Terai of a Realization

Another weekend, another field visit. Heading back west, I flew an hour and a half on a very questionable aircraft, conjuring up the necessity of silent prayer before take-off and landing. Arriving in the heat of the Terai, the plains, I got in the car and began my assignment. My trip took me to the East and West of the districts of Kailali and Kanchenpur, either bordered by rivers or India or both. Overall a whirlwind of a weekend of dust, sand, and the ever illustrious meals of dahl baht.

Driving along the bumpy road and covering my mouth from the clouds of dust pluming from the jeep's wheels, I started thinking, what happens when one becomes blind to the stratification of society?
After about 1 1/2 days of driving, I had neglected to notice even the slightest air of poverty around me. Yet there I was, meeting with flood victims and former bonded labourers, seeing their mud and straw homes, and listening to their stories of not having anything at all. Rather than thinking of their poverty, I found myself thinking of the horror that none of these people could swim, despite the fact that rivers are their lifelines. Sitting in my comfortable neo-colonial-esque jeep, I tried to come to terms with my quandry. Stepping on a boat that was more like a raft and even more like a barely floating child's tree house, I laughed to myself as I was experiencing yet another bizarre Nepali situation, which for everyone else is merely local transportation.

Having returned to Kathmandu on the same ever-so-questionable aircraft and happy to be alive, I've pondered my musings. In short, life is life and people are people. Poverty, riches, and questionable public transportation just fit into the seams. Similarly, smiles are smiles, tears are tears, and although we may all seem very different, everything may not always be as it seems. Rather than clarifying my altered vision and indulgence of wordy prose, I'm going to keep enjoying the fact that I may have walked on Nepal's only beach, the sand left over from a flood on the banks of a river, and someone's home.

A Lang Tang Story

In order to get the true feel of a one-week trek I just completed in the area of Lang Tang, I have decided to share it through my photos. In the group of eleven I was with, all of us have seen our fair share of unusual and amazing sights. Thus, to walk in a place where every single person repeatedly said, "WOW!" must bear some weight. In summation, you hike a lot and eat momos, dahl baht, and sherpa stew in little wooden guest houses where you also sleep. Oh yeah, and the 60 mile bus ride there took 10 1/2 hours. I invite you to click Lang Tang mountain above to see some of the things I saw.

Wild Wild West

I recently had the chance to channel my inner cowgirl and head out to the wild West of Nepal. Going out into the field for a week was a wonderful combination of amazing views and a whirlwind of experiences. These are some of my stories:

A woman and her baby barged into my room asking if I was God and could give her salvation. Not sure about that one. Was told it was common practice to tinkle off of your staircase after 11pm. Went on two planes, two 10 hour car trips up windy mountain roads, and two 6 hour hikes, the first of which was done in flip flops and the second which included a horse named Moti (Pearl). Was charged by a cow and was told I am the only vegetarian foreigner in the whole world. Speaking of which, was also the first foreigner seen by most local residents. This resulted in thousands of snickers, dozens of namastes, and three crying babies. I had the pleasure of hanging out with 6 middle-aged Nepali men whose idea of a perfect vacation was, "staying at home, having friends over, gambling, smoking, drinking beers, and having our wives and daughters serve us." Additionally, over the span of six days, ate 18 meals of dahl bhaat (rice with lentils) and was lucky if I saw one toilet every 24 hours (a squat one mind you!), one of which was not even a toilet but a 'women's area' located in a field of thorn bushes where I was told I was welcome to have "a short or long sit".

Despite this whirlwind of hilariously questionable activities, I did have the chance to meet some wonderful people who have really made the best of very difficult lives. The average life expectancy for women in this region is 35, as they are the ones who perform manual labor, take care of the house and the children, and are the ones solely responsible for the entire family's well being. Meeting some of these women, many of whom were infected or affected by HIV as a result of their husbands, with smiles on their faces, a positive outlook, and living well past 35 was a truly humbling experience. This was the first time I saw that many families live without even basic foods such as fruits and vegetables, eating only rice and ramen noodles. This trip, I admit, was truly an eye opening experience.

Yet, for these Western residents, having family members and friends love you no matter what outweighs any and all hardships endured. Duly noted. Thank you wild wild West.