Never forgotten

I'm back. It's been over two weeks already. Trying to understand what Nepal means in my life. My time has been consumed with settling in to my new town. Finding work and figuring out all the neighborhoods we would be happy in. I have to say, I love it here. Despite the fact that life is not exactly how I desire it to be...but it will be!

I've dreamt of my Nepali sister Shova twice in a row the last couple of nights. On both occasions she looks at me in the eyes, in despair, eyes swollen thinking I've forgotten about her and her family. I try my best to convince her that I would never, be able to.

A lake out my window. Clean wooden floors. Shiny marble counter tops. Soft comfortable bed. A prosperous future (the odds are in my favor). Electricity on demand. A full breath of clean air. Attainable dreams. Choices. A multitude of choices.

Try convincing me I'm not lucky. Try convincing me you're not lucky.

Coventa - Goddess of Wells and Springs

Yesterday three of us (one other volunteer and another traveler) ventured outside of Kathmandu to a town called Bhaktapur ("The Town of Devotees"). Bhaktapur was once the capital of Nepal and houses a 15th century ancient kingdom. En route, I dazed in and out of sleep. I had a vivid dream.

The time may have been hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago. I was an onlooker (although I felt as though the person was me) of a man with a long cloak. His master had asked him to fetch water from the well. As he was pulling the water up from the well walls, two sages (for lack of a better word) sat watching and as he turned to walk away, they reminded him that it's not the act of retrieving the water, it is in the return of the task that counts. It's in the return he should be conscious of.

As we entered the the city walls of Bhaktapur, I see women retrieving water from a large well. Never had I seen this as a source of water for the people in Nepal!

Tomorrow I leave Nepal. I've been thinking about my Nepali family. The rain comes and then leaves as fast as it came. I pray that the wells of the sky provide the nourishment of the monsoon that is needed for their virgin crops.

I find that I am more hesitant to ask the universe to provide me with abundance. It has already provided me with what I need!

Neither Lost nor Found

Yesterday, my volunteer friend Mitch and I were fortunate enough to visit one of the monastaries in Kathmandu. We met someone who was teaching English to the young monks.

En route to the monastery, you pass the well known Boudhanath Stupa. Considered to be one of the holiest sites in Kathmandu/Nepal and one of the biggest stupas in the world. It is really a breathtaking site. You can see many people circling the stupa (always clockwise) with their beads. Beyond the stupa we wound around small roads inhabited by many Tibetans. Most Tibetans exist here in Nepal in refugee camps having fled from Tibet in exile after the Chinese invasion and occupation. After a 15 minute walk, the monastery appears. It is outrageously beautiful ans such a contrast to the surrounding buildings. The walls are immaculately decorated. Balconies wrap around the monastery. The inset wall is painted with the most intricate of details of the birth, life, and death of Buddha. I can't imagine how long this all must have taken. My jaw hung to my feet. The head monk served us tea and biscuits. It always means so much more when you are made so welcome in a foreign place!

Our host told us stories about the young monks. They are just as you'd imagine all children to be. Unruly and mischievous. Their nicknames included 'America' (for his strut when he walks), 'Toothless' (for having no front teeth), Smiley, Clueless (for not being the sharpest tack!). One thing though, all these kids are apparently happy all the time. Some of these children are orphans. Some are here because their parents wanted their child to be a monk (each boy chooses to commit to this at aged 21. But if they choose not to, where do they go?) and some come because their parents cannot afford to keep them. Children in Nepal always seem to come with a story.

Nepal is an inevitable place to question your place in this life. I have had many a profound moment. Regardless, I'm nowhere closer to figuring out where me and God stand with each other.

But I neither feel lost nor found.

Acceptance. Forgiveness.

And so it is. The images on my camara are in someone elses hands and I have to learn ACCEPTANCE. I am fractured by the fact I cannot share my time here in images. Words can't ever do the colors I've seen justice. My mother says "I suggest first you forgive yourself" (my mother doesn't realize how many pearls of wisdom she has!). But I also have to learn to forgive the person who has my camara. I am likely to be the most fortunate in this situation.

ACCEPTANCE is my only way forward.

Letting go.

Letting go is sometimes the hardest of lessons. All my photos of Nepal, GONE! I feel defeated.

Unity, Magic, & Forget-Me-Nots.

I'm back in Kathmandu. Thinking about my time in Batle, Pokhara, Nepal. Last week may be the most memorable for me in Nepal. Filled with magic. Reminding myself to not forget to show gratitude to this life at ALL times.

I ended my time at the health post a day early so I could spend the last couple days with the Bastolas. Bimal my Nepali brother took me into Pokhara on his motorbike. The Annapurna range that morning was the clearest yet. Beautiful! Bimal and I visited one of the major temples in Pokhara. Placed high up looking over Pokhara. He showed me around his college campus. What a difference from the beautiful manicured campuses we tend to see. He is studying management and taking Korean classes (I'm sure he speaks more than three languages). All with the hopes that he can apply to work in another Asian country and make his way to Europe. I wonder how far he will get with his efforts. I'm sad to see the helplessness people feel with wanting to leave Nepal. Who wants to stay? Haven't met anyone yet.

Bimal took to me to a textile store and then to a tailor who measured me up for my very own 'cholo'. The traditional shirt the Nepali women wear. Bimal is an incredible character. I call him 'Bimal the Trustworthy one'. And for someone that has little money, he was insistent on giving me such an amazing gift! That morning over chia (tea) I quizzed Bimal about marriage in Nepal. In two years Bimal will be married. Around the same time, Shova will also be married even though she is younger. Girls are often married off first. The parents will choose someone they feel suitable. The family meets. The future husband and wife will then spend a few minutes alone (I wander what they would even talk about!). They re-unite with both families, agree to marry and three days later they are married. It's just that easy!

Again, I feel fortunate for the right and freedom to choose. I've always been a little sceptical of marriage. The fact that I'm asked multiple times daily if I'm married, and why not, and do I have a boyfriend, and WHEN will we get married (as opposed to "will you get married?"). And the fact that I've been proposed to many times by multiple Nepali (whether married or not) has me questioning the institution of marriage. I want to do what feels right at any given time but not have any regrets. And that's the best I can do. NO REGRETS! But, I will give credit where credit is due. David has been in my life now for 3 1/2 years. Never have I met someone more encouraging and empowering. He has given me ample room for growth. Not a day goes by I don't count myself lucky to be partnered with him. I thank the Gods that they placed us on on parallel paths, close enough that we can experience this life together. He is on his own adventure. Scaling the heights of Mt. McKinley with a ranger crew. We have many stories to share when we return. *You can follow his blog on BKLYN; Urban Pumalogy.

When we returned, the Bastola caste were preparing to harvest the corn and plant the rice in the same feilds. They had all been waiting for the right day when it had rained enough to fill the rice feilds. I could feel the anticipation in the air all week. The children, all excited to see me (as they always are when I return. Turns my heart to jelly!) were calling me. Aunu! Aunu! Chita! Chita! Come, come! Quick! Quick! They were excited to include me in the planting of the rice. Everyone is blessed with the customary tika on the forhead for harvest/planting season. All the women of course are thrilled to have me join in. Standing in the slushy mud bent over trying to plant my blades of rice grass perfectly. Either too far apart or not far enough! I discovered that NONE of what they grow is sold. The land that they have is vast so this surprised me. They keep it ALL. This is what they survive on! So it's no exaggeration to say that some of these families have no or little money unless of course one of the family works. Many of the fathers are absent for years at a time working in Qatar or Japan. My Nepali father included had spent 7 years in Qatar, away from his family to provide an income. Two of the young Bastola girls, Binita and Bidhya live with their grandmother. Both parents live and work in Japan only to visit every couple of years for a few weeks at a time. It's a sad reality.

The children all take me under their wings on most projects. I LOVE their company. Later in the day, some of them took me around the Bastola clan settlement. I had the royal lesson in all the fruits, vegetables and foliage that grows in the area. These children have a wild understanding of their growing world. Binita told me stories of the 'witch'. She is the mother of one of the Bastola wives. Apparently this old woman ate her husband and created a spell against her own daughter who mysteriously died! They kids try to stay clear of her small dwelling.

We picked flowers, "phul" as they told me their Nepali names and what they are used for. We stopped by one of the small temples, all making blessings and prayers throwing flowers in the temple as gifts to the Gods. As the day continued, the children kept disappearing and bringing me back bunches of flowers over and over! What a blessing!

Binita wanted to hear some American songs. I was always asking the children to sing me Nepali songs and then to translate them for me. So my turn. The first I played for her on my iphone, one of my favorites; Stevie Nicks' 'Landslide' (although I prefer Dixie Chicks' version. SShhhhh! Don't tell anyone!!). She insisted that I teach her how to sing it so I wrote down all the words and all afternoon and night we sang it together, sitting, walking, and planting rice under the bright moon.

"Oh mirror in the sky what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my Life?"

On the subject of songs, another song that was on my mind from when I first came to Nepal was Alanis Morissette's "Thank You". I remember many years ago, her explaining what inspired the song. I find myself completely aligned to it and I completely realize why this remained in my memory. She returned from India, spending her time simply after her new found world fame. As she was sweeping the floor she was overcome with gratitude for her lfe. I have swept the floors many times over here in Nepal. It is the first thing that is done upon waking up. Constantly, this song has woven through my thoughts. Sometimes it's the simple things in life where you find profoundness!

"Thank you India
thank you terror
thank you disillusionment
thank you frailty
thank you consequence
thank you thank you silence"

That night was my last meal. And I will say, I never enjoyed that Dal Bat more! My last!! Dal Bat is relatively "meato cha" (tasty) but when you have it three times a day, it get's old! I made sure that every time I had left for the weekend, to always return with the gift of 2kg of mangoes. Reprieve from all the rice! I'm so thankful that I never got sick from Ama's food. If you see how rugged her hands are and what they do throughout the day you'd be sure to think that a healthy bout of something would take over! But, thankfully not. I have to thank the lassi after every meal (their version of fermented milk kefer), full of probiotics, saving my stomach. Bimal also presented me with my Cholo. One of the greatest gifts I've received!

In the morning, I said my goodbyes. Ama told me, as she does on a daily basis, "Bimal, Shova, marry. You Nepal". She draped me with a silk scarf. Baba covered my forehead in the bright red tika and put another white scarf around my neck. Ama threw flowers over my head and put a dahlia in my hair. They will never know how much their presence in my life has meant to me.

Shova joined me for the night in Pokhara until my departure on the bus. I'm glad she was with me. we talked about marriage, the differences and injustices of women in the Nepali culture, pregnancy outside of wedlock etc etc into the night. She accepts her culture and follows it without hesitation. But Shova is completely aware of what it means being a woman in this culture.

As I left, she said "Don't forget me". NEVER!

Today I'm living on a prayer. I left my camera on a bus returning from a bungee excursion (And no I didn't jump. I went to spectate friends. I think sky diving is good enough for me! I only want to experience my stomach in my mouth ONCE!). I've been told it is likely to be returned to me. The idea of not being able to share images of my time kills me. I set up an alter in my room this morning. My 'cholo'. The sari Shova gave me. The necklace given to me by Ama's sister. Images of Hindu Gods. Flowers. All a reminder that GRATITUDE is the reason I'm here.

Never forget GRATITUDE!

They call me Nepali Annie!