The Anatomy of an Animal Sacrifice

The place was at Indra Jatra festival in Kathmandu's Durbar Square. I was at the festival with a few friends. Durbar Square is in the heart of Kathmandu, a square that serves as a meeting place for many of the local residents who want to buy, sell, and trade their wares. The square houses many of the oldest buildings and temples in the city. It also is home to the Kumari, Nepal's "living goddess" who is about 6 years old. Well Indra Jatra is the festival that celebrates the end of the monsoon season, and the beginning of the harvest season. Durbar Square was absolutley packed! Thousands of Nepalis created one seathing mass of colorful people on the drizzly day in the square. There were three large chariots set up, where the 3 kumari's were taken to and pulled through the square. I have never been pushed and shoved so much! People were all vying for a chance to see the beloved Kumari and see all the goings on of the festival. After much pushing and shoving and near rioting, I looked around to find myself in the press circle at the middle of the square, surrounded by a group of stodgy-old Nepali men with huge cameras. We were all standing in a restricted area where they were about to do animal sacrifices for the festival, which they would offer to the Kumari. So, there I was in the press circle, and no one kicked me out, so I stayed there and watched the a little lamb, and 2 ducks be sacrificed right before my eyes. It was an amazing sight, I have never seen an animal sacrifice here in Nepal (or anywhere.) I know that animals sacrifice is a major part of Nepali culture, but I have not seen one yet. From my spot in the Press circle, I was about the closest person to the animal sacrifice, besides the "ceremonial butcher" who actually killed the animal, in the entire festival of thousands of Nepalis!! So I just ran with it, and sort of pretended I belonged in the restricted area, and snapped away with my little camera, which seemed a bit ridiculous compared to all the massive, long lensed cameras of the actual press.

In this picture is the innocent little lamb, and two ducks, happily oblivious to their fate looming in the future minutes. The lamb lazily sniffed about and starred at everyone with happy eyes. The ducks just sort of quacked about for a while. When the "ceremonial butcher" arrived on the seen, there was a huge riot of pushing from the crowd outside the restricted area trying to get a view of the killing. Riot police had to subdue everyone. A few Nepalis gave me the evil eye, that I had somehow managed to get into the restricted area of the sacrifice. The whole killing happened quite fast. The butcher arrived, grabbed the lamb, snapped it's neck with his hands, sliced the throat, let the blood drain, threw some blood on the Kumari's chariot, then proceeded to slice off the head.

Decapitating

Lamb in the process of loosing it's head. In this picture you can see the slaughterer holding the sickle-knife in his right hand. In his left hand he is grasping the lamb's head, you can see the ear sticking out.

Bloodbath

The picture was taken immediately after the "ceremonial butcher" had cut off the lamb's head with a rusty looking sickle. There was blood spurting everywhere! I was amazed that the lamb's body continued to squirm and convulse for some minutes following the beheading. I was wondering if the lamb's head was still conscious for any amount of time after it was separated from the body. I wondered if the head was thinking, "Hey! That's my body over there!"

Headless Lamb

Poor little lamb... no more head. After the "ceremonial butcher" hacked off the lamb's head he cut a bunch of chunks of flesh from the neck and threw them about for some reason. At this point the lamb's body was still squirming. It was the strangest thing I have ever seen.

Lamb's Head

The aftermath: The lamb's head on a plate of other things to be given as sacrifice to the Kumari.

Missing Monks

I am now back in Kathmandu doing various things that I haven't had the chance to do yet in my trip. So I am done with teaching at the monastery which was one of the most wonderful things I have done here! Here is a picture from my last day of class. These boys are from my Class 2. Pasang, m, Jayamang, and Nima. I am sitting at my desk in the classroom of the monastery. I miss them!

Maoist Marches

Nepal is becoming more and more politically charged by the minute. Although I don't follow the politics of the place too much (I tried, but got very lost in it all) I can tell things are starting to really happen around here. There are Maoist marches and Maoist rallies all the time. Such as this one, above. I was getting my visa renewed and was walking back from the Tourist office. The streets were filled to the brim with Maoist, or maybe YCL, protestors! I tried to cross through the madness and almost got caught in a riotous mass of people! It was a bit scary, but I got through it. Even this morning, I was walking to Thamel to do some errands, and tons of buses were driving by with people on the roof chanting things, screaming, and waving the red communist flag around.

Kathmandu Video Game

When I come to Kathmandu for my weekend visits I usually stay with my friends Ashton and Bijay. Ashton is a former E.L.I volunteer from California and Bijay is our Nepali friend who got me the job at the monastery. Anyway, recently the two have become somewhat obsessed with video games. Ashton has discovered how cheap they are to purchase in Kathmandu (bootleg of course). So they have become hooked on zombie killing, car racing, and tomb raiding in the last week or so. I was watching them play a car racing game where you must dodge all these obstacles and go as fast as you can and try not to run people over, etc... I suggested that they turn their video game off, purchase a car, and drive around the streets of Kathmandu for a real life video game, and it would probably be much more exhilarating, I thought. Well, I don't think they will take me up on my idea. But I have often thought that game creaters should make a game called "Road Rage: Kathmandu" or "Extreme Obstacle Adventure of Kathmandu," or something of the sort. Usually when I am walking around the capital I feel like I am myself in a real life video game. Here are some of the obstacles in this real life video game:
*Beggars. Some lay sprawled on the pavement so you must watch for grasping hands that are quite strong. Many of the beggars in Kathmandu have, or had, leprosy so many of their limbs are melted away. You must watch to make sure you don't step on a stump which are always grossly displayed to the public.
*Street children: The street boys can sleep in the more incredible places. Often, they sleep right smack in the middle of the sidewalk which proves a difficult obstacle because they sprawl out as if they are hugging the dirty ground. Also, they sleep in bunches so there usually is a mound of 3 or 4 street boys to jump over.
*Trash piles: This is a horrid one. You must time it at exactly the right moment to suck in your breath and try to hold it for the entire duration of the trash heap, which at times can be quite large, maybe covering an entire block. If you can't hold your breath, be prepared for a nasty which of rot. Sometimes the trash piles are right in the middle of the sidewalk so you either need to figure out how to get around them, or you need to figure out how to walk through them in the least slippery path, i.e. watch for banana peels, slimy vegetable scraps, and the occasional dead animal.
*Pot holes: Whenever I walk by these I think, "wow, in the US this would be a lawsuit waiting to happen." Usually, the holes are huge ones maybe 3 feet by 3 feet, with no covering leading directly down into the sewer system beneath the street. So if you do not watch your step, you will find yourself swimming in raw fecal matter. Yuck.
*Mud puddles and mud holes: Especially during the monsoon, this is necessary. Many of the mud puddles and holes are deeper than they look, so if you step into the wrong one you could find your boots covered to the ankles in thick, gummy mud. Also, maintaining a good balance on the mud is essential, because slippage is a major problem, especially if your boots do not have good traction.
*Tikka men: These questionable "sadhus" (Hindu holy men) walk around the streets with pails of marigold petals and tikka powder. (The tikka is the red dot on the forehead.) Then walk up to you and often, before you can protest have sprinkled marigold petals on your head, and dotted a tika between your eyebrows. "Good luck," they smile kindly. "That will be 100 rupees." It is a good think to dodge these men, often ducking is the best stragety from they swift hands.
*Motorbikes: These are hard. Since many of the streets of Kathmandu are nothing more than alleys they are incredibly cramped. The motor cycles get within millimeters of hitting you, and often just assume you will move out of the way. The bigger your vehicle is, the more right of way you have, according to the Kathmandu rules of the road. Also to watch out for: hot tail pipes as tail pipe burns on the ankles and calves are not uncommon.
*Taxis: This can be aggravating. Many of the taxi drivers seem to think that if they get as close to you as possible, and somehow corner you in a tight spot, you will have no choice but to take their taxi. Not the best business strategy if you ask me. Anyway, dodging them can be hard. They are usually the biggest things on the road a quick response to jump out of the way is essential. I have been near hit by taxis many a time. Another taxi obstacle: the constant questioning of the taxi drivers, "Taxi madame?" Every taxi driver will ask this as you pass.
*Rickshaws: The same goes for rickshaws as for taxis pretty much. The only other thing to watch for on the rickshaw are the rusty metal parts that stick out at strange angles, just screaming to infect you with tetanus. This is one good reason for long pants.
*Vegetable vendors: The vegetable vendors line the streets. Often the women selling the veggies, maybe out of boredom pile line upon line of lemon and tomato pyramids on their tarps. It would not be a good scene if you accidentally knocked over the vegetable pyramids. Likely you would have to buy all the vegetables and would wind up with 10 pounds of miscellaneous monsoon tomatoes.
Other obstacles: microbuses, minibuses, large buses, construction workers, cows, bulls, goats, chickens, sleeping dogs, barking dogs, biting dogs, touts, trekking guides, fruit juice sellers, flying wads of spit, snot rockets... The list could go on forever. This is why I propose a Kathmandu video game.

U.N. Cars

The U.N. cars really infuriate me for some reason. How to tell a U.N. car: they are the only nice, shiny new cars in the entire country pretty much. United Nations cars (actually, none of them are cars but all are huge white SUV's with UN printed in huge letters on the side.) The U.N. cars absolutley do not fit into the scenes of Kathmandu. Pretty much all the cars and taxis here are tiny, dingy, beat up old things that look like they may break down at any second. And in fact, often do break down in the middle of the road forcing the drivers to get out and push through the madness. The U.N. cars are incredibly easy to spot, needless to say. Anyway, in my personal opinion the U.N. should sell their humongous fleet of spotlessly new white S.U.V's and spend the money on something else, like clean drinking water or educating people about a proper diet. But that is just my opinion.

Seven Hundred Poodles

"Except for that door, everything else he said was true" Mitya said in a loud voice. "And I'm grateful to him for combing the lice out of my head when I was little and for forgiving me for hitting him. The old man has been honest all his life and was as faithful to my father as seven hundred poodles."
-Mitya Karamazov


(Greatest quote ever! I re-read it about 15 times and laughed out loud every time. Oh, Mitya-boy.)

Dead Man's Puja

Since the old lama has died, the monastery has been flooded with visiting monks and Tibetan families. Each person who visits seems to haul with them up the hill about two tons of food as offerings to the monks, and the gods. Well yesterday (Friday) there was a big puja for the dead lama. The monks invited me to come and watch, and I readily accepted the invitation. A puja is when all the monks sit in the bit decorated room, and they recite Tibetan chants, and every now and then blow horns, conch shells, and bang gongs. It is all quite wonderful, I love the sounds of puja. All the visiting monks came to the special puja as well. Well they all chanted and blew the horns and banged the gongs for about two hours and I observed from the side. Much of the food brought up by the visitors was distributed to all the monks at the dead lama’s puja, and I was given just as much food. I was watching my younger students distribute it to everyone, and thought that there must have been just about enough apples, bananas, cashews, peanuts, dried fruits, candy, chocolates, puffed rice, biscuits, instant noodles, crackers, and other treats to feed the entire Nepalese army for about 7 or 8 months. My younger students who were at puja, kept cracking up with embarrassment everytime they looked back at me. The whole puja was very nice and now I am stocked with a year’s supply of instant noodles and coconut biscuits.

Bombings

A sad day in Kathmandu: I am not sure how international this news has been, but early this week there were three bombs detonated in Kathmandu. One exploded in a microbus loaded with people, killing 2 people and injuring 26 other people. One of the killed was a 18 or 19 year old college student. So far, no one has taken responsibility or been caught for the bombings. I learned about it from one of my friends in Sankhu, Manuj. She is 17 years old and lives right below the monastery with her entire extended family. I was having tea with her and her grandmother and she was off school, because there was a national holiday for all schools in Nepal in honor of the killed student. I am not sure why the bomb was set… some of the older monks seemed to think that it was set off by some people of the Terai. I am not sure why they would want to do this, but I do know that there have been very many people dieing lately in the Terai due to floods. Also, much of the Maoist violence, killings, and “disappearances” are centered in the Terai. Well, whoever it was, I hope they are caught soon because the whole business is very sad. I saw the exploded microbus on the news and it did not look good at all.

Tutoring

Private tutoring session. This is me and two of my private tutees: Sopa and Karma. I have been tutoring Sopa all along (the monk on the far left) and he is coming along quite nicely. The monk on the right is Karma. He has been on vacation for the last month and just came back to the monastery last week and was eager to begin classes so we invited him to our tutor session. In this picture we are reading English newspapers. At first I had them reading English books, but they were too boring so I thought English newspapers would be better. The stories are short and interesting, and the monks (and me) stay updated on the news. After tutoring I give them a list of about 20 vocabulary words from the newspapers that they did not know, and have them look up the words and write their definition and a sentence for each word.

Books (and Monks)

(Oh dear, sorry this picture was supposed to go on a seperate post. Oh well though.)
Monks: Bottom left is Dorje, the one next to him who looks incredibly surprised is Karma, the one who is trying to look very macho next to Karma is Nima the youngest monk aka Richard, the one on the bottom right is Shakya who runs around all day saying "one, two, three, double three" and screaming "A-P-P-L-E, APPLE!" at the top of his lungs, the monk in the middle starring at the camera like he has no idea what it is is Suku, the one to his left hidden by his shoulder is Dawa one of the newest monks, and the monk in the way back is Dorje (Dorje #2.)

This is a picture of one some of my students, showing their nice handwriting skills! They all seem to think that the closer they are to the camera lense, the more front and center they will be in the picture. So whenever I pull out the camera, it results in a stampede of monks to get as close as possible to the camera lense. I have to explain to them that they need to step back alittle bit. Some even come and put there face about 4 inches away from the lense and do some sort of Superman pose. Anyhow, this picture was taken at the end of class, so they had mostly filled up their papers with writing. They are very proud of how their writing is progressing, and feel the need to show me ever single time they write a new line of words. So, I will be sitting at my desk at the front of the class, supervising to make sure they are writing and not hitting each other over the head with pencils. After every line they write, each monk will loudly proclaim "MISS!!" and proudly hold up their paper for me to see their newly written handiwork. It's quite cute, but after about an hour of 250 "MISS"'s, it gets a tad tiring. But oh well, I am glad they are proud of their progress. I usually say something like, "Oh, great handwriting Nima!" or "Wow, Karma, great job!" and they smuggly look at the monks to their right and left and show them the newly written line.

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kinsolver: Fantastic! I recommend this book to everyone. I loved this book for many reasons. First of all, I thought it was written wonderfully. I liked how she wrote the book from the point of view from all the women characters, especially the four daughters. (I also liked it because there is one character named Leah...) Also, I felt that I could relate to the characters in many ways. The family of Southern Baptists (I think thats what they were...) picks up and moves to the Congo on missionary work. Although I am not from the south, and definitely not a missionary, I could relate to their feelings of adapting to an entirely new culture, and way of life. Also to adapt to their changing states of mind about what is important, and what is not important. Highly recommend this book.

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky: Another hit! I was so sad to be done with this book. I can't wait to read it a hundred more times. How I love this author, if I could choose anyone in the world dead or alive to meet, it would absolutely be Dostoevsky. After reading this book, I had an urge to pack up and move to a Russian village, but decided I should not act on such a hasty decision. Well, I found many reoccuring thems in The Brothers Karamazov that I had noticed in Notes From Underground and Crime and Punishment. How wonderful the characters are! Ahh, I love it! I thought that Mitya was similar to Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment in his nature. At one moment he is the epitome of a nice guy, the next he is of on some crazy binge, doing something wild. This is why I love Dosteovsky characters so much: because they can be the most insane madmen at one moment, and then the next moment they are completely rational and clear thinking. But even when they are insane madmen, you still love them, and and feel sympathy for them even when they do something bad. Anyway, from what I could tell from the introduction The Brothers Karamazov pretty much sums up Doestoevsky's whole life: his thoughts, how they changed, his philosophies, before he was sentenced to go to Siberia, after he came back from Siberia, before he was married, after he was married, when he was a liberal, then a conservative. Anyway, I of course, loved this book as I knew I would. Crime and Punishment is still my favorite book, but this might be second.

I am now embarking on "The God Delusion" by Richard Dawkins. I sort of feel strange reading this book while living in a monastery, but we will see how I feel when I am done with the book... More to come.

Y.C.L.

Since I was last in Kathmandu (last weekend) the Y.C.L. has painted the town red, literally. It seems that every open space available has been painted with Y.C.L. propoganda. I cannot what it says but I can tell that the Y.C.L. (young communist league, associated with the Maoists) was responsible. Number one, because next to all the newly painted writing it says "YCL" in English, also because next to every slogan there is the communist sickle and hammer painted on. It is at times like these that I really wish I knew Nepali. Anyway, I am guessing the YCL is stepping up their "advertising", or whatever you would call it, because of the upcoming elections, supposedly to be held in November.

Wheres Waldo?

Wheres Waldo? (Monastery style...) I should not have worn a red shirt on picture day! This is my first class of the day, quite rowdy. I must constantly tell them "No Fighting In English Class!" They seem to be quite the little parrots, now whenever anyone breaks out into a fight, inclass or not a symphony of voices starts shouting "NO FIGHTING IN ENGLISH CLASS!"

Living With A Ghost

It's really not as bad as you would imagine. So far the ghost has not bothered me too much and hasn't played any sort of pranks on me, so we have been living together since Thursday in harmony. I can tell you this personally because I have been living with a ghost since September 6th at around 9:30 AM.
The story goes as follows: The monastery is divided into four main buildings. The first building contains the dining hall, kitchen and classrooms where no one sleeps. The second building is the dorm style building for the little monks. The third building is a dorm for the older monks. The fourth building has two floors: the bottoms floor is there the pujas take place and where the monks do all their praying and chanting and is fabulously decorated and has a huge gold statue of Buddha at the front. On the second floor there are 4 bedrooms, one of which I live in. The second bedroom is vacant at the moment because the monk who usually lives there is off in Hong Kong (he is apparently quite popular because he meditated in caves for 6 years straight, so is invited to all sorts of places.) The third bedroom houses the "Captain"as he is referred to by the rest of the younger monks. He is generally in charge of things as far as I can tell. The fourth bedroom, a rather large bedroom, houses (actually housed) two old Tibetan women and an old man. One of the old Tibetan women is the Rinpoche's aunt. The old man and the other old Tibetan woman are (were, actually) married. The old man was the founder of the monastery. The old man's wife frequently brings me bits of fruit such as apples and bananas.

The old man, he is a lama (teacher), had been very sick for about 5 months. I had never spoken to him and hardly ever saw him either since he was bed ridden, although he was my nextdoor neighbor. Frequently thoughout the day and night I heard him coughing and hacking like he was about to throw up his innards... Needless to say, it did not sound good. Over the last month doctors have been coming up the the monastery every now and then to examine the old man. About 6 months ago he was diagnosed with stomach cancer, and the doctors told him there was nothing to be done for him. So the Tibetan women and the monks just took care of him to the bset of their abilities, trying to make him as comfortable as possible. He was around 90 years old.

It was after class on Thursday morning. I was sitting on my bed reading The Brother's Karamazov, strangely enough, I had just passed the part where the Elder Zosima has died. Well, I felt that something was strange. There was more commotion out in the hallway than usual. I heard the voice of the Tibetan teacher, who I tutor, and noted that it was strange since he never comes up to the second floor of that building. Well, I continued to read, keeping an ear open to the commotion outside. I had a strange premonition that the old man may have expired. Suddenly the old Tibetan woman (the man's wife) barged in my room and busied herself tieing prayer wheels onto my windows. I was a bit confused, but this occarance also fueled my belief that the man may have died. I thought, maybe Tibetans tie prayer wheels to the windows just incase the spirits want to go out the window, maybe so that they can have one more spin of the prayer wheel. I continued reading, and soon it was time for tutoring, so I went down to the dining hall where the sessions take place.

My two private tutors for my 11:00 session were a bit late, which was strange, since they are never late. I of course, did not mind. We sat down, and they apologized profusely for not having done their homework assignments I had given them for "something has happened." I asked what, and they said that the old man had died a few hours earlier, around 9:30 am. I questioned them about what had happened. The man told them they day before that he would be dying the next day. They told me he usually eats, but that that day he did not want to touch any food. Sopa, one of the monks I tutor, was in the room when he died. He said that he started to breathe very fast, then he just stopped breathing. Well, so the old man had truely died. I felt very sad for a while, but then thought about his life. Although I had never met him because of his sickness, he, I think, had a very good life. He was 90 years old on the day of his death, and he has done many good things in his life, one being the founding of the monastery that we all live in.

Later that day I was roaming around the monastery grounds and found a bunch of my students kneading together a paste of flour, butter, sugar, honey, curd, and milk. I asked what that was for, and they said it was food for the dead man. They told me that his ghost will be living at the monastery for 7 more days. This is because for 7 days after his death, he does not realize he is dead. He still will try to talk to everyone, eat regular food, and go about his usual routine. Well, after 7 days he will realize he is dead because no one is talking to him and no one can see him, then he will depart into the afterlife, whereever that may be. So, they told me, the ghost will be around for a week, and he will leave next Thursday. The food they were making for him was some sort of food that ghosts can eat: only white things and certain ingredients that I suppose ghosts are partial to. The monks making the ghost food asked me if I believed in ghosts, and I said no not particularly. They wanted to know if I had seen one before, I told them no, not that I can remember. I asked them if they believed in ghosts, and they all vehemently said yes! Of course!

So, I went up to my room to ponder for a while. Since the monsoons rains only seem to be getting heavier, they have cut my afternoon hikes short due to mud and slipperiness. This, gave me a good two hours to bounce some ideas around in my head. Well, I was wondering: if you believe in something, does it therefore exist? If you believe in something, at least it exists in your own world, I reasoned. So if you believe in something, then it must exist in your own world. Well, I am currently living in the world of the monks, so I reasoned that since they all believed in ghosts then the ghosts must exist in their world. And, also, since about 60 monks living at the monastery strongly believe in the idea that ghosts exists, then I reasoned it must cancel out my skepticism about the existence of ghosts. Therefore, the ghost does exist. So now I have surrendered to the idea that the man's ghost is roaming around the monastery for seven days.

Well, as I have said so far the ghost has not bothered me. The first night the ghost was out and about, I definitely heard some strange noises while I was laying in bed. I am pretty sure he is a very nice ghost anyways, so if he visits I suppose he will be good company. So that is the story of how I have come to live with a ghost. If anything noteworthy happens during the time from now until next Thurday, I will be sure to write it down under: ghost patrol.

Women Travellers

This always seems to be a major point of discussion in guide books, so I thought I would dedicate a post to it. Women travelling in Nepal is really no problem at all. I have run into very few major problems on this journey because of my gender. From what I have heard, Nepal seems to be a much more tame country for women travelling than some of the other countries in this region. Although it is not much of a problem, I will not say that I never get hassled. Especially being caucasian and blonde, I look more like Avril Lavigne and Britney Spears which all the boys aged 13-25 wear pictures of on their t-shirts, than any Nepali woman. So, the inquiring looks can get a little tiresome after a while. Often times, when walking around alone I will be approached by groups of Nepali guys, who are never make obvertly sexual comments, but you can sort of tell by their tone of voice what some of them think of Western women. Anyways, I am always asked the question: "Are you alone?" Although, in fact, I am alone, I always say that I am not. Especially when hiking outside of Kathmandu valley, or even in the valley, I will say "No my friends are just up there," or "No my husband is just waiting for me up there." This is a good one to get people off your trail.
Women in Nepal hardly EVER travel, and if they do travel they travel with an entourage of their whole family, so a woman travellng along is quite strange. But travelling here alone is very doable.
In Kathmandu, especially around Thamel, especially late at night gropey hands of young men will sometimes materialize out of the dark. This is more of an annoyance than a threat. Sometimes when walking young men will stick out their elbows to brush against you, but this too is more of an annoyance than a threat.
In general I would totally recommend Nepal as a great country for women travelling alone. Of course, you must be careful and have common sense like don't walk around alone at night, etc, etc... but that is necessary to remember anywhere!
Namaste!

The Crazed Russian

Since my father was visiting me I was away from the monastery for a bit as we were staying in Kathmandu for touristic purposes. Well we were staying at one of the most well known guest houses in Kathmandu. It was late one evening and I was sitting out in the garden reading my book. There seemed to be a great deal of commotion going on in the lobby and the hall way near our room so I decided to investigate. I went up to the roof where all sorts of staff members seemed to be scurrying up and down from. The police force was there, and as time continued more and more cops showed up decked out in their riot patrol gear: large wooden stick, and plastic shield. Well, finally I asked someone what was going on. They told me there was a "crazed Russian" on the roof with a knife! Well, I obviously needed to investigate this further so I went to go try to find him myself. I went up to the roof, but then one of the managers of the guesthouse told me to go to my room and lock the door because if the "crazed Russian" came down from the roof he might stab me. Well, I of course did not go to my room and lock myself in, there was investigating to do! So I found a chair hidden from the stair case to stake out and watch. More and more police were showing up by the minute! Was he trying to commit suicide? Had the Kathmandu hashish gone to his brain? What in the world? His wife, or mother, or something was pacing around in the lobby quite distressed. Actually, I had seen the pair earlier that day in the courtyard, the "crazed Russian" had commented on how nice the water lillies were. Anyway, finally a breakthrough came. The crazed Russian insisted the french fries and ketchup be brought up to him on the roof, and then maybe he wouldn't kill anyone. So a silver platter with a plate full of french fries and a red squeeze bottle of ketchup was brought up to the roof. Maybe 15 minutes later the Russian was lead down followed by an entourage of about 30 riot police, flash bulbs of the newspapers, and tearful family members!

Visit

Hello everyone!
I have been very busy lately so have not had time to write much! My father just left from visiting me here in Nepal, so I have been tour guiding all over the country! It was all great fun. I have been here for quite a while now, so at first I sort of forgot how extrordinary this country is when showing it around! So, we have been trapsing all over this wonderful place, riding bus roofs, motorbiking, mingling with Nepalis and such things.

The Strength of the Nepalis

Yes, that is a person carrying that load. This is a pretty common sight, a porter carrying something that seems to be about 10 times his body weight.

Images

Nepal is a country which has made an impression of a million images in my head. I remember them as if they were pictures hanging on my wall.

Image 1: A laundry line strung between two houses in Pokhara. Hanging from the laundry line are brilliant saris, holey underwear, and a few men's tank tops. Next to the clothing strands of opaque animal intestines are hanging out to dry as well.

Image 2: An old hunched man walking along the cobbled streets of Kathmandu. He is wearing a stark white linen kurta which is surprising, considering how muddy the streets are. He looks suspiscious of something or another. In one of his old wrinkled hands he clutches a large black plastic bag, the kind you might get at the grocery store. From a hole in the plastic bag pokes out the head of a live chicken.

Interesting...

Living at the monastery continues to be an interesting experience. Observing the young monks is fascinating. I am very curious about their lives, and the lives of monks in general. They seem to live a very sheltered life, a life that entirely revolves around study, and around religion. Religion is life, and life is religion, and I find it difficult to imagine what this would be like for a child as young as 6 or 7. Since I have been working at the monastery we have received 3 new monks. It is quite interesting. One day, they will come up to the monastery with their parents, then after lunch, the parents are gone and never return! The boys don't cry, don't seem to even remember that they have just been dropped of to a monastery where they are required to live for at least 15 years! Well, quite interesting I must say.

Tidbit: In my advanced English class I like to do question and answer responses. I ask the monks English questions and they write down their answer in their notebooks. One time I asked them "What is your favorite thing about the monastery?" I was expecting them to say their friends, or the food, or the nice large lawn for them to play on. On the contrary, every single one of my students wrote down the simple answer of "God." I was sort of surprised that 15 boys between the ages of 10 and 15 gave this response.

Saris

I was walking around the outskirts of the Kathmandu Valley and stumbled upon this tiny hole in the wall sari shop. All the women here, well most at least, wear beautifully colored saris. These boys were hand sewing on tiny gold and red sequins onto the brillant sari material.

STDs?

It's quite funny to think about how my ideas of Nepal have changed since I arrived. I remember when I first arrived in Kathmandu I was suprised at the inordinate amount of STD clinics there were. It seemed that on every other door a huge sign was painted on the window proclaiming "STD!" and some other words in Nepali that I couldn't read. Wow, I thought, alot of people in Kathmandu must have STDs... interesting considering what a sexually conservative culture it seems to be. At least people with STDs can get readily treated. This idea did not fit with another of my observations... the streets seemed to be littered with hundreds and hundreds of condom wrappers! If people use so many condoms, how in the world do they have so many STDs, I wondered constantly. Oh, the things I have learned!! Since then I have come to realize that the "STD clinics" are actually advertisements for "Standard Telephone Devices." I also have come to learn that the "condom wrappers" are actually small, individual sized servings of a sort of chewing tobacco, also called 'pan' or 'betel.' Haha, how funny it is to think about this now!

Misc.

One of my fellow E.L.I. volunteers taught English at Balmandeer school in Kathmandu to students of all ages. One day we took a day off of the hospital and went with her to school. It was so much fun! We taught the kids English songs and tried to teach them some English dances too, which ended up being a horrible failure because the only dances we could think of were square dances which are sort of difficult to teach 100 kids at once. This picture is me and two of Caroline's students at Balmandeer.
This picture is from my days at Manmohan Hospital. This was my usual hangout, behind the ER desk waiting for trauma cases to come in. I am sitting with the main ER doc, Dr. Dolma. A really nice guy who thought I was a medical student, and I think was confused as to why I didn't know the different varieties of stitches and types of tuberculosis.
Hehe... sorry I had to put this one in here. This is the gangrenous toe infested with maggots. This patient was an old Nepali lady who seemed totally oblivious to her condition. I was inspecting the toe when I saw something white and grubby poking around in there... I alerted the doctors, and it turns out they were maggots. So we had to pick out the maggots with tweezers, and I fanned the foot with some papers to keep the flies off!

Me and a Sadhu

Me hanging out with a Sadhu at Swayambhunath a.k.a. the Monkey Temple. He put his dreadlocks around me and I almost fell down because of how heavy they were!! No, I have not turned Hindu (you may ask because of the tikka on my forehead.) Actually this picture was from my first month in Nepal. When climbing the steps to Swayambhunath you are attacked by "sadhus" (not like this one) who come put a tikka on your forehead, and sprinkle flower petals on your head. "Good luck," they say... then they demand 100 rupees!! Good luck for who? I now have learned the intricacies of evading these "good luck" givers.

Phewa Tal

A picture of Phewa Tal lake in Pokhara.