A Year Gone By

1/25/12

“Time flies” is an understatement. As the anniversary of the start of my journey abroad has recently come and gone, I find myself all too often thinking to myself but just think where I was a year ago. A year ago I was just getting back to my Aama’s dhal bhaat and dudh chhiya after our first SIT outing to Chitwan National Park, Nepal. Suddenly I was getting to know the people I was alongside in this adventure abroad, we were desperately trying to improve our broken Nepali, and settling into life in such a foreign land

So much can change in a year.

The last time I posted was amidst the hustle and bustle of Dhaka, a place I can’t often find words to describe beyond “intense”. But I was immensely blessed to be guided by a dear mentor and friend, Robin (at Hand & Cloth) as I continued teaching English, compiling a photo database, organizing my own version of “art therapy” activities, and (of course) taking care of my rescued kitten, Raati. On my final day of work, the women gathered around for tea and mishti that had been purchased for the occasion, and they began to sing. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I knew it was sad. Their tone wasn’t something that needed to be translated, and my suspicions were confirmed as Robin chuckled a bit, leaning toward me to explain they were singing mourning songs. A few of the women personally bid me farewell, each with their own style and personality shining through. Roni even told me that she would tie me up so I couldn’t go back home. I’m sure she had good intentions. Then there was Sonia. I was touched as she began to cry and cry, holding my arm and telling me she didn’t want me to go. Honestly, the idea staying right where I was seemed strangely comfortable. But it was time to go home.

Of course, traveling through Southeast Asia is rarely completely smooth, and I had a slight roadblock in the airport as (at 11:30 pm) the Bangladeshi man behind the counter informed me that my second bag couldn’t be checked unless I paid a large fee and that my credit card was not going through. Conveniently, my phone was highly malfunctioning, and as I stood at the counter desperately trying to call Wells Fargo to have them unlock my hold again, I laughed to myself. Ke garne? Of course, his suggestion was to leave my bag behind and get on the plane. Sorry sir, that bag has the last six months of my life in it! Not going to happen. But God willing, I was finally able to contact the bank and all was made right again.

More hours than I want to count later, I was back on American soil. Weird. I was greeted by my incredible family, happy to embrace once again. And life moved on.

So much can change in a year.

If you know me relatively well, you might be aware that I commonly coin July Fourth as my favorite holiday. No, I’m not such a fan of our country that I’m so excited to celebrate. But I love the barbecues, the friends, the family, the carefree summer attitude, and the FOOD! But this year was a bit different, as my slowly-adjusting-to-American-food stomach was not happy with me that day and jetlag seemed to be taking quite the toll.

A couple weeks later, Aarika turned to me and said, “You’re yellow.” “Nah,” I told her. “That would be weird.” Several weeks of stomach aches, doctor’s visits, sleeping on the couch all day, headaches, yellowish-orange skin, and other details I will spare you from knowing, my doctor casually informed me that I have Hepatitis E. “Sorry, I don’t really know what to tell you” he said. “I’ve never even ordered a test for it before, let alone diagnosed someone.” Comforting, sir, thank you. But its not chronic, and (for the most part) I’m better these days. Obviously my body just didn’t want to leave without bringing with it an extra souvineer!

So that was a bit of a setback, but I was determined to get back on my feet (literally) and get back to a normal daily life. But something about going back to Point Loma just wasn’t computing in my head. Somewhere between our homestay in Tukche and Spring Break Annapurna Base Camp, it dawned on me that I couldn’t see going back. Of course, continuing my undergraduate studies in Nepal wasn’t exactly possible – so unfortunately that was out of the question. But I realized I wasn’t ready to go back to San Diego. I realized there was something in me that needed something more than I had found there, and though I don’t regret a minute of the time I did spend at Point Loma, it was time for me to move on.

Due to a lack of consistent internet, my recent illness diagnosis, and a host of other factors, I found myself taking the semester off to regain my bearings. I began working full-time, and was able to be by my big sister’s side as my baby nephew came into the world in October. Living so close by, I got to go and cuddle with the little Kole after work and love on my new favorite person.

Recently, it came time for another change. It came time to head back to school, and I have recently started my first semester at Washington University in St. Louis. Seemingly worlds apart from home, the Midwest has certainly been something to get used to, as has a school that is so different from everything I’ve known. But I’m happy. I’m really happy that I went for the change I knew I was craving, and I can honestly say I feel that this is a great fit. Studying International Area Studies and Photography, I’ve been able to get involved with GlobeMed as well as the IAS department, met some incredible people, and slowly been introduced to all of the connections and opportunities Wash U. has to offer. I love it.

And here we are, a year later.

Last weekend Amita and Amrit journeyed down from Wisconsin – and with the two of them, Juni, Nikki (who both attend here at Wash U. as well), and myself – we had half of our Nepali group together. I can’t tell you how good it was to see them. We spent Mardi Gras weekend rambling in the bits of Nepali that’s still stuck in our brains and catching up on the months between the last time we saw each other in the Kathmandu airport.

Three weeks ago marked the anniversary of our bikeride to Dhulikhel. Not really sure what we were getting ourselves into, we jumped on-board for a bikeride with Jack’s Nepali friend Amrit who guided us on an “easy” ride to the Last Resort – just below the border between Nepal and Tibet. Long story short, the bikeride that we were told could be done by anyone who can ride a bike turned out to be 60km long and far from easy. But I wouldn’t have changed that trip for the world. Not to mention waking up the next morning to jump the second highest bungee in the world. No big deal.

A year ago there were more adventures ahead of me than I can possibly count. I miss Nepal, but I’m excited for where I’m at. Nepal was an experience that I wouldn’t trade for the world, and sometimes I feel like it’s constantly on my mind (its embarrassing how often I bring it up in casual conversation). But it’s also just a piece to the puzzle.

Bangla, buses, and birals

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Teaching English is more fun than I ever would’ve thought teaching could be, particularly taking into account that I don’t actually know Bangla (my pupils’ native tongue), making things a bit more on the tricky side. But hey, ke garne?

The women are split into three groups, separated by ability level (based on a very simple assessment of their “Hi, how are you?” greetings.) And we jumped right into the learning a few weeks ago. (Wow! Does time really move that fast?)

We began with the basics, the most crucial stuff. After working on their ability to tell where they work, what they do, and to greet an individual, we began to expand to some of the elementary basics: shapes, colors, the alphabet, body parts, food, and objects. Next, we’ve gotten to working on basic actions and identifying things around them. (The full sentences are certainly the more difficult part.) But like I’ve repeated over and over, their progress is pretty astounding, and I certainly couldn’t be more proud.

Last weekend, I tagged along with Robin and one of her previous interns, Iris, on a quick journey to Mymensingh. Of course, the legitimacy of using the term “quick” in regards to our actual transit is debatable. After a very hot, soakedwithyourownsweat wait at the bus stand, we boarded and began the journey away from the crowded city. It was strange to see trees, and even fields of grass. Of course, there are plenty of beautiful countrysides in Bangladesh (particularly in the villages), but it’s remarkably easy to forget that they’re even in existence when you’re living in the hustle and bustle of the city. We arrived mid-afternoon (much later than our initial expectations) and as Robin headed off to a prayer meeting, Iris and I went to meet up with an old friend she’d stayed with the following year. After deciding the three of us were going to try to get some food, we headed into the town, exploring on a rickshaw. Of course, with our hearts set on naan bread (and NOT rice), the task was far easier said than done. Stop one: no naan, no tea. Stop two: no naan, no tea, no daal. Uhm, those were pretty much the only restaurants open. So we resorted to a street stall and got some pau roti and daal (a delicious option) takeaway.

That evening, we took a short boat ride along the river (of course, it was the place to be, and suddenly there were again, crowds of people everywhere), and had a dinner with more naan and fuschka.

boatride on the river

We spent the next morning visiting MCC (an NGO both Robin and Iris have worked for) worksites throughout Mymensingh. One involved the production of paper, all by hand, from the fiber of pineapple, another was where they made soap. Of course, Robin and Iris had the opportunity to meet up with old friends in the process, though suddenly it was time to head out again.

The bus stand was packed. There was to be a hartel (strike) for the next two days in Dhaka, and it seemed that everyone (including us) was trying to get back to the city before being stuck unable to get in. Hartels are very similar to the bandhs in Nepal: all main businesses and virtually all transportation shuts down in the name of some sort of political issue. In this case, apparently, it had something to do with taxing. Of course, they seem to be a bit more serious than anything we experienced in Nepal. Unfortunately, hartels include throwing rocks or large objects at some CNGs or busses that do choose to operate, and other busses are flipped on their side or burned. Yeah, don’t want to get caught inside when that’s going on.

We finally made it on the bus for the long ride back (one that should’ve taken a few hours that dragged out to more than five). Of course, once we did make it back to the city, the battle wasn’t over as Robin and I wandered up and down the road looking for any rickshaw wallas that would be willing to take us the final leg of the journey home. Not that there was a lack of people, the streets were full (regardless of the late hour at night) and rickshaws were everywhere. But inconveniently, they were all occupied or unwilling to take on passengers. After twenty minutes or so, one man agreed to take us, and we finally made it back. Just in time for a late dinner, bed, and a new workweek ahead.

But it went well! (the workweek, that is) Unfortunately I was out sick for parts of it, but I’m proud to announce that the women were shining stars when we had our first group of visitors at Hand & Cloth. They were so excited to meet the new people, and they were able to successfully converse with bits of “I am fine, how are you?” and responding to “What do you do here?” with “I make blankets.” Really, it sounds simple. But I could not be more proud.

Yesterday, between some homework catchup and room cleanup (had to clean the mold I found covering my shoes and half my clothes. That’s hot and humid for ya), I adopted a kitten. (Sorry Robin!) It’s been unusually and pleasantly cool for the past couple of days, as Dhaka has been covered by rain clouds and an intermittent pattern of drizzling showers. Two nights ago, we noticed a kitten meowing into the night, somewhere just outside the house, and when I woke up to hear it still crying, I wandered from window to window, trying to figure out where it might be. (It sounded so close!). Sure enough, I opened a little side window in my room, looked down, and saw a tiny little heap of wet, matted fur, barely moving (but clearly crying) in the mud just on the other side of the wall. Towel in hand, I headed out into the rain. Sure, ya can’t save ‘em all, but the poor little thing looked miserable. After a nice drying off and some picking off of bugs, she was looking much more feline-like, and her black coat is nice and soft. After a quick trip down the road, I had an eyedropper for feeding (she’s tiny, we’re talking 100 grams and probably two weeks old), and today she accompanied us for an exciting day at work. Of course, the women are both baffled and disgusted (birals - cats - are not typically pets in Bangladesh), but she seems to be settling in okay. So a new member is added to the family (until a better home is found, at least). I’m calling her the word night in Nepali: Raati.

Welcome to Bangladesh

Being out of your element can be scary, intimidating, and oh so fun. After a long night trying to stay awake in the Bangkok airport followed by a day of flying, I arrived to Bangladesh mid-afternoon last Wednesday. Fortunately, I was able to get my visa (at least for the first month of my stay) without much hassle and was off to pick up my luggage (which turned out to be covered in some kind of sticky food from someone else’s bag) and meet up with Sarah Jennings. I was connected to the Jennings family through my boss, Robin Seyfert, owner of Hand & Cloth Bangladesh.

Of course coming to Bangladesh, I hadn’t actually met Robin yet, but she’s been inexplicably helpful over the last couple months amidst last-minute planning. So, like I said, she connected me with the Jennings and I stayed with them for my first night in Dhaka. The next day, there was a “western style” baby shower thrown at the house for Dipty, a family friend, and then I met up with Robin and we headed to Mirpur 11 – home for the next five weeks.

It’s a nice little spot, and Robin and I were greeted by her newly adopted kitten Mishti (the Bengla word for “sweets”) as we finally made it into the house late on Thursday night. Bengla weekends span from Friday to Saturday, so Robin and I got up early on Friday morning to head to church. We made a pit-stop at the Hand & Cloth office on the way to pick up some of the kantha blankets that had been completed and were ready to be dropped off at a coffee shop to sell.

After church, we went to the Jennings for lunch then to a delicious coffee shop (apparently the best “real” coffee anyone’s been able to find in Dhaka), then we made a couple stops by garment stores before catching the bus home.

Life in Bangladesh is strangely similar yet so different what I experienced in Nepal. At first glance, things are very much the same: crazy traffic, lots of people, fruit carts, busses, smelly markets – all that good stuff. But Bangladesh has with it a whole new set of challenges and new things to get used to. First off? I thought Nepal had a lot of people (particularly pedestrians, walking along the streets)… Sure, I might’ve been right. But it’s nothing in comparison to the masses of people in Dhaka. Bangladesh is the most densely populated country in the world. And there are people everywhere. Traditional dress (the salwar kameez – identical to kurtis in Nepal - or a saree) is expected, and also the most convenient way to abide by the country’s expectations of women’s modesty with a long shirt and scarf included. As a general rule: cover the butt and chest twice.

Language is also a difficulty. For one thing, very few people (particularly in Mirpur) speak any English at all, and all my time spent learning Nepali is far less useful ajaabholi. But the fortunate thing is that Bengla and Nepali are very similar to one another (some numbers and foods are even identical), and working with the women has helped me start to pick up things pretty quickly. More than anything else, it’s just a matter of me facing the fact that I am really “starting over” in a sense. I’m in a new country, and that means there’s a lot of learning to do, both cultural and linguistic.

Traveling to work is always an adventure – it’s a little over an hour’s walk, or a bit shorter if we opt for a combination of rikshaws (bikes with a buggy attached) and/or busses. We went into the office on Saturday, but Sunday was my official first day as an intern at Hand & Cloth. My first task was essentially figuring out exactly which projects I’d be focusing on during my five weeks here.

the walk to work

Hand & Cloth is a business that produces kantha blankets, quilts made from two used sareees stitched together by hand. It was established here in Bangladesh only a month ago, meant to provide a means of employment for a group of women who have undergone training and counseling at Children’s Uplift Programme (CUP) for the past year. As CUP’s website explains, a mere year ago the women at CUP (and now Hand & Cloth) were “living on the streets surviving through begging for money or selling sex. Many have been trafficked abandoned by their husbands, suffered violence and exploitation. All were sexually exploited or at high risk of being so… a year later these women’s lives have been transformed.

sewing kanthas

I’ll be spending the majority of my time between teaching English to the women, doing “art therapy” activities with them, activities with their children in the daycare upstairs, and photographing and assisting with Hand & Cloth’s marketing. On my second day, I had the women participate in a sort of “therapeutic” art activity with the help of Jenny who translated for me. I had the women do finger painting in an effort to encourage them to practice expressing their emotions in a different way. But the catch was, their eyes had to be closed. We explained that we wanted them feeling what they were doing, expressing their thoughts through movement. It was a difficult task, particularly with something so unfamiliar to them. After the initial “blind” painting, they were allowed to open their eyes and continue their work. It all turned out beautiful. But more than that, I was stunned by what they had to say about their work afterwards. When asked what she painted and why, Jala said that she painted the moon and the stars because she used to look up at them and wish for a better future. A wish come true.

Thailand: Beautiful & Delicious

5/13

Not that leaving Nepal was “problematic”, per se, but I will say that the journey out left us with one last bit of typical Nepal. Up before the sun (in an effort to meet our pre-arranged taxi before the day-long strike would officially start), we wandered down the road from our flea-infested hotel to wait for our ride. (Sidenote: the fleas acquired during trekking seemed to reappear again in Kathmandu. Bites covering the side of my face? A little unpleasant.) We waited for a few minutes, then a few more. The stray dogs in the neighborhood weren’t happy that we were in their territory and they were continuously creeping in closer and closer as their incessant barking increased in volume. Eventually, our taxi did finally arrive, and off to the airport we went.

The goodbyes continued. After saying bye to Junes, Amrit, Rama, and Karen back at the hotel, next it was Amita. A big bear hug and many goodwishes later, it was Jack and I – ready for the next adventure ahead.

Landing in Bangkok, it seemed that a bit of culture shock was already setting in. The airport here is huge. (At the very least, a huge difference from the two-wing airport setup in Kathmandu.) Stepping outside to get a taxi, a wall of heat hit us, announcing the arrival of pre-monsoon season in Southeast Asia. It’s hot.

We made it to our hotel successfully, and the next day involved some quality exploring time in the city. After figuring out the train system and crowding in with hoards of locals, we found our way to the Siam City Center – a huge mall that puts all the big ones I personally know of back in the States to shame. We arranged a busride down south for that evening, then the travels continued. We arrived back at the travel agent around seven that evening… then a tuk tuk, a long time sitting on a bus, a few vans, a ferry ride, and twenty-one hours later, we finally made it to our first stop: Ko Lanta. The travels were an adventure as always, with all of us tourists being directed here and there, from this bus to that bus, without much of a clue of what was really going on. (Funny, it’s interesting to see how little variation there is amongst the tourist culture in the area. Every single person traveling seemed to be white, and in their twenties. Still with enough energy to deal with the uncertainties and adventures of certain South Asian travels, I suppose.)

5/15

Ko Lanta was the least tourist-populated of any of the places we stayed, but it was beautiful nevertheless. On our first day, we wandered our way through a jungle a little ways inland (one that shared an uncanny resemblance with Jurassic park) until we found a waterfall and perfect water hole to jump in to find brief relief from the sticky heat. But most of our time was spent on a rented scooter that provided quick access up and down the coast, from “Old Town” to the beaches and back inland. We even met a local on the pier in Old Town with his pet otter. Seriously the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Handing his furry friend over to us, he explained her name is “Mec” and that he’s had her for a couple of years now. I want an otter.

5/17

After Ko Lanta, we spent a couple more hours on a boat ride to the island of Phi Phi (pronounced “pee pee”). Talk about a tropical paradise. We joined a half-day snorkeling trip where locals take you out on their “longtail” boats. (Big wooden vessels with motors that are clearly not made for life in the water.) We were driven around some of the smaller surrounding islands and let out to jump into the ocean as warm as bathwater. Between leisurely swimming and looking at some beautiful fish, we made a stop at Maya bay. It turns out it’s the same beach where DiCaprio’s The Beach was filmed – and after seeing just how picturesque the whole setting was, it made perfect sense that it was the site of a major Hollywood hit.

Also on Phi Phi, we got our first taste of Thailand rock climbing. Jack was stoked of course, and though I didn’t really have much of a clue of what to expect, I was excited to learn. The thing about climbing in Thailand? Besides the fact that there are perfect rock faces all over the place, when you get to the top, the view is incredible. You could see the entire main bay of Phi Phi and the tropical paradise below. That much more rewarding, for sure.

5/21

The last stop of our journey away from Bangkok brought us back to the coastal mainland to Krabi. After rock climbing the famous beach of Tonsai, more exploring via scooter, and plenty of beach and poolside lounging, it was suddenly time for another long busride back to the city.

Thailand was good.

Oh and something else I forgot to mention? Dherai, dherai phalphul paainchha aajabholi!! (Lots and lots of fruit available these days!) Arguably one of my favorite aspects of life in Thailand and on its islands is the seemingly never-ending abundance of mangoes, watermelon, and pineapple on virtually every street corner. In the more tourist-populated areas there are also fruit “shakes”. Literally just a coconut, pineapple, papaya, or some kind of fruit mixed with ice and water in order to make one authentically delicious smoothie. Of course, all of this is simply to top-off the Thai food just as readily available. Its incredible how we never managed to find a place with “bad” food. And conveniently, most often, the cheapest places along the road typically provided the absolute best noodles, curries, and Thai iced teas.

5/25

So that’s it. As suddenly as our Nepal program seemed to end, our journey to Thailand has come and gone as well. The whole trip was over so quickly, and here I am finding myself on the next leg of my journey. When Jack flew out last night, saying the last goodbye to a fellow SIT-er seemed to give me this “ah-hah” moment of, “oh yeah, I’m kind of on my own now”. It was time to sit in the airport for the night to wait for my flight early the next morning. Time for Bangladesh.

Goodbyes

Goodbyes: I really don’t like them. It’s pretty safe to say they’re never particularly enjoyable – but they also solidify what an incredible time I’ve had in Nepal. Honestly, it was a big risk coming here as excited as I was. I had no idea what to expect of the country and my time spent studying here, but at the same time, I was so ready to get away and I had very high hopes for a successful, enjoyable semester. But somehow, Nepal managed to exceed those expectations

Sure, there are definitely things I miss at home. The simple things, for the most part. A bowl of cereal with cold milk, consistently hot showers, frozen yogurt, a soft pillow, or constant electricity? Luxury items! I can’t wait. And to see the fam bam and friends back home? Another thing I’m excitedly anticipating. Or to be able to blend in while walking down the road without taxis yelling at you, people trying to sell obnoxious instruments, or dodging traffic. But that’s not to say that I’ve become accustomed to a daily life in Nepal that I’m already aware I’m going to miss. The inability to walk down the road without something exciting going one, tea breaks, a lifestyle more laid back than I’ve ever been able to experience in the past, and some amazing people.

After two days of ISP presentations and discussions reviewing the semester, we’ve made it back to Kathmandu. Moving back into Sakura hotel, down the road from the program house, was certainly a bit of a “welcome back to the real Nepal” kind of wake up call. And after a night of swatting at the mosquitoes buzzing in my ears, I woke up to find my arms, legs, and side of my face covered in flea bites. (Yes, fun fact of the day – fleas aren’t just for dogs these days.)

Tonight we will have our “final dinner” (daalbhat, of course), receive our grades for our oral and written Nepali finals, do our final “safe travels” puja, and begin our goodbyes.

So its down to this: less than twenty-four hours of packing and last-minute loose ends to tie lie between me and exiting the country. It’s insane! Time should not be able to fly by this quickly, that’s for sure. Since we just got news of a bandh (country-wide strike on just about every kind of business there is) from 5a.m. to 5p.m. tomorrow, we’ll be getting our taxi to the airport at 4:30 a.m. then it’s off to Thailand. Let the adventures continue.

And for now, Nepal? Pheribetaula.

Siddhyo!

"Finished!"

Soon after Juni, Amita, and myself returned from our epic ABC trekking adventure, it was time to head back to good ‘ol (smelly, crowded, polluted) Kathmandu. We spent one last morning with our saaThi (friend) at our absolutely favorite breakfast spot in Pokhara (tea, toast, eggs, potatoes, spinach, and delicious museli with fruit and curd for an impressive 100 rps. Yeah, that’s about $1.70) and jumped back on the bus for another long ride.

Making it back to the city, we each decided to head to our respective homestays to spend a couple final days with our families. I had mixed feelings about the matter (its pretty incredible to realize just how much freedom you have being out on your own, ie. On ISP), but I was definitely so excited to see Vinu (my didi) and my dearest Aama. I trudged up all the flights of stairs up to our flat of the building where my house is, and was instantaneously greeted with excited Namaste’s. Before long I was sitting in front of a hearty plate of homemade daalbhaat – clearly back “home” at last.

But after unpacking/repacking all of my stuff and spending a couple of great days with the family, it was time to head out to a very different part of Kathmandu (so close, yet so far) – Thamel. Thamel is the tourist district of the city. Crowded and loud, it’s a huge change but it also has some convenient amenities not available in other parts of the city for us Westerners – and that combined with some impressive food options make the situation difficult to complain about.

So, weighed down by two backpacks and a camera bag, I headed downstairs to the kitchen to say my goodbyes. Vinu was so incredibly sweet – she taught me to make her version of dudh chiyaa (milk tea) just earlier that morning and, after saying good bye, turned up again – holding a shiny necklace for me. I couldn’t get over the thoughtfulness, really. And as I turned to my Aama and received the biggest hug I’ve received from a Nepali (hugging is certainly not a big part of Nepali culture), I was sent off with one huge bag full of apples and bananas. (Previously, I hadn’t been entirely sure that my love of fruit accurately translated, but it seems that was clearly wrong.) The last thing Aama and Vinu both kept asking me was “Kahile pheri aunuhunchha?” When will you come again? And all I could tell them was “Malaai tahaa chhaina, tara ma auchhu. Pheribhetaula.” I don’t know, but I will come back. I will see you again.

Of course, saying goodbye is never very enjoyable, but saying goodbye to my Nepali pariwaar also meant being reunited with the rest of the students who’d been gone on ISP for far too long. It was so, so great to see everyone again. It keeps coming up in conversation amongst us – it’s really difficult to get over how lucky we all are. Having only eleven people in a study abroad group (and unfortunately after Kaleigh and Nikki have had to leave, that’s down to a mere nine people!) certainly could be the perfect set up for not being able to get along or relate to people. But in our case, it’s quite the opposite. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’re all very different – from all across the States with completely different backgrounds. But the people I’ve met here are some of the most incredible people I’ve had the opportunity to meet in my life, and I feel so lucky to be able to say that.

We all got rooms in the Prince hotel in Thamel, and set into a routine of getting up for breakfast, working on/writing our ISP’s until lunch, hitting up the delicious 150 rupee falafel wrap stand, and working a bit longer until there was absolutely no motivation left for the day. Evenings were much more enjoyable – like I said, there’s actually some good food available in Thamel, and we even hit up some good Mexican for Cinco de Mayo! Then, suddenly, it was time to head back to the program house in Naxal before being relocated to another hotel outside of Thamel. One night there (and a delicious meal of momos at a holeinthewall place on the side of the road – some of the better ones I’ve had in Nepal) and we hopped on a bus to Dhulikhel, an hour or two outside of Kathmandu.

It’s always great to get out of the valley and away from the heart of the city, and Dhulikhel is certainly no exception. We’re currently staying at the Dhulikhel Mountain Resort, and all I can say is that it feels a bit like we’ve left Nepal altogether. The buffet meals are delicious, the rooms have pillows that are actually soft, there are multiple rolls of toilet paper available, shower curtains in the bathroom (wow!), and even little flashlights for our convenience when loadshedding strikes.

It just feels so far from everything/anything we’ve experienced thus far in Nepal – and it really feels like an actual resort. (Make sense, since it is one.) But its someplace I could actually see people vacationing. At the same time, its amazing to think of people vacationing here and not having a clue how much of Nepal they’re really missing. It’s similar to the situation with trekkers. Before talking to people we ran into on our own trek, I really hadn’t realized just how many people come to Nepal to trek, stay in Kathmandu for a day, maybe two, then head on their way. On one hand, there really isn’t much to see in Kathmandu, so it makes sense. But at the same time, trekking in Nepal is really a completely different side of the country. So different from city life, and even far from true Nepali life in the villages that many people pass right through as they’re hiking.

Our first day here, (yesterday) we settled into our rooms and enjoyed a huge lunch before beginning our ISP presentations. It was a long day. Though interesting to hear about the research everyone has been working on, it was also exhausting to sit through it all (let alone give your own presentation). Then, suddenly, it was over.

We’re officially done with school in Nepal. Language lessons are long over, ISP’s are written, final presentations have been given – Siddhiyo! (Finished!)

So suddenly, we’re down to a few final days in Nepal. A few are staying longer to go trekking, and some of us are leaving right away (I’m personally beyond excited to head out to Thailand with Jack for ten days of adventure!) Then, for me, it’s off to Bangladesh for six weeks. I’ll be doing an internship for Hand & Cloth – a nonprofit cooperative for women in the area, meant to employ them and get them out of brothels. I’m stoked for the opportunity, though I really don’t know what is in store at the same time. Yet, that’s how things have been for the majority of the last three and a half months. The future is a mystery, but I’m so excited.

Trekking > Research

The way SIT’s program works, the last month of our time here in Nepal is comprised of an “Independent Study Project” period. Basically, we have a month to conduct research on a development-related project in Nepal, compile a paper of our research and findings, and prepare a presentation for the very end of our program. So about three weeks ago, our little group split ways and headed out to different regions of the country to get to work.

I ended up with a plan to head to Pokhara with Juni (it was an awesome turn of events that both of our topics happened to work well based in the same city, allowing for much less isolation time in our month away). So a few days after the official begin of ISP, we said temporary goodbyes to our homestay families and jumped on a bus, preparing for the long, hot ride to the popular tourist town. Unfortunately, the ride was a bit more unpleasant than it really needed to be being that I’d decided to try a bunch of street food with my bahinis the day before. My theory was this: If I’m going to get sick from trying something, I mineaswell go all out and try a bunch of stuff, right? I’ve yet to decide if it was really worth it (as my stomach is still in a bit of recovery mode), but some of it was exciting for sure.

Myself and my helping sister, Sita (so thrilled to take a picture, as you can see)... and yes, she makes me look like a giant.

Pure sugar cane juice. This stuff was intense - and not gonna lie, this was the only sip I was able to get down.

Anyways, we eventually made it to Pokhara, and after Anna (who had joined us for the busride before leaving for her own adventures in the village of Ghondruk) headed out, Juni and I set out to negotiate ourselves a decent hotel room. (Don’t you worry, we ended up in Hotel Tropicana: good water pressure, HOT WATER!, and even wifi in our room for a lovely 350rps/night for the two of us. Yeah, that’s about $2.50 each.)

For the next week, we each traveled to the respective organizations we were researching and did a bit of writing. Personally, I have been working with the Women’s Skill Development Project, Pokhara. A nonprofit, Fair Trade organization based here in the city that provides skills training and jobs for women, providing them with a newfound ability to be independent, sustain themselves, and provide their children with education. I interviewed several of the women who worked there, with my basic question revolving around whether or not a skills training organization like this one is truly helpful (as opposed to simply providing non-transferrable skills that get the women trapped in their job at the site). In the end, I met some incredible people – and despite the language challenges, issues finding the site in the first place (much harder when EVERYTHING is written in Dvnagri!), and frustrations regarding the lack of schedules in Nepal - research went well.

Realizing that it was completely possible to get the bulk of our work done early, Julie and I decided to make a plan to meet Anna at the village she’d been staying in and trek up to Annapurna Base Camp (way better option than studying, let me tell you)! Pokhara is great, don’t get me wrong. But really? No comparison to the Himalayas.

So the two of us hopped on another bus to Nyapul (a town that, in theory, is an hour or two away. Though its noteable to mention that it takes a whole lot longer when you make multiple stops for people to board and try to sell you their bags of fruit.) Eventually, we made it to Nyapul and headed on our way, asking villagers to point us in the direction of Ghandruk. We finally arrived in the early evening and were beyond excited to see Amita – and we even ran into Bebol! (I wish I could explain exactly how random it was. A friend of ours who lives in Kathmandu, he’d been guiding a trek to ABC himself and was on his way down.) Fortunately, our random meeting turned out to be incredibly helpful as he was kind enough to help us call some lodges and book rooms. (Another strange concept in Nepal – booking ahead at guest houses is by all means not necessary, though definitely helpful in a busy season like it is now. Even weirder – its not uncommon to show up to one guest house and ask them to call a guest house in the next village to ensure that we’ll have somewhere to stay. Very convenient.)

Stop number one: "Snowland" in Ghandruk

In addition to his helpful hints and hotel help, Bebol informed us that he’d left an “Into the Wild” flag in the next village up. So, as it panned out, we were dubbed with the mission to take said flag up to ABC and bring it back down to Kathmandu for him. (Made our adventure that much more epic, for sure.)

On day two, we trekked to Chomrong. The day was relatively uneventful, but it left us plenty tired and relieved to get inside the guesthouse just in time to enjoy some soup while the afternoon rain set in. We met another group of trekkers – two from the States, an Irish couple, and a man from England – and had a great time hearing their stories of their own trek, as they were on their way down from basecamp.

Day three began innocently enough… we started the morning with our new favorite, museli (kindof like a cross between granola and oatmeal) and headed off for a long day of a large increase in elevation. Then poor Juni ended up getting sick – but after a short pit stop on the side of the trail next to the donkeys, she trekked on like a trooper. We finally made it to Dovan – the last village before our destination for the night: Himalaya. It was only another four hundred meter increase in elevation, though unfortunately, the last hour or so was made much more difficult when it got really windy, then it started raining, and soon afterwards, it was sleeting. We were beyond happy to reach hotel Himalaya, let me tell you.

Day four took us up to Machhapuchhre (Fishtail) Base Camp, just a short bit below our final destination: ABC. We got lost a couple of times, but fortunately after some frustrating wandering we finally found the trail again and arrived successfully. It was cold that night; really cold. But it was well worth it, and the next morning (on Easter, conveniently enough) we made the final stretch up to basecamp.

Morning, Day 5: Machhapuchhre Base Camp

Arrival at Annapurna Base Camp: 4145 meters / 13,600 feet

Unfortunately pictures don’t do justice – though I suppose that’s something you have to come to terms with when taking pictures in places as beautiful as Nepal. I think what really amazed me about the whole thing (besides the sheer magnitude of the mountains on all sides) was the drastic difference in setting as we went up. When we began back in Nyapul, it was hot. Uncomfortably so. Soon afterwards we were in the forests of Bamboo and Deurali, and before we knew it, we were trudging through the snow. It’s incredible.

Back into the forests just past Bamboo.

The descent went remarkably faster than the journey up, and by day seven we were back in Nyapul where we began.

Trekking is better than school. That’s for sure.