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!

Pharphing and Kathmandu!

I've been in Nepal for two and a half weeks now, and this country is incredible. I couldn't do justice to it in words or photos, but I will try to give a short update. The other nine girls are great, and we have been having a lot of fun together - we all had the same initial reaction when we saw the group list. We arrived on the thirtieth, I think, and immediately drove out of Kathmandu to the small town of Pharphing, home of several important temples and monasteries. We had orientation there and started our Nepali and Culture and Development classes, and also began to learn about the country. After four days of relative peace and isolation, we headed into Kathmandu to meet our host families. I was a little overwhelmed for about five minutes, but since then things have been fantastic. I live with a couple, whom I call "older brother" (daai) and "older sister" (didi), who are 35 and 26, and their four-year-old daughter Kriti, whom I call "little sister" (bahini). They are incredibly sweet and we tease each other a lot, which I love. They also love to feed me (everyone here loves to feed everyone - I can't go over to my friend Amber's house for a minute without her mom offering me something), and my daai said "I like your eating style," the other night and looks on approvingly as I struggle to finish my plate of daal bhat - rice with lentils. I am learning Nepali for two and a half hours a day, and also learning the Devengari script. So I wander around trying to sound out words on signs, feeling like a child learning how to read for the first time. It's amazing and challenging to be aware of the process of learning how to read this time around. Our lectures are incredibly interesting and challenge a lot of the ideas I've grown up believing in, which is hard but good.
We have taken a lot of excursions around Kathmandu, to various awesome stupas and temples, and Amber, who lives next door, and I wander around our neighborhood and find new and creative routes to and from school, which is usually a twenty minute walk. We often manage to make it longer and more interesting. For example, on Friday, which was Shivaratri, or the celebration of Shiva, we took a bunch of back streets and ended up being stopped three or four times by children with ropes who blockaded the street and asked for money. We smiled and laughed and said we didn't have any, and the tradition is a little like Halloween, except you stop people in the street. Friday we also went to see Lama Dancing (Ritual Dances) for the Tibetan New Year, and tomorrow we're going to see the actual celebration of Losar, the New Year.
The political situation here in Nepal is also, to put it mildly, interesting. The country just recovered from protests in the Terai - the lowland South - by the Madhesis, the lowland people, who rightly feel excluded from the Nepali mentality (how often do you think of malarial swampland when you think of Nepal?). The blockades of Indian imports stopped gas fom reaching Kathmandu and this caused 20 hour lines to get gas. And about 30 people died in the Terai during the protests. So now the Janajati, the ethnic minorities, have realized that now (before the constitution is written) is a great time to get those in power to listen, so the country is experiencing a nationwide, rolling bandh (strike) so they can gain representation, or so they hope, in the parliament that will eventually write the constitution. This week-long bandh, with each district striking for one day, culminates next Wednesday, the day we are supposed to fly to Darjeeling, with a nationwide bandh. And the people in the Terai have given the government several more days to respond to their demands or they may strike again. This makes for an interesting situation, with the American embassy personnel calling Nepal "The Wild West" (we tried not to laugh when they listed the number one threat in Nepal as al Qaeda). And there hasn't been much rain, so there are rolling power outages every day, for either 3 or 6 hours - it rained recently so I'm not sure which it is now. The last current excitement is that the neighborhood that hosts the landfill is rejecting trash drop-offs because they want more benefits, so some areas have large amounts of trash in the streets.
In spite of and because of this, life here in Nepal is exciting and fun and new every day. And I'll soon find out what India is like!

Before the beginning

Utah. I'm here skiing with my parents and some friends for a week before leaving on Sunday for New York and then Monday for Nepal via Thailand. Alta, where we're skiing, is gorgeous and surrounded by mountains, and we have had bluebird skies and forty degree temperatures since Wednesday. I love tele skiing, and my legs are burning from all the turns (and all the getting up after the inevitable and enjoyable face plants). Sandy, however, where our hotel is, is the largest strip mall I have ever seen. Quite a contrast. And it's disorienting and uncomfortable to be getting ready to leave from a generic hotel when what I really want is to be home in Vermont with my whole family - being here is making me even more nervous than I would already be, even though skiing is a great distraction during the day. I'm finishing up last minute to-do lists and calling people to say goodbye for six months, which is another odd feeling. Saying goodbye to my grandfather Roger, who isn't doing well, was difficult, because it felt as if it might be final. But even saying goodbye to school friends is hard, and I just plain didn't want to say goodbye to Kate and Josie - I miss them already. The pre-departure nerves are getting to me, and receiving the list of other students on the trip today didn't help much. There are ten of us, and we're all girls. I bet the other students will be great, because I think Nepal will attract interesting people, but I wish there was some sort of balanced gender ratio. I'll meet everyone on Monday morning in New York, after a red-eye from Salt Lake via Phoenix, and then we fly to Thailand. There's a debate right now about whether I will fly east, west, or up and over the North Pole - I'm hoping for the pole route. After a night in Bangkok, we'll arrive in Kathmandu on January 31. As Matthiah said, by that point I will be so exhausted and have done so much traveling that I won't be able to tell up from down. And then I'll be in Nepal! Four days from now - I can hardly believe it.