Holy Holi

Holi is the best, nastiest, craziest, most colorful holiday ever. As Mel said, "This would never fly in the US." Starting this morning, Kavita and I woke up early so we could run to the program house (a distance of about 50 m maximum) before the neighbors stocked up on water balloons. Think war zone with turrets everywhere and enemy fire, except the enemy fire is water-filled bags dyed with colored powder. A nationwide paintball fight with no rules, beautiful weather and LOTS of college students with pent up stress and aggression. After our daily rice and lentils, all the kids headed to the boys' hostel courtyard and very quickly things went nuts. Green dye thrown down shirts, buckets of water upturned over unsuspecting heads, and not-so-careful kitchen staffers thinking they could just sneak by without get noticed. Oh how foolish they were. Tildai got soaked; Parnudidi got mauled with red dye and we all became absolutely and entirely filthy. A few stray bags (rockets really) hit me in the eye but all was good (I promise I'm totally fine!) and generally I would now take Holi over Christmas any day.

Some quick updates on the past few days. Yesterday I went to a lunch at a restaurant called Mike's Breakfast (started by an ex-Peace Corper) with Laurie, the director of the Fullbright Office here in Nepal, Laurie's sarcastic Indian husband, the husband's best friend interested in water issues in India (hence the reason I was invited) and some other random dudes. 1. Best food EVER. I do not exaggerate. 2. These guys are absolute ballers. It was a fantastic conversation, despite the fact that I was at least half as young as the youngest person at that table. Even better, I held a lengthy conversation IN NEPALI with the taxi driver on the way over. No need for applause though it is appreciated. Though we didn't speak much about water issues, I had a fantastic time and it was incredibly encouraging to know I could travel around this city on my own, as well as hold a very normal, casual conversation with a woman whose credentials would normally have me shaking in my boots (if I wore boots that is.)

The night before that, Mel and Jon and I grabbed a quick dinner in Thamel (tourist district) complete with a sweet cover band, beer and just general good, American, college student fun. I never thought I would miss seeing night lights as much as I do. But simply walking through the streets with stalls lit up and music blaring was so refreshing and a taste of home without the stress of midterm season. It was a fantastic, casual blast of bonding - an event which we hope to repeat tonight as we count down to Mel's 22nd birthday. Tonight we plan to return to Mike's Breakfast, my new favorite place of worship, for Mexican Food, some Amurrican beer (drinking age here is about 5) and a reggae concert. Our research proposals are due tomorrow and then Tuesday morning we leave for our homestay in Mannegau. It is a Tamang village populated mostly by Tibetan-Buddhists, beautiful mountains and absolutely no internet whatsoever. Therefore you will simply have to hold your breath until I get back. : )

New Forum..

Welcome to the new home of Hannah's study abroad adventures. Even one new router later, online pictures are now obviously impossible. I will try and do justice to my longstanding absence though let's just say right now that, with my incredible short-term memory, I will fail miserably.

Did I mention my roommate is getting married? In about 12 hours? She abandoned us around last week to go home before the scheduled strikes ("bundas") shut down the capital's entire transportation system. She's a grad student and therefore in her mid-20s but STILL - I've never known any of my friends who have gotten married before. Unfortunately her marriage is the same time as our language midterm (which I should be studying for right now - whoops) and five hours away in Chitwan... still we'll call her tomorrow and tell her she's beautiful and amazing and that her husband better be incredible - or else he'll have to answer to the Amurricans.

I'd like to think my Nepali has gotten much better. I can understand and say more, participating in daily conversation (how are you, what did you do yesterday, what's for dinner? - you know, important stuff.) I don't think I fully comprehended how wonderful our staff really is. Truly I've fallen madly in love with each and every one.

Starting next Tuesday we head off to our home-stay in Mannegau - a rural, Tamang (Hills ethnic group) village in what we hear is an absolutely beautiful location. But, just like college, any vacation-esque trip absolutely must be preceded by loads of work. Hence, our first paper was due, our midterm is tomorrow and our research proposals are due on Friday. Really compared to Columbia I have no right to complain, but in this context it makes me feel better.

Looking towards my research proposal, I think more and more I want to focus on water rights and how rural mountain communities will be able to adapt to fluctuations in water supply based on how water is used, where it comes from, and how these uses change throughout the year. Certainly not your normal lab report, but so far students at the University here as well as some professors back home in NYC have been really helpful, sending me more articles than I ever hope to read. It's just so difficult to buckle down and read when there's a sunny rooftop calling your name (my book of crosswords is nearly exhausted - again, whoops.)

Banuji says that when you get sick, it means you're becoming a Nepali. Suffice to say, I am REALLY Nepali. Last weekend, Mel, John and Kavita and I visited a Newari food festival. Before I knew what I was getting into, there I was holding a huge bowl of steaming spicy, oily, buffalo momo with a side of achaar (sauce) that may or may not have been boiled first (the sauce, not the momo.) That felt awesome the next morning, let me tell you.

I'm sure this has not nearly satisfied my parent's curiosity, but as for the rest of the not-so-dearly invested audience, thanks for tagging along. I'll be sure to keep you posted after Mannegau and hopefully post Holi which is on Sunday. FYI Holi is like a nation-wide paintball fiesta o' fun involving water balloons and colored powder and should-be adults acting like 5 year olds. Aka anything goes. Already the staff and students have started calling their shots... it is going to be RIDICULOUS. Until this wonderfully delicious event of colorful aggression, however, I have to study. Crap.

Making Banana Pancakes

Hokay so... two nights ago was American Cook Night/Culture Night. We have been agonizing about this one because, frankly, what’s American Culture that doesn’t involve beef patties and what’s American Cuisine that doesn’t involve Mexico, Italy or beef patties? The answer? A HUGE pot of chili plus Ina Garten’s Banana Sour Cream Pancakes and a failed attempt to make apple pie, realizing there is ZERO power and instead making empanada/apple momo lumps that look more like reshaped vomit than palatable, delicious bundles oh sugary joy. American culture turned out to be “summer camp 101” with a pitied singalong with Puff the Magic Dragon (we didn’t explain the alternative interpretation of the lyrics.)

Earlier that day, we had schlepped up to Sarjanidid’s small village of Gamchhaa where we were supposed to practice our participatory research techniques including community mapping, pairwise preference ranking and seasonal calendars. Divided into two groups, I was paired with Atma (my roommate) and Ambika, another Nepali student. After arriving and awkwardly standing about in our kurtas (Nepali dress) while the villagers stared at us, finally Atma jumped in and rapidly blasted off some Nepali, laid out some paper and markers and began to draw. For the next two hours, I sat in the back feeling like inside jokes were being exchanged back and forth and I was the one who just didn’t get it. Even when I did have a problem with how things were being done, I couldn’t do much of anything without disrupting the whole process and forcing Atma or Ambika to translate.

Don’t worry, it’s not as depressing as it sounds. When the group all joined up again, even Mel the miraculous Nepali seto maanche (white person) speaker was wicked confused. After having such a fantastic experience in Machyagaau, I had been incredibly disappointed and anxious that perhaps this interview style was what I had to look forward to on our independent research trip. Simply decompressing over Phish, chopping vegetables and some Amurrican conversation with John, Mello (Joanne is still very sick and out of commission) and a well timed Jack Johnson appearance pretty much hit the spot. I realized briefly that I’ve been in Nepal for three weeks; the longest I’ve ever been abroad is one month and by this time I was already counting the days till I went home. But whether it’s college, getting older, more travel experience, or better banana pancakes (thank you Ina!) I’m pretty darn comfortable here. I know the students better, yoga is incredible, and the staff are even more incredible and possibly the nicest, craziest people ever (Shesh Daddy still helps me cheat on my Nepali homework.) Perhaps most importantly (in terms of wanting to stay) I have at least two or three “blow your mind” moments every couple days - our coursework and/or conversations continually defy or expand whatever I have learned about sustainable development and management at school or in the States. I’m both excited and afraid to go back to Columbia and reorient myself to an entirely different perspective.

Nargarkot

I am officially a mountain girl.

This past weekend we spent three days in Nargarkot - a touristy getaway 7200 ft above sea level that offers the cleanest air, the clearest skies and the most satisfying days I’ve spent yet in Nepal. From sunrise to sunset, followed by my first night sky since Peru where I could actually glimpse the arc of the Milky Way, I was very, very happy (except after the dinner “sizzler” which brought up a different kind of not-so-happy memory.)

The sun shines differently at the top of the world. Everything feels alive when there’s no pollution, no honking, no dogs barking... nothing but birds flying through sky that goes on forever and jagged, snow-topped peaks marking the limits of the horizon. Waking up early isn’t a chore but a gift; walking nine miles is a joy rather than a pain. It was like taking my favorite pieces of past trips and throwing it into a single pot of exhilarating, hyper discovery: the early mornings of Peru with the hikes and clambering hills of Death Valley (plus a raucous game of Spoons which I admirably sucked at.) Trekking up and down the hills, I couldn’t stand still - if there was a side trail I ran after it, if there was a small ledge I had to jump rather than just step over it. Even just smelling sunscreen again made me grin. We spent our Valentine’s Day morning hiking to the next peak (about 10 km roundtrip) with a small tower/temple at the end. Following a small road up through the hills, each turn would bring a brand new glimpse at the mountains which we always knew were hidden behind the fog but never quite believed actually existed. Equipped with a generous heaping of chocolate from Banu-Ji as a VDay gift, I might just have been the most exhausted, happiest girl in the world.

Maachhyagaau

I’m alive - our internet has been completely on the fritz. Currently we get a signal for five minutes at a time during little surprise surges from the magic internet gods. Suffice to say, if you’re reading this, you have just witnessed a miracle.

Yesterday we went to Maachyagaau - a small village just a quick drive up towards the mountains south of Kirtipur. After waiting at the bus stop for far too long (busses here are actually white, unmarked vans with small children dangling off the sides to collect money at each stop), our language teachers snuck off to return in a small, rickety blue van/bus/car thingy. It was awesome - the gas tank is actually a large ceramic cylinder tied under the seats. Let me also just preface with this quick note: our language teachers are absolute BALLERS. Not only can I read in Nepali and speak quite decently now (after only 3 weeks thank you very much), but they also might just be the three chillest ladies of all time. Anajala-ji is the ring leader who tells us about her nightmares involving black cats and cockroaches; Sunita-ji is the kindest, most organized woman ever and finally Sarita-ji is somewhere between the two with a badass intensity that makes you think she was a fullback or Hilary Clinton in a previous life.

This small trip was a substitute for language class - we were supposed to conduct solo interviews with random strangers in Nepali in this small isolated village where “bideshi” (foreigners) are a rare sight indeed. In the ride up, our taxi driver quickly established himself as Joanne’s (aka Thulo didi or big sister) bhai (little brother) and almost hit 3 dogs, 2 children, 4 fruit stands and 1 cow. On the clearest day we have had yet, we stepped out and saw the entire Lantang range complete with snowcapped Himalayas to the north and green hills behind us. Quickly the teachers ushered us up a hill and began distributing us out to families like leaflets - “wahaa Ameriki bidhyaarti ho” (she is an American student)... “Nepali bhaasaa” (Nepali language) was about all I understood. (My new favorite phrase is “ma akaamaaka chhu” or “I am confused.”) First Jon left, then Melanie and then we came across an old woman who sounded like she had started smoking in the womb. Knowing an absolute badass when I see one, I jumped forward and soon we began talking (me smiling and nodding) about how expensive lentils are, her sons who work in Saudi Arabia and her dog “Sweetie.” Honestly I understood only about 10%, but I did get that she invited me in for chiyaa about 12 times and there is no way to mistranslate a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek after jumping into a woman’s life for only ten minutes.

My second interview was with a man who owned a small “pasal” drugstore and sported a Yankees cap (so I knew we’d have something to talk about.) Turns out, we had more than something - he had worked for the Nepali army with the United Nations and had been shipped to Haiti four years ago to work as a “shooter” in Port au Prince. 10 minutes later he promised me that he and his family would gladly host me anytime and that the hat was as good as burned. His daughter was perhaps the sweetest thing on two legs and according to him, my Nepali is “dherai ramro” (very good - and a huge lie.) It still blows my mind that these people offer so much to near strangers when living with so little material wealth and no promise of any return. Maybe it’s the mountains or maybe they put something in the chiyaa, but through my research I am hoping to learn enough to find a way to give something concrete back to those who have and will help me in the next 3-4 months.

Finally, Guman (one of the Nepali students in the program) now calls us his “rangichangi momoharu” which means “colorful/crazy dumplings” (FYI momos will change your life; John says they could solve world hunger and create world peace at the same time.) This is the same kid who used to interrupt stories about drunken evenings at college with a political discussion on caste. Oh the glories of American culture exposure. I’m so proud.

Per Request...

Dad said I need to write a new entry or come home. I don’t want to go home.

Since my last entry, we’ve had A LOT of class, I’ve done laundry once and despite four meals a day I am considering buying a smaller belt. We’ve had one self-cook day that involved a peanut butter-banana sandwich, about 30 donuts and 12 leftover momos (aka dumplings from God.) Hopefully when I return to the states I won’t make such a poor showing in the kitchen.

I suppose it has been over two weeks since I first arrived in Nepal. I’m starting to get a little nervous about our research projects. They already have us conducting interviews (with the help of our Nepali roommates as interpreters) but John and I (as the beginner Nepali speakers) are making some serious progress. We have finished the alphabet, and I can even read signs if the car is driving slow enough. I can make basic conversation at mealtimes and even pick up on a few words here and there. The Nepali students are quite proud of us.

Some highlights from the past week:

1. I absolutely DESTROYED Kamal at tigers and goats (a Nepali strategy game that is like checkers, only on crack.) Kamal is to tigers and goats what Yoda is to the Force. You may now call me Skywalker. Anakin Skywalker.
2. Kamal, Kavita, Mel and I climbed to a temple at Cho-something. It was absolutely beautiful out and it was so nice to escape our small area in Kirtipur and get some serious exercise.
3. Not only is my GI tract back in business, but the food seems to get tastier every day. Daal bhaat (rice and lentils) every day at 10 am, crepes with pomegranate for breakfast, and even lasagna for dinner a few nights ago.
4. My application for the Udall scholarship is finally in and over with!
5. YOGA! Believe it or not, the contact-sport fanatic has, against all odds, fallen in love with the Tuesday/Thursday afternoon yoga sessions. Our teacher always adds “please” to the end of each sentence - “please relaaaaax your left side, relax, relax.”
6. Our newest acquisition into the CNSP family is a neon blue guitar Mel, Joanne and I purchased on a side trip to Thamel (tourist district of overpriced hippy clothes and french fries.) Instead of Hulu and YouTube I am instead slowly learning to jam. Typing this blog is far more difficult than I expected with overworked fingers.

In the next few weeks, we will start preparing for our independent research projects. I was shocked at first to find that my research would probably involve mostly interviews rather than empirical research. All I’m working with now is I want to study water. I have books and documents to peruse, but without a focus it sometimes feels like an overwhelming wave that gets bigger and bigger every day (granted I’m not doing much to help it, playing guitar or doing Sudokus when I could read or study.) Today, for the first time in a while, I missed High School with its clear structure and defined benchmarks. Now I want to change the world with less than a month of isolated research on an undecided topic... uh oh.

This entry would not be complete without a serious shoutout to Melanie. With only 4 Americans here, and John separated from the girls’ hostel by gender taboos, Mel (“Mello” to the Nepalis) and I have quickly become attached at the hip. I am so thankful she’s here, whether it’s teaching me guitar, joking about old school TLC songs or simply having an outlet for our small, daily frustrations. As we decided today, not being best friends is impossible.

Up next: bed time. We have a quiz tomorrow and being out of my sleeping bag this long could mean a serious case of pneumonia. This week will be exhausting with the amount of class and research prep thrown in, but the weekend is a 3-day trek in Nargarkot where we have been promised a mountain sunrise.

There you go Pops. Love you.

Start Your Engines...

I’ve received a complaint against the general lack of information on “how I am actually doing.” Here’s the status update: all system are a go.

Food - delicious

Weather - f*** freezing

Stars - glorious : )

People - surprising and wonderful

(Ps. If you’re only getting emails through RSS feed but are not in the reading mood, check the site for pictures.)

I realize that today marks my one week-aversary of arriving in Nepal. I can hardly believe it. It seems like forever ago that I landed here, that I felt so nauseous and desperate that I almost wished my GI tract would sentence me to a 747 home direct to Logan Airport. At the risk of sounding bipolar, this place already feels like home. The smells and dirt paths, the sun rising over the mountains, even the cold air in the morning that reminds you just how much it sucks to get out of your sleeping bag... it’s comfortable. It’s encouraging. I think I love it here.

The people: there’s Tildai, the flamboyant, fantastic cook who has a quiet attitude and grace to his morning routines. “Shes” Daddy who helped me fake my Nepali homework until the teacher finally showed up. Banu of course who I could try to describe but truly her chuckle alone is beyond description - she gives off a warmth you feel that is wholly Banu (not in that warm, shmoozy way that makes you want to puke... like the fun, crazy aunt everyone waits for at reunions to remind you just to let go and have fun.) I still don’t know all the names of the women who help us in the hostel... there’s Sha-something who wakes us up with breakfast and always knows that “Hannahji” will be in bed while everyone else is wide awake. Ram-something accommodates my baby-Nepali and calls me “pom-pom” after all the loopy hats I wear. Kamal is the adorable 24-year old who silently keeps this entire place running and taught me several Nepali constellations which I promptly forgot.

The students: my roommate Atma - all the Nepali students really - are fantastic. I don’t know when it happened, but the “loopy” is officially out of the bag. Beyond goofy, we now understand everyone’s highs and lows. There are days when you’re “off” and we keep our distance. But mostly it’s just a jumble of crazy, unprompted laughs, holding hands (straight men do it here! it’s AMAZING!) and teaching everyone how to say stupid things in a mix of English swear words and Nepali nasal tones. Sarita is small and quiet, but certainly knows how to laugh at herself in dance class. Ambika is beautiful and at first was aloof, but as Joanne would say, “oh my GOSH” can she be loony. Kavita our “tulu didi” (big sister) is my fellow chocolate addict and hands down an absolute life saver. Truly if I ever had a big sister, I think she would be a lot like Kavita - down to earth, hilarious and a little bit of a weirdo.

Melanie and I take walks every day to work off the 4+ meals, talking about men, politics, Nepal, food, mountains... you name it. She takes cigarette breaks which remind me of the smog outside Butler (sorry Dad, but I think second-hand smoke has become a permanent sense-memory for me.) Joanne has toned down a bit since she arrived, but we take our American moments together listening to reggae and watching Tyler Perry movies. John and I chill through beginners Nepali and slowly he is filling my male void and desperate need for some testosterone. His roommate Goman is pretty indescribable - half of him is all set to be Prime Minister (discussing politics while the rest of us are lying in stitches joking about ferrets or something stupid) and the other acts out the walk of a drunken hobo after a serious overdose of dhaal baat (rice and lentils.)

I’m sorry this is SO LONG (feel free to quit.) I’m trying to kill all the questions and requests in one go... Finally: classes. Nepali is long, but I am making really satisfying progress. John and I can now speak in basic sentences, write out words, read words and phrases (at a crippled snail’s pace) and carry on small convos with the staff. Contemporary Issues was difficult at first - we began with straight-up anthropology (not my drink of choice,) discussing demographics and the interpretation of caste. At the time I felt it all was beneath my oh-so-sophisticated scientific understanding of the world. But so much here has already changed or challenged the way I see things. The recommended readings (partly because I now have the time to truly read them) describe new forms of study in sociology that I never considered a science before. David, an alumni of the program who now studies medical interventionism in Nepal, spoke today about the true determinants of health - social hierarchy and the inequitable distribution of wealth, civil infrastructure etc. versus just focusing on the provision of medical services.

Everyone always asks why my brothers and I don’t want to be doctors like dear old Mom and Dad. It’s true that I don’t want to be a doctor like Mom and Dad - I don’t want that job. It has always seemed like a binary choice - the environment or medicine. The environment, or long hours in a hospital, helping patients one by one while the larger world picks people off like flies. And so I chose. And then today, for the first time, I recognized that the environment is not just lightly applicable, but possibly a huge determinant of public health in a way that specific, medical treatment could never be. I don’t just have a role to play, but an enormous niche to fill within the public health discussion. I could study what I love and at the same time do something to disrupt the injustice that says I get clean water but Indians in Mumbai don’t. Today was the Pandora’s Box moment - probably for my parents as they read this (I never told them I was interested in public health since it never seemed like a possibility) and certainly for me. I can still pinpoint the day I became interested in the environment - Luke Taylor came into High School senior soc. and told us about biodiversity and species extinction. Since then, it’s been trial and error: Environmental activism? No way. Environmental politics? Maybe. Environmental education? Perhaps. Today I felt that same excitement, that same “Big Bang” where suddenly my horizon exploded exponentially into a world of new possibilities, all of which I wanted to follow to the end.

I hope that answers some of your questions.

~Management

Deja Vu

Everything here happens twice. We lose electricity for 5 hours each day... twice (morning and evening.) It was only today that I fully considered the consequences of this - what about major manufacturers? Businesses? Water treatment and hydropower plants? Like so many questions here, I don’t yet have the answers... I have now visited the Monkey Temple, Kathmandu Darbur Square and Thamel (think Disney World except instead of crazy animals walking around, you get LOTS of white tourists) all twice. We have a two language class each day - twice. Just to make sure you got that, that’s four hours of continuous Nepali language every day. I would like your pity right... now.

My days are much less exciting than the time I spent with Mom. Our schedules are tight though we’ve been promised relief soon (we get to go to Nargarkot and Bhatkapur - another “twice” for me.) All this replay can and was incredibly discouraging, but the culture shock and bipolar ups and downs are slowly mellowing out. I still don’t know what to think about four meals a day - Melanie and I finally rebelled and took a quick walk around the block which made me suddenly realize how sedentary we have truly been. I had come to this country hoping to jog up and down mountains like the blue people in Avatar (minus bioluminescent mushrooms though there are drug pushers here for that kind of thing.) Instead, I found food, nausea, class, food, sleep, COLD, food - you get the idea. Did I pushed myself a little too far this time? Should I have gone to New Zealand where they have balmy breezes, beautiful scenery and men with sexy accents?

I have no event to point to, no revelation or major epiphany (though Azithromyacin and pasta night with chocolate ice cream might be it.) But for some reason, it’s all going down a little bit smoother today. As my expectations become a little more realistic and a little less cinematic, I’ve started to feel more in control. (And anyone who knows a Perls knows that control makes us happy.) My body isn’t freaking out anymore, I’ve picked a specific Nepali newspaper I like and the load setting electricity outages are more predictable. Mealtimes still sometimes feel like an impending execution, but I have yet to find a full-length mirror in Nepal and my pants still fit. Best of all, I found I’m not the only one. With Mel by my side, a roommate I’ve finally bonded with and a fellow chocoholic just next door, I think this might just be a good idea after all.

Plus, the word for milk is “duhd” (pronounced “dude”). Pretty sweet.