and overpriced camel figurines. Finally boarding the last plane to Nepal, I arrived in Kathmandu at 9am, almost three days from when I had left my little home town of Sunapee. Now finding myself on the other side of the globe, passport in hand, pushing past eager taxi drivers to my program manager, Garret, ready for what lies ahead.

So this is it...

Today is my last full day in the United States and it feels so surreal. It's crazy to think that I've been researching and working so hard over the past year just for this and it is finally going to happen. Everyone is asking me if I'm excited, and to that I reply, yes, I am, but more than anything I'm nervous at the moment, nervous for what is yet to come and being unprepared. I know this is silly because all I've been doing is preparing for this, but I can't help but think that way.

I have to thank my amazing mom for helping me through all of these preparations and planning, I would still be going alone and ill equipped if it wasn't for your hard work bent over the computer into the late hours of the night.

I also wanna thank my worldly sister and all of the incredible advice she has given me so far on what to pack and what she figured out when she was just recently studying abroad in India last year for four months. It is your strength and courage to pursue the unknown that has inspired me to jump from my comfort zone into reality.

This also goes out to my amazing friends, supporting my crazy escapade to save the world, being there to talk if I need them, and calming down my irrational rambling. You have no idea how much strength I find in your pride for me, I don't know what I would do without your support.

I lastly have to thank my loving boyfriend, I don't know where I would be without you here for me everyday. We may be far apart and in two entirely different worlds, but only for a little while. I can't wait for our future together Jake, and your drive and encouragement helps me fly :]

Now lets see what tomorrow brings... see you on the other side loves.