P.S. -- I'm home

I have been putting off this post for weeks now.

I really did intend to share pictures of my time in southern India...

and a brief stop in Singapore...

and a lovely week in the Philippines...

but then it didn't happen.

I let myself be overwhelmed by time changes, international flights, reunions with family and pets, packing/unpacking, and trying to establish myself back in the United States. I gave myself permission to reflect at whatever pace felt most comfortable.

I didn't want to write until I felt like I could say something that would appropriately represent this experience.

And because there aren't any words to fully capture or express my time in Nepal, it's July and people think that I'm still trapped on a camel in Rajasthan. So I'd like to apologize for misrepresenting my return to the United States, I made it back safely... about ten weeks ago. While I don't know how to write in a way that I feel satisfactorily represents the last year, I am getting better about doing it in person. If you are interested in hearing more let me know. I'd love to go out to coffee or even make another attempt at crafting momos in an American kitchen.

Grace and peace,
Rachel

Camel Riding in Rajasthan

The desert is hot and sandy.

Obviously I knew this when I signed up and paid to spend three days riding a camel in the Thar desert outside of Jaisalmer, India. But I didn’t know what it felt like.

The desert is unrelentingly hot. The sun chases you from every direction and even the breeze is too hot to be refreshing. The heat seeps under your skin and sweat never stops running out of every single pore because at least it can just evaporate and escape to the upper atmosphere.

The desert is sandy. Not in the shovels in a sandbox kind of way, but in the oh my gosh how did I get sand there!?! after a day at the beach kind of way. It coats your feet so completely it makes them look clean. It’s like constantly exfoliating your face every time you try to wipe away the perspiration.

 

Another thing that probably should have been obvious prior to my grand romantic visions, is how uncomfortable it is to go from walking like a normal human being to sitting on a camel. First of all, camels are wide and since I don’t spend much time straddling things in my everyday life my inner thighs were not pleased about this. Secondly camels walk funny. They move both legs on one side of the body at the same time. So both left legs take a step, then the camel shifts all its weight, and then both right legs take a step. This lurching side to side while also moving forward is not the smoothest ride. Perhaps if it wasn’t already hot and sandy this discomfort could be overlooked.

As Sydney and I lay down to sleep on the sand the first night, we had good reason to be afraid of what it might feel like to get back on a camel the next day, and the day after that. There were a few moments when we questioned our judgment and looked longingly at the group of people who would head back to town in a jeep at dawn.

 

But it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. You do kind of get used to it. Not that I want to ride a camel for 2-3 hours at a time again right now, but I wouldn’t be completely opposed to doing it somewhere in the far off future. And it was definitely worth going for multiple days. The second and third days felt much more authentic since we were farther away from all the tourists doing “non-touristic” tours where young boys roam the sand dunes selling coca-cola at exorbitant prices to desperate foreigners.

My face is still recovering from a lot of sun, a lot of sunscreen, a lot of sweat, and no place to shower for three days. But I’m happy I went and I have some beautiful pictures show for it.

Also in Rajasthan...



Jaisalmer Fort



Part of the white temple in Jodhpur



Sydney and me with Jodhpur Fort in the background



Flying Fox zipline over the fort at Jodhpur

Zipline goes back and forth over the water

Jodhpur Fort at night

 

 

 

Not a Polar Bear or Pope

In Nepal, I did not experience many people staring at me or seriously haggling me very often. My skin is dark enough that many times I can pass for Nepali, or Punjabi, or Bengali depending who you ask. But since arriving in India two days ago it seems impossible to go for more than 10 seconds without someone not only staring, but rushing to get my photo.

At the Red Fort in Agra, lots of people cared more about posing to catch the two foreigners in the background than the Taj Mahal. A family – mother, father, and toddler – kindly approached and asked us for a photo. Not for one of us to take their photo in front of the world’s most beautiful building…the dad wanted a photo of myself, Sydney, and the baby. He even started to hand us the kid at one point.

I don’t know you and you don’t know me thus it is unnecessary, and weird, for you to thrust your child at me for a picture. If I was the pope, holding babies so their parents could click one photo would be part of my job. I am not the pope…so keep your kids to yourself.

And it’s not like this was one family. The “can I take a picture of you and my kid?” scenario has played out at least three times in the last 72 hours and I fully expect it to continue throughout our journey.

Some people prefer not to ask. Perhaps they recognize that it is inappropriate, awkward, uncomfortable, and borderline racist. Instead, they just strike a pose in such a way that Sydney and I are in the background or the foreground or any other ground that will let them memorialize these two pale skinned strangers trying to enjoy a historical site. Particularly interested groups take turns being the photographer or try multiple poses in search of the best effect.

This photo was used in our hotel's sightseeing guide. It inspired today's blog title.

I am more than my skin color – in America, in Cameroon, in Nepal, and even in India – I am a whole person. I’m not even that white. (I occasionally wonder how our experiences would be different if Sydney and I were traveling separately.) My whiteness is nothing in the shadow of the Taj Mahal so take a picture in front of that, not me.

The whole experience has raised some questions for me:

1) What am I doing to contribute to the idolization of white people and white culture?

2) What am I doing to make other people feel uncomfortable when they visit my country?

3) What am I doing to help dismantle a culture where thin and white are the definition of beauty?

While I cannot comment on the quality of all the unauthorized photos of me, I can show you what I chose to remember about my brief stops in Delhi and Agra.

 



Humayun's Tomb in Delhi.



Beautiful stone lattice windows were everywhere.

The Taj Mahal, seen from the Red Fort.

A step well at the Mehrauli Archaeological gardens in Delhi.

Me and Sydney enjoying sunrise at the Taj.
Please note that there are literally no other people in this photograph.



The classic reflection picture.

A beautiful gate at Fatepur Sikri, sight of the most organized scam I've ever witnessed.

 

 

On Coming Home

From February 24, 2014

My grant officially ends in 22 days. Although I won’t be immediately returning to the United States, it is getting close enough that I am allowing myself to think about the transition. I have loved my time in Nepal. I love my students. I love my host family. People often ask “which is better – Nepal or America?” and I can’t really answer that question. But here are a few comparisons I do feel comfortable making.

I love the word prefer. I love that in America when someone asks me a question there is a way to express my opinion without giving the impression that I absolutely hate one thing and enthusiastically adore the other. Maybe there is a word for this in Nepali, if so someone should have told me about it a long time ago because I’ve spent the past eight months feeling like my preferences are getting lost in translation.

I am excited to return to a land of options. There are so many wonderful things to do, to eat, to talk about, to enjoy. Here, someone might ask me if I like a particular food item and if I say yes I will get it at every meal from now on. If I say no, I’ll never see it again. It’s so permanent and unchanging. In the U.S., it is perfectly acceptable to like something but not feel like it on a particular occasion. Maybe I’m just wishy-washy, but I’ll accept that and enjoy returning to a society where wishy-washy is normal.

I can’t wait to cook for myself. I really miss getting home from school and thinking “hmmm…what do I want to eat?” Will I continue to enjoy daal bhat? Absolutely. Will I enjoy not eating it every day? You bet. But more than what I eat, I am looking forward to controlling how much I eat. The combination of American body image issues and the communication of Nepali love by heaps and heaps of food, just makes meal time uncomfortable. My host family has learned to accommodate my small stomach but I am quite certain Dr. Oz would not approve of the typical portion size in this country. And one more thing, I definitely prefer eating lunch around noon and dinner earlier in the evening. I am confident I will adjust back to the American breakfast-lunch-dinner time table very quickly.

Maybe my opinion will change when I start paying my own utilities, but I’m also looking forward to consistently hot showers with good water pressure. The thought of being clean on a regular basis is pretty appealing. So are washing machines. Can I live without these types of luxuries? Yes. But if I’m going to shower with cold water I’ll be moving to a warmer climate.

A mattress that is thick enough that my hip bones don’t touch the wood underneath. Cars with shock absorbers. Consistent internet access. Celery. A Christian church. Central heat. Strawberries. News in English. Going barefoot.

Nevertheless (just for you Rashmee!), there are of course things that I will be sad to leave behind.

The Himalayas. I wouldn’t consider myself a very nature-y person. But I have come to love looking out my classroom window to admire the bright white peaks sawing into the sky.

 

 

The ease of going slow. There is so much pressure in the U.S. to be going, doing, working… and that pressure doesn’t really exist here. It drives me nuts when I see teachers sitting in the sun instead of teaching their classes, but it has also been nice not to spend hours afterschool trying to keep up. I know that my early bedtime, relaxed morning time, and shortened school day will seem very faraway when I return to teaching in the U.S. Why can’t there be a happy middle ground?

Public transportation just outside my door. Because American buses have actual stops and don’t just pull over when anyone wants to get on or off.

In Nepal, I never feel pressured to put fashion before warmth. It is perfectly acceptable to wear two shirts, a sweater, a scarf, leggings, pants, a coat, gloves, socks, and sandals all at once. In the U.S. I have definitely endured goosebumps in the name of looking put together.

In a strange sense, I will actually miss loadshedding. It is kind of nice to have a certain number of hours every day where I am forced to disconnect and only interact with the people in front of me. It has also made me realize just how severe my need to be digitally connected really is; I occasionally find myself checking my email at 3am when I roll over and see that the light has come.

When I lived in Cameroon, I came back very cynical about technology and modern conveniences. Probably because things like washing machines and dishwashers and freezers were extremely rare. In Nepal, there are lots of people who live without these things but there are also lots of people who have them. It’s definitely harder to appreciate a simple life when the person next door has their own generator. I think my time in Nepal has helped me reflect on my life in America in a more balanced way. It would be hard to come home and live like I had never been to Nepal, but I also recognize how silly it would be to ignore the culture around me in the U.S. I will continue to reflect on this for a long, long time.

January: A Series of Mildly Unfortunate Events

Here is what your federal tax dollars have funded over the past month:
1) The aforementioned trip with my American family to Pokhara and Chitwan. 2) A massage and facial at my favorite Nepali spa. 3) A two week sightseeing tour with my friend Sydney, another ETA, to Lumbini, Gorkha, Manakamana, and Bandipur. 4)Two group celebrations, a firecracker candle, and a really delicious slice of birthday cheesecake.

It was an eventful month with lots of delightful plans and unexpected...inconveniences.

LUMBINI

This unassuming “town” is the birthplace of Buddha. It’s really just a small collection of ruins, a dozen monasteries, and a few basic hotels. But it was on my list of places to see before leaving Nepal so Sydney and I made the nine hour bus ride, loud Hindi music playing the whole way.

The best way to enjoy Lumbini is to rent a bicycle and spend the day riding along the canal to the various attractions including a large peepul tree, the actual site of the ruins, an eternal fire, a museum, and one of the World Peace Pagodas.

Foundation squares are all that remains of many buildings in Lumbini.

The World Peace Pagoda at Lumbini

The most uncomfortable way to see Lumbini is to rent a bicycle and spend the day riding in the POURING rain. It was wet. It was cold. The path was so muddy that at times the bicycle wheels just sunk into the ground and it was impossible to move without using your feet like paddles to inch forward. The wet conditions also mean I don’t have too many photos. But we did ask a hotel staffer to take our picture in the world’s most ridiculous lavender and buttercup yellow raincoats (the only ones in the whole town) before we left. Throughout the day, many other people stopped to pull out their mobile phones to snap a quick picture of the out-of-place tourists, in pastel rain jackets, riding rickety bicycles with plastic bag wrapped backpacks in the basket.

Make it work?

My favorite part of the day was when, approximately 2 minutes into our ride, the chain came off my bike. Or was it when, upon reaching our final destination, the clouds literally parted and the sun came out to mark the beginning of the perfect afternoon for riding bikes. Ke garne?

 

Not wanting to waste the sunshine, Sydney and I extended our bike ride past the hotels, around a local village, and out into wide fields of mustard. Under a cluster of trees we happened upon a collection of elephant statues. It was extraordinarily random and beautiful.

GORKHA

This hillside bazaar town is where six of the other ETAs are living and teaching. It was really fun to get to visit their families and schools. Each homestay has a distinct flavor; even the daal tasted different! Doing some classroom visits gave me an appreciation for some of the things I haven’t seen at my school (intoxicated parents entering school grounds, young students toddling dangerously near to ten foot drops in the landscape, a child having a seizure during class, etc.) And hearing the kids in Gorkha add an /i/ sound before words like school and shoulders was a comforting reminder that my students are pretty much on par with students in other government schools.

And the sunsets in Gorkha were worth watching.

The only really disgusting part of the trip was when, after four days and an increasingly offensive odor in our hotel room, we realized that the brown hole in the wall of our bathroom was actually a broken pipe leaking raw sewage from the toilets upstairs. In America, you alert the health department, sue the company, and collect a large settlement in exchange for not writing about this on tripadvisor. In Nepal, you ask for a different room and remind yourself to ALWAYS wear shower shoes.

 

MANAKAMANA

Perhaps the most surprisingly worthwhile part of the trip was taking the cable car up to Manakamana. This foreign sponsored project eliminated the need for a four hour, uphill hike to reach this famous temple and pilgrimage site. (After seeing how roads are maintained in much of Nepal, I will admit that as I boarded the little white car that would carry me dangling over the hills, I hoped that the foreign investors were still involved in keeping this form of transportation running safely.)

Sydney and I estimated that the line to enter the temple was about one mile long. We didn’t go inside, but I did spot one of my co-teachers among the thousands waiting! Even with the partly cloudy conditions, we enjoyed the view over a cup of hot tea.

The day trip was punctuated by several incidences of public nudity while waiting in line to go down the cable car. Two from small children whose parents decided letting them pee in the gutter was more convenient than walking to the public bathrooms, twenty feet away. A third from an adolescent boy who was jumping around a nearby grassy area with his pants at his ankles. Neither his friends nor the security guards seemed bothered by this behavior.

BANDIPUR

Our last stop before returning to the noise and pollution of Kathmandu was the peaceful hilltop community of Bandipur. To round out our trip of misfortunes, we visited a silk worm farm with nothing to see because it was the off season, and walked before dawn to a high plateau where the sunrise was perfectly blocked by another hill. But thanks to a long, luxurious hot shower the night before we boarded the bus feeling rather content.

And then… we got into a heated quarrel with some Chinese tourists about seat numbers, folded under their frighteningly loud voices, and spent five hours feeling jostled, nauseous, and unreclined in the very last row of seats.

***

There have been many occasions during the past six months when I have called upon my mantra “if you are not having a good day, you are in the middle of a great story.” But even the annoying, inconvenient, and confusing times haven’t been unbearable thanks to great friends and family both here and back home. All of whom made my 23^rd a very happy birthday.