Nepal! The Tikka, W-Sun 6/25-29, Days 35-39

Continuing on with the OCRC sleepover... Spent much of the time helping kids with their English and making sure Sumit was tucked in & comfy as well as listening to one of the orphaned girls read some of her goofy poems to me. Giving more individualized and focused attention to each kid was easier late at night, with half of the orphanage transfixed by the Bollywood-monstrosity blaring from their donated TV. By 8:30, it was time for dinner... dinner was staggered with about six kids being sent to the small dining room at a time. Their plates consisted of a filling pile of fried & spiced yellow rice but nothing else. I was beckoned to a separate table with Nepali-Dave and the construction worker, and given a full platter of veggie dal bhat (as were Dave & Constructor) I was like "wtf?" It was even more substantial of a meal than what my host family is able to muster.

I tried again and again to reject the meal, explaining that the kids needed it more than I did. The didi (cook/nanny) & Dave were initially a bit insulted and mistranslating my English as "I don't like your cooking, it doesn't taste good." ala Middle Eastern cultures, it's bad manners here for a host to not offer anything and everything to their guest and equally bad manners for the guest to reject. In this instance though, I didn't give a frak about manners. It took many awkward and irritating back & forths but Dave finally understood my reasoning. He insisted I chow down anyway on the basis that if they gave veggies to one kid, they'd have to give veggies to all the kids and there wasn't 45-orphans-worth of servings to go around. Again I was like "wtf?" and redistributed my saag (spinach) to the sixish adjacent children, though I only had enough to give a pinch to each. Dave had already eaten his, I hope I taught him a lesson. I spent the night with him at my side sharing his storage room bed-thing, it was only slightly awkward. The discovery of what was being stored in all the sheet-covered boxes in this storage room did not come until Friday, so... yeah more on that later, though it's nothing particularly shocking.

Wake up came at 6ish. As I mentioned in the last entry, I slept a bit uneasily for obvious psychological reasons, but had enough energy to be jolly through the rest of the day. The orphanage's morning routine was interesting to say the least... There's this huge stack of shambled, jagged wood piled up in the middle of the stairwell, which all the kids, young and old, skinny and muscular, began caravaning up into the only half-built third floor. I'm guessing they were construction materials for Mr Construction Worker to build with, though he really should have been the only person doing the carrying (and if it would take too long for one or two adults to carry the wood up, then he should've done it the previous day instead of spending most of the night twiddling his thumbs.) It was a baffling image, one that would've given any paranoid soccer Mom a heart attack... 5 year olds carrying two meter long planks with jagged, rusty nails jutting out at random, 13 year olds with stacks of wood on their shoulders that must've been at least half their total body (under)weight. My "ya know, I know they need exercise, but this is a really bad idea" pleas fell on deaf "my English bad" ears, with the kids seeming perfectly happy to carry the wood. I made the best of it and carried as much as I could, but my cargo loads were consistently dwarfed by this one well toned preteen boy who I think is the silent, introspective Samurai warrior of the bunch. I've seen other young children doing similar heavy lifting work during walks through the countryside, it might just be the norm around these Soccer-Mom-free parts.

The five orphans who go to the VSN school back in Pepsikola asked me to join them on their morning commute, so I joined them for their earlier-than-the-others breakfast and packed up my wittle bag. They were, thankfully, given a full meal + veggie curry for breakfast, thus eliminating the need (temporarily at least) for me to make some heads roll. Just as we were all pumped for a fun school bus ride though, Dave brought the news: the bus drivers changed their minds, the bandha was reinstated. The kids would therefore not be attending school that day, and I would therefore be leaving ASAP to get an early start on the long limping hike that awaited me. I bidded everyone farewell, promised to return the next day, and turned toward the door. This one darkish skinned twelve year old girl beckoned me back for one final order of business. She asked me to kneel, and with a warm smile typical of her proceeded to rub a 'tikka' (red dot blessing thing) onto my forehead. With Shiva now on my side, I thanked her and disembarked completely.

The rest of Thursday was spent walking back, trying & failing to not worsen my injured foot, and then just lounging around Pepsikola giving said foot a rest. I spent most of this lounging time reading, doin scattered SE Asia research and playing with the fam. An evening electricity cut sent us all up to the roof, where I taught the three sisters and Ladina how to play BS (the card game.) Sonu won both times by playing it safe, passing when she didn't have the correct card and letting us do the bluff calling. Gosh darnit.

All of Friday was spent at OCRC, complete with bus roof ride #2 as our transport up there (no more bandha.) Danny-Boy gave me a welcome phone call while I was on the bus roof, but I had to hang up quickly for fear of losing my grip and falling to my death. Poor Dan, every time he calls I'm either holding on to railing for dear life, battling monkeys, or some other nutty thing. We brought the orphans some more veggies and played with them for a long while, though there weren't many new tales to tell of the playtime. It's been good training in the art of multitasking though. With so many kids all clamoring for our attention, we've had to learn how to keep several of them amused at once. I was taking on two simultaneous thumb wars at one point, and playing tag with three while darting in and out of a "kick the soccer ball around at random" game at another point. Great fun all around. This particular orphanage shift ended with Christina & I meeting with the nearby Kathmandu Medical College's principal in an attempt to talk them into sending their students to do regular health check-ups on the kids. Her English was spotty but not completely hopeless, I'd say there was a 65-70% chance she got the message. Something else fun happened later Friday night, but my memory fails at the moment.

Now, for Saturday... A big day. Finally we were getting a car to bring the donation suitcase, the swing seats, and Dr Laxmi + the Jap Encephalitis vaccines I'd bought up to the orphanage. Ladina, being a medic, was tagging along to help give the injections. I approached Tej about the car, and while the car was finally available, the gas tank lacked gas & there was a week-long queue for more at the local petrol station. "Frak it, we're hiring a taxi." The taxi ripped us off but whatever, we got the supplies to OCRC without incident. Ladina and I split the cost of a half a billion bananas to give to the kids as post-injection treats. They were brave... all of them winced upon being pinced, but only the youngest of the orphans cried. The rest shrugged off the needle pain and went on about their daily business. Kudos to them. Next up were the swings. We hooked them up to the swing bar, and watched everyone go crazy over them whilst making sure they didn't break anything. I told the two oldest present to make sure no more than one child sat on one seat at a time, and they did a good job of keeping the chaos in order. After the swings came the donation suitcase. David Neumann's USC Badminton shirt had gone MIA but was located the next day, the rest of the clothes and knicknacks were given properly. To my surprise, there was no mad rush of kids battling for everything and everything we brought, and instead they came in a controlled trickle, inspecting each article to see if it fit their fashion sense. All but the sweaters were claimed, which the Didi stocked away in a chest to be called upon when colder weather arrived.

Running out of time here, ermm...
Yeah, orphanage work, then it was off to Thamel (again, argh) to celebrate Lindsey's birthday. Emily's German friend Tom tagged along, he was a cool guy doing surgery work in a local hospital. He showed me some lovely bloody pictures of the operations. We ate dinner in this Korean place where I had my first taste of kimchi (Korean pickled cabbage.) It was one of the spiciest dishes I've ever eaten in my life and there were no kleenex present to wipe the tears away. It was good practice for Thailand though, as was the fiery chicken burrito I got from El Taurino my last night in LA. Lindsey popped her pirated copy of "Sex and the City: The Movie" into the restaurant's movie projector, causing all of us to endure two hours of horror, pain, and misery. Even she agreed it was among the worst films she'd seen in a while, and she's a fan of the show. It was also weird watching a movie about superficial, tacky models living their frivolous lives while us viewers were in Nepal. It made me wonder if I'm in for some reverse-culture shock when I land in wealthy antiseptic Singapore in a week's time. I probably am to some extent. Speaking of which, I should probably update my hostel reservation there... d'oh.

Uhh, Sunday, what happened Sunday... Oh yeah I wrote the previous blog entry on Sunday, and almost spent another night at the orphanage though this time there wasn't any room for me to sleep (another English teacher called dibs on the other half of Dave's bed.) I scrambled onto the last bus out and headed back to Pepsikola. Again, I mainly helped the kids with their English homework, lost several thumb wars, and cheered up as best I could the crying ones. Monday brought a much more noteworthy orphanage shift though, which I will talk about in the next entry (to be written ASAP, for fear of falling even further behind in my journaling.) Out of time, see ya ASAP.

---Image of the Week---
A young Nepali woman blazing past on a motorcycle, her sari blowing in the wind.
...followed by two Buddhist monks, also on a motorcycle, their robes blowing in the wind.

---Vital Signs---
Yetis Hunted = 15
Foot = Almost Healed
Food Poisonings = 0
Possible Lice = Wasn't lice, just a dry scalp.
Days Remaining in Nepal = 6 at the time of writing (Wed)
Gift Status = Two secured, two other requests almost secured

Nepal! "He Just Needs Love" Tu-Wed 6/24-25, Days 34-35

It's been a rough and fulfilling couple of days, with one sleepover at the orphanage, one imminent sleepover (tonight) and long nanny shifts there when I wasn't completely spending the night. The big slumber party I was trying to arrange fell through due to a lack of cell phones by most all involved, though it turned out there wouldn't have been much room for any volunteers in addition to myself to spend the night there anyway. The huge office I had in mind for us to set down our sleeping bags in turned out to be doubling as this one construction-worker-dude's bedroom, though I have yet to see him actually construct anything. I have seen the orphan's construct stuff, more on that later.

Tuesday night was a pleasant night out in town, we had practically all of Thamel (the tourist district) to ourselves. It was the deep breath before the plunge, the calm before the storm, the bite before the swallow, the whatever other stupid metaphor I can think of. Per her zany random idea, Nadin (new Dutch girl), Andy, and I all decided to start calling each other by offensive insulting nicknames unique to our respective cultures. Andy shall henceforth be known as "Stuck-Up Wanker," I'm simply "Schmuck," (maschugana and schlmiel didn't fit) and since "pancake" is apparently an extremely derogatory insult in Holland, the Dutch word for pancake (pahnenkook) shall be Nadin's new nickname. Or so was the plan; the insult charade didn't survive dinner's ending. A mellow Reggae Bar excursion #2 soon followed, mostly involving us listening to the live band with odd smatterings of chatter in between. Tired from a 5am wake-up and with the hour passing midnight, I napped through an unfortunate portion of this hangout. The picture Christine snapped of her boyfriend & I passing out on each others' shoulders made this nap-disgrace more than worthwhile though.

A welcome bit of news greeted me upon waking up... the almost week-long transport shutdown had ended! With the bandha lifted, my thrusters engaged. I rushed through breakfast with the girls, hopped on the first Baneshwar/Pepsikola bound minibus and high-tailed it to the VSN school. After about two hours of some harsh and clumsy bamboo sawing in a blazing sun, Suganda and I finished the hardest part of the canteen extension project. One duty down, one much greater one to go... it was now (finally) possible to get to the orphanage without further busting my hurting foot. I packed up my little green backpack, left a note (that got accidentally thrown out before being seen by its intended audience) in the computer room letting the other slumber party volunteers that I had left early, enlisted HT's company, and disembarked for OCRC.

It was on this journey that I discovered what a magical man HT was to converse with. He's a 37 year old LA teacher of Vietnamese descent, but gives off the jolly aura of a college student while still clearly being far more mature in life-experience than I. He's been to Nepal once before ten years ago as a Peace Corps volunteer and talked for a long time about his experiences, our mutual wuv of intrepid travel, and the inherent awesomeness of volunteering. As great as our conversation click was however, it could not stand toe-to-toe with HT's first sighting since being here of one of the many cannabis weeds scattered along road. He stopped talking mid-story, gasped, and proceeded to snap many snicker worthy pictures of the meaty plants with an occasional goofy pose next to them by me. After some adjacent farmers (the owners?) started giving us funny looks, we continued on our merry way through the glowing rice patties and eerie afternoon haze.

We rounded the muddy dirt path leading to OCRC and what'd already become a familiar call echoed across the bend... "Charlie! Charlie! Namaste, Charlie!" Seeing us coming from afar, the orphans had gathered on their balcony to make sure their canonball of affection would hit us as early as possible. I looked toward the building and sure enough, ten-strong tiny bald heads were hovering just above the balcony wall. Their heads had been shaved since I was last at OCRC, probably to keep the rather bad lice problem under control, though most still had a tiny psuedo-rat-tail of hair at the tops of their heads. People in the Brahman caste are religiously bound to never, ever cut that section of hair, lest they face excommunication from whatever it is Brahman Hindus get excommunicated from. I should probably find that out.

This was HT's first visit to OCRC, so we asked Mr Worker ("Call me Dave" /thick Nepali accent)to give him a tour. Unlike me, HT did not mask his revulsion (or at least didn't mask it well) at the facility's conditions, grilling Dave for explanations as to why the bathroom smells and looks erm, not exactly clean... to put things mildly, or why the floor is solid, uncushioned and sometimes jagged concrete, etc. "We have no resources etc" came the almost stock answer. It was, sadly, a completely valid reason. This is an area where things like socks, carpets, window bug screens, soap, anything beyond the absolute bare necessities of life are a luxury, if they're even available in the stores at all (been looking for some Lysol equivalent, haven't found it.) OCRC, leaky concrete and all, is probably pretty well-off compared to some of the even more out of the way orphanages that I'm sure are scattered throughout the countryside, the conditions of which I wouldn't want to imagine.

After seeing the facility and meeting the kids, I walked HT back to the "bus stop" (random point along the main road), turned around, and headed back into the muggy rice patties for my potentially health-threatening overnighter in the orphanage. Once HT hopped on the bus, I was officially the only white man and English speaker (Dave English bad) in probably at least a ten mile radius. There was no cell phone reception out here. While I technically wasn't alone, especially not at OCRC, I felt very much so. It was similar to the isolating feelings I got while trekking, except now I had no paid guide to do my every bidding. Homesickness crept up on and off but I successfully held it off until bedtime.

Within fifteen minutes I was back at the orphanage and tasked with the very difficult communication dilemma of letting Dave who English bad know I intended to spend the night. It took about seven tries, but he got the message. I was apparently the first volunteer to do so, and everyones' eyes lit up in surprised smiles as a result. For the first time since I've been here, I felt that I was making a real, substantial difference in the lives of the kids, though really our mere presence does to one extent or another. Even though I obviously can't stay here forever, I think the orphans' knowing that they were worth the volunteers' love for whatever span of time we're here for is an important enough contribution to their morale. That's why I keep running Dave's quote about Sumvit from a week back through my head, whenever the daily "wtf am I doing here" doubts go through my head: "He just needs love." It's such a simple, easy thing to give... and not so easily forgotten.

That said, the doubts come often. These kids are so hopelessly destitute, they run around playing and smiling, and I try to play along, but there's always a little devil in the back of my head squealing "if only they knew they'll probably be starving the street in a couple of years, and there's really not much I can do about it." That's dangerous thinking though, and I gotta do what I can to keep that from happening while im here, whether it's teaching them English or responsibility or whatever. Watching their daily routines also makes me feel like a spoiled brat; I knew kids were starving in developing countries but it hits you in a whole new and shocking way when you're here on the ground in person. And these kids aren't even starving, they have a solid supply of rice... not a whole lot else... but it's not National Geographic material or anything.

Sumvit's chicken pox are cured and his depressed mood lifted a bunch. He got quite a bit flustered during his little kindergarten level English homework later that night, but we worked through it. He's a smart little kid, but was drained once the work was done and put his head down in the book. I did my best to comfort him, hopefully it was enough. Giving him a back rub and figuring lullaby music was called for, I started humming the first song that popped into my head... Out of homesickness or newfound pride or who knows why, the tune to "Star Spangled Banner" was what poured out. It makes a pretty good lullaby. He slept well I think. I did not. I've changed my flight to leave Nepal a weekish early... the nerves are buckling.

---Vital Signs---
Yetis Hunted = 12
Tibetans Freed = I have now single handedly freed all of Tibet
Hygiene = Eh, the bird poop didn't help.
Foot Tendon = 2/3rds healed
Possible Lice = Better not be lice
Mosquito Bites = 86 (got eaten alive last night)
Food Poisonings = 0
Sumvit Smiles Scored = Many
Most Anticipated Upcoming Event = Independence Day celebration @ the US Embassy

Check-In Post

There shall be no entries between now and sometime early next week, due to increasing busy-ness and time at the internet-less orphanage. The next post will be long and epic, however. I promises.
Quick Bullet Points of News:
- Spent last night at the orphanage, will spend many more in the coming days (hence blog going on hiatus)
- Sumvit's mood has improved dramatically
- Canteen Extension almost finished
- Bandha still in effect, after being lifted temporarily on Wed
- Three new volunteers: HT, a special-ed teacher from LA; Deborah, a middle aged special-ed teacher from Vermont; and Nadin, a Dutch college-aged girl going into Law.

---Vital Signs---
Hygiene = As good as it's gonna get
Pulled Foot Tendons/Ligaments = 1
Unidentified Large Itchy Break-out = 1
Mosquito Bites = 67 (since May 20)
Food Poisonings = 0
Sumvit Smiles Scored = 36 per day

Nepal! The Peasant Diet, Mon 6/23, Day 33

We joined the Brits on their daily shift at Landless Clinic, if only to see and experience the riverside shantytown it serves. Landless (the neighborhood) itself wasn't quite as bad as I expected... many of the homes had brick or concrete walls, and the sanitary situation wasn't any worse than the whole rest of the country. Which is to say, pretty friggin dirty, but again the garbage was not piled up in noticeably bigger quantities. Or I've just become desensitized to neighborhoods looking like shiteholes. Landless Clinic itself was a tiny but efficient operation containing a holy gadget many of us have saught since the end of our first weeks here: a scale. We took turns weighing ourselves, seeing what toll the rice & bean-flavored-salt-water diet has exacted on our bodies. The scores:
Emily = Upper 120's, Down 10lbs or 2lbs every week
Me = 137lbs, down from 146
Steve (who is sick w/food poisoning, courtesy of a Nepali attempt at Mexican food) = Down almost 10lbs, and he's a BUFF guy too
Forgot the rest.
Don't worry, it'll all be gained back in Thailand. Endless supplies of dirt cheap pad-thai = mmm.

The rest of the day plodded on... We walked back to Pepsikola without sighting the blowed-up buses Andy & Kristal had seen the day before (I hoped to snap a picture of one), I popped onto the internet & scribbled yesterday's blog entry, and began some long overdue work on ole Norman's pet project of extending the school canteen. With this extension, the kids will be able to play as well as eat under the shelter, very helpful during the monsoon. Speaking of the monsoon, a foul weather turn thwarted the orphanage slumber & Pixar party. 2h walk (that's how far OCRC is on foot) in a monsoon storm w/out chance of bus rescue = bad idea. The event has been postponed until Wed night. Work on the canteen will continue into the next few days, with my Nanny-time beginning immediately upon its completion.

Back home at the host family house, Sushaan discovered my camcorder's AV cable and figured out that it was meant to be hooked up to a TV. I caved in to his demands that I fiddle with it and successfully got the wedding footage playing on the family TV. This BLEW THEIR MINDS... I don't think the family even knew it was possible to see themselves in action on a TV screen. Their amusement alone made buying the camcorder worthwhile, as it was about to join the Rabies vaccine on the list of "worst trip-related waste of money." They watched all forty-odd minutes of random wedding footage, with constant giggles of "ooh look it's so & so! hahaha!" ignoring my "this is probably gonna get very boring, are you sure you don't want me to skip the tape ahead?" inquiries. Nothing on that screen could bore the family... never before has forty mintues of shaky, crappy footage of relatives sitting around conversing been so entertaining. Some embarrassing to me, hilarious to everyone else clips of my Hindi dance moves were no exception, nor were the hilarious-to-everyone clips of Sushaan trying to rap-dance. It was magical.

After poking our heads into the Hut and finding no one, Ladina & I pretty much called of the night, but not before lamenting about our mutually shrinking stomachs. She shared stories of Switzerland's yummy dairy cuisine, we both shared cravings for Italian ice cream, and I licked peanut butter off my fingers dreaming of better culinary days. This prompted Ladina to torture me by describing the Swiss version of peanut butter: chocolatey nutella with crunchy bits of crunch-bar-crunch-stuff mixed in. It was fitting revenge for my flashing a picture of a Swiss chocolate shop Mika took on our Eurotrip in her face earlier, fully intending on torturing her. Mwuaha.

A slow but pleasant day, overall.

Nepal! Transport Lockdown Continues, Sun 6/22, Day 32

By some strange miracle I was able to sleep through the roosters this morning, waking up at 8:30 instead of the usual 5:30-6. Amazing.

Not as amazing was the continuation of the seemingly endless bandhas (strikes), this time with a new twist: in lue of skyrocketing food & textbook prices, the student population is on strike as well. Their demand: lower the bus fares to compensate for the higher living costs. So we've got the transit company mad that they can't raise fares (rising petrol costs), students mad they aren't lowering the costs, a young government that's seemingly incapable of doing anything other than bicker with each other, and a population wondering who's "dumb " idea it was to get rid of the King 'cause at least he could get stuff done. These strikes don't help anyone... the economy is halted, schools are shut down because the teachers can't get to work... it's just a bad situation all around. It also hurt the kids, because with roadblocks all over the place, any attempt to get cargo up to OCRC (the vaccines and donation suitcase) was thwarted. Andy & Kristal said they saw mob-smashed buses lining the road on their walk back from the clinic, so yeah... no road travel.

In an attempt to get at least something done, I tried helping Tej set up a PayPal account and thus get a "click here to donate!" link up on the VSN website, but some minor technicalities made doing so too complicated for one night. He'll need some more information from the bank to continue, which can only be gotten once the bandha is lifted. Rumors have it the buses will be back up and running by tomorrow or the next day and if not I'll definitely be moving in to the orphanage during weekdays. They need a second nanny anyways, so it might as well be me until TPTB can hire a real one. "Byut I'm nyot a nanny, Sire!" Tigh: "Tuhday you arrre." Plans have also been set in motion for a big volunteer slumber party there tomorrow night (actually tonight at the time of writing) and have a big Pixar watching fest with the kiddies, woohoo. "Finding Nemo" is the movie of choice, though Kristal really wants to show her pirated copy of "Sex in the City." Silly Kristal.

The bandha did do some good, it gave me time to make some awareness leaflets to stick up around OCRC's neighborhood and its adjacent medical clinic, hopefully rallying what little help the impoverished local community can give. Kathmandu Medical College, one of the best hospitals in the city, is literally right next door to the orphanage, prompting a little epiphany... Me: "You know that big medical school that's like right there? Are they aware of OCRC's existence?" The Management: "D'uhh... I dunno..." So if all goes according to plan, we'll be able to get some local med students doing health check-ups on the orphans in addition to the three health volunteers here.

Time to (maybe) go build the school's lunch canteen, adios for now. Miss you all!

---Vital Signs---
Food Poisonings: 0!
Tibetans Freed: 90,121
Yetis Slaughtered: 9
Time Till Singapore: 2.5-3 weeks

Did You Know?
- Schools close on strike days 'cause the teachers can't get to work
- If it's too hot, too cold, etc... people will just idly take the day off work

Nepal! Sushaan's BDay, F-Sat 6/20-21, Days 30-31

(limited time so this is going to be a quick "just checking in to let you know I'm still alive, and btw this this and that happened" post than an actual fully developed entry)

Friday:
Day off work. We all walked enmasse to the one main landmark I still hadn't seen, Boudhanath Stupa, the largest such shrine outside of Tibet and home to the world's largest Tibetan refugee community. A severe rainstorm made the walk unpleasant, but it cleared by the time we got there. While the stupa itself was smaller than expected, the whole area had a neat aura about it, with many a monk chantings coming from the adjacent monasteries. Many pidgeons were also present, and little 12yr monk students came out with a cage of doves and set the doves loose among the pidgeons, I guess as part of some ritual.

Saturday:
Complete transportation stoppage across the whole valley in protest of fuel prices, couldn't get much done. Nighttime featured Sushaan's 5th birthday! I got him a soccer-ahem-football as a present. The entire extended family, almost 20 people, crammed into our tiny living room to celebrate and watch him blow out the cake's candle. It was fittingly chaotic & ADD. They sung him "Happy Birthday" in English... and kept singing... and kept singing, looping the song over at least ten times as each family member blessed his forehead. The birthday cake was about the size of a frisbee, and was cut into slices no bigger than large ice cubes. One of our little sisters asked what birthday cakes were like in our home countries, Ladina said Swiss cakes are about as small as the Nepali one, I (feeling like a pig) demonstrated the apparently unusually large size of American bday cakes. The family also disassembled the cardboard box the cake came in, cut it into little pieces, and used the cardboard pieces as plates for each cake cube. Gotta love their resourcefulness.

General:
There's another road-transport-shutdown today, the day of writing, as well... There have been little or no bus services for most of the past week. Violent fuel protests & tire burnings broke out in the poorer sections of Kathmandu virtually every day for the past half-a-week... I'm thinking it's time for another conveniently-timed mountain trek soon, but we'll see. I'm also considering moving in to the orphanage in order to be of better help there if the buses don't get their act together soon (it's out of walking distance.) In any case, don't worry about the chaos, Pepsikola is immune to it.

Did You Know:
- Swiss & German people don't get along well with each other.
- Young Nepali men are culturally not allowed to drink until they get a job and support themselves. Interestingness.

Nepal! Cow Poop & Calamine, Thurs 6/19, Day 29

The kids have gotten all their needed shots except for the Japanese Encephalitis vaccine, a rare but incurable mosquito-borne disease that is becoming a worsening problem around these parts. Climate change might be triggering annoying heat waves back home, but it's causing catastrophes over here (whole villages getting washed away by melting glaciers), and the spread of mosquitoes & the ickiness they bring is no exception. So, Laxmi & I have teamed up to get these shots to them. I started off the day by accompanying here on an ATM run into New Baneshwor to buy the vaccine vials and get the cash (US$100 aka 100 less beers when I get to Thailand) to do so. $100 to vaccinate forty-plus kids = I got my shots in the wrong damn country. Tej is gonna deploy the rarely seen car on Sunday and drive Laxmi & I up to the orphanage to start injecting the wee little ones. The bulky donation suitcase shall also be carried up there (finally) then, since we needed a car to carry it.

After this errand, I hopped on a bus back to Pepsikola where I rendezvoused with Emily & Lindsey for a bus trip up to OCRC. The kids up there are doing fine, but Sumit's chicken pox have gotten worse. After catching him using a sharp broken Lego brick to scratch breakouts on his arm, I shuttled him over to the medicine cabinet for some good ole calamine lotion. The lotion they have here is a bit cruder than the usual "rub until it disappears!" stuff back home, it was this bright pink, watery liquid with no instructions on how in should be used. The medical volunteers would know, but none of them were present. In a Battlestar-ish "I'm nyot a Doctor, sire!" Tigh: "Today you arrre." moment (sort of), I grabbed some latex gloves, cotton balls, got them damp with calamwhatever, and started patting poor Sumvit's arm down. The messy stuff seemed to help, but I wasn't completely sure if I applied it correctly or in the correct quantities. In any case, it was better than leaving him with the Lego brick. Elsewhere, the kids playing around outside started fixing giant banana leaves to their clothes. One girl made a mock-hula dress out of them, two boys stuck the leaves into their hoods like animal ears and started bouncing around bunny-rabbit style… great imaginative fun it was.

After a couple hours of playtime and some chatting with the older, less ADD orphans, we headed back to Pepsikola. It was on this journey that an errant cow whacked some manure on me with his tail, wrecking that NYC Subway shirt I wuv so much. I'm badly overdue for laundry anyway, so that'll give me good motivation to brave the manual washboards and do it. Brief hand-sanitizing followed, then a candle-lit hangout at the Hut to wish Christine a good rafting trip. It was one of the best Hut hangouts to date, with many giggles about toxic Indian beaches (the Brits were planning on traveling there after Nepal) and scary flights into Kathmandu. Apparently the pilot on Andy's flight circled the city for hours until the weather cleared, invoking God repeatedly when making update announcements over the intercom. ("God willing, we will land." – direct quote) Singapore Air must be even better than I already thought it was, my flight landed right away without incident when I arrived way back when a month ago. Everyone else ran into this or that trouble.

Out of time, that's all for now.

----Vital Signs----
Mosquito Bites = 53
Yetis Scalped = 7
Tibetans Freed = 12,453

Nepal! Sumit's Story, Wed 6/18, Day 28

A group huddle in the computer room started Wednesday off. One of our local college aged friends, a 17yr Nepali girl named Saanju who works as a translator for the medical volunteers, has been trying to get an American student visa and earn her bachelor degree in one of our many east coast liberal arts colleges. Lindsey's Mom has agreed to sponsor her, and gaining a sponsor is the visa process's most important step (I think), but we still need to figure out which forms are needed and raise money for her airfare and visa fee. Lindsey & Emily are heading up the money effort, Steve and I (mostly Steve to be honest) are in charge of figuring out the paperwork. If successful, she'll be goin to in Cleveland by August.

Emily and I have joked about how fat she's probably going to get immediately upon being introduced to America's abundant greasy food supply and the concept of supermarkets, and how much we'll eat ourselves as soon as we both get back. Oh In-N-Out… how I miss thee. Did I mention that a double-double w/milkshake was one of my final meals in the US before coming here? Mmm. Roscoe's, Chik-Filet, Roberto's, and aforementioned In-N-Out should all fear the storming I'll wreck upon them come Aug 20^th. It'll bring a glorious, honorable death to my shrunken stomach. It's weird how quickly one becomes desensitized to the rustic conditions of life here, and how such an "abnormal" life becomes normal. As I was reading the SE Asia book last night, I thought "Whoh, Vietnam has highways and trains? They're not poor at all! Oh, wait..." Ditto for the economy. I haven't seen a single corporate franchised chain restaurant or outlet since leaving the Singapore airport. No McDonalds, no Subway, not even a Wal-Mart anywhere in sight, not to say I'm missing them. Sure, there are a couple local Nepali chains around central Kathmandu, but most places are private little hole in the walls. It's weirdly liberating.

Anyways, after the morning routine, I accompanied Emily & Lindsey on a brief errand into New Baneshwor. We ate lunch there at a neat café that employed deaf people, and of course I didn't realize our waiter was deaf until midway through ordering. The food (mo-mos, Tibetan dumpling things) was a bit oily for my tastes but twas decently filling. On the way out of this café, Lindsey halted and heard a faint meowing coming from the roof. The tiniest, most ragged kitten I've seen in a while was trotting around in the patio canopy. Lindsey, fearing the fluffy thing was stuck, called a waiter over to rescue it. He got the kitten to leap into his arms, carried it down, and handed it to Lindsey. A funny misunderstanding ensued as Lindsey insisted she merely feared the cat was stuck while the (deaf) restaurant workers kept shoving it back at her thinking she wanted to keep it. Eventually they got the message, but not without much awkwardness. Emily and I watched and lol-ed.

Following this funniness, I separated from the two of them and hopped on a bus bound for OCRC, or so I thought. It was actually a direct bus to Bhaktapur (OCRC is off the backroads just outside Bhaktapur) and let me off elsewhere than where I needed to be. Bhaktapur's historic old town was only a short walk away from where I was, so I shrugged my shoulders, made the best of it, and did a brief round of sightseeing. While crisscrossing it's Durbar Square, a friendly Nepali college student named Servis approached and began chatting. After I was sure he wasn't another annoying merchant taut, I joined him for a cup of yummy delicious milk tea. He told me tales of a funny old priest in his village who got electrocuted and woke up from the resulting coma with a senile new life goal: attach fans to his shoulders and become the first human-helicopter hybrid. The old man is still trying, apparently, amongst other similarly zany dreams. Servic gave me his mobile number and invited me to tour his village when I get the chance with a possible sunset-watching trip to nearby Nagarkot as well. We bidded farewell after an hour and a halfish, and I hopped on the correct bus heading toward OCRC. I like Bhaktapur, every trip there seems to result in a new friendship (last time it was the Frenchies.)

I spent most of the time at OCRC letting it's sole worker, also college aged, talk to me about the orphanage's problems, and his dream of traveling to the US for his master's degree. At the risk of getting jingoistic, every single Nepali I've met labels America as their dream. It's never the UK, Europe, or Japan… always "Amerllieeeeka!" That's saying something I think. For all our troubles of late, there's at least one corner of the world that still looks up to us, and for good reason. We rule. Mr Worker went on to lament how the few Nepalis fortunate to make money abroad lose hope of ever salvaging their homeland from ruin and set up a permanent life in the West. He means to reverse this trend. He said that even if he's only one man and can't offer much help beyond sending what little money he makes abroad to his family, he'll at least be able to die (many years down the road) knowing he did something. Channeling Gandhi for a bit, he said that if he set an example, eventually more and more would follow and a trend could begin. The determination in this guy's eyes was inspiring. He didn't look at me once when talking, instead aiming his sharply furrowed brow into space lost in his ambitious dreams.

Confirming my suspicions from a couple days ago, the worker informed me that they've been struggling to feed the kids for a while now. The cook-lady is poorly educated and doesn't know how to set up a balanced diet and their insufficient rice cooker just cant churn out enough food fast enough during meal times. With a couple exceptions, the children aren't skin and bones, but many are bloated and most definitely in poor health. One child however is most definitely skin and bones. This kid, a maybe 7 year old boy named Sumit, never talks to anyone, sneaks up to holds my hand then drags me into a secluded corner to cry. I asked Mr Worker what was wrong with him, and heard the kid's story. He was separated from his sister somehow before arriving at the orphanage and has been depressed ever since. He doesn't fit in with the other children and has zero self esteem.

Is there anything he needs? I asked…
"He just needs love."

I was waiting for Nepal to sneak into my heart and jumble things around...
At that moment, it did.

Nepal! The Folk Song, Tues 6/17, Day 27

This entry is gonna be a bit rushed, I'm due for dal bhat soon and want to catch up on blogness:

Melissa left for good today, shedding many bittersweet tears with us and Druba, who she'd become quite close with. This marked the third time so far that I myself didn't start becoming really good friends with a volunteer until just a handful of days before their departure (Norman & Stan were the other two.) It's frustrating, but part of the deal when you're in something like this for a longer haul than most everyone else I suppose. We handful of remaining volunteers have forged a good little camaraderie, so it's all good in any case. Melissa, who had been here longer than most, shall be missed. I popped my head into the Hut for lunch and found a disheveled Druba sulking over her absence. He's certain she'll be back in a year with a box of Everest in tow. Of this I have no doubt.

I spent the rest of the day working in OCRC but will lump all orphanage news into the next entry after breakfast in an hour or so. Nighttime brought one of Pepsikola's many random electricity cuts, thwarting the SE Asia research I was doing. The family, Ladina & I huddled on the balcony as a result, which the brightest full moon in memory was illuminating enough to read a book. Laxmi taught us a tongue-twisting Nepali folk song which we botched to the amusement of the kiddies. A magical little night it was… with the power out all over, all one could see was the silvery moonlit outlines of darkened buildings and temples stretching into the distance, lil orange flickers of candles in each of their windows. The sky was cloudy, but a fairy-tale-perfect opening in the clouds let the full moon shine through. It was, despite the suburban location, bright enough to cast shadows and even a nighttime rainbow of sorts (difficult to describe.) Scattered silent flashes from a distant lightning storm added to the night's magic.

PS: Sushaan and I are going through a rough patch after he broke my crappy cheap phone charger during one of our wrestling matches. So yeah, phone's gonna be down until I can buy charger #3, not that the phone has been any good here anyway, spotty mobile network considering.

PPS: No petrol riots yet.

----Vital Signs----
Hand Sanitizer = 120%
Hygiene = 2 days without shower
Mosquito Bites = 47
Bug Repellent = 60%
Yetis Scalped = 5
Food Poisonings = 0
Digestive System = Rebelling
ETA to Singapore = 28 days
ETA to Indonesia = Unknown but I'll make it there somehow
ETA to Thailand = 40 days
ETA to Los Angeles = 63 days
ETA to San Diego = 65 days

Nepal! The Wedding, Sun/Mon 6/15-16, Days 25&26

Very little happened on Sunday, so I shall write little about it. A transport strike* trapped us three non-safari volunteers in Pepsikola, so no OCRC time, and a particularly severe monsoon storm trapped us indoors. Melissa & I tried painting the swingset during a lull in the weather, but the metal worker who built it insisted he do the job after watching us for a few minutes. Since half of my brush's paint wound up on Melissa's dress, he was warranted in fearing what havoc we'd wraught if allowed to continue. The rest of the afternoon was spent watching "Paris J'Taime" (or something like that) in the Hut, a cute but slightly disappointing film. It was after this movie viewing that Emily & Lindsey, having unexpectedly returned from Chitwan a night early, stumbled on in with the nuttiest political craziness story yet. Their story was pretty crazy.

*The bus/taxi company wanted to hike fares by 40% in lue of skyrocketing petrol prices here. The government ordered them not to, so there will be on-and-off strikes in various parts of town until gas prices go down (ain't gonna happen.) Hopefully the gov and transit workers will reach a deal.

Now, on to Monday. Woke up, made some brief rounds on the internet, three calls to home, and off it was to the wedding via bus. Local news reported city-wide bus strikes but the news was 100% wrong. Say what you will about our sensationalistic media back home, but at least they get their shite more or less right. The wedding itself was far lower key than I was expecting after seeing depictions of nutty and colorful Indian weddings in Bollywood flicks, but was still an interesting experience. The curry and chicken buffet was the main focus of both the event and my attention. A meal that would actually fill me up! Gasp. I devoured all available food except what I guess was goat meat curry and the dessert offering. I've been paranoid of the meat here since being the main subject of a "so what's in this dish that I've been eating for the past half hour?" horror story a couple days ago, and the dessert was a vile vegetable soup flavored ice cream plus candied spaghetti concoction that would under no circumstances be allowed near my taste buds. The unlimited supply of divine gourmet milk chai tea, not brewed till you ordered it, made up for their dessert silliness. I downed nearly ten mugs of the stuff over the course of the wedding, probably causing the buffet worker to grumble "argh, here comes that crazy American again for some more tea" under his breath.

After maybe two hours of gorging on food, Ladina and I began to grow bored. Where was all the dancing and crazy Hindi fun? How much longer could all these old people sit around and talk to each other? Feeling our pain, the kids dragged us outside to play "London Stop."

"How do you play London Stop?"
"It's London Stop."
"Ah yeah, what are the rules?"
"What? My English bad."
"What - are - the - rules - of - London Stop?"
"First you bladadadada and then you're out but if you bladada with badadada you're bladadada out and win baldadadada and then you baldadadada badadada."
"Right. Got it."

…seemed like fun though.

Soon, commotion… Camo-clad police entered and led two canines around the room, I assume sniffing for bombs? We inquired about this strange event. The answer: The Prime Minister was coming! The groom, it would appear, hath many a friends in high places. Two lower ranking ministers cycled through paying there respects, and finally the leader himself. A frail old man he was, with surprisingly little security protecting him. All of us were allowed within a few feet and most got pictures. He left without saying much, the music came back on, and some scattered dancing finally began. We were dragged onto the dance floor by two Nepali girls who'd befriended us, and so began maybe an hour of clumsy attempts to match everyone else's dizzying Hindi dance moves. Nepali girls are an easily amused people though, and the two girls lauded my "I don't know this song so I'm just going to bob my head to it and clap" schtick as "quite romantic." Aww. [withholds amusing related story] Sushaan's dancing was probably the funniest thing I've seen all year, I got some video of it to bring back home. Afterwards, all nine family members crammed into an oversized taxi, we drove back to Pepsikola and the day ended. Back to work tomorrow, bus strikes pending. Out of time, adios!

PS: Saw some graffiti on the taxi ride back and realized "wow, it's been a really long time since I've seen graffiti." Kathmandu, run down and crowded as it is, seems utterly devoid of crime.

----Vital Signs----
Hand Sanitizer Depleted = 90%
Time Elapsed Since Last Opp To Shower = 0 days :)
Mosquito Bites = 44
Calamine Lotion Depleted = 85%
Yetis Scalped = 5
Food Poisonings = 0

ETA to Singapore = 29 days
ETA to Thailand = 41 days
ETA to Los Angeles = 64 days
ETA to San Diego = 66 days

Nepal! Lil Buddha, Sat 6/14, Day 24

A good day, spent nearly all of it at OCRC (the orphanage) with Melissa and Ladina. Due to the Bhaktapur-bound bus's extreme crowdedness and the likelihood that the next bus would be no different, we did something I've wanted to do since arriving here: we rode on the roof! It was a most excellent adventure, only twice was I nearly decapitated by low hanging power cables. Upon arriving at our destination, we distributed the candies we'd bought for the orphans and began the day's play sessions.

It didn't take long for me to make the two biggest errors of my orphanage career thusfar: I revealed the fact that I was carrying a camera + revealed my bag of muesli. Dead batteries and 100 pictures of nothing resulted from the former (this one boy named Rajip fancies himself a photographer), and an emptied bag of what was supposed to be my lunch for the next week resulted from the other. One kid asked for a handful of muesli, I poured him some, and within seconds the entire orphanage had huddled around me in a mad muesli-craving rage. Kids were pushing each others hands away to get a few extra oats; blocking others… it was a mad, vicious stampede that couldn't be turned away or tamed. I'm a bit concerned about the sufficiency of their food supply now though. While plain, dry muesli certainly doesn't taste bad, it's not the sort of food you'd expect children to go bonkers over and try to snatch as much up as possible. Even Sushaan has to get his dal bhat practically forced down his throat 'cause there aren't any Cadbury bars melted into the beans (which btw is hysterical to watch.) 5-10 year olds craving food with actual health value makes me think they aren't getting enough food in general. I shall investigate this matter.

I've also picked out my favorite orphan. I forgot his unpronounceable name, but he's a stubby round little fellow with a necklace of Buddhist prayer beads, a priceless smile, and a bad habit of using large Lego bricks as drinking goblets. I have nicknamed him "Buddha," hopefully that isn't offensive around these parts. Rajin is a riot as well, he likes to string his spotty English into rap-form. "Hello, I'm chillin… chillin… chillin!" while bobbing up and down. Snicker. The next few days of orphanage work shall involve painting and transporting their new swingset, getting some chicken pox medicine to them (they've all caught chicken pox), and other fun stuff. That's all for now. Oh, Sudip is back in town! And I'm going to a Nepali wedding on Monday.

Nepal! Taxi Strike, Fri 6/13, Day 23

A backfired & unproductive day. After the rest of the gang left for Chitwan, I decided to check out a temple in the outlying neighborhood of Basandura rather than head straight back to Pepsikola since I was near the main bus park anyway. I shouted out "Basandura!" enough times, found the bus, stayed on till the last stop, and wound up in frak knows where. I asked the driver "Basandura, is this Basandura?" "This is blahblah." "Uh, will you go to Basandura?" "Yes. End of the line." "So this is Basandura?" "This is blahblah." "Uhh… okay…" I got off the bus, wandered aimlessly for a bit, and then it hit me. When you factor in the accent, Basandura sounds exactly like "Patan Durbar," a major tourist landmark on the other side of the city. Whoops.

I hopped on the next bus back to central Kathmandu, got completely lost again, gave up and hired a taxi. While I was disoriented, I still had a general sense of the direction we should have been heading in and realized weren't going that way. The taxi driver's dicey English made finding out what the heck he was doing a bit tough, but the situation became clear soon enough. He pulled up to a giant high tech fortress and told me "You should get out here." I eyeballed some lettering on the fortress: Embassy of the United States of America. Oh, well then. That isn't foreboding at all. In the embassy (which was a friggin palace btw), I found out that a particularly severe bandh (transport stoppage/protest) was occurring today and that spending a couple hours in its warm womb would be a smart idea, even if twiddling my thumbs was the only available time killer.

After things settled down, I began the long trek back to Pepsikola. With striking taxis still lined up blocking the main roads, my feet were the only means of transit, and not a pleasant means they were. Unable to use the roads, all motorcycle and scooterists were using the sidewalks as de-facto streets instead. No regard for the thousands of pedestrians being forced to traverse them was present. The one or two emergency vehicles that zoomed by did the same, but they have an obvious valid excuse and were driving much more cautiously. After a long three hour walk back home, I collapsed into bed, showered, played with the kids, and called of the day. Funniness occurred at dinner… I complimented Laxmi (host Mom) on her chicken cooking skills and earned snickers from her & Ladina (the Swiss girl.) It was pineapple tree (another Nepali veggie delicacy), not chicken, silly me. So you can add boiled wood to the endless list of things that taste like chicken. Mmm.

----Vital Signs----
ETA to SE Asia = 32 days
ETA to Sir Jeff/Thailand = 44ish days
ETA to Los Angeles = 2 months, 2 days
ETA to San Diego = 2 months, 4 days
Hand Sanitizer Depleted = 70%
Time Elapsed Since Last Opp To Shower = 0 days :)
% of Wallet Depleted = Still don't wanna think about it
Mosquito Bites = 37
Calamine Lotion Depleted = 70%
Yetis Scalped = 5
Food Poisonings = Still 0
Digestive System = Buckling

Nepal! Construction Work, Thurs 6/12, Day 22

Sushaan got his first watch today! I remember when I got my first watch… it was Jurassic Park related & didn't really work at all, and neither does Sushaan's. That won't stop him from letting the whole world know of this monument event though. He's a big boy now! Mommy, wow! In other host family news, today's dal bhat featured what is apparently a delicacy around these parts: roast pumpkin stem. The stem tasted like burnt chunks of charcoal, severely taxing my willpower as I tried to scarf it down and avoid making host-mommy feel bad. I managed to power through it.

The rest of the day, until about fourish, was divided between construction work and orphanage time. Construction involved more of the same wall paintingness, plus some Nepali workers watching and snickering at us pampered Americans getting our hands dirty. Emily was annoyed by their presence, but I didn't really mind all that much. There is one classroom left to paint, after which it'll be time to bust out my little blueprint for the bamboo lunch shelter and get to work building that. My design will have the strength of a thousand Egyptian pyramids and for surely won't collapse five seconds after it's erected. At the orphanage, we taught some of the kids to play freeze tag, resulting in much fun and giggles. I'm thinking capture-the-flag for next week's big game. They're also getting a locally manufactured playground soon which Emily & I will be dispatched to assemble.

Once evening struck, it was time to show Emily & Lindsey the disorienting route into Thamel for a mass volunteer hangout in this one coffee shop we all usually go to. Lindsey definitely ain't enjoying the inner city; I'd turn my head to make sure she was still following us and see this wide eyed dumbfounded "what am I doing here…" look on her face. I can't say I disagree; the city is getting more aggravating for me with every trip I take into it. The nonstop honking, smog, tiger balm hawkers, near death experiences with maniacal scooter drivers, it's all just a bit too much. I was a bit disappointed when I first arrived to hear that central Kathmandu was a full hour away by bus, but after comparing its insanity to the quiet, addictive charm of Pepsikola-town, I'm grateful as can be. We arrived at Java Café on time for a rendezvous with the Brits, Melissa, and Christina, all of whom + Emily & Lindsey needing to organize their Chitwan safari. I'm opting out due to its cost and desire to work a bit more at the orphanage.

Having now done three of the little overnighters in Thamel, I'd grown bored of the Del Sol Bar hangouts and talked the Brits into doing a wee pub crawl. Our first of two stops was "The Rum & Doodle," an apparently world famous joint that gives lifetime free meals and drinks to anyone who successfully climbs Mt Everest. There was a whole shielded signature board on the wall labeled "Everest Summiteers Club", filled with the autographs of famous mountaineers who'd made it to the top. While the two ladies chatted with each other in incomprehensible Scottish pidgin, Andy & I talked half-joking politics and other random stuff over a pair of vodka martinis. Mine was shaken, not stirred. I think his was stirred. How dare he. It took maybe an hour for us to grow bored of this slightly disappointing and empty bar, prompting a migration to some reggae place whose name I forgot. It was probably something generic like "The Reggae Bar." Per it's title, there was a live house band present performing excellent reggae covers of many an excellent songs. Also present was a goofy English balloon-man who gave us all little balloons bent into this or that shape. He spends his time in Kathmandu darting from one orphanage or school to the next, amusing the kids with his balloon skills. We got his contact info and enlisted his services for OCRC.

By 12:30, it was time to return to the Hotel Potala. Thamel in the middle of the night is shady (devoid of people, poorly lit, etc), I was glad to be in a decently sized group of friends. As empty as the streets were, the annoying bicycle rickshaws refused to sleep. "Need lift?" "No." "You need lift, what hotel you stay at?" "We don't need lift." "Yes I think you do." "No." "Please, I give good price." "NO!" "How much you pay?" "NO!" Till this moment, I did not think it was possible for Andy to make an expression other than pure joy, smiles, or laughter. This peddler guy was really getting on his nerves. Andy's devious inner wolf summoned, he beckoned me over behind the rickshaw while the two girls diverted his attention. We pressed our hands up against the rickshaw seat, began jogging, and with a good burst of force sent the cursed thing rolling down the sloped-enough street and away from us. Works every time, according to Andy. We were not pestered again. So ended what was probably the most fun night out in town yet.

PS: Forgot to add, in Thamel we visited a grocery store that had the most beautiful shelf of products I have ever seen. An endless row of PEANUT BUTTER. At last, there is a God. I stockpiled a fourth of their actually not that big but beautiful nonetheless supply.

----Vital Signs----
Hand Sanitizer Depleted = 70%
Time Elapsed Since Last Opp To Shower = 0 days :)
% of Wallet Depleted = Still don't wanna think about it
Mosquito Bites = 37
Calamine Lotion Depleted = 70%
Yetis Scalped = 5
Food Poisonings = Still 0
Digestive System = Buckling

Nepal! Bir Hospital, Wed 6/11, Day 21

After a more rushed morning routine than usual, Christina and I hopped on a minibus bound for the city. Bir Hospital, "where chronically ill Nepalis go to die, not recommended" (Lonely Planet), was our destination. Steve backed out for fear of being more a liability than help and tempted me to do the same in lue of mutually dubious medical credentials, but I held me ground. The stuffed gorilla accompanied us on the journey and got to ride on a random generous passenger's lap while we held onto the railing for dear life. Something seemed amiss in town. Street merchants were packing up at ten in the morning, the cops were out in full camo & armor force, and the two of us exchanged "what are we getting in to?" looks. The King was going to officially step down today (thought that already happened? I guess not) and tense feelings were abound. Thankfully no political ickiness erupted, but the situation didn't help what was already becoming one of the greatest bouts of trepidation I've had since arriving in Nepal. This hospital, if the infamy was to be believed, could render me sleepless for the next week.

The bus dropped us off at a giant, drab, almost Soviet concrete monstrosity straddling central park. Faded lettering across the building's entrance spelled out "Bir Hospital (+ Hindi Scribble)" and confirmed we were in the right place. Before entering, we made a pit stop at Bir's pharmacy to pick up some Malaria pills for Christina's upcoming jungle trip. Of course the only type of pill they, the largest government hospital in the country, carry is the one formula that doesn't work against the Nepali strain of Malaria. Good logic, yes.

After giving the pharmacist a good juicy "wtf?," Christina led me through the evil double doors into the hospital itself. Posted on the main reception's wall was what looked like a giant menu of treatments and tests. "Carioscopy – 400 Rupees, Neuroscopy – 600 Rs, Thisscopy – 400, Thatscopy – 700" etc. The interior was not much different than an oversized NYC subway station, a maze of leaky concrete walls and ceilings, extremely functional with absolutely no thought or money given to aesthetics. Whatever gets the job done, I guess. Strange and probably noxious chemical smells were abound in some areas, sewage smells (minus actual sewage) were abound in others, but there were none of the garbage heaps or stray dogs that Jesse described. These were only the main hallways, however. Sealed metal double doors blocked our ways into the actual wards, and I'm not sure I wanted to imagine what was behind them. There was no way to get through them without Steve's girlfriend and her inside connection in any case.

There were only a handful of unsealed wards: the physical therapy section, the kids section, and, of all things, the surgery section. Christina wanted to visit surgery after her observation appointment at physiotherapy, but the "Please remove your shoes and socks" (and walk barefoot across a hospital floor?? 'tf?) sign kept me out. Anyhow, Christina proceeded to the deserted physiotherapy section for a rendezvous with the head doctor, and I split of and headed to pediatrics, stuffed monkey in tow. The main room, a large and dank but brightly lit chamber with rows upon rows of beds was, like physiotherapy, utterly deserted. Perhaps all the parents figured their kids would be better off staying at home with folk medicine than even setting foot in this place? They'd probably be right.

Hoping to be pointed to wherever the terminally ill kiddies had gone, I approached the nurse's office (seven female doctors sitting around twiddling their thumbs) and engaged James Bond mode. I flashed my volunteer card and in as simple English I could think of explained that "I am Doctor Benimoff, I'm an American pediatherapist (lie) sent by VSN (lie) to entertain the children." They just looked at me funny. I whipped out the monkey and kind of bounced it around while repeating "Entertain! Kids! Kahaa (where) are kids?" in hopes that they'd get the message. "China, china" ("don't want/don't have") came the confused and slightly annoyed response. My Patch Adams plans thwarted, I just plopped the monkey onto my shoulders and started trotting around the halls giving it a piggy back ride. Scored smiles half the time, looked like an idiot the other half. This went on for maybe twenty minutes until I had the full length of halls covered. I probably should've tried harder and with more confidence to get to the patients (or maybe not, if I'd just get in the way. Who knows.) I dunno. The whole charade was probably misguided and pointless, but getting a few people to smile in a place as depressed as that had to have contributed something.

Out of time for now, adios.

Nepal! Pizza Party, Tues 6/10, Day 20

As expected, a slow day. Emily and I finished painting the new schoolroom whilst discovering our mutual wuv of current events, and how an annoyed we both were at the delay in hearing about them here (can never get CNN to load)... after being so into the Democratic race, neither of us found out Obama won until almost a week after the fact. She told me about her apparently awesome archaeologist Dad who has dug up many a Mayan ruins in Mexico during his youth. He came to Nepal to accompany her on an Everest trek before she joined VSN, and was so culture shocked by Kathmandu that he changed his flight to return to the US a week early. lulz Emily seems to be liking "KTM" well enough; after spending her college life in a science lab, she's glad to get out and see the world.

I stopped by the orphanage for a short while afterwards to give the kids someone to climb on. Again, they sort of just grab your hand and drag you around from one room to another to play this and that game. Next time I'll bring the stuffed monkey, teehee. It's almost breakfast time (running late today) so uhh... yeah, orphanage, then there was a pizza party in honor of Jesse's departure, I'll miss that silly Frat boy, uhh dum dum what else happened... oh, helped the family move a new cabinet upstairs, played with Sushaan, yadda gotta go! The next entry will be better, apologies.

Nepal! Wall of Affection, Mon 6/09, Day 19

Sushaan has learned a new English word: "Cadbury Bar!" He has also learned to combine this with one of the only other English words he knows, "me!" Silly Sushaan. It was a relief to be back in Pepsikola after being away for what felt like an eternity in the hills. The Himalayas might've been peaceful and serene, but they did not have Sushaan. As soon as I got back and opened my pack, he pounced onto it and began probing for Cadbury bars, which I apparently promised him but have no memory of doing so. I got him one at the local hole-in-the-wall a couple hours later to keep his adorable rampages at bay.

There are some new faces around VSN, and some old ones have vanished. Stan returned to his Canadian home and has been replaced upstairs by a shy Swiss girl (ding!) with a funny accent. Two new British volunteers arrived, a guy named Andy and a girl named Crystal/Kristal/Krystal, both of whom are really cool and tried in vain to tempt me into another jungle excursion. I met Andy first and he apparently described me to Kristal as "oh yeah, there's another guy from the UK here!" That's now the second time in history such a thing has happened, the first time was early freshman year when Sir Wheeler suspected me of being an Englishman faking an American accent. I have to cut back on the James Bond marathons. When I asked Kristal what brought her to Nepal, she said that in England, med students get a year long vacation in the middle of a four (as opposed to seven +) year curriculum and she thought this'd be a good thing to do during her big gap. British medical schools are also apparently much easier than ours and give students enough free time to maintain a social life, so note to Clark & TLee: you shoulda gone to school in the UK. Note to everyone else: Don't ever allow a British doctor to treat you.

After some sluggish construction work on the school, I headed off to OCRC orphanage with the Brits for our daily duties. We plowed through the wall of affection that hit us upon entering and set the kids loose to run around their back yard. In the lead up to arriving in Nepal, I was kind of worried about what I'd actually do in the orphanage, but them kiddies know how to put you to business. Their itinerary for us consisted of a half hour of some sort of Hindi Ring Around the Rosey followed by "use volunteers as monkey-bars" time and a game of sort-of-soccer… it was a blast all around. There were only two Nepali workers for all forty plus kids, so the sudden tripling of elders/potential monkey bars sent the orphans wild. One of them tried to trick me into opening what I guess was the candy room; he put on a sobby face and dragged me to a shut door he was too small to open. As soon as I started to, a flock of older kids surrounded and urged me to not let him in. I'd been had.

After a twenty minute wait for a no-show minibus to Pepsikola, we gave up and begrudgingly began what would be a long walk back home. Just then, hope! A large bus-shaped object rolled by and Andy instantly jumped into the road to flag it down. We scrambled on, took our seats, breathed a sigh of relief… and noticed all the uniformed school children staring at us awkwardly. Oops. The snickering school bus driver happily gave us a lift most of the way back home. Home consisted of an early dal bhat and a quiet but pleasant hangout in the Hut, nothing noteworthy there. Probably nothing noteworthy today either, but on Wednesday I'll be accompanying Steve to the central Kathmandu government hospital to provide otherwise absent moral support to the mortally wounded patients there. The few volunteers who have visited this hospital came back with horror stories: trash strewn hallways, stray dogs trotting in and out of surgery rooms, patients who'd been waiting three *years* to get their burns treated, etc. I'm more than a bit nervous, we'll see how it goes.

General Vital Signs:
Tibetans Freed = 0/2.4mil, though the trinket I bought from one prolly helped a bit
Hand Sanitizer Depleted = 60%
Time Elapsed Since Last Opp To Shower = 3 days (deficient running water)
Athlete's Foot = Conquered
Wallet Depleted = Don't wanna think about it
Food Poisonings = 0
Mosquito Bites = 34
Calamine Lotion Depleted = 70%
Pickpockets Thwarted = 1 (slapped his wrist away, hooah)
Yetis Scalped = 4
Maoist Insurgencies Thwarted = 0

Trekking Vitals:
Almost-Deaths = 2
Almost-Sprained Ankles = 12
Almost-Leeches = 7
Sprained Ankles = 0
Leeches = 0
Shirts Soiled Beyond Hope of Laundry Salvation = 1
Four Leaf Clovers Found = 1!!!

Nepal! Annapurna Himalaya Trek, Sun 6/01-08, Days 11-18

June-August are generally regarded as the worst three months to venture into the local mountains. Rain clouds obscure most of the views, bring rain and turn the trails to muddy slop. Ever since seeing Frank Capra's Lost Horizon as a kid and most definitely since seeing Kundun in 7th Grade social studies class though, the tranquil Shangri-La paradise of the high Himalayas has captured my dreams, and the possibility of visiting it was half the reason I chose to come to Nepal over [insert other basket-case country here.] Buddhist prayer flags fluttering on the tops of mountain peaks, yak herders herding their yaks, monks hymning over the roar of a blizzard, YETIS… ahh I just had to see it for myself. So, off Janu (the guide) and I went, mountain treeline bound.

After a comfy late-morning taxi ride from Pokhara, we arrived at the trek's starting point, a hilly strip mall of shanties named Naya Pul ("New Bridge" or something like that.) Our path was to take us on a six day journey through the forests just below the peaks with an option to extend the trek four days if I wasn't too tired, possibly reaching Annapurna Base Camp. The trail along those extra four days would cut straight into the mountain range's heart and across a glacier, something I was psyched about… if I decided to fork out the extra money and strength to go that extra mile. Time would tell.

The trek's initial leg took us through a humid little valley filled with fluttering butterflies, flowers, mist, and vines, or in short: a jungle. A light subtropical jungle, but a jungle nonetheless. Not the sort of scenery I was expecting after conjuring images of an Asian Switzerland in my head, but it was gorgeous all the same. A wet and virgin wilderness it was, not far removed from Hillary Clinton. Janu half-jokingly tried to set me up with every young-enough pretty female innkeeper along the way, but severe language barriers and the general awkwardness of it all proved insurmountable boundaries. We settled down around sixish in a lodge run by Annemarie's long lost Tibetan twin sister, nibbled on some dal bhat, chatted about love, family, and stuff, and called of the night. It was the first of what would be many lonely and quiet mountainous nights. The trails were devoid of tourists, the locals spoke nary an English word, Janu's own English was too spotty to converse for longer than ten minutes at a time, and I brought no books along for fear of their weight straining my shoulders. Many times after finals or a heavy bout of deadlines one is left wondering what to do to kill one's suddenly huge amount of free time, but I can't remember ever having so literally *nothing* to do as I did during those six nights trekking. It was a weird feeling, neither good nor bad. We'd stop walking every afternoon and pondering the meaning of life while staring at the view would be the only activity option until dinner and sleep rolled along. Some deep pondering went on there.

Anyways, trekking day dos began by climbing a three hour long staircase, with minimal breaks, followed by another three hours of mostly flat walking to the next village of Ghorepani. During this ascent, my legs and butt came to know a new definition of pain and suffering. In addition, it soon became clear that whenever Janu said "ok! We're over the climb!" he actually meant "there's another fifteen to twenty minutes of slightly less steep climbing lurking around the corner, I'm just trying to instill you with false hope." The jungle views more than made up for my rapidly liquidating legs, however. There were no snow capped peaks at this point, but we'd pass many a steep misty ravines and cross at least three precarious wood + rope bridges that looked like set pieces from Indiana Jones. We arrived in Ghorepani around three in the afternoon with the remainder of the day reserved for thumb-twiddling and recovery. Janu gave me a crash course in the world of Hindi pop during this thumb twiddling. One song was awesome and shall be downloaded as soon as I return to the US, the rest entered the "a bit too different" file.
We woke up uber-early the next morning, around four thirty, to climb adjacent Poon Hill and watch the sunrise over the mountains. At the top of Poon Hill was probably the greatest single landscape view I have ever seen in my life. Six of the world's tallest snowy peaks surrounded us on almost all sides painted gorgeous-orangish by the rising sun, marking the first moment of the trek when it seemed like my beloved Switzerland would be dethroned on the beauty meter. I tried to snatch a Facebook profile picture that would make it look like I had actually climbed one of the adjacent mountains, but after seven attempts and none of the other handful of (nearly all Japanese) tourists understanding my probably incoherent instructions, I gave up. I think "Backfired Mountain Climbing FBook Pictures" will be the "Trying to Take a Pic of Myself in the Swiss Alps" album of this trip.

The Poon Hill climb was followed by what would become the most pleasant walking day of the trek, through the jungle's most scenic and flat turf with a German couple and a very-American guy (he sported a cowboy hat) named Doug for company. I also snapped the best "Buddhist prayer flags fluttering in the wind" picture I've gotten yet, but it came at a price. As I finished snapping the picture, Janu shouted a terrifying, vile word that I have long since dreaded and never thought I'd actually hear:

…"LEECH!"

I looked down, and sure enough… the slimy little asshole was trying to burrow it's way into my shoe. Now I can handle bugs, rats, blood, and most other ickiness that would make weaker men faint – actually no I can't, but parasites are the one group of evil creepy crawlies that just chill me to the bone. In a freak out that was probably hysterical to anyone watching, I shrieked like a girl, tore my shoe off, tossing it halfway down the trail, and scrambled half-barefoot to the nearest leech-proof boulder. As he took care of my shoe, two more leeches popped out of the soil and ambushed Janu. He vanquished them like a pro. This event marked the beginning of the Leech Series of Nightmares during sleep, and the era of leech paranoia during the daytime walks. Stepping light and fast, and not standing still over open wet soil (as opposed to stone) kept most of them away. My shoes got seven total by the end of the trek and my skin got none, so it was a victory.

That night had the greatest lodging of the trek, an isolated tea house perched over a valley in perfect quiet harmony, with a crystal clear view of Macchapuchare Mountain to ponder over. The layout reminded me a lot of Gimmelwald, except while Switzerland was a charming winter wonderland where the world's greatest chocolate grew on trees, this was a harsh and brutal environment of peasants who struggled day in and out to simply get their crops to grow, or carry huge loads of vital cargo on their backs up the endless stone staircases to their village. One really feels like a spoiled weakling when watching them go about their routine. As we waited for dinner, Janu came up with a great idea: "Okay, I make example without sound, you guess which example is." (charades!) Many mutual giggles where shared over the resulting antics. Janu's laugh is one I'll never forget… Beneath his smiles he was clearly a bit depressed and hopeless, having given up on a dream of working in the West, and his dog-whimperish chuckles where always as desperate as they were amused. They were subtle declarations of "My life sucks, but I can find the humor in it," and he was magically good at doing so. He offered to show me around his home village sometime before I leave Nepal, and I hope I'll be able to take him up on the offer.

The next day was a steep descent and climb to Chomrong, the last village in the valley before the trail forked and went either up toward Annapurna Base Camp or back down around to civilization. If I was going to chose to go the extra mile, it had to be now. I could not decide. Was it a good idea to be gone from VSN longer than I'd been there to begin with? Would it be worth the extra money? Did I even have the money (no?) Would I freeze to death, 'cause I didn't pack cold weather gear? Janu egged me and insisted we press on, slowly if need be, while I made my final decision. If I decided no, we could always turn back. So on we pressed for about twenty minutes and began descending one of the longest and steepest staircases yet. The stairs twisted around the hillside and revealed an epic view of the path to "ABC." Brutal doesn't even begin to describe what it looked like. I could almost hear that Lord of the Rings thumping theme playing in the background as Frodo stared out toward Mordor in dread. I shrugged it off, climbed down a bit more, slipped, tripped, and missed a head splitting stone by mere inches. My legs quivering with every step, knees buckling, my body answered the "to go or not to go" question for me. Despite making apparently near-record time in hiking to Chomrong and being Janu's fastest trekker yet, I was far too weak by that point to survive the extra four days hiking in even thinner air than I was already putting up with. I could make it there, maybe... but would need a wheelchair for the return trip. And so, setting foot in snowy Shangri-La will remain a dream for now. (Morgan Freeman) Perhaps some dreams are best left dreamt. (/End Morgan Freeman) I'm sure I'll be back one day with bigger calve and butt muscles to finish what I started, but with the rainy season approaching and much volunteer work to be done, that day will not come soon. I did accomplish one childhood dream during the trek though: I found a four leaf clover. W00t.

The remaining two days of the trek were less blog worthy, including more of the same pretty scenery, easier walking, and a pair of Australian trekkers who insisted I go see a kickboxing match while in Thailand during August. That should be fun. Also, there was a Nepali woman named Puspah at our final lodge who I clicked and exchanged numbers with. Hopefully we'll keep in touch. Our journey ended the next morning in Pokhara, with a brief kayak ride on the lake and a hopefully not final goodbye to Janu. I also rented the world's crappiest bicycle and braved the free-for-all Nepali roads to journey up to a monastery. Lonely Planet warns about venturing onto the roads with a wheeled vehicle: "Expect children, old men, women, dogs, cats, errant cows, suicidal chickens, and pretty much anything that moves to jump out at you without warning. Good luck." (ghee, thanks) It was an exhilarating thrill ride to be sure. Also, for all the bike's crappiness, it had one feature that made all the squeaky pedaling worthwhile: An awesome bike bell. So, when passing cars honked at me for my idiotic bike skills, I could like ding my little bell back at them and thus really rip 'em a new one. It made me feel powerful. The next morning I was on a bus back to Kathmandu, and thus ended my week long flight into the mountains. The monsoon is on it's way in now, I've done nearly all the sightseeing I wanted to see, playtime is over… now it's time to get down to business and save some kiddies. Expect much more orphanage news in the posts to come, including the delivery of the donation suitcase as soon as someone gets a hold of a car.