HANDS in Nepal

Another Update on Another School

2011-04-03T12:58:00.000-07:00

Dear All;

Recently our main man in Nepal, Rajan Simkhada (trektibet.com), sent us a photo update of our first school in Darkha. The work to finish the details, such as concrete, furnishings, and toilets, took a fairly long time but all quite worth it as you will see, it is looking beautiful!!! We are so proud to have completed this school, but of course there will be an on-going amount of work revolving around this building, as maintenance and upkeep go, and little niceties like paintings, maybe a mural on an outer wall, and of course the internal development of curriculum's, workshops, and training programs.

Bree and I are spending the day in a coffee shop. It is hailing here in Boulder, on the verge of snow we think, and so we retreat to the warm indoors and she writes letters while I type away answering e-mails, researching organizations in Nepal, and keeping up on this blog and a little work on our new up and coming website. While looking for something to listen to on youtube I happened across an incredible video. It is by a band called The Walkmen, who I have been listening to and loving for a long while, yet never did I expect them to have a music video like the one I came across. All filmed in Nepal, little children dancing in a Himalyan landscape!! Amazing!! I looked up the person who made the film and found out that its a French Artist who has spent many years living in Nepal, even has opened a sandwich shop and a tattoo shop there! His name is Bruno Levy. I sent him an e-mail thanking him for making such an awesome film, and also asking if we could meet.

Check this out... http://brunolevy.com/videos/0-four-provinces

Photo Update

2011-03-23T17:29:00.000-07:00

Dear HANDS supporters;

We recently received long-awaited pictures of the school building work going on in Fulkharka, the second village we are building a school in. Currently the work is being conducted without our physical presence. We have sent over 2 installments of money and agreed that a certain amount of work will be done by the time of our arrival on April 17th. It was a sweet surprise to check my e-mail the other night and find this visual update of the work waiting for me.

Happy Losar!

2011-03-06T19:32:00.000-08:00

Tashi Delek Everyone!

It is the week of the Tibetan New Year festival called Losar, on the Tibetan calendar it is now the year 2138, the metal rabbit year. This morning my girlfriend Bree and I put on a fund raiser at a local Boulder restaurant called Aji. We had been planning it out for a while now and we're quite happy with the way it turned out. It is an annual event that happens for the non-profit organization that our friend and soon-to-be colleague Debbie Young started some 30 years ago, the AACC, Americas Association for the Care of Children, working to build schools and implement educational programs in Nicaragua. This year since Debbie is on sabbatical and off traveling the world she left it in our hands to hold the event. She made it sound so easy, as if all we had to do was take the wheel and drive for a bit. But we found that with Debbie gone so also went many connections with people who may have come to the event. We e-mailed, we telephoned, we even did a bit of canvassing, but all in all people weren't at all eager to spend $30 on a ticket for a morning of listening to talks about Nepal and Nicaragua and the severity of life there. But alas we were able to eventually gather up a nice bundle of people who were really generous and supportive to us. We had a very successful morning and everything went fairly smooth.

Jan has also been on the fund-raising work recently and was the speaker at an AAUW women's group meeting at the Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo, CA last week. She sent me pictures and called before and after to keep me posted on the details. It was a success on all accounts and she says also a very emotional experience, speaking about the importance of women's education to this room full of dedicated, hard-working and concerned women. Many tears were shed from full hearts and many connections made with amazing groups of people.

Now we count the days until mine and Bree's departure on April 16th. We have received news from our Nepali friend Bhupendra whose village we are being sponsored to build our second school in and he informs us that the land on which the school will be built has now been flattened and is ready for construction to begin. Good news, very exciting, its going to be a good year.

Starting our Second School

2011-03-01T10:51:00.001-08:00

Dear All;

We have recently been coordinating the start of a new school in the village of Fulkharka, just a ways up the mountain from Darkha. This is a project that we were recruited for. A family in Minnesota contacted us about fulfilling a promise they had made to a Nepali trekking guide they had met 7 years prior. He had explained the desperate situation for schools and education in Nepal and the family agreed it was worth following up on. The Nepali man had heard about us working in Darkha and had even seen the work progressing, being only a 4-hour hike from his own village, the news spread quickly. He recommended to this family in Minnesota that they contact us about coordinating the work for them. We were contacted and began a dialogue with the Minnesotan family about how the work would go and the time-line and budget. We then contacted the Nepali man and had our own Nepali representative go to meet with him and see if we were on common ground. Direct contact was established and reliability was confirmed so we decided to proceed. Now we have a monthly payment plan set up and an outline of the work to come. It will follow a similar model as the school in Darkha, with some added difficulties mainly in the transportation of materials since it is much further away than Darkha. This area of Nepal, as in any rural, remote areas in Nepal is at high-risk for child-trafficking scandals. We feel strongly that by providing more facilities like school's that are designed with proper latrines so girls can always attend we are making a huge impact. The less reasons families have to send their children off to the city with seemingly well-intentioned men, the better chance the children have to grow and flourish in their own communities.

Little Princes

2011-02-22T20:21:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers!

Recently a book has been released onto the market entitled "Little Princes." When we found out the subject of this book is an orphanage in Nepal called Little Princes Children's Home and one man's experience with said orphanage we of course bought up as many copies as our wallets could manage. Jan has devoured her book and already contacted the people involved with the NGO that the author of the book has started, and Danny (myself) has broken into the book with ferocity and is almost too shocked to continue reading now at the half-way point. The author is kind of living a parallel existence to my own, only a few years ahead of myself. He describes in wonderful written language the exact feelings that I had working in Buddhist Child Home the first time.

For myself, this book cleared up a lot of issues I had been wondering about for a long time. Besides the overall impressive knowledge on the finer points of inner-city life in Nepal, like which castes live in which parts of the city and other information about festivals, cultural gestures, and language, Connor Grennan (the author) explains his personal experience with child-trafficking in Nepal. He discovers very interesting things about why so many children are on their own or in orphanages in Nepal. I will leave the details to be found in the book, I absolutely recommend reading it! It has been fascinating to hear about the Maoists, the corruption and the opposing sweet nature of Nepali people and all the wild craziness that a place like Nepal brings. We are in contact with the organization created by Connor Grennan called Next Generation Nepal, (http://www.nextgenerationnepal.org/index.php) and very much hope to be able to visit them during this next trip to Nepal. We feel deeply that our causes are connected and linked and that promoting education in the remote areas of Nepal (where most children are trafficked from) will increase their motivation to stay and not follow after false opportunities which could lead to sticky situations.

That is all for now, more news on the inner-workings of our org to come. A new website is on the way! Along with a possible online auction store.

Thanks for reading

Kathmandu Skateboarding

2011-02-14T13:52:00.000-08:00

I heard about a project going on in Afghanistan that was about bringing skateboarding to children who had nothing to do and not much hope for their future. I read articles about it and secretly planned my own version of doing this in Nepal. The work in Afghanistan was entitled "Skateistan" please please please look at the pictures on the website, http://skateistan.org/ and read through to learn a little about this great work.

The last trip to Nepal my friend and photographer Nate Abate and I (both dedicated skateboarders) were constantly passing the time by dreaming about the possibility of bringing skateboarding to Nepal. One day, we were walking through the Thamel district which is the tourist area of Kathmandu, and we saw a Western looking kid riding a skateboard through the crowded streets! We were so shocked we just pointed and sputtered as the guy went rolling by with a funny look at us. A few evenings later we were again walking through Thamel and two Western kids with a definite "skateboarder" style were handing out fliers. We stopped and to our shock and surprise they were advertising a Skate Shop that they had opened recently in Thamel. They are from Switzerland and the shop is called Arniko. They employ local Nepali wood workers to carve amazing custom skateboards.

Here is their website, http://www.arnikoskateboards.com/en/

We talked to them for hours and went back to the shop again and again to hang out, watch skate videos, and pick through their awesome selection of artsy t-shirts. Oh how I dreamed of creating a skatepark in Kathmandu ("Skatemandu") !!!! and introducing my favorite activity into my favorite culture. Just thought I'd share these thoughts and story on this lovely day of love.

Listen In

2011-02-13T07:53:00.000-08:00

Hello Everyone;

I thought I would post up a link to an audio clip of Jan being interviewed back in November before our last fund raiser. This is for anyone who missed out on hearing it when it first aired. She did a great job of explaining our work and describing the environment and conditions of Nepal. Enjoy!

http://edbroadcasters.com/podcasts/congalton/11-08-10.mp3

News Update

2011-01-08T13:19:00.001-08:00

Dear Readers:

For the year 2011 (that is 2068 in Nepal, working on their own calendar) HANDS in Nepal is undergoing some huge changes and plans that will shape the work to come. During this upcoming semester Danny will be cutting classes back to half-time to allow for more freedom to organize, plan, and write grants for HANDS. As it turns out one of the two classes he is going to be in will be an independent studies with Naropa professor Debbie Young. She is setting up a syllabus for him that surrounds issues in NGO work, community development, and PAR, Preparatory Action Research. In April Danny will be making a trip with Debbie to the site of our first school in Darkha, Nepal.

Jan and Danny have recently been meeting and were delivered some exciting news while together in Boulder. A friend of HANDS in Minnesota is going to contribute a hefty sum to have us begin a school in a village they know of that is quite close to Darkha.

Jan will also be working to learn about and organize a new branch of HANDS in Nepal, she wishes to call it Hearts in Nepal and wants to focus on the women's issues that may be present.

An article has been published in the latest New Times about our upcoming work and continued progress, it can be checked out at the following link;

http://www.newtimesslo.com/news/5527/lend-a-hand/

Quite the Holiday

2010-12-29T15:27:00.000-08:00

I am currently sitting at the E Street Cafe in Encinitas, CA. It is raining here and the beach is only blocks away. Mom sits across from me and we discuss everything HANDS related. She is applying for a retail license right now as I type and we hope to very soon be ready to start focusing on selling Nepali products. She heard a lecture given by Robert Thurman on the state of Tibet recently and was inspired to start working on a new, yes another new branch for HANDS to head into. Apparently Robert Thurman says that Tibetan's and their cultural heritage are just too strong and well-adjusted to the rugged Himalayan environment to ever be truly finished off. He believes they will out-survive the Chinese and that in fact the Tibet invasion will eventually, many years down the road spell the beginning of the collapse of the Chinese Empire.

The key to my mom's current idea is that the Chinese have started a new strategy (perhaps not so new) of killing yaks which have long since been a major part of Tibetan nomadic society. In that we are already so into exchanging yak hair products she wants to further the promotion of that along with a new take on it which would focus on the importance of retaining Tibetan cultural practices. It may not sound like much of a big new thing in writing but coming from across the table and with the mighty roar of Amma-la it carries a certain "can't fail" energy that excites me.

Cold Day in Colorado

2010-12-21T14:37:00.001-08:00

I have just gone through the process of moving into a new house in Boulder, Co. My room mate and I have been sharing a small, one-room studio for the last semester and now are moving up to a full-on 2-bedroom duplex. Its on 17th and Walnut, very close to downtown and very reasonably priced for such a location. The stress of securing that place, along with the ending of a very busy semester, combined with the bone-chillingly cold weather has left me with a lingering illness that is making it difficult to function. It seems to be better though with each day and soon I'll be heading home to the California coast to get some great family time in.

Next semester I will be only taking 2 classes with hopes of spending a lot more time working on HANDS-related work. We are planning to reorganize our very foundations before moving on. I have a few hopeful looking prospects with possible grantors, and will be focusing a lot of time and energy on writing grant applications in the coming months. Because of the success of our Nepali product sales we will also be looking into the resale aspect of our work and hopefully will figure the procedure for setting up an online store.

Due to some confusion with credit cards our old website which was created, designed, and maintained by our Minnesotan sister and daughter Stacy, is not going to be up anymore and instead this blog page will be our online headquarters.

A lot of exciting events will be happening for HANDS in the new year, including a very special guest visit to our school in Nepal. My professor from Naropa University, Debbie Young, the Early Childhood Education department chair, will be in Bhutan in the first week of April and for the next two weeks she wants to visit Nepal and help in whatever way she can with our work there. She will visit our school location and possibly implement some teacher training programs, and find out what sort of woman's issues may need some attention, something that she is experienced with. She has an NGO of her own which is focused with working in Nicaragua, primarily in an area known as Jalapa. The NGO she has been running for 18 years is called America's Association for the Care of Children, AACC. http://www.aaccchildren.net/

I unfortunately will be tied down to my classes and job in Boulder, as much as I would love to be there to show her everything in person. But on the bright side there will be a lot of activity focused around international aid happening in Boulder during the month of April, most notably the Colorado University Conference on World Affairs which hosts over 100 different guest speakers on issues happening across the globe. http://www.colorado.edu/cwa/athen.html

The other point to cover is that work will be formulating in the coming spring around the construction of a new school, the second one. Right now it is still just in the "talk" phase but we have a location ready and I think it will be possible to organize much of the construction from the States now that we know the process and how it will go. Then we will be making a visit sometime in May to finalize the deal. We are looking into locations as well as a new application process still and nothing is set in stone as of yet. But most likely there will be some physical work happening in Nepal again for us soon, as well as a lot of scholarship, sponsorship work for the children at the Buddhist Child Home orphanage.

Happy New Year everyone, and have some great holidays!

Lots of News

2010-12-02T18:25:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone! This blog has fallen by the way side as my classes and academic schedule have become quite the full platter. However, over the past 3-4 weeks lots of news has come up for HANDS and I feel it is now time to share again, and to become once again a regular blog page, with more consistently updated info.

Heres to it, hope you all begin to once again regularly check up on this page. Please e-mail me feedback about anything including adjustments to this page that might make it more presentable for you. daniels@students.naropa.edu

NEWS:

November 14th we had our second annual fundraiser at the community hall in Santa Margarita, CA. I flew out from Boulder to partake and to honor guests with my presence as keynote speaker. We had an incredible evening. Roughly 100 people in attendance and over $5,000 raised! That is nearly double of what we raised last year! Thank you so much to everyone who attended, and to all those who volunteered their time to help set up and attend the different stations. We now have around $11,000.00 in our HANDS account, which brings me to the next subject of interest; plans and projects.

GREG MORTENSON, MAN OF THE HOUR:

Before I get into the details about the first ever official HANDS board meeting held in our Margarita home over Thanksgiving break I would like to share the amazing opportunity I and my parents had to attend a talk by Greg Mortenson, the author of 3 cups of tea and Stones into Schools. We saw him give a talk in Salinas, CA to a relatively small audience. He spoke a lot on the global importance and value of receiving an education, especially for women, and went into detail on a few very moving stories from Pakistan and Afghanistan. After his talk he was doing a book signing and after standing in line for about an hour we got to have a quick exchange of words, handshakes, and autographs with the man himself. Such an honor! He is an incredible person and very real! During our brief one on one I slipped him a HANDS brochure with some personalized notes, and my mom presented him a Nepali gift bag.

THANKSGIVING BOARD MEETING SPECIAL:

On Saturday the 27 of November we had our first ever official board meeting since we have gathered members of our extended family to help with the HANDS project. Those in attendance are all people who now will have a say in the undertakings of HANDS and the direction we will be headed. My girlfriend Bree came home with me for thanksgiving and was also present during the meeting taking everything down on her laptop, which is what I will now use to transcribe onto the blog.

Those in attendance and now part of HANDS decision making were: Heidi , Ptolemny, Sam and Tahira, Kate, Julee, and Jan and Don.

Here is the transcription from Bree's notes, its a lot, but worth looking into, lots of valuable new information came from much brain storming and think tanking.

Board Meeting – Hands in Nepal Nov. 27, 2010

1. Fundraiser:

- what went well? what did you like about the evening?

- what could be improved upon? any new ideas?

• $5,012, money from fundraiser… now total over $11,600!!
• Latest Nepali scarfs, all the rage! They will go like hot cakes! Price of the scarves will go up in price.
• Food was set up very nicely, two tables in the middle of the room, more people could reach it at one time. – Danny likes that idea versus a
• WINE! Get wine donation again for next time.
• Silent Auction and 50/50 Raffle : More raffle items for next fundraiser, maybe prizes! (Jan)Bought a ticket to get in was also part of a raffle, different than a raffle.
• MUSIC – having a headliner was great, a great act. Keep your ears open for another band interested in playing.
• (Jan’s idea) Chapel in Morro Bay behind bookstore around New Years fundraiser, “Hands Unplugged”
• GUEST BOOK! We need to get people’s e-mails, for newsletter (Jan and Don have addresses from checks)

o E-newsletter,

• Have greeters at the door, here is the silent auction, here is the store, - describe to them the different areas

- maybe wearing certain outfits to identify those that can be targeted as volunteers.

• Concern: are we tapping into the same people, how often can you ask for money??
o Additional ideas: tapping into a new source of people, spread the word
o Utilize the bookstore: selling items that you produce and the name, contact cards, etc. thus access to a larger group of people
o Presentations: Jan has been working on presentations around the community (has someone interested in supporting two children)

Americas Association for Women(sp?) – Presentation in February, specifically interested in women and girls issues.

o Go to various organizations looking for speakers to present different non-profits and ideas. Different organizations, build relationships with them. Then being able to utilize their source of people.
• Good idea to keep the money separate, did that! – Store brought in the majority of the money, tickets were about $1,000
• How few people read posters, how can it be spread by word of mouth. Maybe let’s not waste energy in posters, new times, and newspapers.
o Talk to new times, three weeks before, link the new times to the fundraiser as an advertisement. Show the success that is being shown.
o Maybe focus on toilet facilities, amazing to people when it is discussed with people who don’t know, then take that angle
o Free Speech Areas at Cal Poly.
o Greg idea: a postcard about the event, an eye-catching photo with a little blurb about the event.

• Different shops around town for selling merchandise, put out the books on Hands in Nepal (they have contact information at the end of the book). Book signing, meet Danny; maybe making the book smaller where there isn’t a loss.
o A part of the curriculum in school, classrooms can integrate the book into the curriculum. Teachers would consider this as a project or gift for a class and would bring the word out.
o Ex. Monterey classroom, had fundraiser and made $600 for HANDS
o Pennies for Peace, gets the name out there and then the kids are working to help fellow kids.
o Don: having younger people speak about HANDS, being young shows a different perspective and impresses upon other peoples.

♣ seeing the hands on experience, seeing the school, knowing the people and the area.

2. Finances:

• Book keeping: maybe too big for our britches, Toby in SLO. Nonprofit budgeting, quarterly meeting will cost $600-$900 to keep the books clean, a good clean record.

o Heidi: will help file taxes, CPA needs to file it. (New Treasurer?)
o Need to set up a formal set of accounts, will have the information you need. A formal set of books.
o Filing the taxes need to be updated with the status.

New Connections:

• Grant-writing: Danny will be working on grants next semester.
• Joe Karsner: meeting with Danny during graduation.
• Conference on World Affairs at CU: April 4-8, 2010

- http://www.colorado.edu/cwa/

3. Scholarships:

• Talk to Durga with about the children at BCH. Tahira(sp?) can translate with Durga. $1500 a year to sponsor children, seemed a bit high.
• Need to make clear, the accountability of what the money is being spent on and how to monitor the money being spent.
• Get pictures of children in school.
• Durga says this is her first time, new kids. Next kids, get photograph and story from them. Jan and Heidi will get stories and visit all the places.
• 4 scholarships. Need to get the details down. Still leaves money for another school.

4. Applications and Next School Location

• Applications – getting more information from different areas who want to get scholarships. Do the work to get the budget. As if they are applying for grant. Find out that they need to get an application. Get an outline, budget for materials, transportation, people (work), etc. all inclusive on the form.
o Maybe inclusive in application, how can the community maintain the sustainability.

• Village closer to the city: about an hour away from the city, the feeling Danny got was that they were savvy to NGOs, felt less intimate with the people, different feeling. Not ruled out, still need a school.
• Danny would prefer to go to the more remote villages. There are hundreds of villages that are cut off, with high illiteracy rates.
• How do others feel about the other village? Possibly put it up for application. Start spreading word to encourage people to apply as if for a grant.
• Make clear that the application isn’t a promise.
• It’s important to see these places.

5. Debbie Young's visit to Nepal in Spring

• Debbie Young wants to have teacher training programs. Wants to go to the government, getting Naropa’s name registered with different Ministries.
• Getting the Naropa students on delegations and then getting the Cal Poly students as well.
• Have a dialogue with the women of the village, starting to talk with the issues that come along with women.

6. Hearts in Nepal – Jan

• Mission statement: add at-risk to description of girls, why they would live there.
• Safe house: girls of teenage years could live in a place in Kathmandu, trundle sewing machines. Something made of yak hair, girls can stitch and sew and go to school. Kelsang may need to guard them, from prostitution. (Making something and then creating a sustainable business)
• How do we keep schools sustainable? Maybe one more school, we can still do a lot with the school we just did, it is a good example of doing good. Let’s focus on energy on keeping this school and program sustainable.

7. Next Board Meeting

• Board members input:
o Stay in remote areas, the scholarships snagged me in, support education will support the community.
o Move slowly, gradually. Make sure what you’ve done is successful and sustained. Need to have a program that provides a foundation that works. Take a project and make a difference and learn from it.
o Darka school will have new bathrooms soon.
o Interested in planning a winter fundraiser?
o Media: take the time to make a movie about HANDS, show and present the idea through video format. Show success is critical.
• Next board Meeting:
o When? End of January or Beginning of February when Tahira comes back from Nepal.
o What? Talk about Tahira’s trip, update from Danny on new connections, accounting update, media update, etc.

Itemized Price List

2010-08-21T19:49:00.000-07:00

Here is a list of items still needed for the school and how much they cost, as well as the cost of other things not physically attached to the school. If you would like to buy an item for the school or donate money for another one of the causes then please write out a check to "HANDS in Nepal" and send it to:

HANDS in Nepal

PO Box 738

Santa Margarita, CA 93453

Please write a note with the check stating what the money will go towards.

At this point we need 18 table-benches (a long bench with an attached, raised table made of iron and wood) to furnish the 3 classrooms. We also need cabinets for storage in the teacher's room. Each room will need a black board which will be made out of cement. You can also sponsor a student for meals and books, as well as help pay one of our teachers who is not receiving a full-time salary.

Price List:

Appreciation and thanks to our friends in Singapore!

A huge thank you to the Bauer family for securing enough money for a bathroom facility!

bench-table......... $30 (13 remaining)

Jaun Yong

Xu Zhi Heng

Ayden Loke

Adam & Amily

Brenda Choo

blackboard.......... $25 (2 remaining)

Celestine Lim

storage cabinets......... $20 (2 remaining)

Irene Oh

student's materials......... $20 (82 students in total)

teacher salary...... $30 per month (One year salary donated by Sam and Tahira of Atascadero)

*I will update this and re-post it regularly with any necessary changes. And I would also like to add that we will be including the donors name on the object they purchase and we could also dedicate it with someone else's name if one is so inclined, just be sure to note that. We will also be trying to get pictures back to the people who paid for the item, but that may take time.

Expense Analysis

2010-08-02T23:32:00.001-07:00

Here is an update with some figures on the expenses that went into the school building. Now that I am home I hope to soon write a synopsis of the work and include many details about the decisions we made and why we made them, and just basically a more thorough and specific explanation of the process we went through to build this school. Since I've been home I've had many interesting questions come at me about the project and its made me realize that I need to step out of the first-hand, personal standpoint and look at everything a little more objectively so as to be able to answer the questions concerning the larger picture and finer points. So for now I offer a quick summary of our general expenses and our estimated projected expenses for things yet to come.

Expense Analysis:

Laborers earned 170 rupees a day ($2.50) (*there were about 10 laborers)

Carpenters earned 300 rupees a day ($4.00) (*an average Nepali salary is $1.00 a day)

Supervisor earned 300 rupees a day ($4.00)

Total Labor cost: $3,328.00 (*this is for around 3 months of work)

Backhoe was 60,000 rupees ($833.00) (*for fuel and operator, about 5 days in total)

Tin roof was 81,226 rupees ($1,128.00) (*85 pieces of tin, 10 more still needed)

Cement for walls 6,000 rupees ($100.00) (*only for part of the total amount needed)

TOTAL at this point: $5,895.00 (424,435 rupees)

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Projected Expenses:

Retaining wall behind school: $250.00

Building toilets: $100.00

10-sheets of tin: $140.00

Cupboard and blackboard: $50.00

Desks and Chairs: $300.00

Second teacher salary: $30.00 per month

Plaster walls in and out: $600.00

Projected TOTAL: $1500.00

$355.00 still remain with our partner Rajan in Nepal, left over from the last order we sent him. And we hope to get about a half-refund on the money spent for the backhoe, which is supposed to be paid for by the government but there is no reassurance there. There were other small expenses that added up and accounted for the extra spending in the totals that I will look into.

The school will be opening for use sometime in September. There are three things that need to be finished before it is ready; a separated toilet needs to be built, the walls and floor need to be cemented, and desks and chairs need to be provided. It is entirely possible for us to arrange for these things to happen from the U.S. We just have to work through our partner Rajan and he will send any of his 3 or 4 trekking guides who were involved with our project to oversee the transportation of materials and the quick and timely completion of the jobs they will be used for.

We are offering to put names of donors on desks and chairs for anyone who would like to buy one for the school. Could be a great potential birthday gift for a loved one or a friend who is fond of education. We will write a simple dedication to the person whose name would like to be honored, and also send a school card with information and if possible a photograph. Desks, chairs, blackboards, cabinets, are all available for adoption and dedication.

If anyone is interested in buying a chair, desk, or other supplies for the school please contact myself or my mom Jan by sending an e-mail to:

daniels@students.naropa.edu

jansprague2@gmail.com

Here is a rough estimated price list:

Desk: $30.00

Chair: $25.00

Blackboard: $30.00

I will re-edit this price list again as soon as I get word of the actual price and style of furnishings we will go with.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

2010-07-09T10:28:00.000-07:00

Right now I'm sitting here in a Berlin flat, the corner window looking down onto a busy European street with a flow of people coming up out of a subway station, U-bahn as its called in German, and plenty of bicyclers and walkers. It is the late evening but still very sunny out and very hot. In the summer time in this part of Germany, the Northern part, there are only about 6 hours of darkness. In the winter time its unfortunately the oppositte, only 6 hours or so of sunlight, very depressing. These days the sun sets around 9:30pm and rises again about 3:30am, of course even after the sun sets there is still about 2 hours of light left so its really not getting dark until around 11:30. It took a while to get used to this but now my clock is adjusted. Because of how hot it is in the day time most people wake up late and go out in the evening, and stay out all night. Its cool and strange to be out walking around and using buses at 2am.

Berlin is an incredible city, I really love it. Its enormous and diverse, and yesterday I found out that on top of all the cool typical European city things one comes across in a place like this, Berlin is also known for having huge and beautiful parks scattered about. My friends invited me to come along to play some soccer, football I should say, in one nearby park yesterday evening and I was blown away by its size. It was enormous, and very quiet and secluded though it is only a ten minute walk from the flat where I'm staying. Dense forests, little ponds and streams, bike paths, and very few people around, a great contrast to the bustle of the city. I wish all cities were like that.

I think I will make a side page about the trip I'm doing around Eastern Europe, but I really wanted to point out for anybody still following this blog that I have uploaded a lot of pictures now. On the side bar to the right are a few different pages and at the bottom of each of them are some nice pictures to help visualize how everything I've been writing about actually looks. The one side page titled "photo gallery" is nothing but pictures of the school and the village of Darkha.

Enjoy!

Whats Next?

2010-06-14T07:10:00.000-07:00

Today is Monday the 14th and I'm leaving Nepal for good next Tuesday, the 22nd. Now things are coming to a close and I'm feeling good and ready to move on to new things. I returned from my last village trip yesterday morning. A group of us, my mom, my friend from school and his girlfriend, my Tibetan brother Yung Dung, and Rajan made the trip out together as one big ole happy family. For me the strenuous jeep ride through the treacherous mountains has become routine and I know exactly how to handle it and what to expect. For my companions it was a wild experience anew and a challenge to get comfortable. My strategy is and has always been putting on head phones; I carry a floppy black case of cds with me everywhere I go now having learned that down time is a regular part of my job requirements. In Thamel, the tourist area of Kathmandu, there are amazing music shops selling all varieties of pirated cds for roughly 2 bucks a piece and I spend much of my free time browsing for hard-to-find artists.

On the way out of Kathmandu we hit an unexpected delay that pretty much doubled our travel time. Winding down the mountains after peaking over them coming out of the Kathmandu valley we looked way down to the valley floor and saw that the whole windy road was stopped up with colorful buses and big trucks and motorcycles and people walking outside along next to them. It was terribly hot and before I knew it I had cycled through my entire library of music. Luckily I had just bought a new Carl Hiaasen book, whom I've been loving lately along with my new Henry Miller book, Nexus. Plenty of fantastic reading material and never a better time for it. We never did find out what caused the jam, but I would have to say that it happens when the buses coming up the mountain at a slow chug try to pass another slow climbing bus. This low-speed passing makes any oncoming traffic, zipping down at a high speed have to slow way down and wait for the big bus to get back on the appropriate side of the road. Sometimes 3 or 4 buses will pass a really slow one together and cause a minor traffic jam that could easily develop into a 5 mile blockage.

In Dhading we had a couple of hours of waiting before we were able to commandeer a jeep for our rugged outfit. Then we hit the trail and made it all of 30 minutes before a scary sound came from under the frame of the jeep, a popping metallic sound that seemed to be spinning and whacking against the under belly. My spirits were squashed. We were told to get out and that the jeep was broken beyond roadside repair and would need to return asap to Dhading for serious surgery. We would have to wait until a jeep came from the other direction and then convince the drivers and passengers to basically swap places with us. We getting the fresh jeep for the long journey and them taking the beat up failure back to town. About an hour passed before one of the Nepali guys in our own outfit came running back down the road from up above with an empty and strong looking jeep following close behind. He went around and accepted every one's gratitude happily. Where he found this empty and ready to serve jeep is a complete mystery to me. Then a long argument took place about the new price for our ride.

With these complications we didn't get to the lower part of Darkha, where the jeeps stop, until about 9pm, way too late to make the hike up to the heart of the village. So we slept in a rooming house down there where we all had to share beds, mom and I sleeping on one that was outside under the starry sky. In the morning we packed up and began the serious hike up to our school to see how it was looking. It was very exciting for me to be sharing this place that has become so dear and precious to me with my mom. After months and months of hearing about it and seeing pictures and reading all the descriptions here in my blog I couldn't wait to show her everything in person. We walked up slowly taking many rests and running into many friends who were thrilled to be meeting my mom. Up and up we went. My legs have become a bit stronger from all the stair hiking that one must do every day in the village so I wasn't feeling too much fatigue but my friends and mother were. When we came close to where our school building sits I went ahead and hopped on up there to wait for my moms arrival and watch her first impressions and reactions. I was really surprised to see that once again Rajan had somehow organized a huge gathering for a welcoming party. There were painted banners hanging, half in Nepali, half in English. A homemade archway with a red ribbon across it was placed at the entrance to the school and there were children in blue school uniforms scattered about all over excitedly awaiting my moms arrival. I was now a pretty regular fixture to them and didn't cause such a ruckus when I arrived but rather went around to friends to say hello and namaste and such.

Then we all gathered at the edge of the land where the trail comes up from and watched as my mom struggled up the steep narrow trail, looking up at us with a huge smile. When she came to the crest she let out a huge sigh and then looked around at the scene with a permanent huge smile plastered on her face. There was our school building with a lot of people all gathered around it and lots of decorations hanging off of it, and here all around her now where all the students who would be attending it. We were laughing and I was introducing her to more and more people who have been involved. Then the kids were called over by the adults and made to stand in two separate lines. They arranged themselves in the same way as they had a few months earlier when I first came on my own. I stood back in awe and realized what all had taken place since that first trip out when we were surveying the land and making loose plans. Now here it was, our beautiful school.

Once everyone was in their position we walked towards them and then in between the two lines of students who were all holding home made flower leis and ceremonial katas, and then we all took deep bows to accept them from the children, most of whom only reached up to my knees. It was incredibly touching and a joyous moment for all of us. We were all meandering around and talking with each other, a lot of laughing and big smiles, a lot of cute little kids saying "Namaste" again and again to us. Then mom was handed a pair of scissors and told to officially open the school by cutting the red ribbon; a real ribbon cutting ceremony! All was quiet as she stepped up to the archway, scissors in hand. Then a roar of applause cut loose as the cut ribbon fell to either side and she stepped through, me following close behind. On the other side we began to mosey around the nearly completed school building. There are 7 more sheets of tin needed to cover the last part of the last room and the floors still need to be filled in and cemented, and then we will have to furnish the rooms. Aside from that the bulk of the work is finished. It is strange to think about that, after all the concern and hopes I had invested in this.

After more talking and laughing and inspecting and describing the work of the school to mom we all met in the front of the building for a quick art project. We had two large sheets of cloth that we wanted the kids the paint with their hand prints. It was a hit, every kid got a chance to cover his/her hand with brightly colored paint and then slap it onto the hanging cloth. Took a gallery of photos of that for future HANDS promotions. Then we were served tea and some biscuits and more time was allowed for this momentous occasion to sink into psyches. Then it was time for a speech giving ceremony so we decided to huddle into one of the classrooms which felt like a kind of christening to me. A few chairs were provided for mom and I, a table was set up as a podium for speech givers to stand behind, and the rest of the gathering sat cross-legged on straw mats on the floor. Mom and I sat in silence while much Nepali was spoken. Then Rajan informed us that everyone wanted to start by holding a minute of silence in memory of our brother and son Sean. I was took completely by surprise and my heart lurched when I heard him say this. This whole time I've been here I've felt like Sean has been at my side, every step of the way. I feel like his spirit has been with me, this is something I know he would have loved so much and at that moment when we stood in a big circle in silence in our classroom, perched way up on a Himalayan mountain in the heart of Nepal, surrounded by the most outstanding and just straight up cool people ever, I swear I could feel him right there with us smiling from ear to ear. I couldn't help but cry with joy at that moment, I was completely overwhelmed, and even now writing this I can't help but get a little teary, it was so moving and incredible and unforgettable. In that moment I knew that I had been doing this for Sean, without him I would not have been there.

I was knocked into an emotional state for the rest of the meeting, I was so touched and completely overtaken by the fact that we did it, how many amazing friends we've made! What an incredible community to now be a fixture in! What doors it has opened! What confidence it has given me! Now a few people stood up and took their place behind the table podium to give heart felt speeches that we're translated after the fact by Rajan sitting next to us. Soon enough it was my turn and I still felt unprepared emotionally to speak in front of everyone but I got up anyways and walked up to the podium. I said Namaskar then fumbled about trying to let them know how much I appreciated their commitment and kindness. I was speaking my thoughts as they came to me and suddenly I said "Now when I think of Nepal I will always think of Darkha," and as I said Darkha I couldn't stay calm and had to laugh and look up at the ceiling to contain my tears again. At that moment I just realized what that meant to me, and what Darkha represents to me and the wonderful people who live there that never waver or fumble in their humor and kindness. I quickly, with choking words, wrapped up what I had to say by just thanking them all again and again. I just wanted to thank them for being them, for existing and living in the way they do. People of Darkha, I love you so much!

The rest of the day was spent having a good meal of Dal Bhat and doing a bit of hiking around showing off the beautiful landscapes of the area. Around 3pm we hiked down to the river, took a quick dip to get refreshed, then got seats arranged for a jeep ride out. This was a quick trip and we all had many things to do in Kathmandu. We completed what we had came for and now it was time to go. Pratap and Gopal accompanied us down and I assured them that I would be back fairly soon, at least in the next year.

Now in Kathmandu we have been doing so so so many things. Mom is an incredible doer. Every hour of the day is filled with productive activity, very well-managed and usually very successful and efficient. Today we stopped off at the Buddhist Child Home orphanage, which I haven't visited in a long time, and rained piles of dolls, clothes, balls, and candy down on all the kids who were thrilled out of their minds. We made arrangements to take them on an outing this Saturday to a famous Shiva temple which is also supposed to be a wonderful picnic spot. Tomorrow mom, Yung Dung, Karma, his wife and I will all be going to Pokhara together for a little get away. We also wanted to visit the Tibetan refugee camp there to see if we can lend our HANDS. On Friday we will stop off in Dhading where Rajan will meet us to also scope out another village site for a possible future school. He told us that there is a village there that is of a lower caste, meaning under-privileged, community of shoe-makers who could really use help of any kind.

Lost in Mcleod, Found In Nepal

2010-05-27T04:33:00.000-07:00

I had a wonderful time in Mcleod Ganj, it was a great excursion and well worth it, but it was definitely time for me to go. My bus left yesterday evening at 6pm and two good friends whom I had met over the days and weeks were there to see me off. Leaving at 6, making two stops in the middle of the night for food and a bathroom break, we finally arrived at Majnu Teela (the Tibetan community) in Old Delhi at about 6:30am. Weak, feeble, shaky with legs that had been rolled up in my lap for 10 hours I got my gear together and argued a price for a taxi to the airport. No pre-paid taxis here, when I said, "Hey wait a minute, a pre-paid taxi from the airport to Majnu Teela only costs 350rs!" They just laughed and said 600 was the best they could do, so shut up and get in and be grateful. I was, and I stretched out with legs fully extended in the back seat and got settled in for the hour drive.

All the connections went fine at the airport and I landed in Kathmandu at 2pm and got back to my family's house around 3:30. Its really nice to be back here, I'm already feeling grounded and productive. Today is the Buddha's birthday so a lot of celebrating is going on. Tomorrow, the 28th, is supposed to be another bad political day for Nepal. Its supposed to be the deadline for the new constitution but from what I'm hearing it sounds like it will be delayed. I was really worried about flying in so close to this potential disaster but then when I found out today was the Buddha's birthday I felt a profound calming energy that seemed to put things back in their place. I wonder what tomorrow will bring, hopefully not another serious strike. Two good friends from Naropa are here in Nepal now and have been e-mailing me to come meet them in Boudha. We'll see how things go tomorrow but its fun and exciting to know that a few of my college buddies are not too far away.

I will contact Rajan either this evening or tomorrow and I plan to head out to Darkha to once again join in with the school work in about 2-3 days. Rajan is saying that now it is time for transporting and installing the tin roof, and then cementing and plastering the parts of the walls we want to be smooth and neat looking. Basically because of the stone and mud construction the outer and inner surfaces of the walls are not very neat and clean. To do them all in concrete and plaster would no doubt look really good but would also be expensive and not necessarily needed since its not a common style for them. So we have decided to just create a few spots that will be smooth and neat, on both the inside and outside, and these will be used for some art or other stimulating visuals.

Aside from that everything is really close to being done. Just in time for the monsoon, which will be starting around mid-June and would have put an end to our work for the time being. So for now I will stop and head back to my room where I think a nap is waiting for me, I am beat and my brain is feeling dull. I'll put more up here soon!

Formal Update

2010-05-22T11:23:00.000-07:00

Here is some information about where things now stand with our Ganesh Himal Primary School in Darkha, Nepal:

The building itself was turned from a 3-room school into a 4-room school during the last day of our last visit. As we were walking out we had a meeting and came to the conclusion that our funds would allow for it and this would provide the teachers with an office room, as well as storage for all books and materials. Before we went off to have lunch and then catch the jeep, we were hurriedly setting up layout strings to give our work crew a visual idea of how this extra room would have to go. The land is sort of curving and at this point he building also had to turn in order to stay on stable ground, so the end result is that 3 rooms are all connected in a rectangle, and the fourth is coming off at an angle.

Currently, in my absence, the final details are being finished by our trusty, hard-working crew of local villagers. I hope to make it back for an opening ceremony.

The political climate is as finicky as ever and I'm struggling now to decide on what I should do. Many friends in Nepal are saying that things are clearing up again and its safe to get around in the city and businesses are open. But then there are some concerning articles coming out, such as the one I just received from my mom about a 23-year old Colorado girl who has gone missing in the back country of Nepal. Everybody outside of Nepal is advising me to wait here in India until things are really, finally and completely settled. These situations, large strikes and protests in developing countries, can take a turn for the worse at any moment. You never know what could happen but the potential for something big is there; civil war is even possible, and is a common topic of discussion and concern.

Tonight, Saturday, my parents are holding a slide show event at the Porch in Santa Margarita. I imagine things will go much smoother now that we have a story, and pictures, and witnesses to go off whereas before we were strictly speaking in terms of what was possible and what are hopes and plans were. Also, we got an article printed up in the New Times which explains a little of what we're doing and also advertises the slide show event. I will post the article below.

I am staying busy with many little projects around Mcleod Ganj now, still living in my little prison room. Today while standing along one of the streets talking to a Japanese friend of mine who I had met the previous week, a group of people walked by and then stopped and turned to face me. Immediately I recognized them and pointed an accusing finger saying, "Ah Ha, I knew I would run into some Naropa kids up here!" Yes two friends from Naropa whom I know fairly well, but not entirely. They knew me and were pretty shocked to see me. I will surely see them again and we will have a lot of catching up and reminiscing to do.

Classrooms in the clouds

A young man's dream brings a school to a mountain village

BY KATHY JOHNSTON

PEACE THROUGH EDUCATION

Santa Margarita college student Danny Chaffin (kneeling) spearheaded a school-building project for boys and girls in a remote village in the mountains of Nepal.

PHOTO COURTESY OF JAN SPRAGUE-CHAFFIN

While education in SLO County flinches under each swing of the budgetary ax, a Santa Margarita college student is focusing on building schools for children in a much poorer country.

With the support of friends and family, 22-year-old Danny Chaffin has formed a nonprofit organization, raised funds, and helped inspire an entire village to hand-build a new school in a remote Himalayan community in Nepal, stone by stone. Due for a grand opening this summer, the school will change the lives of dozens of girls and boys eager to learn.

It’s a story that seems right out of the pages of a bestseller—in fact, Greg Mortenson’s books about building schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan, Three Cups of Tea and Stones Into Schools, provided a blueprint for the effort in Nepal.

“Each step of the way, we asked ourselves, ‘What would Greg [Mortenson] do?’” said Jan Sprague-Chaffin, Danny’s mother. An elementary school teacher, she became deeply involved with her son’s dream of building a school in Nepal, along with his father, Don Chaffin.

Their journey began when Danny, then 19, volunteered to teach in an orphanage in Kathmandu, Nepal’s capital. He fell in love with the kind, warmhearted people of Nepal, especially the children, and vowed to continue to help them.

His connection with a family of renowned Nepali artists flourished, and soon young Karma Thupten visited the Chaffins in Santa Margarita and exhibited his spiritual, Buddha-inspired paintings in San Luis Obispo (see “Where the vengeful, enlightened and incarnated play,” New Times, May 15, 2008).

Meanwhile, Danny enrolled at Naropa College in Colorado to major in peace studies, and decided to start changing the world through education, one school at a time. He formed a nonprofit called Humanitarian Acts in Nepal Developing Schools, known as HANDS in Nepal, and asked his friends in Nepal to pick out a village in need of a new school.

A successful fundraiser in Santa Margarita raised several thousand dollars, and other donations poured in. Danny took his mother to see the chosen school site, a bone-crunching bus ride and grueling two-day hike through steep mountains from Kathmandu. Last month he met up with his father, a craftsman carpenter, who traveled to Nepal to oversee the school construction project in the remote village.

Stones into schools

A free slide show and talk about building a school in Nepal will be presented at the Porch in Santa Margarita on Saturday, May 22, at 6 p.m. For more information, call 459-4010. Tax-deductible donations for books and teachers’ salaries can be sent to HANDS in Nepal, P.O. Box 738, Santa Margarita, CA 93453. You can read Danny Chaffin’s account of his experiences at handsinnepal.blogspot.com.

“For less than the cost of a building permit in San Luis Obispo County, we built a school in Nepal!” Don, his father, told New Times shortly after his return to Santa Margarita.

The villagers had already created a terraced area in the steep hillsides for the school, and each family provided someone to help with the stone-and-mud construction.

“It was so thrilling. We were almost in tears to see how well the villagers had organized themselves. They set up a carpenter shop to mill logs from the forest into the door and window frames, using chisels and hatchets. The women carried the rocks from the fields. The boys brought the mud. The men built the walls. They didn’t need my help—they were already doing it,” Don said.

The new school has four classrooms, each with a stunning view of snowy Himalayan peaks and a rushing river in the gorge below. Separate latrines for girls and boys have been provided for the 80 students, and two teachers from the village are ready to start work.

“It just made our hearts burst with happiness to see this actually happening,” he added.

Danny’s original idea was to dedicate the new school to his late brother Sean, who died in an accident on Bishop Peak a few years ago.

“But slowly, that became less important. We realized it’s not about us. It’s their school. We’re just providing the opportunity to achieve their dream,” Jan said.

She’s already using her Nepal connections for education. Students at the Guadalupe school where she teaches have written notes to their counterparts in Nepal, complete with colorful outlines of their hands. Under the direction of teacher, Julee Bauer, they collected coins and bought hackysack balls to send to the children. The Nepalese students outlined and colored their own hands in reply, along with notes about themselves under greetings such as, “Hi California” and “Hi Dear Friend.”

For now, Danny is volunteering with Tibetan refugees in Dharamsala, India, after so-called Maoists shut down much of Kathmandu in a massive strike. But he’s already thinking about building his next school.

“I feel like Danny has become a leader, and we just follow along,” said Jan. “We had caused ourselves suffering by trying so hard to earn money. Now we’re trying to generate donations, and we couldn’t be more poor and more happy.

“As Mother Teresa said, ‘If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.’ We’re working to help others. The more you do that, the happier you become.”

Award-winning journalist Kathy Johnston can be reached at kjohnston
@newtimesslo.com.

I Miss My Dog!

2010-05-20T08:58:00.000-07:00

I just returned again to Mcleod Ganj after a little mini excursion. I had packed up my stuff and checked out of my room at Pink House and I thought that was the last time I would be seeing this place and these people again for a while. My friend Tenzin had come to get me on his motorcycle and I was planning to go from his home in Bir to Delhi by bus, and then to Kathmandu by plane. So I checked out and followed Tenzin up to the Tibetan Childrens Village (TCV) cafe which is located in a central position in Mcleod. Here he had left his bike and so I dropped my backpack off upstairs to wait for me in the good company of the Tibetan orphans who work at this cafe. The employees, whom I had come to know fairly well after going there almost daily for a delicious, largely proportioned, and inexpensive latte, are all kids from Tibet without family. The TCV is a large operation with something like 500 young Tibetans living there (probably a lot more actually) and this is one outlet that provides them with some work.

After dropping off my backpack we quickly wandered around through the usual street vendors. I was looking for unique gifts for friends since I thought I wouldn't be back, but alas here I am at the old internet cafe. Within an hour we were on our way. I sat on the back of Tenzin's flashy looking street bike with my big backpack strapped tightly to my shoulders. It was a real treat to get to travel in this way. Riding through the back country of India on a motorcycle, not much traffic, just beautiful and exotic landscapes.

We stopped at a zoo on the way that Tenzin had wanted to show me. As we pulled to a stop on the side of the road we lost balance trying to dismount and had to dash away from the bike as it fell to the ground. A car of Indian tourists was also pulled over to the side and they watched us in amusement. From this point on the road we could see over the cement walls of a large pasture with about 5 big black bears romping around inside. We stood there in awe for a while watching the bears at play. Two of them were chasing each other, or so it seemed, around the perimeter. I likened this to be the effect of caging wild animals, they seemed to be doing this out of necessity so as not to be driven mad. The shiny black coats of these animals seemed very inappropriate for the heat of the Indian plains. I sensed oppression, but Tenzin sensed romance. He was certain the bear in front was a female and the one lumbering behind was a male in heat. He thought it all too funny and turned to the car of Indians to explain what was clearly happening.

From the zoo it was another hour to Bir. It only got more secluded and more beautiful the further we went. We made a few more detours to some Monasteries and to a good place for tea that Tenzin knew of. Around 4pm we made it to our destination and pulled towards a cement wall this time being very careful about the balance of each other as we dismounted. Inside the wall was a fair amount of open land, some of it plowed and ready for planting, some of it wild and neglected. A small little house was right at the edge of the land and we walked up to it and then inside the open-air porch where Tenzins father was sitting, looking deep in thought and serene. I took a seat on one of the bench beds inside and Tenzin talked to his father and then brought in a few things for a snack while talking about his family and the house we were in. Over by one of the windows was a book shelf packed full of all sorts of books in many different languages, and down on the bottom right shelf was a stack of old tapes with names written by hand on them. "2 pac, Biggie, more 2 pac, Wu-Tang, Hip Hop mix." Tenzin explained with pride that he was the first in his town to discover American hip hop. I played him a few of my own favorite hip hop cds, namely "slum village" and "artifacts," which show more of the light-hearted side of hip hop, with intelligently poetic lyrics directed more at art with a lot of inspiration derived from old jazz musicians. He couldn't get enough of it and wouldn't stop asking me to make him copies and write down names. I love when people get excited about music.

After checking out everything in his house he took me down to the place where I would be staying. A nice quiet guest house in the main part of town. The town was a one-street, 2 restaurants, 4 shops sort of town with not much in the way of tourism. This was made apparent when I began ordering meals again at the proper Indian price of 30rs, 50rs equalling one U.S. dollar. In any place that has been exposed to tourism it is impossible to eat at real prices. One young Indian friend of mine dubbed this the "skin effect." White skin, double price. But in places with little to no tourism it becomes fun and empowering to purchase many, many things with one dollar. The only foreigners who come to Bir are serious Buddhists and serious Paragliders. It is a hot spot for both, but as explained, in a serious way. The monasteries around this part of India are big and booming with little Tibetan communities surrounding them. I visited many, but one in particular could be considered the main attraction. It was called Deer Park and is home to the famous Dzongsar Khyentse Rinpoche, the wonderful movie producer and writer, the creator of "The Cup," and "Travelers and Magicians," and "Milarepa," and the book "What Makes You Not a Buddhist." The monastery was fantastic, a few Westerners were reading in front of their guest house doors. Tenzin and I did a kora around the main temple and then hit up the gift shop.

One of my goals at this time was trying to attend a teaching of some kind. I wanted to do something structured and productive and attend some class or another but knew it would be hard to find something to suit me. Most of the classes require a pre-sign-up and a month long commitment. Back around Christmas when I was still in CA I had gone to a White Elephant party at the Blancs, and there had talked to our friend Lars at length about Shanti Deva, the author of The Way of the Boddhisattva, what is known as the bible of compassion by Buddhists. Lars had told me he had attended a teaching about the book while in Dharamsala many, many years ago, and he told me if the opportunity ever came up I should try to get in on something like that, that it really opens up the meaning of the book to new astounding levels. I love that book and the whole time I've been here I've been hoping to stumble across something like a teaching on it. Alas, while in the Deer Park gift shop I came across what I was searching for. Against one of the walls inside was a rack of home made burned cds in simple packaging. They were numbered and had short titles and a sheet tacked to the wall gave a kind of directory on what was what. It didn't take long to come across a series of about 5 cds with the title 'The Way of the Boddhisattva.' These were a group of teachings that Dzongsar Khyentse gave over a period of 5 years in different locals around the world. Each cd held about 3 hours of audio on it, they were in dvd format and as I found out later can only be played on a modern stereo or a computer, but I am so excited to be in possession of this and can't wait to go through each chapter and learn more about this profound teaching on equality, patience, acceptance, and aspiration, among many other things.

I stayed for two nights in Bir. On my second day Tenzin and I took a taxi to a newer and more elaborate monastery. It seemed too modern and well designed for this part of India. While returning to the main part of town Tenzin abruptly told the taxi driver to stop, and then turned to me in a hectic fashion and sort of rhetorically asked me if we should go to the cafe that was there. We were actually right at the concrete wall of his own home, across the street from which there is a lovely cafe, and this all only a five minute walk to the main downtown where my guest house is. After a brief moment of putting too much weight on the question of staying in the taxi or getting out (I once learned at a Zen retreat this is called the paralysis of analysis), we both just got up and out and paid the driver and sent him on his way. The cafe was awesome, a great out door seating area with about 5 American looking tourists sitting around one of the tables. We ordered our drinks and chatted, then when one of the American guys came over near us Tenzin said with a smile, "Hey, this is my friend, he is from America too, so you guys like talk now okay?" We did as we were told and I found out that this nice fellow was from San Francisco and knew only too well what I was talking about when I mentioned SLO and Atascadero. He was there for paragliding and I got to ask a lot of questions that I had been holding on to ever since I learned that this place was famous throughout the world for paragliding. He said the longest ever paragliding flight to date was recorded here. Being at the foothills of the Himalayas apparently provides the perfect environment for strategic hot air pockets and other useful air conditions.

While I was at the cafe I picked up a Lonely Planet India book that was sitting among many other good reads on the public book shelf in the seating area. I opened almost right to the section about Dharamsala, and after reading what they had to say about Bir and its paragliding attractions I turned my attention to the description of the Norbulingka Institute. The first sentence of the information said, "This wonderful place is home to a variety of Tibetan arts and crafts and offers a Museum and tours and many accommodations for tourists." I was sold at "wonderful." I had been meaning to check out this popular spot and thought maybe it would offer some classes or something to add structure to my current floaty state of life. Talking to Tenzin I learned everything that was omitted from the guide book. He informed me that everything inside the Norbulingka compound would be alarmingly over priced but that I could find cheaper lodging and eating outside from the Indian-owned places. He said there was bus leaving at 8am and I quickly decided that I was going to be on that bus.

In the morning I woke up at 7:15 and got outside with Tenzin in tow, who had slept on the extra bed in my room, at 7:50. We stood there in a sleepy daze for 5 minutes before finding out from some of the folks standing around that the 8am bus was outta there a bit early. Tenzin said it was alright and there was another bus at 8:30 that wouldn't be as direct but would still work out. I got on that bus, Tenzin explained to the driver where I was going, and I settled into my seat and pulled out my head phones and day dreamed while looking at the scenery. I had to switch buses twice and the whole trip was about 4 hours in length, a much longer ride than the two and half hours it took on a motorcycle. Finally arriving at Norbulingka by Taxi around 1pm I immediately went into a little restaurant to get the local scoop about how things work around here. Outside the entrance to the Institute were about 6 shops, 2 or 3 of them cafes and restaurants, one of them an internet place, and one or two of them just general stores selling a variety of things. The restaurant I first went into turned into my favorite spot. It was called Om Restaurant and the proprietors name was in fact Om. It was just him and I and he turned out to be a great guy. He said he had been a cook in a Delhi hotel restaurant for 5 years but hadn't been making enough money. He opened up his own place here and was now making almost 3 times what he had made before. He was a satisfied individual and he gave me the run down of the area. (His cooking was fantastic and priced without the "skin effect" at 35rs.)

The Norbulingka Institute, a name I could never properly say, was a pristine retreat environment. It was home to many work shops with mostly Tibetan students learning a particular trade; weaving, wood carving, thangka painting. Just inside the entrance was the guest house on the left, very expensive and classy, and a cafe on the right with tables set about a garden with pools and running water everywhere. As I walked straight into the interior I felt like the place was strangely deserted. I seemed to be the only person walking around, except for the many gardeners and attendants. At the center of the compound was a beautiful temple with gigantic thangkas hanging from the ceiling and an immaculate golden Buddha seated on a shrine. I walked straight up to the alter and bowed myself in prostration as I had learned to do so well from Tenzin. Then I explored and eventually found my way up to the second level where a cool, birds-eye-view of the statue and artwork could be seen. On the walls around the balcony I was now on were intricate thangkas painted on the wall, maybe 30 in total, almost life-size portraits of Buddhas and renowned teachers. I was taken by surprise when I came across one, far off to one side, that had a very realistic depiction of His Holiness the Dalai Lama's face imposed on a traditionally painted body. It was funny but actually looked really good. At the bottom of the painting instead of the usual symbolic objects of offering such as a mirror, bowls of water, a representation of music, etc. there was a globe with a peace dove flying across it. It was awesome and I pulled out my camera to snap a picture but my batteries gave out on me. I got frustrated but decided to forget about it and just savor it in my memory. (I returned the next day with fresh batteries and got many good pictures of it.)

I made my way back through the luscious gardens to the cafe where I ordered a cappuccino and a piece a cake and took a seat at one of the classy French-cafe style tables. As soon as my treats were brought out to me a dog showed up at my feet and pulled a convincing begging routine, almost as good as the Saddhus and cripples who wander the streets in tourist areas and whose English vocabulary consists of "Friend, yes? Something please sir," combined with an out stretched hand. This dog was patient and I couldn't resist so gave him a few crumbles of cake but quickly withdrew from petting him after seeing the scary looking fly/tick thing come peaking out of his fir. But even so the company of a dog, even (or maybe especially) a begging one, was making me home sick for my own little white terrier. Another dog showed up at my table wanting to get in on the action but by that time I was done and was getting ready to head back out to the Indian guest house that I had checked into earlier.

I was resting at my room in the guest house when a sudden down pour began. I went out onto the balcony to observe the dense shower and ran into my neighbor in the next room over, an Indian man who I found out was working on a Hydro-electric project in the area. We talked about each others work, the rain turned into hail for a few minutes, and then I told him alright, I'm getting back to my nap, maybe I'll see you around later. When I got up to go out again I was feeling really good and now waved to all the shop owners who recognized me from the few times I had walked past. I stepped into the internet cafe to check my e-mail and look up a few things, as well as try to convert my newly acquired Way of the Boddhisattva cds so I could listen to them on my discman. I had little to no success with my efforts and was just getting ready to give up and move onto the next thing when the girl sitting next to me spoke up in clear, precise, even American-accented English. "So, where you from?" she said to me and I looked at her a little confused. She was clearly Indian, Hindi, and a moment ago she had been speaking Hindi with the employee. I said, "California, and what about you?" She said she was born in Ontario by her Indian Hindu parents and raised as sort of a mixture of East and West. Her parents taught her the ancient Hindu traditions as well as the Punjabi language of their homeland, and yet she attended Western school and spoke to me with complete understanding of my background and the strangeness of being in India's environment. It turned out she too was working with an NGO in a nearby town but working within the medical field and had finished school and had joined up with this particular group, knowing that she would have an advantage speaking the native tongue. I told her I was suspended in a state of uncertainty and I was using books as my main means of entertainment and passing the time. I told her now my main objective when going on the internet was looking up authors, e-mailing people for book suggestions, etc. She laughed and again said she knew exactly what that was like, apparently a common thing in this field of work, down time. Many things are out of our hands and we are at the mercy of the foreign environment in which we are.

This girl was one of the fastest talkers I've ever met. Speaking at lightning speeds but very academically correct always. This way of talking and jumping around and going off on tangents gave created a dream like feeling that only increased when she said "Hey, I just finished a book, my apartment is just down the road come with me and you can see if its something you want to read." Out we went talking a hundred miles an hour the whole way as if some grave disaster were lurking on the horizon and we had to discuss some very important matters of humanitarian work before we were doomed forever. At her apartment she introduced me to her two room mates who had just arrived from Delhi, then she pulled out the book and let me check it out while she found some paper and a pen to take down all my information. The book was called "The Solitude of Prime Numbers," written by an Italian author whose name I forgot. It looked really interesting so I said yeah I'd love to read it. She mentioned something about getting it back to her in a few days and I told her about how I was planning to be out of there by the next afternoon. "But, I said maybe we can trade books, for keeps," and at this I started thinking about the V.S. Naipaul book I had just finished that afternoon while having coffee with the dogs. I thought I had surely left it back in my room having no use for it anymore, but then I opened my bag and let out a laugh seeing it there, ready to be traded. I pulled it out and handed it to her, giving a brief summary. It was called "Half a Life," and was about a young displaced Indian boy making his way through the modern world of England, eventually ending up in Africa. We happily traded and then I was sent on my way, with a lightning speed thank you and good night from my new friend. As soon as I left the drive way area it started to down pour again and I had to take shelter under the awning of the only shop on that road.

When I made it back again to town again I went straight for the Om Restaurant where my friend was waiting for me, saying as I walked in, "Yes, my friend, your dinner is ready!" I sat down and he began to serve me some delicious little dishes, salads, rice and dahl, potatoes, etc. I bought a beer and shared it with him. As I finished up the Indian Hydro-Electric worker came walking in with apparently a co-worker. They said they ate all their meals, everyday, at this restaurant. For lunch Om packs up their chapatis and potatoes for them to take to the job site. This fellas sat down and within minutes were ordering me to come sit with them and have some deserts and more beer. A party materialized out of thin air, and all the other shop keepers came over to join in. Every time a beer was ordered it was divided up evenly among 5 or 6 glasses, refusing this or one of the treats like curd with sugar, was out of the question. After something like 3 hours we were finishing up. I had been invited by this man, whose name is Dinkar, to come see their job site in the morning. I decided to take him up on the offer. At one point during the many lengthy and often choppy conversations we discussed the different eating habits of Americans and Indians. When I was asked what we usually eat for breakfast I said a few things like, "you know toast, bagels, eggs, coffee," before Om interjected saying, "I know what Americans eat for breakfast... pancakes!" With that it was settled, we would be having special lemon pancakes in the morning.

I woke up good and early and met up with Dinkar at 8:30 for our pancake feast. It was delicious and Om was happy to have been able to re-create a little something from home for me. We finished up our tea and then hopped into Dinkar's car and zipped off to where their work site is. I ended up getting a lot of reading done in my new book while Dinkar and his co-worker took care of the typical morning work in their office. Then we set out to hike up to where the construction of the hydro dam was under way. Really not all that interesting as I had hoped. The massive tunnels he had promised we could walk into the previous night were actually not really so easily accessed so we never got to check them out. I spent a lot more time with my head in my book, after asking as many questions I could think of about the operation of a hydro electric dam. At lunch time we headed down to a sweet spot in the river where a good swimming hole was and we stripped down to our undies and splashed around in the icy water. Then we went to the tea stand where the car was parked and had a quick snack before driving back to the guest house. When we had returned Dinkar asked me what my plans were and when I told him I was hoping to catch the bus up to Mcleod he replied by offering me a ride saying that his co-worker was going home to his family for the night, and it was good time for him to get away as well. He had been staying at that particular guest house for about 2 weeks now and was ready for a little change of environment. I was stoked and told him I would be ready to go whenever he was done with work. He said to meet him at 5. I killed time by going back to the Norbulingka Institute and having another coffee with the same cool dogs, then using the internet, then going back to my room to read and read and read.

At 5:30 we were on our way up the steep mountain road. It was a great drive, but my friend seemed to be slipping into a very introspective silence and we barely exchanged more than a few words the entire way. When we made it Dinkar seemed determined to find the best place to park and wouldn't settle for anything less; we spent a long time covering the same ground before going back to the original parking area we had passed on the way in. I checked into Pink House again but was told the room would only be available for one night, and then all the other rooms were booked for the next few days so I would have to re-locate to an entirely new guest house the next day. I wandered the streets with Dinkar poking into shops and sometimes into hotels in inquire about a room, never having much luck. Then it began to get late and so I treated Dinkar to a little dinner before parting ways with him.

The next morning I was woken up by a knocking at my door and was already aware of what that meant. Yes it was Javid, the owner of Pink House, very cool and friendly Kashmiri Indian. He just wanted to remind me that guests were expecting to arrive that afternoon and they would need a little time to get the room ready, not that I had messed it up that bad. So I quickly got my things together and hauled my back pack up to Javids office where he let me keep it while I went searching. Out on the streets I ran into an Indian friend, Ajit, who works in a book store here and he offered to take me around and ask for cheap rooms for me, since the "skin effect" does apply here. After checking out two guest houses that were completely booked I got a little worried, but then was greatly relieved when we found a place with a single room, no TV no bath, for 175rs a night. I jumped on it and quickly fetched my back pack and moved in. I love this room, so bare but so comfortable. Very small with two beds, a nice window with no glass only a screen looking out over the valley below, and really cool book shelves embedded in the wall. Tonight marks my third night of staying in this room and I'm still very happy with it. Its the kind of environment that forces me to stay focused and not get carried away with distractions and being lazy.

(So again this is sort of another personal journal type of blog, I promise to get more informational stuff up soon. I am tying now to fix up our website as well with all the new information about what we're up to with our work and how to help.)

(I promise to soon write about the school progress!)

Hello, My Name Is ...

2010-05-11T04:21:00.000-07:00

A few days ago I was walking along one of the three roads that exist in Dharamsala when I ran into an interesting young Tibetan kid. Walking in opposite directions our similarity in style was too much to overlook. This has happened before with me, when I see someone who is obviously of a similar understanding and opinion as myself we can just cut through all the preliminaries and get down to business. Having dreadlocks is something that will do that. Within two minutes this new friend, Tenzin Dakpa, and I were off on the start of what became many adventures. We were both sporting very well-worn Tibetan malas around our necks, and upon inquiry we found out that we both were following almost the same exact Tibetan Buddhist Teachers. We sat down to have some tea together and talk more and I proudly revealed my new Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche book that I had just purchased. The book was called the Excellent Path to Enlightenment and is a text that I had never seen before. I thought I had them all at this point, but apparently there are many more which can only be bought in India, Nepal, or Bhutan. Tenzin couldn't conceal his joy and devotion as he took the book out of my hand, immediately going off on a tantrum about how much he adores Khyentse Rinpoche, and touching the book to his head several times before handing it back to me. Then he reached into his bag, which was an orange monk bag with the Sakya lineage emblem on it, and pulled out a variety of things to pass on to me. Some book marks with the Amitabha Buddha on them, a few pamphlets on the resource rape situation in Tibet, a stack of "Students for a Free Tibet" (SFT) stickers, and a bag of like seeds or pills that have been blessed by His Holiness the Dalai Lama and are to be distributed out among the pockets of my bags and back packs to keep them from becoming lost or stolen.

As we embarked on our odd journey through the belly of this town Tenzin told me many amazing things that I am kicking myself now for not remembering. Two things here, one is that I am trying to develop better and more professional writing habits and one the first thing that I have come to understand is that in order to write a good piece you have to be there in the flesh preparing for it from the get go. Just in the sense of making a point to remember certain things exactly as they are happening. This is something I learned while in Varanasi and it definitely comes across in the writing of those first blogs, in my opinion. In order to have those sweet dialogues intertwined with the telling of a story I have to mentally take notes while its happening so I'll know how to summon it up again later and get it all down. The second thing to mention here is that Tenzin was a mad man in his relentless talking. Always mentioning something, no matter how insignificant or how profound he was an expert and wanted to display his knowledge. Being somewhat soft-spoken, though I hate that label and would prefer something like discriminate speaker, or appreciator of silence, I could only handle so much before I went on an autopilot, yes-man routine.

Tenzin is well-connected in the Tibetan refugee community. Every where we went he would run into many friends and exchange a quick greeting and a hand shake or a hug or just smiles. After these encounters I would innocently inquire "who was that?" though I knew the answer since it was always the same; "oh her, she is from my home town," "oh him, yeah hes just one of my neighbors in my home," "oh yeah she, she is my sisters daughter and lives in my town." He is from a place called Bir, apparently one of the hang gliding, paragliding capitals in the world. The story or rather information he was sharing with me as we walked down through the town was about his father who had been a CIA-trained Tibetan Guerrilla fighter, sent on "hit and run" missions around the mountains of Tibet and China. Again I wish I could have this all saved somewhere in my memory bank, but unfortunately I was thinking of nothing remotely close to writing blogs or an article at the particular moment. I plan on drilling him though, next time I see him, about this and everything else he briefly mentioned to me while we were paroosing around together.

This first day, the day of our meeting, was spent in a purely spiritual pursuit. We made our way through the entire town and then down to His Holiness the Dalai Lamas home and temple where we first went for a Kora session. We made the ritual gesture and offering of respect by walking around the entire compound on the very long, narrow, secluded path with all the ancient carved stones, prayer flags, shrines and offerings. The whole walk, instead of uttering mantras, we chatted and chatted. Tenzin now telling me this important fact about Tibet's desperate situation, and now this important fact about which presidents of which country's made even a slight effort to give some attention to Tibet, and now asking me if I thought it was a good idea for him to become a monk, and now asking me I had ever considered going to Tibet.... I had to really step up and get a little forceful to get more than a word or two in, but it was really a treat to meet this Tibetan (he was about 28 years old) and get this very personal lesson on Tibet's current situation.

Upon finishing the outer, preliminary Kora we made our way into the heart of the Temple where we again did a Kora session circling the shrine room which holds morning prayers every single day. These morning prayers are attended by hundreds of Tibetans on a daily basis, not to mention the adorned monks who are living at the Temple and for whom the prayers mark the start of a long day of rigorous study, and His Holiness will sometimes spontaneously attend when he is in town. He usually keeps a low profile when in and around his home and its only by word of mouth that you might hear he is going to be attending. The prayers last around 2 hours, starting at a brisk 5:30 am and usually knocking off around 7:30 or in the vicinity. Inside the shrine room monks are seated in rows and reciting in mono-tone growling low voices the unfathomably long prayers. Outside the shrine room all the ordinary Tibetans and other visitors sit and spin prayer wheels, count their mani beads, join in with the praying or slip into a silent meditation with the chanting as a background drone. During this time youthful monks walk around with thermos' of Tibetan tea and buckets of Tibetan bread and serve to anybody who might care for some. For the tea you got to bring your own cup though, thats something I learned quickly and immediately took care of. The prayers are all in Tibetan but basically the gist is that these people gathered in this truly sacred environment are praying for all of humanity to be cured of its illnesses, physical and mental, but mostly focused on the mental illnesses that the world at large is so accustomed to. Every day they gather to generate this kind of thinking, for two hours concentrating on the expansion of their minds to be able to reach and benefit the limitless beings of this universe. On special occasions the routine may slightly vary, like now for example with the recent devastating earthquakes in Tibet. The morning chants are now focused towards the victims and families of the awful disaster which took more than 5,000 Tibetans lives and left over 100,000 homeless, according to report I just found online from a Tibetan Berkeley student.

After the third walk around the shrine room we stopped facing the main doorway through which the breathe taking statue of the Buddha can be seen looking out. "So lets do prostrations yeah?" my friend said to me and I didn't think but just lifted my shoulder bag off and set it on the ground and followed the gestures Tenzin was doing. A full prostration is something like the greatest gesture of respect, reserved only for those most revered teachers or activists in our world. First taking folded hands and touching them to your head you think, "I take refuge in the Buddha." The idea with these practices is that your whole being is getting to do something genuinely positive. With your body you are making a highly symbolic gesture of humility, with your thoughts you are radiating an intention to pursue a search for enlightenment, and with the speech you can either voice the thought or chant a mantra which is said to literally be the essence of the Buddha in sound. After the head, you touch your folded hands to your mouth area and say, "I take refuge in the Dharma (being the teachings)" and then finally you touch your hands to your heart and say "I take refuge in the Sangha (being the spiritual community)." I have also heard it said that the head represents Buddha's body, the mouth his speech, and the heart his mind or thought, and I like that idea of the mind being in the heart. So this first gesture of hands and thought is the preparation for the full, out-stretched-on-the-ground gesture that follows. After taking refuge you basically offer yourself before the teacher, showing that you know enough to know that the Buddha knows more than you, and that you recognize even the vast degree to which he has learned and sorted out life, and so appropriately lie down on the ground in humility. A beautiful and extraordinarily helpful practice to get oneself out of ones ego.

My friend and I did 3 full prostrations before giving the traditional dedication of merit prayer, which is something like "may any merit that has been generated through this practice be used to bring me and all beings closer to enlightenment." This is to show that no pride has come from doing this spiritual work and that it is only for the sake of others that we do it in the first place, so all fruits from the practice should be appropriately dedicated to the benefit of everyone. Now we picked up our bags and set off to the Dalai Lamas Trust office where I have been many times to make donations. When you make a donation to the Dalai Lama Trust you deal with a techno-savvy monk sitting behind a computer who asks you to write down the name/s of who is offering the money, and the amount, and then this information is typed onto an official receipt that is really too cool to describe, all sorts of Tibetan writing and blessed symbols. Today we were going here for a different reason though. Tenzin had told me that it was possible to get a real Tibetan name from none other than His Holiness. That all you had to do was apply for one or something, and apparently one is picked out for you or you are a given a choice. He gave me a stern talking to before we went there about how if we were given a choice I was to absolutely let him make the decision for me, since he knew what a good and well suited name for me might be whereas I could just have easily picked the worst possible name without knowing it. Though it is my experience that there only exist like a grand total of 5 different Tibetan names... Tashi, Tenzin, Tseten, Gnaw-Wan, Tsering, or Karma. Of course there are a lot more and slight variations of all of them, but christ every where I go I meet the same Tibetan names over and over again. So after I gave my humble donation I watched the monk pull out a stack of fancy looking cards, and then Tenzin and the techno-monk broke into a discussion from which I gathered that the pick and choose policy had been abandoned for the pick a card any card policy. I was handed a card out of the middle of the deck and looked at the purely Tibetan writing in confusion. My friend looked over my shoulder and said, "ahhh yes, a very good name, you are really lucky, its really a good name!" My official Buddhist name is now Tenzin Khenrab (pronounced like Ken-rob). The translation was something like "knower of everything," what a perfect fit!

(more to come... ... ...)
(adventures from Dharamsala)
PEACE!

Out Fo Control

2010-05-02T02:29:00.000-07:00

Well they've done it again.... The Maoist party of Nepal is disregarding all convention and doing things their way. Suppesodely backed by China, and possibly India, they are bussing in thousands upon thousands of "loyal" supporters to cause chaos and disruption in Kathmandu. The busses are filled with country folk, many of them have never stepped foot inside the city limits, many are un-eduacted, they are all very poor and any possible gift like food or a free bus ride is enough to get them on your side.

We were out in the village partaking in the building of our school when we got the news that this was all going down. We had been there for 4 days and we're really getting into the simple life, completely cut off from any modern conveniences. The day before we had gone on an all day excursion into the Nepali jungle. We had hiked for like 5 hours up the mountain, on nothing more than like a goat trail, and then we came to this ancient cave where our friends did a little ceremony before leading Nate and I inside. Tiny little opening, on the ground crawling, then dropping down inside of the mountain. We had little head lamps and wound our way down pretty deep inside before coming to a dead end and turning around. Anyways the entire hike lasted the entire day, and we were all completely exhausted when we woke up the next morning.

On that morning it had actually rained which was superb to wake up to and as we were all trying to get our legs to bend so we could go over to the bathroom and brush our teeth and whatnot, suddenly a group came walking up the trail to our little encampment. It was Rajan, Ram, and some white woman. The white woman turned out to be a Canadian who was a good friend and sponsor of Ram and wanted to come see what we were up to. After getting to know her better I found out that she is going to attend a college in England, can't remember the name, Bristol? maybe, but she plans to go there because it is one of the only places that offers a PHD in Peace Studies! She was a really cool woman and of course we got a long great talking about many different things that go on in the Peace Studies world that I am but a newcomer to.

After a little catching up Rajan dropped the bad news bomb on us and said that we should probably come back to the city with them that very day because it might be the last chance before all transportation is cut off. He said something like 300,000 Maoists would be flooding the city to attempt to shut it down until they're given what they want. Well they want everything and neither side, them or the congress, are willing to back down, so its looking bad. After this sank in we all agreed that it would be best to go back with them. Nate and my dad were packed up and ready to go pretty quickly, I was lagging a little behind, and then as I was still up in our room I could hear Rajan outside saying, "alright, lets go, Danny's staying here right?" and I was like, "waaaaaiiiiiitttttt for me, I'm coming too!" I had thought about that option, definitely safer out there, but the thought of really being stuck there for an unknown period of time was a little more than I was ready for. And plus my dad now had like 4 days left and I wanted to spend those last days hanging out together in Kathmandu, and then seeing him off at the airport.

The day after we made it back all transpotation to and from the city was shut off. We barely squeaked by. The past 3 days have been strange and quiet, many shops are closed up. Today my dads flight departed at 1:30pm and we actually had to walk to the airport! There was not a single taxi, bus, or anything on the roads. Just throngs of people, police in riot gear, ambulances zipping by. Its a crazy scene. We left for the airport at 9am this morning and had to walk about an hour on the roads that are usually a mess of cars and busses. Now everyone is out walking, and lots of young kids are getting rowdy and tipping things over. At one point a rickshaw driver came up to us and we paid to have him carry dads many heavy bags as we walked along side. As we got closer to the airport we began seeing other tourists doing the same thing. Many people going to and from the airport all walking with their big bags, some with rolling suitcases, some with rickshaws. The airport activity seemed to be no different than usual, plenty of people coming and going, but the most significant difference was that there was not a single taxi in the entire parking lot, and usually there are hundreds and they are all jumping at you and stealing your money.

So dad got inside no problem, and a good 3 hours ahead of time, and then Yung Dung, Karma and I made our way back. The whole walk home I was trying to figure it out, get used to it, understand it and come to some conclusion about what I wanted to do about it. During the walk I got two phone calls from my mom and she was a little panicky hearing the shouts and sirens in the background as I explained what I was seeing and what was happening around me. She offered the idea of fleeing to India, and though at first I thought it to be a little soon for something like that since nothing in the way of violence or hostility has broken out yet, now I'm pretty much set on following through with that plan.

Even if things don't erupt into a revolution or civil war, this is a pretty big upset in Kathmandu and I think it will definitely take a few weeks for things to get sorted out, and I would much rather be bumming around India making my way up to Dharamsala to be with my people than holed up in my bedroom reading books. So now my mission is to find a ticket out as soon as possible. I plan to fly to Delhi where hopefully my mom will be book me a hotel for a few nights and that way I can get some help arranging train and bus tickets up to Dharamsala. I think if this really happens I will stay for at least two weeks, and then if things are looking calmer and safer I'll come back to see things through with the school. My mom is going to arrive in Delhi on June 5, and I think if I can't get back any time sooner, then at least by then we can come back together and make a final trip out to the village.

At this point the school is looking really good. All the walls are about up to shoulder height, we have a crew of about 15 people working for us out there and they will continue whether I am there or not. We still have our committee overseeing everything and keeping everyone on track. Hopefully in India I will get some down time and be able to really get a lot up on here, including pictures and more details about our stay out there, and also about our trek in the Everest region.

Giving It Another Go

2010-04-22T22:04:00.000-07:00

(directly copied out of my journal...)

We've been in Darkha for two full days now. Yesterday was spent very, very slowly doing practically nothing. We woke up, had tea and hung around Rams home for a few hours, then we got some stuff ready and began walking up the trail to check out the tractor that was apparently making an extended road all the way up the mountain. We made our first stop at our school site which we were happy to find was already tractored, flattened and spread, finished and pretty much ready for us to begin working on. We were joined here by one of the two presidents of our school committee, Pratap, and he and Ram helped us to layout the general dimensions of our future 3-room school building. It seemed kind of random, or at least very informal, but eventually the piles of rocks that we set up at each of the corners of the rooms became the actual layout points. Took many pictures and stared at the empty land trying to visualize what the finished product might be. Nate had the cool idea of creating a circular bench around the one lone tree at the far end of the property.

So we gathered the troops and began walking further up the mountain, finally coming to the heart, the center, the downtown of Darkha. Took a quick rest then kept on a walkin' just a bit more then we came to where the tractor was going at it. Actually at first it wasn't in use, but just sitting there with a few village dudes hanging on it, putting some fuel in it. Then, at first it seemed for our sake, they turned it on and began yanking huge boulders out of the ground and quickly piled up a small mountain of dirt. It turned out to not be just a demonstration for us but actually the continuation of the road work. The village decided that while we were funneling money and creating some progress, they would take the initiative to take care of some of the things that needed to be taken care of, like making a new trail up the mountain that detours around instead of through peoples' homes. It was really a strange sight, this huge back hoe with caterpillar tank-like treads in this primitive setting. The technology of the machinery was years ahead of anything in the village. A startling contrast.

Later on in the afternoon we went back down to our new bed room in the downtown area of the village, very close to the so called police station, which is just another funkily constructed building with a few bored looking young men in military garb. I guess there might also be a few weapons locked up inside, wouldn't be surprised if there was actually a small arsenal this is Nepal after all, and this a time of great political turmoil, best be prepared! We chilled and got lazy in the afternoon heat and Nate was still feeling not entirely healthy so took it extra especially easy. I can't get my days straight now and I wonder if this night was the party night or if it was the next one? Could it have been the same day as our school ceremony? Perhaps, well all the same the tractor and its very conspicuous presence was a never tiring source of entertainment, but we were offered more as if it wasn't enough. A piece of futuristic machinery such as the back hoe really demanded and required an operator of equally magnificent proportions. This driver of ours was absolutely the most perfect candidate for the position as there ever could be. He was handsome and confident, but like a little with-held or introverted, make for a good husband and earn any moms trust. To me there seemed to be something kind of off about him, like he wasn't entirely in control of himself, not that I am, but he seemed outwardly confused by his actions in a very subtle way. Anyways seeing him inside the glass cabin of the back hoe was a classic sight. Two friends, or two lucky village kids got to sit behind him and get a little thrill. He was highly skilled in controlling the bucket and building precarious roads along the steep hillside. Wherever the work was happening was pretty much where the entire village population could be found, all crowded around the spectacle. Sometimes they were just gazing in awe at the immense power and ease with which this machine was able to toss huge boulders and trees aside. Sometimes they were talking or laughing in a relatively calm manner. And then sometimes they were at each others throats, shouting yelling screaming complaining. But the village had voted and the consensus was that the time was now for this progressive boom. Any gain requires a bit of sacrifice, but for those who weren't into it from the beginning it is nothing but lose lose. Every inch of hillside here has been terraced for crop growing so there was no choice but to cut the road directly through some peoples subsistence crops.

Despite the angry cries of the ones who got short changed the tractor operator still seemed to win the hearts of pretty much everyone . More importantly he seemed to win the heart of the woman whom we have decided is like the official spokesperson, the M.C., and most definitely the "sway." She had charm she had power. So we were hanging around in the evening my dad and I, Nate taking his rest up in the bed, when Ram explained to us that the tractor operator and another young man had increased a level in their friendship, or like had decided to become BFF's and wanted to make it extra official and extra special. We didn't know what to think of this but we were invited to the party and were absolutely going to attend to figure it all out. We sat around waiting to see what was going to materialize. We were alone sitting the porch benches in front of our personal "cafe" when the Maverick, the Elvis, the tractor operator came swaggering up, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, a look of supreme pride and happiness in his eyes. He came up to us and briefly explained the party that was going to happen and re-invited us. As he spoke he was looking off into the distance, taking a drag and slowly breathing it out with a smile and that supreme look in his eyes. He quickly swaggered off and we were again left to ponder the events that were about to ensue.

Soon we were joined by Ram who said a few things before leading us just around the corner to the spot where things happen. At first we were told to un-shoe our feet and crouch through the door of the small shop that is there. In the back room we took a seat on the floor and took everything in. It seemed they were preparing an elaborate offering, with many fancy gifts and decorations. The ceiling was all balloons. The room was kind of on the small side and soon we were standing up and re-shoeing our feet. The outside area was much more accommodating for the 30 people that had to have been there. The tractor was turned toward the crowd and its flood lights were switched on. Dad and I sat down on a bench directly across from the make shift stage platform. The tractor hero was standing up there behind a little podium, adorned with flower leis and katas and accompanied by the village spokeswoman. A little cake was sitting on the podium in front of him with a large quantity of birthday candles stuck in it and I took this as just like a universal celebratory icon but my dad thought otherwise and ventured to ask if it might be the young mans birthday, as well as the friendship party deal. The answer was yes, two in one, nothing but fun, hardy har.

The events that unfolded in the next couple hours were elaborate and extravagant, only comparable to an Indian/Nepali wedding. Lots of formality, offerings of all kinds, awesome gestures and ritualistic exchanges between the two men. Sometimes clapping and cheering or a short speech, sometimes without knowing why the spokeswoman M.C. would point at us and say a few quick comments in Nepali to which everyone would burst out laughing. We would just grin and shrug our shoulders and Ram would reassure us that they were just joking. These folks know how to party! After all the formalities and offerings were through they broke out the beer and food. Two bottles of beer were divided up among like 12 men, dad and I receiving a generous cup-full each. A lot of different foods were brought out on plates carried by little kids and we ended up with enough to provide for our dinner.

Soon after we finished eating we stood up and said good-bye, namaste, thank you, and good night to everyone and walked back around the corner to the rickety wooden ladder that leads to our room. I was still sleeping upstairs at this point but perhaps this was the last night, because upstairs is where the potatoes are stored, just like in heaps on the ground definitely not covered. In fact when I first told our sweet host woman that I would prefer my own room or rather just my own bed she quickly hopped up the other rickety ladder in our current room and simply pushed the potatoes to either side making a clear pathway to a back room up there where a lone bed awaited my sleeping body. Only problem was that the potatoes attracted swarms of gnats. At first they didn't seem to be all that bad since they were silent and at first not so numerous. But then this particular night they gave me a lot of trouble while I was trying to fall asleep but I was still alright with it. But then I was woken up way too early by them or something else and couldn't freakin fall back asleep because now they were buzzing silently around my face and landing wherever they pleased, driving me nuts. I pulled my sleeping bag up over my head and still they seemed to be seeping through any little openings. Finally it was daybreak and I poked my head out for some fresh air and just layed there chilling, trying my best to ignore the gnats. Then bam! Before I knew it one was in my ear... I reached the bugger to pull him out but he was already on his way. Christ, now I could hear him! Every little movement he made freaked me out and sent spasms through my spine. I wrestled my finger in there a bit and that stopped the terrible buzzing but I was sure he was still in there. Freaking out I made my way down to the lower room where Nate and dad were and after explaining my dilemma my dad got some warm water, left over from the previous nights boiling pot, and told me to lay backwards on the bed with my head hanging over the end. I obeyed and then he proceeded to pour the water into my ear, which felt great and definitely cleaned it out of gnat, wax, dirt and everything.

This was the rough start to what turned into an amazing day. The three of us climbed down from our room, took turns going over to the tap where we could brush our teeth, shave, and use the toilet, and then we re-grouped back at the kitchen to get some tea down our throats. This morning I made it my mission to get some yerba mate made which can be difficult since the kitchen is definitely out of our jurisdiction. We got our tea and I asked our sweet Nepali host for some tato panni, but then she disappeared and wasn't seen again for a while so I just resorted to dropping my tea bag into my water bottle. I took a few sips, half forcing it down, definitely not the best taste. Then the woman reappeared with a hot pot of water making me realize my impatience. But so I added the hot to the cold and came out with a delicious warm bottle of mate. Happy at this I took off down the hill with the gang. And before we left we saw a group of young girls making flower leis, and upon arrival at our school site this group of girls appeared just a little ways behind us. Also gathered here were most of our committee members and just some excited villager friends checking it out.

We had come knowing that this was going to be a little opening ceremony sort of thing, but we were not at all sure of how it was going to go. Well first off we took measurements using the very long and capable measuring tape that Pratap provided. The measurements were based on the funky rock piling layout marks that we had set up the day before mainly so we could just get some pictures showing where the rooms would roughly be. Now we adjusted the marks slightly to make even measurements and we also scooted the back wall a little closer to the hillside. We had to consider a few things when deciding where the building would finally sit like we had to be sure to not have any part of it on the freshly created ground which would not be fully strong and compacted for a long time. Really landslides are the biggest concern because during the 2-3 month monsoon season they can become quite frequent. So freshly established, filled-in land is very likely to slip away along with anything that might be on top of it when the first rains come. Also, the fresh cliff on the opposite side of what will be our building is another disaster waiting to happen. One of our first objectives is to create a retaining wall to hold up that crumbly face.

After much discussion and recording measurements into different books the formal ceremony began. We still didn't know how it was going to go but we just went with it and had a lot of fun. First we sat around the far, rear, right hand corner of the building where a guy with a pick ax began striking the ground, within no time making a nice hole about 2 feet deep by 3 feet wide. The next thing that happened was 3 men came cruising up all sharing the weight of a nice hefty stone which was dropped into the freshly dug hole. Some things were arranged and some words exchanged and then the next, more formal ceremonial rituals began. Oh shoot, actually there was one strange thing that was done before the huge stone was dropped; a small piece of poop, a turd probably from a donkey or who knows, was placed down in the hole, and then a coin, a gold coin was placed on the poop, and upon this was the stone dropped. My dad let me know that he had seen this same things done before, in fact one of his clients had gone through this same elaborate process only on a million dollar house and not a primitive stone and mud bare bones building. Somehow it seemed much more appropriate in this setting. We were all huddled around the hole and Munju the awesome, energetic, independent and intelligent woman who will be our head teacher began tossing dirt on the embedded stone. My dad also did this however Nate and I did not partake but rather sat back and took pictures. Now Munju was creating a beautiful little altar on top of the stone; a little tea pot, golden and full of water was there, some flowers and natural beauty, and then a bundle of lit incense was stuck into the dirt just above the hole. Then she, and again dad following suit, began tossing red tikka powder at the altar, and then while different people came up to throw a little red of their own, Munju stood up with the golden tea pot of water and poured a thick stream all around the stone, emptying the pot. I remember seeing, as this was going on, a few woman around the perimeter of the hole making prayer gestures almost like they were going to do prostrations but never quite going for it.

This concluded the objective side of the ceremony. The altar was looking beautiful and the incense was burning strong. Now the two committee presidents (sporting blue HANDS shirts that we had given them that morning) Nate, dad and myself crouched in a line and received our blessings. I was to the right of dad and got to see a preview of what I was in for. Munju took a palm-full of red tikka powder and smeared it on his forehead starting between his eye brows and then all the way up and over his skull. A thick smearing making him look like a crazed warrior. Then a flower lei was dropped around his neck, and then she bowed to seal the deal and moved in front of me while another woman repeated the same process on dad. 3 rounds of dousing and 3 layers of flowers each before we were allowed to stand and then pose for several group pictures. And this pretty much concluded the whole ceremony but we hung around for at least an hour more going over our plans, talking with the man who would be our head contractor about window and door options, copying down notes, dimensions, and estimated prices into several different books.

..... (that is all I have for now, sorry to stop it short, but that is the meat of the tale, and I think now I will just pick up with whatever new things come about, the rest of this one stays in the village. So now we are leaving again tomorrow, after a 6 day break where we went on a trek to Everest. More on that soon, we are so rushed for time. My dad leaves on May 2nd so we are trying to really use his time wisely and do as much as possible. I am thinking of staying out in the village for a little more lengthy period of time on this trip, but then again I might just come back with my dad to see him off at the Kathmandu airport. Nate is also joining us again, going to give it another go and get some more quality pictures. He is having a lot of trouble getting his photos uploaded onto the web, but soon he will have a nice little collection and then I will definitely post the link to it on this blog here. So everything is still going pretty good, and I'm really looking forward to getting out into the country again, so much more relaxing and nourishing compared to Kathmandu, although I have to say I am starting to really have a lot of fun cruising around the city now that I know where I am and where to go and how to get things done, etc. Anyways I wish I could write more right now, feel like I have a lot to say but really no time and absolutely have to leave right now to get back to Karma's in time for dinner. Peace! Namaste! Check back in soon!

Skinny Man Feeling Fat

2010-04-08T03:15:00.000-07:00

Now much time has passed, things have happened, a lot of time was spent. I'm growing more and more into this lifestyle, so much so that it feels silly to write about my daily outings. I guarantee you that there is not too much to tell. The things I am experiencing in my day to day life are really interesting, sometimes exciting, but it just wouldn't translate well into a blog, or even into a photograph. It is the little interactions with people, the subtle differences of Nepal and the U.S. that make any boring activity a little more fun for the person involved in it, but not quite enough to make the person who is not directly experiencing it understand how nice it can be. But my friend from home, co-graduate from Atascadero High School Class of 2006, Nate Abate has a blog now and I imagine he is writing with more enthusiasm about the finer things. He is a follower of this blog, and his profile will take you to his blog.

He is a journal entry from this morning, I was in a really good mood.

"Last night I collapsed into bed exhausted, completely spent, and this morning I woke up feeling great. While lying in bed last night trying to fall asleep my mind began to wander and drift and examine itself. I had a sort of slight subtle realization that up to now my life is where and how I want it. Looking back over the years I can now see that everything that happened to me, no matter whether I thought it good or bad, wonderful or terrible at the time, has led me to where I am today. My life is and has been how I want it, and now I just feel like that in moving on I will have more appreciation and understanding in the sense that things that I may perceive as unpleasant or threatening could be a potential doorway to what I am really looking for.

"Currently I am sitting here again in the Shechen Monastery guest house, just a few doors away from the room I checked into when I first arrived here from India. Nate arrived in Nepal about 5-6 days ago and is now experiencing the third-world sickness that all must go through. Yesterday evening when his condition was shown to not be improving we decided to move him into my dads room where he would be closer to a toilet and have the luxury of a hot shower. My Dad has been here for about 2 days and is really enjoying himself, everything is trippin' him out.

"Reading Henry Miller's Sexus for the second time I came across this now familiar passage which addresses perfectly the feeling I've been having this morning; 'When I think now of the ruse by which I was liberated, when I think that I was released from this prison because the one I loved wanted to get rid of me, what a sad, baffled, mystifying smile comes over my features. How confused and intricate everything is! We are grateful to those who stab us in the back; we run away from those who would help us; we congratulate ourselves on our good luck, never dreaming that our good luck may be a quagmire from which it will be impossible to extricate ourselves. We run forward with head turned. We rush blindly into the trap. We never escape, except into a cul-de-sac.'

"So yeah today I'm feeling good and content. It's wonderful to share my exotic and strange little world here with a couple worthy companions from home. It puts things into a fresh perspective to take them places and see their reactions."

(end of transmission...)

So this afternoon, just a little while ago in fact, my dad, my Tibetan brother and father and I (Nate stayed at home to rest up) went to visit our good friends parents. A few years ago we helped one young girl named Gnaw-wan get a visa and come to America to be with her now husband Topgyal, who happens to be one of Karmas children. We took a bit of time and effort, making many copies of legal documents, providing sponsor letters, and even making a trip to the U.S. embassy while in Kathmandu and in the end it all paid off and she got to take a plane outta here and to a more hopeful future. Now her parents are eternally grateful and insist that we come to their home for a lunch or dinner whenever we are in Kathmandu. Well, as it turns out, we are in Kathmandu almost every year! For the past 3 at least. So now we have made our annual visit and have eaten our annual supply of momos. I warned my dad about the vast quantities but he merely brushed it aside, refusing to believe it until he had seen it. Now I sit here feeling fatter than I've felt in a long time, and dad sitting next to me looks like hes ready for a nice siesta. It was an incredible meal, and for the first time I was actually ready for it. I prepared all day by eating nothing, just a few cups of tea here and there. We walked all over the place, checked both Nate and dad out of their respective guest houses and trucked all the gear up to Karmas by taxi. Then we had tea there, and Dad decided to get a lot of questions off his chest. Mainly just drilling Yung Dung about the visa process, and the Nepali passport process. Then we got Nate good and comfortable before heading out to walk the 40 minute walk all the way to the Tibetan refugee camp in Boudha where Gnaw-wans family resides. So yes good and hungry I was.... once inside and after the customary greetings and gift exchange we were sat down to more tea, and a tin of cookies and snacks, none of which I ate. Then, just as my will was beginning to flex a little and I made a grab for a cookie, Amma swung open the curtain and came in bearing a huge pot of freshly made momo's. Shin Po Do Amma!!! I let out a little cry and a whimper upon the sight and smell of it. Then the daughter brought in a sizable pot of Dahl, and then I think a cousin, or some relative, brought in a large plate of rice, and then amma came back with another pot of some sort of like glass noodles with a good sauce and chopped mushrooms, and then there was the pot of green vegetables, and then a plate of sliced cucumber with salt. We all dove in, loading up the plates, and I think I must have re-loaded mine at least 3 times. Amma was very pleased with me today. But now I am a little hurting, probably will be skipping or at least cutting way back on my rice dinner.

Notes from the Village: a mini-saga

2010-03-27T03:11:00.000-07:00

I wrote this first by hand in my journal and it totalled 31 pages. I really spent some time with it, thinking before I wrote, then editing and re-writing like a pro.
Take your time with this one!

Early morning start...
Don't forget yer towel...
I woke up at 5:05am and went upstairs to use the bathroom, wash my face and shave. When I came back down the door was still closed and there was no sound coming from Yung Dung's room, so I gave a hard knock as I told him I would when we agreed the night before that he would accompany me to the bus stop. He responded with a sleepy, "Yo...," something that I think he picked up from me. He was up in a flash and ready to go. I gave my room a last going over to see if I had forgotten any one important, vital thing that I couldn't do without. As I was stepping out my door, still looking around, I noticed my green camp towel sitting on top of the little wicker book shelf. I closed the door and stood there, suddenly struck by an image of my mom saying in a stern, motherly tone, "Danny, don't forget your towel!" My mom and I share a deep fondness for The Hitchhikers Guide To The Galaxy, in which two very crucial pieces of knowledge are offered in a humorous light though we take it quite seriously. The first is a 2-word phrase that is applicable to all situations, but definitely more so when traveling, and still more definitely so when hitchhiking. Don't Panic! Thats all you need to know, and if you apply it the world is yours. The other piece of knowledge also makes for a good phrase, and that is "Don't forget your towel," or "Always know where your towel is." This one takes a bit of explaining, which I won't go into here, but just know that in The Guide about 8 pages are devoted to explaining and describing the wonders and benefits that come from traveling with a towel.

The image of my mom reprimanding me, and knowing the reasons which backed here, I promptly re-opened my door, walked over to the wicker book shelf and snatched up my towel, sticking it under my arm and walking out. Now I felt satisfied and certain that we could depart. AT the bottom of the stairs we ran into Karma, who was hoping we could have tea before heading off. It was 5:30 now and nothing sounded better than sitting down to some tea, but I needed to be at Sukidara (nearest bus stop to Karma's) by 6:00 and it is about a 30-minute walk. Sukidara is where we would catch the bus that would take us to the next bus stop, where we find a bus heading out of Kathmandu, about 3 1/2 hours to Dhading Beshi.

The bus dropped us off in one place, and lucky Yung Dung was with me, we figured out we needed to be in another. We found and confirmed the appropriate waiting area and ordered some chai while waiting for Rajan to show up. At 6:30, our scheduled departure time, I gave Rajan a call and found that he had just gotten off his bus and was also a little confused and unsure of where he was supposed to go. I walked out towards the road while trying to describe my surroundings over the phone to him. Nothing was getting through, I couldn't find any distinct obvious thing to make it clear where I was. The road noise was maddening, buses with custom horns that play short little diddies, crazy yelling from the Road Warrior type characters hanging on the sides of the buses, and the cell phone reception was cutting out. Then I heard Rajan desperately say, "Is there a Nepali you could hand the phone to?" With that I gave the phone over to Yung Dung and watched as his head snapped to the left and honed in, as if catching the scent. A few words exchanged then he handed the phone back to me and trotted off in the direction of his gaze. I followed, phone back to my ear, and as I stopped to watch Yung Dung dart across the busy intersection, I suddenly heard Rajan saying directly into my earhole, "Ah! There you are, okay, haha..." I spotted him just as Yung Dung made it to his side, and then they both came back over and we exchanged good mornings and went to the check the bus status. It was due to leave at 7:10 so we sat down for another cup of chai and a bread roll. Yung Dung talked to Rajan about his Tibetan origins, since Rajan is quite familiar with Tibet, and then Rajan told Yung Dung about his Yoga Center and how he would love to have a Tibetan monk give some teachings and instructions there.

Then Yung Dung, after shaking our hands and tying a kata onto my shoulder bag, took his leave. We squeezed into our seats and prepared for the ride. As soon as we started rolling Rajan turned to me and explained (as if it was my first time here) the up and downside of Nepal. The downside is that it is an incredibly poor country with trash in the streets, smog in the air, and 12 hours a day (in the dry season) of no electricity, not to speak of the corrupt government. The upside, as Rajan explained, is that the people are somehow able to maintain a happiness and contentment in their personal lives, something that most people in even the most developed countries often can't seem to do. As soon as he started this spiel I knew this would be his main point. It is the thing which draws people to this country, and keeps people like me coming back again and again. As we rode along, on our way out of the city, I kept rolling this idea around in my head. Out of my window I admired the paint job on a passing bus. On the bumper the words "Love Me Tender," had been painted in vibrant colors. The next truck that passed had a mural of a bleeding rose with the caption, "Love Hurts." Yes, clear as can be and simply put, love is what we love about Nepal. Nepal is rich with love. There seems to be a collective understanding here that love is one thing that cannot be taken away. A country that has been deprived of everything and yet still flaunts its abundant love is truly a beautiful country.

The Silt Road...
The Sea of Silt,
Could you add some silt to that?
Now in Dhading, I stood in the road next to a gnarly looking diesel jeep as Rajan discussed with the driver where we would sit and for how much. We were standing in the same road and had even just finished eating at the same restaurant as last summer when we made the first trip out to the village of Darkha in the Dhading district of Nepal. Dhading is the hub, the transit center for all the surrounding remote villages. On certain streets there are lines of big, burly diesel jeeps with tough cigarette-smoking drivers. You walk up and down these lines asking each one if they are going in the direction of your village. If they are you negotiate the price based on the quality of your seat and the price of fuel. As far as seats go the first and second rows are the best, then the back (two bench seats facing each other) is next, and then the bargain seats, the matinee, is on the roof. It is also not uncommon to pay for the privilege of hanging on the side when there is absolutely no room left. Space is precious and every passenger means more gas money. This in mind I wasn't entirely surprised when Rajan informed me that we would be sharing the front passenger seat, the driver simply refusing on basic principle to sell it to just one person. We cozied up to each other and settled in for the journey. We made one stop for fuel and then headed out of the bustling streets and straight for the mountains. The last bit of asphalt road belonged to a short bridge spanning a trashy, polluted river. On the far side of the bridge two dirt roads forked off in opposite directions. The one going left was flat and ran along next to the river, and this, Rajan reminded me, was the one we took last time. The other road immediately began a steep ascent, and would be our chosen path, the so called "high road." Before crossing the bridge we stopped to let a truck descend the steep section that we were about to attempt.

Staring out the windshield I was shocked at the spectacle of this descending truck, which was almost completely engulfed in a cloud of thick, heavy white dust. When the truck hit the bridge it emerged from the fog, and a cloud of white trailed it across to where we sat waiting. As the truck passed us the drivers exchanged looks that suggested nothing to the effect of concern of disgust about the road conditions. Now it was our turn, so we crossed the bridge and hit the dirt. What I had taken for a dusty dirt road was in fact something more like a sea of silt. Immediately our tires seemed to sink at least 6 inches, and out of my window (which was tightly shut) I could see a spray, a thick wake of dust being flung up towards the back of the jeep. As we continued crawling up and up this steep trail I really had the feeling of being on a boat, and outlaw Himalayan mountain boat. The movements of the jeep, like a delayed steering and soft rolling, and the way the road ahead seemed to be constantly shifting as soon as we drew close, it was not hard to imagine that we were really in a rugged ship sailing up a waterfall.

For about an hour and a half we struggled through the silt. Sitting next to the window it was my job to decide which was the lesser of two evils; the dust of the heat. I seemed to be in the constant action of rolling the window up when we hit a particularly nasty section and the dust began to spew, and then rolling it back down again as soon as the dust settled so we could breathe and get refreshed by the cool breeze. Yes, so this lasted for about an hour and a half, at which point we stopped for a tea and pee break. First everyone spent a while patting themselves down, letting the dust fall off, then going to the tap to wash their faces. The dust I was caked in was nothing compared to what the folks in the matinee (on the roof) had to go through. When they climbed down we found them to be uniformed in brown from head to toe.

Stones Into Steps...
Stairway to the Himalayas...
The last hour of this four hour journey was spent navigating the rocky bottom of a dry riverbed. Last summer the river had been raging, and we had to cross it on foot by means of the many swinging bridges around these parts. It was pretty cool to now be able to drive right down into the huge riverbed, and like this we were able to make it all the way to the mountain where the village is. Waiting for us at the place where the jeeps stop were two good friends of Rajans, classmates from childhood days in fact. I had met one of them, Gopal, on the previous trip and was excited to see him again. Last time he had asked us to come see his home, meet his family, and have a meal with him but he lives the furthest up the mountain, about an hour hike uphill from where the location of our school will be, and we were lacking in time and energy and told him we would have to pass. I was very happy now to have the opportunity to take him up on his offer; we planned to stay at his place that night. The other person who greeted and welcomed us I had not yet met, but right away I took a liking to him because he reminded me so much, in looks and his way of speaking, of a young Hunter Thompson. His name is Deepak and I was happy to learn that he was on our school committee. Gopal insisted on carrying my backpack so the only extra weight I was left with was my shoulder bag with a book, a scarf, and my cd player in it; the essentials for any Nepali jeep ride.

Immediately upon getting out of the jeep I was overcome by the peace and tranquility of where we now were. No more noisy traffic and crazy horns, no more yelling voices, no more dust and pollution in the air, and no more trash covering the ground. We began our hike up the stone step trail at a leisurely pace. Whenever we passed a home settlement we would stop to exchange a few words with the Nepali women who were always outside washing clothes and dishes, preparing food for themselves or their animals. There were always chickens running about around these homes, and also water buffalo were often tied up in their own shelters, and sometimes goats and dogs. We continued hiking up and up, step after step after step, my calves were beginning to burn. We took a break at one point at someones place who seemed to be a friend of Rajans, but then again everyone up to this point and everyone from this point on seemed to be a dear old friend of Rajans, asking how his business and family were doing. We rested here for a bit and I found the vibe among these village folks much different than the people around the city. Their movements were slow and careful, they spoke softly and took every step to make their guests comfortable. At first I wasn't sure how to act in their presence. Their English was very limited so Rajan had to translate for me whenever I wanted to address a person directly. Mostly I stuck with just saying "Namaskar," (the respectful version of namaste) and thank you, dhanyabad, and okay, I will see you again, thank you so much, namaskar, bye bye. People seemed please with this and would respond with many, "yea yea yea's," and also repeat my words back to me; okay, see you again, namaskar, okay, bye bye.

The Warm Welcome...
We continued climbing up the funky stone steps, up and up the never-ending staircase. Finally we reached the area where the land which was given to us for the school is. Last time we were rushed and only got to quickly see and pose for a picture on this potential site for our school. We only saw the front part, the part that is directly off the trail, and we were happy to know that we had at least this much secured. Now I was taken around to the backside of this same spot and shown exactly how much our donated land had expanded. I was shocked and thrilled as Rajan pointed to a group of trees high up on the left side and explained that our land reached from there all the wayover to another batch of large trees high up on the right side. Really an incredible, sizable chunk of land. All the land, all the mountains in this region are terraced for harvesting rice and corn, so it is difficult to compare its size to anything that would give a clear picture, but I would say all in all that it is about the size of two full-length swimming pools, reaching up about 5 terrace levels. I took some pictures and let everyone know how astounded I was by this wonderful surprise. Land would no longer be an issue.

When we got back on the trail we took only a few steps before running into a few people, important people at that. One of them was the appointed president of our school committee. I gave him a whole-hearted namaskar and took his hands in mine. He was a great guy, a true gentleman, and I feel good knowing he is in charge of the village-side of our operations. The other man was also part of our committee, another voice to help decide what the best way to go about things will be. We continued on a few more steps with our new companions in tow, and soon Rajan pointed out that the old school buildings which we had visited before were now in view. The buildings are perched out a ways on a kind of ledge, and the most spectacular view belongs to this spot. As I gazed in the direction of the rugged stone school building I noticed a crowd of people in blue school uniforms gathered there. Before I could question what was going on Rajan turned to me with a smile and said he had called ahead to inform all the students who would be attending our new school, as well as their families, that we would be arriving around this time. My heart began to flutter, I was overtaken and in disbelief staring out and across to where this crowd of students had gathered and were now laughing and waving to us. The closer we got the more I could see them excitedly moving about, getting into position, and the more the I began to wonder what in the world they would think of me when I came lumbering up, towering over all of them, the human skyscraper. As we got closer our companions ran up ahead to join the crowd, and Rajan and I walked up on our own. The closer we got the quieter the crowd became. When we were within 20 feet Rajan slowed down and let me walk up on my own. I walked into the midst of everyone. On my left was a line of the boy students, on my right a line of the girls, they were lined up according to height. Behind them stood the parents and families. I walked right in between the two lines, to the middle, still silence around me. Then I folded my hands and said, "Namaste!" Somebody seemed to give the signal and then everyone let loose a warm applause. As I stood there turning in circles thanking them, hands still folded, the children began coming up one at a time and very shyly gesturing for me to bend down so they could place home made flower leis and kata scarves around my neck, and Rajans too. When the leis stacked up to about my mouth level the clapping subsided and then we posed for several pictures, with me kneeling down and all the kids swarming around me.

About half of the official committee was there, and the rest we would be meeting in the morning for our first official meeting at the new school site. But for now we all sat down in the 4 or 5 provided chairs and briefly discussed our aims and goals, with an audience of about 30 people, children and adults, all gathered around listening intently. This was when I learned that there were 82 students in total who would attending our school, which will be for grades 1-3. I was also introduced to the 2 teachers of the old school who would continue to teach the same students in our new school. I cannot describe my exaltation upon meeting these two incredibly sweet women and learning how many students were ready to attend. Until this moment all our work and all our plans had been wrapped in a veil of uncertainty for me. I was truly prepared for the worst, like having to seek out people to help, hunt down and pay generously someone to be the teacher, and bribe politicians, police officers, and soldiers who would surely be looking to get their share. But no, so far everything was falling into place with amazing accuracy.

Rallying for Support...
The Politicians March...
During our discussion I said a few things to represent my motives, and they seemed completely satisfied with that, just thrilled that I was actually serious about doing this. It was too much effort to speak through Rajan, who was struggling to translate what I was saying, and, as I learned, Rajan is an incredible spokesperson so I let him do pretty much all the talking. He has a cool way of saying certain words and phrases in English, like things that don't translate well into Nepali, like catch phrases. While he was rattling off in Nepali at an insanely high speed, he would drop these occasional lines in English, and like this I was able to piece together the gist of his speech. He started off by explaining the work I and my family had gone through to create the NGO HANDS in Nepal, and how we spent so much time raising money by giving talks, selling t-shirts and Nepali bags, having "Dal Bhat" parties (at this everyone cracked a smile), and selling Nepali and Tibetan tea. I was listening closely but a bit off to the side, and every once in a while I would get a curious look from one of the committee members, as if they were silently asking, "Really?! Is this true?!" To which I would respond with a dead serious nod, to show them I meant business. Rajan kept on going, now explaining the importance of our work. "Education is the key," was one of the English lines dropped at this point, then he would take off on a rant in Nepali, and then repeat, "Education is the key!" Quite a spokesperson indeed, I believe he could instigate a riot if he wished it so. After stating our budget for all the work, he went on to describe the future possibilities of tourism in the village. He related his own idea of setting up treks to the nearby Himalayan peak of Ganesh Himal, and having them end in the village with a Nepali home stay and some volunteering in the new school. He also mentioned the possibility of turning the old school house into a guest house for trekkers and school volunteers to stay in. Around this point, when describing the wonders of the tourist industry, he beautifully slid in an anecdote, a direct quote from the Buddha to be exact, in which the English catch phrase was, "No one will walk your path." Then back again into Nepali at a hundred miles an hour, then again, "No one will walk your path!" At first I wasn't entirely clear on this, but by the second and third time he repeated it, fist clenched and bouncing on his knee with every word, I realized he just meant, "No one will walk your path for you," and not that no one would walk their path because it was straight up stone steps for miles and miles!

His fiery speech wound to a close with a quick description of what the building itself would look like and include. Essentially a 3-room building, built with traditional stone/mud walls and a tin roof, a separate bathroom, and an elaborate water spicket. And, provided we have funds for it, we would like to have a small building at the entrance of the compound which would serve as a library/office/kitchen. Rajan expects all this to cost somewhere in the range of $6,000 but we declared a budget of $5,000 so nobody would get any funny ideas about us being a wealthy American NGO. We did, in actual fact, raise about $9,000 in all, so if we end up with extra funds we will think of improvements and additions, as well as saving it for future maintenance and upkeeping. Or we could donate it to the larger, secondary school (like a junior high and a high school combined) up the hill from us that is also struggling to maintain itself. Or there is also the option of helping out the Buddhist Child Home (BCH) orphanage, the place I volunteered at when I first came to Nepal and still visit from time to time; 55 children living in a small, small compound. A vast amount of possibilities arise when trying to decide what to do with extra money. For the record, all the money donated to us by supporters like you is going directly to cold, hard building materials. I am paying for my travel and living expenses on my own dime, at least for this project. My goal is to find a way in the future to have my travel expenses, and a monthly stipend paid for. Ahhh, my dream job.

Anyways with this Rajans fiery speech was concluded and he quickly re-capped the major points for me in English, though I had been able to follow fairly well. We stood up and started again the hike up the mountain stairway, and for the first quarter mile we had a trail of kids following us; made some really cool pictures of that. Now we were reaching the heart of the village and stopping more frequently at friends' homes for tea, always having to refuse the many offers for a meal and a bed for the night, explaining that we had already promised Gopal that privilege. At this they would turn to Gopal with a look of like, "ah you sly devil you," and Gopal would just smile and give a little laugh. As we hiked on, now walking by ourselves, Gopal exclaimed that Rajan and I looked like polotical leaders with our stacks of flower leis and katas still around our necks. A couple of Maoist leaders roamnig the countryside in search of loyal supporters. With this thought he almost hit the ground laughing.

Good Night, Bad Morning...
Drunk for no reason...
The Power of Drinking Water...
Eventually we reached Gopal's home which had been built only 3 years ago. A very nice, very traditional house with a lovely family inhabiting it. His two children, Naresh and Hamani, were awesome and we got along right away. They will also be attending our school. So we sat outside in teh cool evening air, surrounded by spectacular mountains and purely natural sounds. No electricity in the house, but they had a small solar panel which powered a couple of dim light bulbs. We had our dal bhat dinner on the floor of their kitchen. Low ceiling, mud floor, open fire, very cave-like feeling. I ate with my hands to fit-in and get the full experience. Afterwards Rajan and I were shown to our rooms. We each had our own, something I was really surprised about, and they were up on the second level. Possibly the coolest room I've ever slept in, just a straw mat on teh mud, adobe-like floor, sloping ceiling, and two short wood-carved doors opening like French door style. I layed down as peaceful and contented as could be and I slept wonderfully with some great dreams.

In the morning I woke up naturally around day break and felt good, but for some reason I hesitated to get up. I was concerned about getting sick the whole time now that I was forced to eat what was offered, which may or may not be entirely clean, and my weak American stomach could only handly so much I knew. So I decided to stay in bed for a bit, feeling a little too heavy to get up, but I checked myself several times and had no symptoms of the usual stomach illnesses that one is almost guarunteed to get at some point. The sun was slowly coming out a little more and I now heard voices outside. I decided it was time to get up. I sat up and was perplexed at my condition. As far as my body went I felt 100%, strong and everything, but my head, my vision even was acting very funny. I stood up and found it difficult to balance, and when I turned my head it took a second for my vision to catch up. I took a few unsturdy steps and couldn't help but notice that I had a feeling like that of being drunk. Feeling strong but disoriented. I layed back down and the room began to spin and I began to get worried. It took all my effort to steady my gaze, lying on my side and staring at the wall. I felt like motion sickness was setting in. I was sick at sea.

Our first official meeting with the committee was due to take place sometime around 8am, and I wondered if I would be able to make it. How awful to miss this first meeting, but without my health I would be completely useless. I just layed there, staying calm and fighting off "the spins." Then Gopal appeared in the doorway, asking if I was awake and would I care for some tea. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, especially in cases like this when I feel incompetent, in an attempted casual tone I told him that I felt fine lying down, but really dizzy when I stood up. He immediately ordered me to drink all the rest of my treated water in my water bottle, and hurried off to boil some more for me, he was convinced immediately. I didn't quite believe that this was just dehydration and I was already mentally preparing myself for a day of lying sick in bed. But low and behold, with every liter of water I downed my dizziness lessened. In about 30 minutes, having drunk about 3 liters of water, I felt sturdy enough to climb down the wooden ladder and step outside. I was still staggering though, and occasionally when I moved a little too fast, especially when I stood up too fast, I was hit by a serious dizzy spell and would have to reach out to grab something solid to stabalize myself. I have never experienced such severe dehydration. We waited around for my condition to get better, finally hitting the trail around 8:15. We would be late for our first meeting but at least it wouldn't be cancelled.

Rolecall...
Official Mountain Meeting...
When we arrived at the school site the whole committee was there, completely unconcerned with having to wait almost an hour for us to arrive. These people have a much different, and, in my opinion, a much more natural concept of time. Rajan explained what had happened to me and everybody was sincerely sympathetic. I reassured them that I felt fine now, and then we were underway, gathering in a large circle on the ground to proceed with the discussions. Our future teacher (I forget her name now) sat with a large ledger book taking notes on who was present and which points were decided upon and which ones would be post-poned until a certain amount of work had been completed. Again Rajan dove straight into a fiery, passionate speech to get those who had missed out the day before up to speed. Now I recognized even more the points he was covering, but overall it was just an elaboration on the first one.

The meeting lasted for about 2 1/2 hours, and at one point everyone got up to walk around the land and visualize how the finished product might look. In the end 3 main points were recorded in the official ledger book: 1, a dozer tractor would be hired to make the land ready, and HANDS would pay for the cost of fuel up front to later be reimbursed when a local government meeting would be held. 2, an official "Dhanyabad," a thank you to Danny and his family for their work and efforts. And 3, it would be up to the committee to see that work would begin as soon as possible. With that the book was passed around so everyone present could sign their name. My name was the only English in the whole thing, and I relished the look of my signature among the otehrs. Everyone stood up now and chatted and laughed. Then Rajan and I shook hands with all our comrades and made our way back to the trail to begin our descent, hoping to be able to catch ride back to Dhading for the night so we could make an early break for Kathmandu in the morning. Rajan needed to be back rather soon for a meeting with some clients of his. Luckily wer were able to get a seat (same as before, sharing the one front passenger seat) on a jeep leaving at 1:30.

A Very Important Game of Badminton...
We made it to Dhading, dusty and worn-out from the crazy ride, in the early evening and went to Rajans good friend and former classmate's place to stay for the night. This guy was an eye doctor and his home was in the same building as his personal eye clinic, The Dhading Community Eye Center. His work includes going into the mountains and setting up temporary clinics to work with people in the remote villages. It was really interesting to hear about that and explain our own work to him. In the morning we accompanied him to his formal, daily badminton game at a nearby government compouond equipped with a badminton court out back. Here we found a gathering of Dhadings most important people. I was introduced to and treated to tea by the Chief of Police, who had a decent technique with handling the racket. Unfortunately the CEO, as Rajan called him, the chair person for the whole Dhading district had just left, having had his fill of badminton for the day, so I didn't get the chance to meet him but Rajan assured me that he is good friends with him and sometime in the future we will definitely meet.

So currently the land which our school will be built on is being prepared and will hopefully be ready for building in about 2 weeks time, at which point I will make another trip out with my dad; the expert custom home builder who could whip up a school design by merely glancing at the possbile space available. This first trip was very enlightening for me, and a definite confidence booster. I feel like I went expecting the worst and was treated to the best. That this project is now manifesting and actually working out is altogether too amazing for me to fully appreciate right now. My head is already overflowing with new knowledge and experience. Of course I will definitely continue to proceed cautiously, and Rajan and I have agreed to take all possible measures to avoid complications, and we are still very aware of the possibility of failure, whatever that might mean at this point. I'm really looking forward to getting back to the village so I can get to know my new friends and environment better. It has become very clear to me that I have a lot to learn from these people and their way of living.

I will try to add things to the blog that happen around Kathmandu, though I find it difficult to write about such boring things after the excitement of traveling to the village. Any news of further work, advancements, and going ons with HANDS I will definitely post, and anytime I go out to the village I will try to write something similar, but probably not as in-depth, as this. This might be like a one time thing to set the mood for the rest to come, unless some more amazing events and experiences take place and I feel compelled again to write it all out in story form.

It's Business Time

2010-03-21T02:18:00.000-07:00

Living here is an experience I can liken to nothing else, so I am always a little intimidated to write about it, when it comes to this point, when I am settled and living here. The traveling is fun and adventurous and always makes for a good story. But now I am living a fairly uneventful life, but of course there is a lot to tell, but I just can't figure out how to like set the proper mood to make it interesting.

There is a funny thing that happens to me every time I come here and I always sort of forget about it until it happens. Its really a strange feeling though. That is that when I go to bed at night, all worn-out from walking everywhere, I fall into a deep sleep and have really great dreams, and I always seem to dream really well when I'm here. But then I wake up in the morning and lay there absorbed in whatever weird tangent I was off on in my dreams, and there is always a moment when I have to remind myself of where I am. I dream about things that I'm used to, like being with friends, and in familiar-ish American cities, or even skateboarding some times, and then I wake up and my mind is completely unprepared for the reality of being in a totally foreign environment. Here, on my own, and having to learn a new way of daily living. Of course now that it is somewhat familiar it comes back quickly, but it is still really odd. Its like my very foundations are shaken and my whole being quivers. The very base thing that usually ties my nights and days together is changing. In the states I would have a great dream, get up and head off to do things that I know how to do, like with a learned eye, and here I get up and stumble about for a bit, having to feel out what works and what doesn't. Ahh, its so hard to translate something like that, I definitely didn't do it justice. There is culture shock, and then there is this breaking off from some fundamental continuity. By the end of a day I know where I am, what I'm doing and how best to do it, then I go to bed and in the morning when I wake up I am struck, almost like a panic, I have forgotten where I am and what I'm doing, and will have to re-learn again. This usually lasts for 2-3 days and then I am integrated. Maybe this is culture shock, but that term doesn't fit quite right for me.

Now I've been here for over a week and I am totally re-established with my Tibetan family and I'm all set up in my old bedroom. It really feels like my room now, like hardly different from my room in California. Every morning I sleep until around 8, but actually I've really let go of keeping track of time so it could just as well be 7 or 9 on a given day. Then I walk up the stairs to the toilet which sits up on the roof, and there I brush my teeth while sometimes gazing at the complex interlocking web of buildings and dusty streets below. Karma's house is fairly high up on a hill so there is a good view in all directions, despite the terrible smog pollution which seems worse now than I've ever seen it. Then I go back down the stairs to the kitchen which is on the very bottom level, and depending on when I happened to get up and whoever else also happens to be up, I will eat in company or alone, an egg and several chapatis, and enjoy a cup of tea that never reaches below the half-way mark before it is filled up again by Amma, or whoever happens to see it getting low. Our Tibetan son and brother, named Yung Dung (the "u's" pronounced like "oo's"), whom we have been supporting through yak blanket sales, has taken it upon himself to move into the room across the hall from me and attend to my every need. At first I was not into this, and had to really get it through to him that I don't need a servant, in fact that is the last thing that I would want. But he is so grateful for the help we have given him, that nothing could make him happier than serving me, at least a little from time to time, which is alright with me. Now that we've been around each other for almost a week things are really working out. Whenever I go shopping I bring him along and he patiently waits, and helps with translating my questions to the shop dealers. Than when I find what I want I simply hand it to Yung Dung and let him bargain the right, fair, locals price for it. Sometimes I will ask what the price is, then turn to Yung Dung who will be shaking his head with a smirk on his face, and he whispers in my ear the appropriate price and I go back to bargaining with confidence and determination. This is really fun. He is like a personal guide to the interior workings of Nepal, and really now he does feel like a brother.

When I first got here I mentioned the idea of buying a Nepali cell phone so I could keep on top of business and stay in touch with everyone. A few days later he brought me home a brand new one, which he was able to get for about $40.00, a months time paid on it, and about $7 a month from here on out. Ever since then it has been a huge joke whenever my phone rings. Its just too funny for the family, and Yung Dung never tires of calling me from the next room and listening to my surprised and excited reaction, then realizing its him and going off to find him to see whats up. Usually he will be sitting in the next room, like in the kitchen and when I walk in he just bursts out laughing. I don't know, the idea of a foreigner with a Nepali cell phone is just too much I guess. Its been really sweet having one though, and if anyone is feeling like paying a pretty penny, I am only a phone call away. 980-851-6105 is the number to call, I got a call from my parents this morning, so fun!

I feel like I am at a loss for words or stories right now. To write everything that has happened in the one week I've been here would be a long and slightly boring tale. So now I will resort to my journal, and I will just copy a few of the things I have written down in there about when I first arrived and then the plans for the school work:

My first day I slept until almost 1pm, sooo tired from the trip, and I hadn't slept well for the previous 2 nights so it was wonderful now to sleep and wake up in the peaceful sanctuary of Shechen. I only realized how late it was when I tried to order breakfast and was laughed at by the waitress. So I ordered a sandwich and coffee, then got a bag ready and headed off for the stupa. I was in ultra slow bliss mode, doing kora, taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of Boudha. I went to the Saturday cafe to get a latte and check out the selection of books. Almost broke down and bought "Stones Into Schools," thinking that now its time again to get in the promoting education, building schools and saving lives frame of mind. Decided to hold off on that, at least until I finish Henry Miller's Sexus. The upper rooftop seating area was quite full so I took a seat with a cool looking chick, and after ordering my extra large latte we started talking about what we were here to do, and how long we planned to be doing it, etc. It was through her that I first learned of the new power cuts that are taking place now. Instead of the old 3-4hour daily power cuts, it is now up to 12, that is 12 hours a day with no electricity. The times that it is on it is spread out and divided up at about 2 hours intervals. Usually there is power throughout the morning, and then again late at night when its of no use. I'll be laying there, about to fall asleep, when suddenly the red indicator light on the switchboard lights up, letting me know that the power is back on and ready to be used. There is something really cool though about being a big city, even if a very poor developing city, without power. A strange hollowness seems to take over. (end of that entry)

(next one.. a few days later now)
I'm now in Thamel sitting at the Northfield Cafe after getting my fill of the book and music shops that are so fun to check out. And before that I went by to check in with Rajan and discuss the school plans. Ahhh, so nice to speak to him in person and clear up all the points that got a little confused in the e-mails. So, he has already been to the village and even created a committee there to work with us on the school. They actually took the initiative to design a plan of how they were looking for things to go, and soon we will get a chance to go over that, and integrate our own plans into it. Rajan and I have decided that the goal should be a 3-room school for grades 1-3, which with the given location will create a better opportunity for younger children to attend. Not so far of a walk as it is to the current primary school, which is generally for older students. So we will make our first trip out on the 22nd, have a meeting with the committee on the 23rd, and then return to Kathmandu on the 24th. Just a quick trip to set things in motion. Rajan is a very busy person and has to be back in his office on the 25th to meet with some clients. After this initial trip though I will be able to make more frequent trips, on my own or with our friends Ram and Gopal who live in the village. So there will be work going on while we are away, namely digging the foundation for the school and bathroom. Dad arrives on April 4th, and then we will go back and spend probably 1-2 weeks in the mountains, helping and overseeing the work. Nate will also be arriving around this time, April 2nd I think, and will probably spend some time touring around Kathmandu, getting his fill, and then making a trip with me later on.

During the village stays I will be living with Gopal or Ram, but more likely Gopal since he has the largest home, even though he is much further from the school location than Ram, who is a mere hop and a skip from the site. The only fear that Rajan related to me was the status with the current government, since the constitution is in the process of being established, after a drawn out 2 year wait. This could cause some turmoil, like protests, uprising and the like, but there are some hopeful signs, and the village is pretty far out there, so we think we will be okay. Other good news is that the road currently reaches all the way to the base of the mountain where the village resides. So transporting materials, which we think we will do from Kathmandu, will not be as difficult as imagined. Something to think about and seriously consider is buying a decent camera to document everything for myself. Just now thought of the idea of making Yung Dung (our Tibetan son and brother) my camera man.... that would give him something to do, and he is in the perfect position for it. I wonder how much a camera goes for here? (end of transmission)

Thats about all that is written in my journal up to this point. Tomorrow we are due to make the trip out to the village, and I will be taking detailed notes, both mentally and physically, of everything that happens, so I when I get back I will have more to work with as far as the blog goes. Thank you to everyone for taking the time to read this, and supporting us and everything!

Making it To Nepal

2010-03-18T00:45:00.000-07:00

Varanasi seems so far in the past now. I remember leaving late at night from my guest house, and waiting in the train station for a long time before my train pulled in. I boarded it at around 11:30pm, and found out that I was assigned to the top bunk seat, bleh. I have never been up there before and don't think I ever want to go back. Traveling alone has its ups and downs, as everything in life does, but one of the most difficult things about it is that I have to be with my luggage at all times. Especially in India and extra especially on an Indian train you have to be on your toes and ready to defend yourself and your posessions at all times. So I tossed my big old backpack up onto the bunk seat, which is about 2 feet, maybe 2 and a half feet wide, and then also my trusty mandolin, and my shoulder bag whichI threw to the back of the seat deciding it would be my pillow. Then I climbed up to find that I was left with no more than the bare minimum of space required for a person to lie down. I could lie with legs stetched out, on my back, and that was about the only position available. But, for some reason I was feeling incredibly giddy, if thats the word. Like just fundamentally good, and everything, no matter how challenging, was sounding good and fun to me. I layed there, too wound up in my thoughts to fall asleep. India had been an extrordinary adventure, a good challenge that I felt I had come out on top of. Now I was heading to the Himalayas, these plans that I had been fantasizing about while working back in California were actually manifesting, and it was a surreal feeling to be there making it all happen.

Lying in the top bunk you can't see out, so you have to judge the speed you're traveling at by the amount of rocking that occurs, and the amount of braking that happens when we would come to another station. I spent the entire night, which sounds crazy to me now, wrapped up in thoughts. For some reason, I decided while laying there, being in transit, especially in that mode of transit, gives me the most insane feeling of clarity. I have learned and have become good at letting go and just going with things when it comes to this type of traveling. And it must be that sort of freedom that always puts things into that striking clarity. I was remembering things that had happened years ago, and was re-living them and observing them openly. I was breaking down different points that had confused me, etc. I was really enjoying all this, and occasionally I was putting on my head phones to listen to any number of really good cds that I had burned before leaving Germany. It was a fun ride, despite being locked into a somewhat uncomfortable position.

The morning came all too sudden, and before I knew it I was back on the streets again, weighted down with my bags and fending off taxi and rickshaw drivers. I was in desparate need of chai, and even though I knew I should be concentrating on finding a bus or jeep to the border as quickly as possible, I couldn't resist stopping at a chai stand to let my eyes open a little more. I stood sipping at my little cup and surveying the other tourists who had been on the train with me. They were running around trying to figure out who was telling them the truth, and what the proper price would be for a jeep. I finished my drink and went to ask an Israeli couple what they had figured out. They said the bus was really cheap but really packed, and that there were lots of jeeps but that they were asking ridiculous prices. I knew that the jeeps were probably the way to go, and that last time when Maxy and I were coming the opposite direction we paid 80rs for the 3 hour ride, definitely a good deal. I found a jeep that had about 5 people already in it, and I argued a bit trying to get a seat for 70rs, but since the other 2 tourists in this one had paid 150, or so I was told, I should be happy to pay only 100. I agreed and my bags were tied on top and I sat down in the back seat. The guy sitting next to me was Nepali and we began talking about all sorts of things. This is also when I learned an important lesson; I would have to come up with another story for what I am doing in Nepal, because as soon as I told him I am part of a small NGO, he would not leave me alone until I promised we would do some business together in the future. He made me repeat this several times and he gave me his information, but never asked, and I definitely didn't offer, mine. He was kind of a goofy guy, and I couldn't take him seriously, and was happy to split off from him at the border.

On the Indian side of the border you have to get authorized, and they try everything possible to get some last bit of money off you before you are out of their jurisdiction. At the immigration booth I was filling out my departure card with another western woman, when some Asian travelers came up, and blatantly and openly bribed the crusty old official immigration officer. The western woman turned to me and said "Its unbelievable, the corruption is right out in the open!" I just laughed, and hoped I wouldn't have to pull out a bribe. After checking my passport and immigration card the officer threw it with disgust down on the table, to which I gratefully picked it up and thanked him, and took off to the other side. Walking across the border in the presence of a small army, scattered about and heavily armed, is an excting rush. On the other side I remembered how different things immediately become. It took a while to re-establish my trust in other people, like that the Nepali boy who was trying to get me a seat on a bus to Kathmandu was actually working for a bus company, and not looking for direct handout. He got me a seat, and even though I was prepared to give him something, he asked for nothing and quickly went away before I could give him a small tip for arranging my ride. My seat was in the very back, squeezed in among 3 other passengers, and the bus was actually a min-van that in this part of the world, is used as a common bus, transporting sometimes up to 30 people. On this trip, there were maybe 12. The trip was strenuous to be sure, and it was only after my legs and behind went numb that I could relax. The road seemed to be a non-stop washboard. And the driver seemed determined to get the wheels off the ground.

I listened to music for most of the drive, and when we stopped I got out and stretched and stretched, and drank lots of water, and savored every second before having to climb back in. Eery time I got out I also admired the look of this whole set up. This little white mini-van bus, gear piled on top and tied down in a funky manner, inside everybody packed in like animals, the driver up front with fire in his eyes. I would look at this set up and think, "We are headng to Kathmandu...." and I would get lost in that, letting it ring in my ears. I really felt, more so than flying could ever relate, that I was on my way to Kathmandu. The road, as I said, was rocky, and soon it began to wind up into the mountains. At some point, my sleeplessness caught up with me and I dozed off, only to be woken up by the old Nepali man and his wife sitting to my right, offering me some delicious sugar cookie. Earlier I had boughten a bag of Lays chips, and promptly offered some to my neighbors on both sides, and I think this made an impression on the elderly Nepali couple, who were so humble and sweet. On and on we drove, the road to Kathmandu is long and bumpy.

Finally, in the dark we arrived at some place that looked semi-familiar, and I had to assume it was Kathmandu. My Indian aggressive, defensive, trust-no-one attitude was still with me, so when the taxi driver said it would be 700rs to Boudha, I practically slapped him. I made a fuss, and then asked where the bus was. No bus at this hour I was told, and then I asked the two Tibetans who were on the bus with me if they were going to Boudha. They were, so we decided to share the cab fare, which turned out to be in fact, about 600rs. We were a lot farther away than I thought. This was when I told myself I needed to calm down, not in Gorahkpur anymore, now you can trust people and be friendly, even when bargaining. We got to the Boudha area and the Tibetans told the driver to turn down a road leading behind the Stupa. It was late and I wanted to get to the Shechen guest house as soon as possible to find out if they would have a room, so I skipped the Stupa for now, promising it that I would be back as soon as possible. I walked through the gate to the Shecehn Monastery, and immediately felt a little too unclean for the environment. I walked up the steps that lead to the Gompa, and saw many monks hanging around. Followed the familiar path back to the guest house where there was a calm, inviting atmoshpere of low lights and quiet conversation. Walking up to the registration desk I felt so relieved and exasperated from the journey, that I couldn't contain myself, so I said in half-desperation, "Do have any rooms, or like a bed, or anywhere I could sleep?" And the mild-mannered Tibetan women, looking baffled, picked up a key and led me right away to a sweet little room, on the ground level so the door was opening right into the garden, and I was not more than 5 paces away from the cafe. A lovely room. I asked her when the kitchen closed and she said at 9, and it was 8:45 at that moment, so I just dumped my bags on the floor and found a seat in the cafe. Sitting down I couldn't suppress my ridiculous smile from taking over, people looked at me strangely, but I just couldn't believe I was sitting there after that journey, waiting to be served a delicous and hot meal, and surrounded by a warmth and cozyness I can only relate to home. I quickly pulled a book to avoid attention, and devoured my meal when it arrived, topping it off with a piece of cake.

Kali doesn't play the flute!

2010-03-12T05:06:00.000-08:00

Last night I stumbled into an unusual situation, which tends to happen here all the time, hence why I love coming here. I was walking towards the Ganges trying to find a passage to get off the street and down to the river, and I happened to see a sign pointing down a dark narrow ally, saying Ganges this way. Without hesitation I stepped in and attempted to avoid all the cow dung and sleeping dogs, and wound my way through to a massive staircase leading down to the riverside. At the top of the stairs I slowed down and took everything in, then walked down a ways, then took a seat to check things out even more. In no time I was joined by an Indian who seemed like he just wanted to talk, and I was happy to have some company so I got comfortable and starting asking and answering all the usual questions about where is this or that, and how is it living here, etc. He asked me where I was staying and asked me if I had heard about this place just perched at the top of the stairs above us. I had no idea, so he filled me in, explaining that it was an Ashram, and that they allow foreigners to stay there for free, even feeding them only asking for a donation, with this he motions to his heart and says, "whatever your feeling you can give." I was really interested and when he offered to show me I was ready to see it for myself.

Walking through the gate we were greeted by the head priest, or main disciple, not sure what to call him, but I have to assume he was the caretaker of the Ashram and he gave me the rundown about the baba who it belongs to, and the problems they are facing. He gave me a tour of the shrine, showed me the place where the baba, whose full name is Lali Baba, attained his awakening, and then showed me a dark little cave-like room in which two skulls of previous babas were placed on the floor, surrounded by colorful powders and burn spots where incense and candles were being lit. While in the cave room, in the company of these relics, this main disciple took it upon himself to test my knowledge, after telling him that I study Buddhism and showing him my Shanti Deva text which I carry in my bag, perfect for times like this. He pretty much went through all the Hindu gods, saying one and then waiting for me to respond with the correct counterpart, "...Shiva and..... shakti... and Vishnu and...." when I wouldn't respond he would sternly tell me the correct answer. I really enjoyed this. He asked me if I knew of Sounarath, and that being a Buddhist this is something I should know and should have visited by now. I didn't recognize the name at first and he seem pleased to finally catch me, proving I am just a typical westerner who knows nothing. Then I guessed that this was the place in Varanasi where the Buddha first gave his teachings, and he, a little baffled, said yes, and then continued on trying to find other points I was in the dark about.

In the end we were on good terms, and he invited me to watch his ceremony, his puja to the Ganges which happens every morning and evening, each ashram having their own stage situated right at the rivers edge. I thanked him and lingered around a bit while he starting getting prepared. The guy who first drew me in, who I first talked to on the steps was now with me again, and explained that there were two German foreigners staying at the Ashram and I could come back and meet them later. It sounded great so I told them I would go for a walk along the river, check out all the ceremonies and then come back. Before I went I showed him that I had a gnarly blister on my foot from walking so much in my sandals, and he quickly sent someone off to get a bandage for me. It was perfect, my foot felt as good as new, so I thanked him, gave some ruppees and then took off for a great walk.

I cam back after about an hour, and still the puja ceremony was going on, and still the foreigners were not back so I sat again and watched the ceremony for a while, talking casually to the people hanging around about hollywood and best movies and actors. Then I went back to the tourist area to get some food at the Mona Lisa cafe, a place Maxy and I were happy to find on our last trip because they advertised "real" coffee, as opposed to instant nescafe that everyone else sells. I had my veg fried rice, cheese parantha, and pot of milk tea then again headed back for the dark ally that I first stumbled upon. Now I went inside the ashram gate and was led to a room in the back where I was told to wait outside while my friend went to talk to the German, Mr. Gon they called him. He came back and waggled his head letting me know that I was alright to stay. I was told there would be a special ceremony at the ashram tonight, and then he pointed to a pile of chopped fire wood and a fire pit. I definitely wanted to see what was going to happen so I patiently waited, and waited.

Then a young, energetic white skinned guy came through the gate, followed closely by an Indian who was pestering him. The white man was dressed in Saddhus clothes, just a simple white and red wrap, and he had a small beard, and very bright eyes. He came over and sat next to me and continued to haggle, in English, with this Indian. He was saying, "I have no money, no food, look I am preparing for a ceremony, a Kali invocation, and she is already here, I can feel her coming, and I am fasting, so no I don't have any food, not even for myself, but here please take some money, I don't even have my own money but here take whatever is in my wallet." He opened his wallet and handed the Indian a wad of 10 ruppee notes. The Indian was saying that he heard he could eat here, etc. etc. Then he finally got the picture and went away. Then the white saddhu turned to me, and in a very calm, sensitive voice he said, "So Shubas (the guy I originally talked to) tells me you want to stay here?" And I said no actually, I have to leave tomorrow, but he said that people can stay here, and also eat. But no no, the sadhu informed me, this was wrong, only people who want to take up the robes, cast away all material wealth were taken in. It felt really cool to be considered, even if just for a second, someone who might want to "stay" here. I imagined myself as taking that seriously, what it would be like, what circumstances I would be under, to come here with that intention. He then explained what was happening that night. They were to do an all night sitting ceremony, including a very serious Kali invocation. They were doing this to regenerate the energy of the Ashram, something to that tune. He was explaining that it was a troubled place, and that there was a burning ghat, place where people are cremated in the open public, just below it, and because of that it was getting a lot of powerful energy, and needed to keep up so to speak. The baba who usually lives at the ashram was away for a long time, and apparently not doing so good health wise. So they were going to sit all night and send positivity to the baba in hopes to heal him. "When the baba is strong, the Ashram will be strong again," he said.

So he said it was not the best time for some outsider like me to just sit and observe, but that I could stay for a little while, like half an hour, before I would have to leave. I told him I completely understood, and again sat waiting for the activities to begin. More saddhus showed up, and a few more foreigners in robes. As the time drew nearer and more and more preparations were made, the power went out. It was hard to not take it as an auspicous sign. Candles were lit, and one Indian saddhu, super cool looking guy, also very young, began to decorate the fire pit with powder colors. He was using his cell phone light, holding it in one hand, to see what he was doing with the colors in his other hand. I stood up and offered to hold my light over the whole area and he greatly appreciated that. Then straw mats were placed around the pit and I took a seat behind to see what would happen next. Soon they all gathered around and Mr. Gon began asking each person if they knew what they had to do, like who was in charge of fire wood, who would sit in which position, and did each person have a candle and enough light to read the mantras by. Then just as it was starting to get really happening, the air seemed to change and I suddenly really did feel like quite and outsider, these 5 or 6 people concentrating their minds so intently, that I was compelled to take my leave. Mr. Gon stood up and said he would have to ask me to go, to which I agreed and thanked him for letting watch to this point. I stood up, slipped on my sandals, put my hat firmly back onto my head, and folded my hands and bowed to the group, thanking them. I walked out, Mr. Gon wished me a safe journey to Nepal and asked that I come back for a visit another time. The gate was locked behind me, and I took a few steps, stopped and turned in disbelief to let all that soak in.

Walking back I realized that it had gotten pretty late, all the shops were closed and the crowded streets were empty and dark. I got incredibly lost finding my way back to the guest house. It must've taken an hour to get back, and the whole time I was feeling weird and funny from witnessing that mystic ritual, knowing that they were back there immersed in a world I knew so little about, sitting up all night intently concentrated, not to be disturbed. When I made it back it was midnight, and there was still some people up in the rooftop cafe. I sat down and took a drink of water, and then asked an employee if I could get the lights on in my room, they had a generator going, but would have to hit the switch for the individual rooms to have power. I went to my room, dropped my stuff on the bed, then took a cold shower, then just laid down in an exhausted wonder until I fell asleep. Oh and one of the people up on the roof was playing a flute and explaining to someone else how to play and and make notes, etc. Thought that was really cool.

So this morning when I got up and went up to the cafe for some coffee I first sat down at an empty table in the sun, pulled out my book and chilled. Then I was told to move, the table was needed for a larger group coming up, and I was directed to sit with another guy in a table under the awning in a corner. This was the guy playing the flute the night before. He was Swiss, and told me he was really tired from spending four hours driving around on a motorcycle looking for a particular flute. He explained that he had been playing for 18 years and collected flutes from around the world, South America, Africa, Asia, he had flutes from all over. He explained that the best ones were made of aged wood, wood that had been sitting for 10 years or more before being shaped into a flute, and these had the best sound and were what he was searching for. He said in Varanasi he could buy one of these top quality flutes for about 800 ruppees, less than 20 U.S. dollars. Then back in Switzerland he puts on concerts and talks and exhibitions about the details of flute playing. We had a great conversation, which took a fun turn when at one point he said, "and thats why I hate Americans!" We got into politics then, I had told him I came from Germany, and that I would be returning there, and we discussed the differences in Governments of these places. He was proud to tell me about the direct democracy they have in Switzerland, where they vote on everything, at least once a month. He was a cool guy, fun to talk to, and he was traveling with his wife and their 3-year-old girl, which I was amazed by. I asked him all about the difficulties of traveling with a child, and he said that of course there are risks, but there are risks everywhere, and they have been traveling with their kid for a few years now and haven't come across too many problems.

Today I took a quick tour of the sweet spots in Varanasi. Checked out the Hindu University, which is enormous, supposedly one of the biggest in the world, but not exactly a typical university, more like a city sprawled out with many diverse families and businesses going on there. The institute of technology was for sure the most grand establishment, of course. Afterwards stopped off at a few temples, lost a lot of small ruppee notes to all the leechers and lurkers hanging around them, then got back to the tourist area where I had a yak cheese sandwich and some coffee for lunch. So now I will take my last walk around, and then head back to my guest house to get my backpack and mandolin, which are waiting in the lobby since I already checked out of my room. Then I get a ride back to the train station, and catch my train to Gorahkpur at 11pm. Hope to arrive there bright and early so I will make it across the border and into Nepal around midday, with hopefully plenty of time to find a bus to Kathmandu. Once I arrive I am to call my brother Yung Dung and let him know that I have made it and am safe, then I will check into the beloved Shechen guest house, if there is availability, oh I hope I hope. Shechen a famous Monastery rebuilt in the same design as the original one in Tibet was, before it was destroyed by the Chinese re-education, cultural revolution. It is a Nyingma Gompa, and the home of one of my favorite Tibetan teachers Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, whose books first inspired me to take Buddhism seriously. The guest house is an incredible sanctuary, right there just off to the side of the Gompa itself. Looking out of the guest house windows and in to the windows in the building next door you can see monks sitting around, doing their thing. Its a wonderful place, and they also happen to have an amazing vegetarian cafe, can't wait to be there. And only a minutes walk from the great stupa, it has everything!

How far to Kathmandu brother!?

2010-03-11T03:13:00.000-08:00

There is seriously no way to avoid the scam artists of New Delhi. Even when you're expecting them, they will you surprise you and trick you, and even when you call them on their blatant lies, they some how convince you that they're doing you a favor. I arrived at the New Delhi Indira Gandhi international airport at 2am, and ended up crashing on the floor there, finding many other people also doing the same. I woke up around 6am, had my first cup of chai (i lost count at 70 now that its been 2 days...) and then arranged a pre-paid taxi to take me to the train station. On the way there we made some unexpected stops. Once pulling into a tiny ally I was told to get out, and here is the tourist office where I buy train tickets. I knew this one, and I clung to my bags kicking and screaming like a child avoiding the dentist. "Don't make me go in there, I don't want to goooo!!!" And they obliged and saw that I was determined on this. Then again, telling me we go to this other, better train station, and me yelling and making a fuss. And then finally when we came within half a mile, and I could see the main station looming off in the distance, and they told me here I get out. I said "uh uh uh, take me all the way," and again somehow they agreed. I got away with only having to give them a small tip, but just barely, pretty much had to grab my bags, hand over the 50 note bill, and flee. At the station I was swindled and duped more than 4 times. Eventually though I figured out the game, and took care of my ticket on my own. The train to Varanasi left at noon, and I breathed a deep sigh of relief when I found my seat and de-shouldered my bags at 11:45. I was entirely spent, all my energy evaporated into the madhouse of Delhi.

The fellow sitting across from me, sharing my seat made no attempt to speak English at me, and I was beginning to think I had to lay down as soon as possible or else go insane, exhaustion getting the best of me, so I took it upon myself to move to the next empty bench seat, sprawl out, and lapse into a wonderful sleep, lulled and cradled by the relaxing rocking of the train. When I got my fill of rest it was sometime in the late afternoon. I had estimated a total travel time of about 9 or 10 hours, thinking I would get to Varanasi in the late evening and get to a guest house just in time for a cup of chai and then bed. To my surprise the train just kept chugging and chugging along, and soon I was asked what I would like for dinner, veg or no veg, and then it was lights out, and people took their positions for sleep. I soon realized I must have been mistaken, or maybe had just found the slow train, since it was making a lot of stops, almost every 20 minutes it seemed. Anyways I arrived, weary and groggy, at 5:30am. Like 15 hours travel time.

Stepped off the train, in slight disbelief. I hadn't slept all that well. Almost immediately a taxi dude latched on to me and started rattling off questions and suggestions. I looked at him and put a finger to my lips and said "shhhh shhhh, no no, shhhh." He got it, and quickly became silent but still following me. When we reached the main entrance I pulled out my journal where I had written down the names of a few nice sounding guest houses. At this point the taxi guy was joined by an older, calmer and much more helpful taxi gentleman. On the train I had been hoping that I might find somebody like this. Last time I was here in Varanasi, last summer, Maxy and I had the good fortune of getting picked up by someone as gracious and intelligent as ever. It was such a relief to feel like we were in good hands, and not being entirely mislead.

So after getting into the taxi (a 3-wheeled go kart like contraption, usually called a tuk-tuk) I began to feel more and more that this was in fact actually the same guy that Maxy and I had came across last time. By the time we were under way it was around 6am and our first stop was at a chai stand for morning chai. The more we chatted the more sure I became that I knew this dude, but I wasn't sure how to go about asking him if he was him. Surely he wouldn't remember me, his job is escorting tourists, he must see hundreds of mes. As we drove on he soon asked if he could take me to a particular guest house called Sundaya, and thats when it became absolutely clear. He had asked the same question to Maxy and I last summer, and that is the guest house we spent several days being sick in, and that I eventually fell down the stairs and smashed my head in at. So I told him NOOOO! I do not want to go there, how about somewhere else, closer to the Ganges. He agreed and took me to a really cool place, and upon entering one of the employees came down to greet us. When this guy stood in front of me he just sort of gazed into my eyes, into my soul, then his eyebrows twitched a little, and in a very resolute voice he said, "I know you..." and then I realized that he did in fact look quite familiar and that I probably knew him so I said to him, "Yes I know you too," and then turning to the taxi driver and tapping his shoulder, "and I definitely know you too!" The hotel employee, it turns out, used to work at Sundaya guest house, and absolutely remembers me because of the incident with the stairs and my head getting stitched, apparently he is still laughing about it and enjoyed re-telling the story with awesome hand gestures many times to other people in the hotel. It was a really surreal moment to find myself in almost the same scenario as last time, and at that early hour in the morning. After deciding on a room and price, my two friends took me out to a chai stand for another cup of tea. Then I headed for the bed and fell asleep until around 5pm when my friend knocked on my door telling me to get up, get dressed, and have some food. I obliged, then took off for a walk around, to feel out my surroundings. Completely got lost and then it got dark and if I wasn't so awake and energized and down for walking I would have gotten a bit worried. But I actually enjoyed exploring all the crazy, narrow passage ways, using my handy LED light on my key chain (thanks Jamie!) to light the way.

Back at the guest house I found most everyone already asleep, or making their way to bed, so I climbed the stairs to the roof and found that they actually had cold beer, so I grabbed one and sat down to read my Henry Miller book. At midnight I retired to my room, still couldn't fall asleep so turned on the TV and found a Tarantino movie, Planet Terror. Had fun watching that, and afterwards just laid in bed until I finally fell asleep around dawn. Today my friend again woke me up, at about 10am, and I told him I needed a few more hours, and so around 11:30am I forced myself to get up and stay up until bed time tonight, so I can get on the proper India time schedule. Right now it is 5:30pm and I am still feeling good, definitely going to sleep right tonight. I've spent the day sitting in various cafes and wandering the streets, having fun buying cool little things. I arranged a train ticket to Gorahkpur, closest city to the Nepal border, for tomorrow but it doesn't leave until 11pm, an overnight ride getting me there at 7am, which will be perfect. So tomorrow I will do a little sight seeing, I really want to check out the world famous Hindu University, and also the Sanskrit University, and of course a few of the hundreds of temples and historic sacred sites. So from Gorahkpur I will find a bus or jeep to take me the few hours to the border, where upon I must say goodbye to India, and walk across the border (a really cool feeling doing that) and then find a bus to Kathmandu. "How far to Kathmandu brother!?" (this was the title of one of my Nepali language learning cds, and I've been repeating it ever since I first heard it)