Village visit

Last week I traveled to a small village north of here with my coworker, Raju, who is a physical therapist and disability rights trainer and advocate.

We took a bus four hours to the north. Luckily, someone had mentioned to me ahead of time that north of Hetauda means up. It went from 1500 feet in Hetauda to over 7,020 feet and got colder and colder accordingly. I had felt really self conscious about bringing two bags with me. My Nepali friends here travel extremely light- and think I’m pretty funny for bringing extra things. It’s not in my nature to travel light, however, I’ve decided. I can do it if I have to, but I’d prefer not to whenever possible. And boy, was I glad I had brought that second bag with my sleeping bag in it. It ended up being my saving grace during this trip as the small guest house we stayed in was fresh out of blankets – and rooms for that matter. But my coworker found another woman who had a bed free in her room so I had somewhere to crash.

It is still a bit nerve-wracking for me to take trips to villages, as I think of myself at this point in my life as a city girl. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around village living.

The hardest part for me in the village was seeing the poverty and lack of resources. The small guesthouse we stayed in was run by a really kind man and his son, who was maybe 12. I couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t in school, but rather was washing the tables, bathrooms, and helping to cook all day. I am sure that if they’d had the money and the option, he would have been.

The view of the mountains in the village was like nothing I’ve ever seen before here. They felt so large and small at the same time, close enough that I could feel them. Close enough to feel like if I closed my eyes and flew I could transport myself right over the valley and to them. Far enough that I didn’t sense the danger, remoteness or intense cold that mountains that is also part of mountains.
I felt absolute happiness in that moment and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Time just stopped…

I’m learning to live with deep sadness and happiness coexisting here in Nepal.

We were in the village to facilitate a day long leadership training on advocating for disability rights with the central spokespersons of the village. At one point I was panicked about having to actually facilitate a portion of the day – in my broken Nepali (so very basic still) and my English, and my American-city worldview and experience. Luckily, the training started 3 hours late, and therefore I was off the hook. I was able to just watch and listen. Raju did a fabulous job facilitating – he is well loved in the village, and for good reason.

In the evening, Raju gave a wheelchair to a man who’d been having to walk on crutches everywhere. For a long time, I imagine. This was a big event in the village. Everyone who was around (and I mean everyone) crowded around to see the wheelchair, and to watch Raju give instructions on how to use it. This lasted easily a half hour- and no one strayed.

I felt more comfortable watching the mountains and headed off to catch a few pictures.

We left on the 3rd day early in the morning and had an uneventful bus ride back. I was quiet most of the way – just taking in the experience, resting, and enjoying some good Nepali snacks along the way.

The unexpected

So, one of the things that I’ve come to expect in Nepal is the unexpected.

It has taken me a long time to get to this place. Because, in the first months, of course you expected the unexpected. You just do. When you’re in a new country and culture in a whole different part of the world.

But I figured that at some point things would kind of settle in to a routine or sense of order. This is my experience of the world in the past. Things might be really confusing in the beginning, but they sort themselves out eventually. And almost 3 months is long enough, right? So, I expected the unexpected, but expected that things would change….

This all sounds a bit trite (and perhaps confusing) when you see it in writing. People say these things, right? “Expect the unexpected.” And they start to lose meaning.

But I *experience* this every day here. This is what I am trying to tell you. I *experience* things that I could have never, ever could have foreseen. All the time. So often, that I’m starting to plan for it. (Yes….I am still very attached to this idea of planning. Something that – turns out – seems to be a bit of a Western way of thinking.) I’m starting to realize that it’s not going to go away.
And how does one plan for the unexpected? I don’t really know. I’m working on that. If you have tips, I am very open to them. Easier said than done, I tell you. But, it has something to do with planning on not ever really making plans. Yep. Or never thinking that I know how things are going to go. Or how I’m going to react to something. Or how someone will react to me. Or what I will see or experience in any given day…

Today, it was the rain that came and surprised me.

I have only experienced rain one other time since I have arrived, and that was the very first day that I came. And that day somehow doesn’t seem to really feel like it counts. It was an upsidedown day for me, because I had complete culture shock, was living in a time zone almost completely opposite of my home, and had this surreal experience of being routed temporarily to a “safe” hotel, because of the (very large and semi-violent) strike that was taking place. That day was more like a hazy (kind of stressful) dream.

Every day since then I’ve woken up and it’s been sunny. People from the northwest – can you imagine? It’s fabulous for me, since I’m not a farmer or someone managing a hydro-electric dam. Think of it. Vitamin D – all sorts of it. And never ever do I think about getting wet going from one place to the other. Hadn’t even considered packing a rain jacket or anything of the sort on this trip to Kathmandu. And this lack of anticipating rain presented kind of a challenge since today I had to travel back to Hetauda.

So, I got a bit wet along with everyone else and was slightly uncomfortable about my luggage on the rooftop that was (almost) covered by a piece of plastic as we drove 5 hours in the pouring rain. More than being uncomfortable, however, I realized how truly happy I was to see the rain. Rain is comfortable to me. It is home. I know rain. It is cleansing. It washes away things we don’t want any more. Like dust. And old thoughts that don’t really make us happy any more. It makes things grow, brings life to the earth. I feel cozy in the rain.

And today I felt cozy, too, actually happy that the jeep is so packed that I couldn’t sit against the back of my seat.

So, I made it safely to Hetauda. A bit damp, and with a very small backache, but incredibly happy to finally start making a life for myself here after living in hotels and various other sundry places for the last three months.

A few of my clothes of clothes from my suitcase got really wet, but they’re hanging to dry and will be just fine. And a bunch of my papers are ruined, but luckily they are papers I have on CD and can reprint another time. I figure in the grand scheme of things, a small price to pay for both the rain today, and the realization of how great it’s been to depend so much sun these last few months.

And tomorrow? Who knows….one step at a time these days.

The unexpected

So, one of the things that I’ve come to expect in Nepal is the unexpected.
It has taken me a long time to get to this place. Because, in the first months, of course you expected the unexpected. You just do. When you’re in a new country and culture in a whole different part of the world.
But I figured that at some point things would kind of settle in to a routine or sense of order. This is my experience of the world in the past. Things might be really confusing in the beginning, but they sort themselves out eventually. And almost 3 months is long enough, right? So, I expected the unexpected, but expected that things would change….
This all sounds a bit trite (and perhaps confusing) when you see it in writing. People say these things, right? “Expect the unexpected.” And they start to lose meaning.
But I *experience* this every day here. This is what I am trying to tell you. I *experience* things that I could have never, ever could have foreseen. All the time. So often, that I’m starting to plan for it. (Yes….I am still very attached to this idea of planning. Something that – turns out – seems to be a bit of a Western way of thinking.) I’m starting to realize that it’s not going to go away.
And how does one plan for the unexpected? I don’t really know. I’m working on that. If you have tips, I am very open to them. Easier said than done, I tell you. But, it has something to do with planning on not ever really making plans. Yep. Or never thinking that I know how things are going to go. Or how I’m going to react to something. Or how someone will react to me. Or what I will see or experience in any given day…
Today, it was the rain that came and surprised me.
I have only experienced rain one other time since I have arrived, and that was the very first day that I came. And that day somehow doesn’t seem to really feel like it counts. It was an upsidedown day for me, because I had complete culture shock, was living in a time zone almost completely opposite of my home, and had this surreal experience of being routed temporarily to a “safe” hotel, because of the (very large and semi-violent) strike that was taking place. That day was more like a hazy (kind of stressful) dream.
Every day since then I’ve woken up and it’s been sunny. People from the northwest – can you imagine? It’s fabulous for me, since I’m not a farmer or someone managing a hydro-electric dam. Think of it. Vitamin D – all sorts of it. And never ever do I think about getting wet going from one place to the other. Hadn’t even considered packing a rain jacket or anything of the sort on this trip to Kathmandu. And this lack of anticipating rain presented kind of a challenge since today I had to travel back to Hetauda.
So, I got a bit wet along with everyone else and was slightly uncomfortable about my luggage on the rooftop that was (almost) covered by a piece of plastic as we drove 5 hours in the pouring rain. More than being uncomfortable, however, I realized how truly happy I was to see the rain. Rain is comfortable to me. It is home. I know rain. It is cleansing. It washes away things we don’t want any more. Like dust. And old thoughts that don’t really make us happy any more. It makes things grow, brings life to the earth. I feel cozy in the rain.
And today I felt cozy, too, actually happy that the jeep is so packed that I couldn’t sit against the back of my seat.
So, I made it safely to Hetauda. A bit damp, and with a very small backache, but incredibly happy to finally start making a life for myself here after living in hotels and various other sundry places for the last three months.
A few of my clothes of clothes from my suitcase got really wet, but they’re hanging to dry and will be just fine. And a bunch of my papers are ruined, but luckily they are papers I have on CD and can reprint another time. I figure in the grand scheme of things, a small price to pay for both the rain today, and the realization of how great it’s been to depend so much sun these last few months.
And tomorrow? Who knows….one step at a time these days.