A whirlwind month of time spent with all my families, elephants, rhinos, trekking through a forbidden kingdom, meeting a king, and, finally, saying goodbye to a country to which, in the words of Tolstoy, I lost my heart. Two weeks before I was to return home, the very thought of leaving Nepal made me feel like I couldn't breathe. Then I spent a week in Upper Mustang, a region pushed up into Tibet and still with a huge Tibetan influence. Life was unreal up there: a combination of the dry landscape of the Southwestern US (down to the detail of ancient walled cave dwellings), medieval villages surrounded by the greenest irrigated fields, and the prayer flags, gompas, monks, and rimpoches of Tibetan Buddhism. We happened to be up there when one of the four most important people in Buddhism today (I couldn't exactly explain his position; each person asked provided a different answer) was visiting, so we watched the villages' various preparations and then saw him during a long-life ceremony. Finally, after the time in Upper Mustang, I was exhausted by the long, fast, high hike, and ready to come home. Something like forty-eight hours after flying out of Kathmandu as I blew it a kiss and told Bouddha I would return, I arrived home. Home - the word is putting a smile on my face as I write. I'm staring out the window at such a beautiful Vermont summer day of clouds and black-eyed susans, wind and, way down the valley, my beloved Mount Ascutney. Now is time for me to be here.

Motorcycles in Mustang

After finishing SIT - I'm a senior in college now, which feels incredibly bizarre - four of my friends and I headed West to Pokhara. Transportation was challenging; I had some GI issues and a fever on my way out to Pokhara and the way back the bus was stopped by a strike. And in Pokhara, we tried for three days to take a plane north to go trekking in Mustang. A 72 hour wait with two delays, all for a 15-minute plane ride. But unbelievably worth it. Mustang is one of the most incredible places that I have ever been: dry and windy and eroded like the Southwest, with green oases of wheat fields surrounding villages that seem medieval. The houses have flat roofs rimmed with dried firewood and crowd along narrow alleyways. Electric wires and the occasional motorcycle are the only sign of the twentieth century - the twenty-first is nowhere up there. I had to rush back to meet Kate in Kathmandu, so I took a motorcycle for an hour, during which the landscape changed from the Southwest, to Alaska with pine hills and giant braided riverbeds, to the lush Pyrenees. Then an hour of walking in the pouring rain through fields of wild marijuana and a night in a tiny porter's lodge. Up at six, hours of hot walking against trains of donkeys 80 animals long, fording rivers, and then back to motorized transport just before my legs gave out.
And now Kate is here and I'm back up trekking in the Everest Region with her and my friend Sarah. Tomorrow there is a marathon from Everest Base Camp to Namche Bazaar, a 42 kilometer race from hell - I plan to watch the finishers struggle over the hilltop and then lounge around acclimitizing for another day. Then up higher into the hills to the Gokyo Lakes, at 4,800 meters, before descending all the way to Jiri, a ten-day walk up, down, and over the ridges and valleys of the Solu-Khumbu.

One month of research finished! I got back from the mountains a few days ago and need to work on my final paper, the last thing between me and the end of SIT! My month up in Monjo was incredible. The town is the smallest I've ever lived in, only about 30 to 60 people (more during the off-season for trekking, when all the men come back from guiding). Only about 25 houses, pine trees, and the wind running through the prayer flags. I spent the time interviewing people from Monjo, Jorsalle, Bengkar, and Chumoa, the four towns who are part of the Himalayan Community Forest User Group. I used to be more intimidated by interviewing, but after almost forty, I am much more self-confident and enjoy listening to people's stories even more than I used to! A typical interview would begin with me sitting down in some public place - along the path, on a bench where porters rest, across from a house - and just hanging out for a while until people got used to me. By the end of the month, this was much easier than the begining since I was the only white person staying in the area for longer than an overnight and everyone started to recognize me. I would eventually ask someone if I could talk to them, explain what I was doing, and then would pull out my tiny notebook (apparently less intimidating than a large one, according to my advisor) and start asking questions. Passers-by would inevitably gather to listen and laugh at my seemingly inane questions, and I'd sometimes end up with five people listening in. Many of the women around the area welcomed me into their kitchens, and I would sit, drinking many cups of tea and just relaxing and chatting with them - my favorite place to be up in Monjo, in the Sherpa women's kitchens I felt completely accepted when one woman handed me a stack of plates to dry - as a guest I usually wasn't allowed to help. And the last day there was a fantastic windstorm, blowing petals off the apple trees and clouds up the mountains around Monjo.
And now back in Kathmandu, gorging on fresh fruits (it's mango season!) and vegetables, discovering the pomegranate tree behind my house the day I moved out, eating large amounts of delicious Nepali yogurt, and trying to write a 25 page paper between great thunderstorms.

Back to the mountains

Back in Kathmandu for hardly a week and tomorrow I'm headed back up into the Himalayas. And what a week. Hot and sultry in Kathmandu, with summer definitely here. Thunderstorms the last three nights. Saying goodbye to my Hindu family this morning, which made all of us cry even though I will see them in a month. It's been dawning on me, though, that in a few months I will have to say goodbte to them - my family here - and won't know when I will see them again. It feels amazing to have such close relationships here, and I feel so lucky to have such incredible people in my life, even if they're spread all across the world.
As for academics, this week was challenging, too. Four exams and two papers, none of which were helped by my incredibly unhelpful academic director. Three interviews about community forestry, which got me really excited about my independent project. And preparing for a month of independent research up in the village of Monjo, where there is no phone or internet. Tomorrow I fly off and will be there for four week! I am excited and nervous and thrilled...a month. By myself. In the Himalayas. Speaking Nepali all the time. Interviewing people about community forestry!

Sagarmatha-bound

This past week in Kathmandu involved many lessons on doing research, in general and particular to Nepal. One: call to confirm appointments - one man I was supposed to reach didn't happen to be at the World Wildlife Fund after a twenty minute bike ride over there. And then I found out he probably wasn't the best person to talk to anyway! Two: be flexible and patient. It's Nepal. Things run on Nepali time. Three: persistence is key. And a sense of humor. One day things seem utterly overwhelming, and the next I'm overjoyed about all the possibilities for my project and thesis research. It's exciting and difficult and an amazing experience all at once.
Finally got up the nerve to borrow a bike and helmet from SIT and biked home and to and from Thamel with a few friends. With the cars, buses, taxis, motorcycles, and rickshaws, plus the very lax traffic laws (I think the most important traffic signal, if you can call it that, in Nepal is the horn), it was a bit like an obstacle course and incredibly exhilarating. Fast and dusty and fun! Especially the last little, steep downhill to my house, after the corner with the huge tree growing up and around a tiny temple. The tree temple is beyond beautiful, and one of my favorite parts of the walk to school every day.
But barely a week back in Kathmandu, and we're about to leave again! Tomorrow we fly to Lukla, and then we have ten days up in the Solo-Khumbu region. The Everest region. We'll be trekking for several days, living with Sherpa families for five days, and visiting a monastery (where they recently saw a snow leopard). On Friday, an environmentalist at the Kathmandu Environmental Education Project showed us a slideshow about the Khumbu. At one point, a photo of the Tengboche monastery appeared on the screen: a tiny building on a ridgeline against a towering and gorgeous snow-covered peak. We had been a little antsy during the presentation, but at that point we all sat up, started smiling and laughing, and couldn't stop. Because we're going up into the Himalayas - it feels kind of like a dream.

Elephant bathtime

Spent this past weekend in the Terai, in and around Royal Chitwan National Park. Very touristy but an incredible time. Two of my friends illegally trespassed in the park (unknowingly) to go skinny dipping, and then were almost charged by two rhinos that chased each other across the river about 100 feet from where they were getting dressed. When they returned to Sunset Point, where we, along with about 100 other people, were waiting, they got a long lecture from a park official about how lucky they are. Ridiculous story! The next morning we took a safari on the back of an elephant into the park and saw rhinos (they're often called rhinosaurs here - I think because of different emphasis on syllables, but it makes me laugh), wild deer, wild boars, crocodiles, and peacocks. Peacocks can, by the way and to my complete surprise, fly, even with their tails! The first one I saw was perched fifty feet up in a tree, and the second one was preening with its tail spread. But after the safari we got to go give the elephants baths, which was one of the most fun events of my entire life. The entire town turns out to watch the elephants (and tourists) bathe in the river, and it is so much fun! Two friends and I clambered up an elephant's trunk and then were repeatedly tipped into the water as the elephant, whose name was Bijuli, or light, submerged itself. We would then ungracefully climb up its leathery, hairy side and do it all over again. Bijuli also kept spraying us, and I couldn't stop laughing and smiling. The final part of the day was a languid canoe ride down a crocodile infested river (made me think a little of Okeefenokee swamp, just minus the spiders and hysterical family) to the elephant breeding center. There we watched the adorable baby elephants - one just learning how to walk - and two escaped to come play with us!

Springtime

I just got back to Kathmandu from Darjeeling, and spring is here! It's lovely and warm out, and the tree down the street from me has the beginning of leaves on it. Today I am walking around in a skirt and flip-flops, which feels great! Kathmandu also feels much more pleasant after our weeklong trip to Darjeeling, India. We visited Darjeeling because about 80 to 90% of the population is of Nepali descent, and most speak Nepali, but it felt like a vacation. We had a few lectures, and language class most days, but a lot of our time was spent wandering around the city. Which is gorgeous - huge trees, lots of flowers, very steep hill, and a beautiful Hindu/Buddhist temple at the top of the hill where I was attacked by a scary little monkey who grabbed my skirt. On the way back we had to take bicycle rickshaws through lowland Nepal because there was a general strike. Although I felt badly for the drivers, they earned a lot of money, so I felt a little better about that, and the ride was amazing - water buffalo, fields, houses, lots of bicycles on the road, and wonderfully warm. In two weeks, though, we leave for the Everest region (the Khumbu), where I'm told it is very cold. So I'm enjoying the warmth while I get the chance and spending time with my Nepali family. Kriti and I were writing our names in Devengari on the concrete porch yesterday in chalk, and I can now write an entier letter in Devengari! Today in Nepali class we read an entire book in Nepali, which was fun but utterly exhausting. It really lets me know how hard it is to learn to read!