Pictures from Nepal

Happy Friday.  Here are a few pictures from the streets of Nepal.  I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend.

American Food

My cooking has been terrible since our arrival.  I blame it on lack of inspiration and a very dark kitchen.  Our kitchen has black marble counter tops and a creative addition of black marble cabinetry.  The pricey marble is paired with cheap cracked terracotta tile and the finishing touches include bars on the windows.  

I step into the kitchen turn on 18 light switches struggling to find the right one and open our fridge.  The fridge is hollow, barren of food.  It hosts eggs, milk, butter and a few lazy carrots.  I sigh deeply and turn to our pantry.  Two weeks ago I spent a small fortune on food but food in Nepal is rarely perishable.  Many Nepali's do not have refrigerators and cook most meals each day with no leftovers.  Even the milk is shelf stable.  Lined in my pantry are square shoe boxed sized cartons of milks.  Their expiration dates are listed for a year in the future.

Dairy products are almost non-existent in Nepal.  As a country with a deep appreciation for cows, the demand for dairy products is low.  If you have a craving for mac n cheese, or ice cream you head to the American club which hosts a small enclave of American products in the commissary.  Last week I spent 16 dollars on a block of cheddar cheese.

Every time I go to the grocery store I consider the American obesity crisis.  There are no fat Nepalis.  Rarely I see an older man with a small paunch belly but the average Nepali is fit.  The average Nepali eats the same meal almost every day - a spicy lentil soup over rice.

Outside of the lack of dairy products the most striking difference when shopping in Nepal is simply a lack of choices.  The store feels like a convenience stop compared to the juggernaut groceries in the states.  There might be one type of canned tomatoes or only one variety of children  's cereal.  Shopping is quickly accomplished without debate.

I once read an article that made a convincing argument for the value of snap judgments.  It stated that when people weighed more options they frequently made poorer choices and felt less satisfied with their choice.  Perhaps prosperity has offered one too many food choices and left the average American unsatisfied. The never ending evaluation of options results in a daily dose of fat inducing decisions.  Or perhaps I'm being too critical because I get to evaluate the problem from afar.

Thamel

The call of Kathmandu is mythical and unexplainable.  It is heralded in songs by 70’s rock bands and the hippies of the 60’s longed for the freedom promised in Kathmandu.  I too have fallen victim to the pull of this strange city.  Every day I attempt to identify the origins of this attraction and wandering the streets of the historic Thamel district the question lingered in my mind.  What makes Kathmandu irresistible?

Buildings stack together, tightly – awkwardly built. The upper stories appear to lean in over the street and brightly colored signs fill every inch of visual space.  My chest grows slightly tighter as we step through dirty streets avoiding tourists and beggars alike.  This neighborhood always draws my memory to a road trip game my husband and I play.  We try to hold our breath for the duration of any tunnel we pass through.  It is our contest and this neighborhood makes me want to take a deep gulp of air holding my breath, my cheeks puffed out, hoping to see the narrow gap of light at the end of the street.

Trekkers frequent this district and they come in two varieties.  The first wear North Face water resistant gear.  Their pants zip at the knee and their backpacks are either pristine with newness or covered in patches advertising world-wide adventures.  They need to conquer a mountain.  They want to gobble it up and place a flag of ownership in the soil.  We join this group picking through Shona’s Trekking Store.

The store is barely bigger than a walk in closet and too small to fit an automobile.  The concrete floors are stained black from urban grit trekked in on dirty boots.  The walls, ceiling and even the front door are crammed with items available for purchase.  My friend picks out her own set a knee zip pants and she slips to the back corner of the shop to try them on while the Australian owner jokingly offers to stand guard against male pedestrians.

Our car is heavy with Trekking gear.  In a few days we will look like the first kind of trekker with our sights locked on a mountain.  The second kind of trekker is something very distant from us.  These trekkers are falling apart.  I see them wandering the streets and they are sustained on dreams.  They wear severely frayed clothes, and broken down shoes.  Every inch of their bodies and gear seem speckled in trail dirt.  They are living off of pennies, eating rice and their vacant eyes seem constantly hungry.  They have come to be part of the mountain.  They want the mountain to swallow them whole and all of the hardship is  only a small price to be part of this bigger thing.

Looking through this tunnel street I feel a puzzled. Thamel is a deep labyrinth and the visitors here have their eyes set on a narrow vision.  They desire to either consume or be consumed.  Standing there on the curb I realize I am on the brink of one or the other and neither seems completely attainable but both seem endlessly appealing.  I can’t help but feel their draw is not entirely noble but instead embody some equal quality of self absorption.  Perhaps Kathmandu is simply a guilty pleasure, delicious to the senses and healing to a searching soul.

New Project

I'm working on a new project and I've decided to change the blog up a bit.  I want to try something more challenging.  When I grow more comfortable with my goal I'll tell you more.  For now the changes will be subtle.  Here are some great pictures of JAC playing in the rain.  The forecast calls for 100% chance of rain for the next 10 days.  I guess this is why it is called the rainy season.  I hope everyone is having a great Monday.

Saturday at the Monkey Temple

I ran five miles today.  It was on a treadmill which is a poor substitute for but I'll take it because running on a treadmill is better than not running at all.  While I ran Jess took JAC along to help the Fire Marshall inspect the embassy.  They triggered sprinklers, sounded alarms and test extinguishers.  In the minds eye of a small boy these events are small marvels.  I found him glued to his father, happy to be one of the guys and completely uninterested in spending one minute with me.

After lunch we went on our first big Kathmandu adventure.  Ever since I read about the "Monkey Temple" in my Nepal guide book I knew I had to visit.  It is perched precariously on the edge of the mountain and its golden spires glimmer over the Kathmandu valley.  The temple, named Swayambhu is over 2,500 years old.  Kathmandu valley was once a giant lake and the Buddhist landmark was built to symbolize the brilliant lightning storms that occurred over the lake.Now the temple serves as both a place of worship and popular tourist destination.  Monkeys live at the temple site and while they may appear cute they are quite aggressive and know to carry a particularly virulent form of rabies.

JAC proved to be a popular tourist attraction himself.  Several temple visitors picked him up and took pictures with him.  He took it in easy stride and excitedly explored every angle of the site. 

The highlight of or trip might have been watching the Buddhist prayer session.  The monks took particular interest in JAC as we walked up the temple steps in the rain, holding his hands and ensuring his raincoat hood was securely fastened.  When we later saw the monks praying in the temple they asked us to sit down and brought us tea a gesture that was not offered to other tourists.  We sat quietly listening to the chanting, horn playing and drums beating.  JAC grew completely enthralled and refused to leave.

It was a fascinating afternoon and made Kathmandu seem even more mysterious.  The city is steeped in deep rich history and we can't wait to explore more soon.

The Same

Many things about our lives in Nepal are very different but in many ways things are exactly the same.  I made chili last night.  I had to use Water Buffalo meat because cows are sacred but the chili tasted about the same.  Jess still goes to work and I still stay home cooking, cleaning, working out and enjoying JAC.

The raining season is still hanging on here.  Even the locals explain that the rains have stayed longer than usual this year.  Yesterday JAC and I had some rainy day fun.  We made a fort and chased each other through its tunnels for hours.  We later destroyed it by jumping on it and then constructed a jump pit - leaping off the couch onto pillows.  We finished the morning by turning his favorite blanket into a pirate hat, cape and leg cast.  It was a pretty good way to spend a rainy day.

Don't Drink the Water

My hands smell like bleach.  They always smell faintly of bleach and hopefully I'll eventually grow immune to the smell.  The water is not healthy here and every bit of produce must first be soaked in bleach water to prevent bacterial infections.  Every meal time I scrub carrots, potatoes, apples or green beans.  My hand emerged in the water grow saturated with the smell of bleach.

Other things smell funny here too.  My mom told me to "enjoy the mountain air."  I had to chuckle.  The city smells constantly of burning trash.  The acrid odor wakes me up in the morning and I can almost taste ash in my mouth.  Some mornings the smell permeates the house so completely that for a small second I wonder if the kitchen is on fire. Trash that is not burned is discarded in road-side, makeshift dumps.  Cows, goats and people crawl around mountains of refuse searching for food.

Our water is delivered every week by a big, white truck.  A large tank is filled and I sign paperwork acknowledging receipt of thousands of gallons.  It is a clear reminder of usage and waste.  I feel guilty and try to conserve every drop.  This sentiment becomes most acute while I watch my neighbors walking to an outhouse or bathing in an outside bucket.

Our drinking water is distilled and we have household rules for our protection.  No member of the family can put non drinking water in a drinking glass.  We are trying to prevent sickness but already I have had a short gap in memory and suffered the consequence.  I rinsed my tooth brush in water from the sink and spent the entire night sick.

Clean drinking water is a clear concept for adults but helping a child understand is much more difficult.  Every day I remind him to close his mouth tightly in the shower.  I turned my back and he was attempting to swim like a whale in the tub while taking huge gulps of dirty bath water.  In a few hours he was sick but recovered quickly.

In two short weeks I have become more aware of my own impact on our natural resources.  We've stopped using disposable diapers completely and I doubt I'll return to it again.  I reuse dish water, turn out the lights and every fresh glass of water tastes more fulfilling.  I cannot yet discern if this change will hold true when we return home to the states but today you could almost call me an environmentalist.

A Jet Plane Miracle

While preparing for our trip to Nepal I primarily worried about one thing - the 20 hour plane ride.  Actually it was more than worry.  The idea of spending two days on a plane with JAC just about made me puke. I couldn't think of any possible scenario where the plane ride went well so I prayed and prepared for the worst.  We brought bags of toys, games, snacks and a portable DVD player.  I mentally practiced patiently walking my two year old around a cramped plane for hours while other passengers slept.  I steeled myself for hourly arguments about wearing the seat belt.

After all of that preparation only one thing mattered - prayer.  Thank you everyone who prayed because we experienced a "jet plane miracle."  JAC was a perfect angel.  Before our flight we ran up and down the Dulles airport concourse.  We thought he was exhausted but instead he was thrilled by the air plane television.  Every seat had its own television and JAC was absolutely enthralled.  The headphones were too big so I used his elastic eye mask to secure them to his head.  JAC watched hours and hours of Finding Nemo and The Fox and the Hound.  I think he watched Finding Nemo four times.  Finally I was too exhausted to function.  I turned off his t.v, gave him a blanket, put on his eye mask and held him down until he went to sleep four minutes later.  He slept soundly for the last three hours of the flight.

When we landed in Doha it was dark and we had a long six hour layover.  Luckily Doha had a wonderful kids' play area.  It was JAC's dream.  We played at the park for three hours straight, taking intermittent breaks to walk through the duty free store.  When we grew bored of that we set up the DVD player and watch Curious George.  When we finally boarded our plane to Kathmandu JAC was thoroughly exhausted.  He slept for almost the entire flight.  When he awoke the airline surprised him with a Sponge Bob coloring book and the whole family enjoyed an outstanding view of the snow capped Himalayas.   It was a spectacle to behold.  The Himalayas are larger than what you can imagine.

Our furry family member - Roxy - made the trip without event too.  They even walked and fed her in Doha.  She is suffering from a sore paw after colliding with our steel door.  The vet here makes house calls and hopefully she'll soon feel better.

The Blessing

Sunday morning we woke up extra early.  I spent ten minutes trying to remember which adapter to plug my hair straightener in to and finally my hair looked perfect.  This was important because we had an outing planned.  It was also important because my vanity can't afford too many bad hair days.

Jess' staff invited him to watch the Blessing of the Tools.  Every year they do a ceremony celebrating the god of craftsmanship and asking a blessing on the tools in order to insure productive accident free work.  The ceremony is followed by feasting and wine.  Luckily we got out of downing extra strong Nepali wine at 9 in the morning.  Our ride showed up and took us to church, but just in case I made sure we had eaten a huge breakfast.  I didn't want to show up to church slurring our words.

Here are a few pictures.  One of Jess' foremen is also a Brahman and presided over the ceremony.  Some guide books suggest that the caste system doesn't matter in Nepal but most Nepalis seem well aware of each others caste.

Welcome to Kathmandu

Last night Jess' assistant hosted our welcoming party.  We sat around the room in two semi circles.  The Nepali staff on one side politely using broken English and the Americans apologizing for not understanding a word of Nepali.  Food and family bridged any awkward gaps.  I was slowly growing more comfortable as I joked with other women about the perils of drinking the tap water in Kathmandu.  I was also overwhelmingly thankful to have a break from JAC who was having a blast playing with the older children upstairs.

I was mid bite when a loud high pitched ringing filled the room.  At first I was annoyed because the security alarm was going off but then I heard the low rumble and we knew it wasn't the security system.  It was the earthquake alarm and the rumble was instantly by the whole house shaking.

I made a desperate mad dash up the stairs dodging older children running down the stairs.  I swooped JAC up and soon we were standing huddled in the outside court yard with the other party guests. 

The earthquake was short.  While is registered a powerful 6.8 the epicenter was miles away in India.  I felt grateful to be safe.  When we finally returned home we all slept crammed together in one bed.  The dog, the kid, and the husband slept soundly while I stayed awake and marveled at our luck.  A month ago we had an earthquake in D.C.  and this was the first earthquake Kathmandu has experienced in a long time.  I queried Jess' Nepali staff who seemed truly terrified and many of then attested they had never experienced a quake before. 

The Connely clan seems destined to experience world wide travel in its most daring form.  Nevertheless I hope to sleep soundly tonight without event.

Kathmandu

I am sitting in my friends' living room borrowing Internet and listening to the rain come down.  The rainy season has been long this year, dragging out and bringing daily afternoon showers.  The showers create a swamp and heavy clouds hang over the mountain.

Every morning I wake up at dawn and sit on my rooftop to watch the sun rise over the mountains.  It is the best time of the day.  The city is semi-quiet, because Kathmandu is never quiet.  It is a constant cacophony of honking and dog barking.  Honking is another language here.  Drivers honk as they rush around blind curves, they honk to encourage slow pedestrians or scare off wandering dogs and they honk to demand position on the road.

At dawn the city is slowly waking up.  I secretly spy on my neighbors as they drinking morning tea, or do early morning housework.  Kathmandu is a city of contrasts.  The mountains serve as a background to a gritty city scape complete with open sewers.  Beautiful houses with detailed architecture stand  shoulder to shoulder with crumbling hobbles.

Our little family has settled in to our overly large house.  Three stories of marble floors echo and the space seems empty and a bit lonely.  We are not used to so much room and we spend most of our family time happily squashed together in the living room or on the room taking in our new city.

Kathmandu is still a grand adventure.  I've been grocery shopping on my own and to the meat market.  I smugly smiled at my competence in a foreign country but noticed my hands shook slightly at the checkout.  We are loving it here.  We ate pizza today at a local restaurant and I thought how it was nice that even pizza was an adventure here.  The ordinary is exciting and that is perfect.

Gulp...

Our flight has been confirmed.  We leave tomorrow and I have spent the morning with my mind moving in a million directions and my body rendered inactive by indecision.  I need to repack the suitcase but which clothes should I reserve for the flight.  I'm always too cold on a plane but jeans seam uncomfortable and yoga pants too casual for such a big event. 

We need to sell our last vehicle and pick up our rental car but I have no idea when Jess will return from his morning meetings.  I have grown to hate those meetings and selfishly vie for every inch of Jess' attention.  JAC tells me he's hungry every minute of the day and I am reluctant to stuff more food in his direction because I suspect his is just bored - sick of the hotel.  I understand.  I have gained pound after pound this last week and I ignore my pants growing tighter.  I will deal with that in Kathmandu and find solace in warm fattening American food today.

I need to purchase plane entertainment and I wish my imagination ran deeper.  Instead I plan to stuff the portable DVD player full of annoying cartoons and pray JAC will sleep.  We are all exhausted, unable to sleep in this stuffy hotel.  The dog walks restless circles at the foot of the bed.  Jess flops back and forth fighting secret anxiety.  JAC finally surrenders at midnight sleeping horizontally across the bed like the sunset in a stale landscape painting.  Every night I take a Benedryl attempting to sleep but instead secluding myself in the bathroom with the door closed.  I read disturbing memoirs until I fell dizzy with sleep and consider sleeping on the bathroom floor desperate for isolation. 

I am finally wishing for our flight because it signifies the end of our restless in-between and the beginning of our new life.  I look at a catalog of western boots and wish for a pair.  We are moving to a wild region of the world and there is a deep category of my mind that is hungry for the challenge.  I have a human desire to conquer a world that is not conquerable and make it my own. 

Slow

I love living on the east coast.  Most days I don't even mind the traffic but I certainly avoid one road at all costs.  I hate Interstate 95.  I-95 parallels the coastline and hypothetically is the fastest route between the major east coast cities.  If you look at the map a simple trip from D.C to Philadelphia should be a quick three hours but this is rarely the case.

Two weekends ago we made the trip to Philadelphia for Jess' family reunion.  We crawled along for hours inching forward at only 20 mph.  We were sure there was a major accident.  We passed through Maryland and Delaware in bumper to bumper traffic.  There was no explanation for the delay.  It was simply traffic volume.  Thousands of east coast citizens transiting north on their way home or off to a beach vacation.  The trip took almost seven hours.  Luckily the drive home at 2:30 in the morning was much faster and the next time I write about traffic congestion it will be about the chaos of the streets of Kathmandu.

Out with the Old in with the In-Between

We are living some hybrid form of life.  We have moved out of our house and are stationed at a hotel while we wait on our flight.  Jess spends most days absorbed in meetings discussing funding and construction projects while JAC and I tie up loose ends.  In less than a week we will board a play to a distant land and if you are the praying type I covet your prayers.  I am not afraid of the unknown of a new land.  I fear the known frustration of traveling 48 hours with a dog, kid and husband who all find it impossible to stay still.

JAC has taken the move harder than I anticipated.  Jess took him to the park while the movers packed up and when he returned the house was empty.  JAC looked around and immediately cried, "Where's my t.v!"  Now he begs me daily, "I want to go home!" 

Our hotel is very nice and just up the hill from the Iwo Jima Memorial.  It is the perfect location for long walks in the city I love so much.  It also has free transportation to the metro which will come in handy because we are selling both of our vehicles this week.  It feels remarkable that you can dispose of one life almost completely and trade in for something new.

In preparation for our move the whole family is sporting new haircuts.  The dog is groomed.  Both of my guys are handsomely sheared and I cut four inches off of my hair.  I really love it.  I haven't cut my hair this short since junior high.  A new life sometimes requires a new look.