India & Nepal: History & Culture Through Service Learning

I write this in an internet cafe in Delhi, a city that once scared the bejesus out of me, a city I now find pretty easy to navigate.  The city moves slower now, being on the road for the past six weeks.  I remember I called Delhi, “a cess-pit of dirt and grime, a melting pot of all that is unholy…”  which is incorrect.  It is grimy and dirty, but certainly not unholy.  In fact, holiness pervades nearly every action undertaken by every man, woman, and child.  It is a very religious, holy country.  It is just crowded.  And quite so.

Now, my biggest fear is being culture shocked upon returning to the United States.

There is sadness to this departure, but yes, it is time to leave.  The next time I come abroad I would like to have my college degree, so that perhaps my next adventure could be longer, and contain a paying job.  They need teachers everywhere, and I would be happy to oblige a worthy country in need.

We have seen what poverty is, and what defines it.  What can define it, perhaps, is the eternal human spirit that is able to endure, able to overcome adversity, and smile.  We have seen people that have much less material possessions than Ian or I, but their smiles told us that they contained inside them a happiness I could not begin to imagine.  That is the human spirit.  To be driven by love and not money.  To be spun by the wheels of goodwill rather than of capital.  A smile is a currency all of its own, and to that end, Nepal and India are very rich countries.

This is farewell.  Thank you India, Nepal, and your people.  Thank you to all who have helped us along the way.  A very special thank you to every single member of the Parajuli family, who opened their hearts and homes to us, and who made this experience everything that it was or ever could be.  Thank you for reading.  Namaste.

I…. am at a loss for words.  What to type to reflect on this grand experience of ours?  Here goes…

Since our homestay we have been traveling with modesty and humility, living with a family has deeply tied us to the customs and culture of Nepal, and we love it.  We have worked in the schools, we have plowed the fields of this country, and when we talk about that to the locals it affords us much credit.  They are impressed that we have not followed the traditional tourist trail, and they appreciate that our experience has been authentic and meaningful.

We stayed in Pokhara for a week, the evening we departed our home and our farm.  We arrived at 12:30 at night, to empty streets and barricaded shops.  Luckily we woke the manager the first hotel we stumbled upon, and were fortunate to find a bed after a long evening of travel.

Pokhara is a dream.  The tourist center is on one side of a large lake, nestled peacefully among green mountains.  It is the Lake Cuomo of Nepal, with less wine.  We relaxed, studies, and made friends with the locals, and had a great week on the lake.  We went rafting down the mighty Seti river, and traversed the scenery on motorbikes.  It was comfortable and beautiful, and it was not easy to leave.

From there we went to Chitwan National Park, enjoying safaris on the back of elephants, in boats, and on an ox cart. We saw many Rhinos, birds, and grazing water buffalo and cow.  Tiger prints, but no tigers.  We wanted that tiger!

Today we traveled by bus away from the heat and bugs of the Terai Plain, and have gallantly returned back to Kathmandu.  This was the first time we have returned to the same hotel, so this place feels the most like home of any city we’ve been to.  We are going Bungee-Jumping tomorrow, and plan to book a flight that circles the peak of Mount Everest, and the mighty Himalayas.

This signifies the beginning of the end.  We have five nights in Kathmandu before we hop on successive mini-vans, taxis, trains and rickshaws and arrive in Delhi before our flight to the United States on the 22cd.  We arrive in New Jersey at 4:30am on the 23rd.

We shall see you all soon, thanks for reading.

Namaste.

The week it was! One week in Gunjanagar, a small village in the Terai Plain of Nepal, in what we thought was a homestay centered around working on a farm. But oh, no! We were in fact, well… given jobs as teachers at the local school. Suprise! More on that later…

Days 1 & 2 were spent in the private garden of Siddi Parajuli, a lovely man who has just retired from being a professor of agriculture. We were connected with him through his daughter, Pramila, who set up our volunteering in Kathmandu. A better teacher for two newbies in the garden we could not have asked for. We tore at the earth, for the laborious process of creating new farm-beds from scratch. His garden received a complete makeover, with three new garden beds and careful footpaths laid carefully beside them. We planted artichoke, lettuce, radish, carrots, broccoli, and many more that I cannot recall. Perhaps too much dirt from digging the garden has polluted the memory banks of my brain.

But alas! After two days in Siddi’s garden we woke early in the morning and walked 3 km through the village. Gunjanagar is located on the plains of Nepal, whose economy is almost exclusively based on agriculture. The entire village is growing. Whether it be the vast expanses of rice fields, mango or papaya trees, corn at the side of the road, or any other delicious fruit stuff you could imagine. It is a tropical climate, and the gardens grow very well. For every meal, nearly 100% of the food came directly from the garden. It was usually picked the same day that it came to our plate. Very fresh. Very delicious.

Siddi’s brother Uday runs Ajamvari Farm, a large piece of land that is well-suited for volunteers. Our accomodation was on the roof of the main house, under the cover of a well-made A-shaped grass overhang. Upon our arrival Uday, to our suprise, informed us that as well as being a farmer, he was also one of the founders and teachers of the local school. Which started in twenty minutes. We walked the kilometer with Uday to the local school, and were introduced to it with this morning assembly:

/After the assembly we were invited to tour the classrooms. The teachers brielfy introduced us and then to our suprise, left the classroom. I had told Uday that I was an studying to be a teacher, however a little notice to my new career would have been appreciated. Fortunately, all the students in the school had proficient English skills, and were all good-spirited and easy to teach. For our first on-the-fly curriculum, educational Hang-Man worked well, as well as map-drawing, English-Nepali conversation practice, reading, and the crowd favorite: the Americans singing and dancing. After an inital period of teaching every class alone, eventually the teachers would filter into our classes to monitor our progress.For five days (except one) we followed the same routine: Wake at 6 o’clock to help Uday weed the fields, milk the water buffalo, and pick the lemongrass for morning tea. Arrive at school just before ten o’clock, and teach five classes until four or five. When we returned home from school we would have a brief siesta, then when the sun was low enough we would work the land to get ready for the potato harvest. It was HOT. Hot and buggy. We must have poured a few gallons of sweat into the fertile Nepali plain, and while doing so burned even more calories swatting mosquitoes at an olympic pace.

The exception to the routine was the day of the strike. From the bits and pieces we have put together, the Bus and Taxi union was unhappy about the way they were being treated. One of the disgruntled employees decided to repeatedly stab (but not kill) the president of the entire operation. The next day everyone within a-hundred mile radius of our village pledged not to drive their public vehicle. Including the school bus drivers. Thus the school was closed.

The teachers, however, decided to meet anyway. In the morning Ian and I showed up with a handful of trees to plant in various locations around the school. Very excited, most of the staff came to help us, and it became a grand ol’ time.

After tree planting, Ian and I introduced the Frisbee to the nation of Nepal. After tossing it just once to a few of the teachers, literally the entire staff came to experience this new phenomenon. Such raw enthusiasm I have seldom seen, and long after Ian and I were done with our inital instruction, the staff continued, and continued, to toss the disc around. The Frisbee of mention is now the property of the JannaPriya Public School.

On a sillier, unrelated note: I have met the Nepali reincarnation of Jack Kerouac. Behold!

Does anyone see it?

And now… after all that, it is purely a memory. It seems like a dream to us now.We were treated so kindly by everyone we met, who were always eager (perhaps sometimes too eager) to engage us in conversation. For this week we left the tourist trail behind, and it was unique, not routine, for the locals to see a foreigner. These wonderful, beautiful people live the simplest of lives. They grow their own food, spend loads of time with their friends and family, and live amongst natural beauty unequaled in most urban or developed areas. They are kind, patient, and intelligent, and treated us with nothing but respect. They have engaged us in their community and for that we thank them with everything we’ve got.The bus out of the village was like going through time. We gradually went from the serene, rural village life of Nepal to the dusty, dirty and noisy atmosphere of the big city. Once back in a proper town, both of us initially had extreme culture shock. The slow pace and serene setting of the countryside was gone. In its place was dust and grime, cement, and noise. Our shock faded after a few hours, but those moments off the first bus I will not forget, as such a contrast has never hit me so square in the face in such a short period of time.We are now in Pokhara, relaxing. Our volunteer total is strong at 96 hours. It is nice, now, to be back in civilization. But alas we will not forget our experience in the village.

And so it was.  The day the Nilganga English School received a new coat of paint from two Americans and a Brit, who were all the willing to give the classroom a revitalized energy.  Evidently the very lovely, very kind women who ran the school did not have much painting experience.  For when Ian and I opted to buy them new rollers in substitution for their dry, well-worn brushes, they looked in amazement in their words, that “such an instrument” existed.  We were officially the painting ambassadors to Nepal from the United States.

the wall before… the wall after

The staff and students of the school were so pleased that we were pledging our time to help their classroom look nicer.  Long after our time in Nepal that classroom will still be shining white, after being painted with love by a few volunteers.

Countless times we have been praised for our volunteering by the locals.  They say, and they are correct, that doing service work enables us to have a truly authentic experience, one that most tourists are not interested in having.  For traveling, as in life, is made by the people you spend it with. The best experiences on this trip have been when we have interacted and worked with other people, when we have strayed from the tourist trail and immersed ourselves in local culture.

After painting, we spent some time in the classrooms watching the children play and sing.  We bid a heartfelt farewell, having thoroughly enjoyed our day.  We left the classroom walls sparkling white, a stark contrast from what they had looked like when the school day began.

from left to right:  Ian, John, Anne (the british volunteer), Pramila and her friend

After school Pramila took us back to her office and finalized our bus ticket for tomorrow morning.  The plan is travel to her mother and fathers house tomorrow, stay with them two nights, before heading to Ajamvari Farm for one or two weeks.

Once we received our bus tickets, Pramila’s good friend (his name escapes me now) took us on a long, meandering walk through the narrow streets of Kathmandu to a government-run bookstore.  Our idea is to bring a load of book to our homestay, where a local group is in the process of starting a library.  This was completely our idea, one that has been received with smiles and encouragement by Pramila and her friends.  At the bookstore, the cashier gave us a huge discount for what he deemed, “Doing a very good thing.”

This could be the last communication for a little while, as it looks like internet is not readily available at the farm.  We have been told it is an hours drive away.  If you’re curious, the website for the farm is http://www.ajamvarifarm.org

Enjoy the pictures above, and the videos below.  I hope everyone is happy, healthy, and content.  Namaste.

Our day began with a meeting with Pramila Parajuli, who is arranging our homestay and volunteering at Ajamvari Farm.  Ajamvari means eternal in Nepali, so alas we are working on the eternal farm.

We now have our dates cemented, we leave tomorrow morning (Saturday) and shall stay at least a week, milking cows, plowing fields etc.  We sat in her office and chatted with her for about an hour, and one of her friends came in and gave us a description of the farm.  He said, “I think you will have a wonderful good time on the farm.  It is so beautiful there, everything is so green.  The mountains are green, the fields and grasses are green.  Even man and woman is green!”

In about an hour we have another meeting with Pramila, this time so she can give us a tour of the school she works at in Kathmandu.  Exciting!

On the taxi ride back from the stupa, Ian and I were involved in our first car accident while abroad.  Taking a right hand turn into traffic, a motorcyclist did not see us coming and slammed into the side of the car, shattering the side mirror and denting the drivers door.  As it was his fault, he sped away as fast as he could, and our taxi driver sped after him.  We were briefly involved in a high speed chase.  The motorcyclist took a quick turn down a dirt road and was out of sight, leaving our poor taxi driver to deal with the damage to his car.  Needless to say we paid him more than the agreed fare.  An eventful day,  more to come!

Much to report.  

Saturday was our day at the Taj Mahal, and might I say it lives up to any expectations that you’ve ever heard.  The craftsmanship and grandiosity of it all is truly amazing.  

The Taj Mahal was built as a mausoleum for the favorite wife of 17th century ruler Shah Jahan.  Taj Mahal is a shortened version of her name, Mumtaz Mahal.  While this romantic tale has been the accepted story for centuries, there is hidden symbolism that suggests Shah Jahan built it for a much less romantic, and much more egotistical purpose.  Verses from the Koran inscribed on the Taj’s walls portrary that it was intended to be a reproduction of God’s throne.  Given that Shah Jahan’s remains are enshrined within it, it can be assumed that he thought of himself as Godly, or even as God himself.  What an ego!

After Agra and the Taj Mahal, we took a 15-hour night train north-east towards the Nepal border.  We were unsure we would be able to book this ticket, as the region we were traveling had been hit with heavy floods that had affected hundreds of thousands of people.  While the train tracks were above the flooding, from our compartment we could see parts of villages submerged in a foot of water.  The houses closest to the rivers the most devestated.  It was not Katrina-esque proportions, but the flooding had caused many people to flee their homes, and to set up tent communities on higher ground.  Very sad.

At the train station we hopped on a very slow bus to the Nepal border, paid $40 at immigration for our visas, and crossed the threshold into a much friendlier country.  Once in Nepal we hired a taxi to Lumbini, the site where the Buddha was born.  We arrived at nightime, after traveling non-stop for an astonishing 24 hours.

 The city of Lumbini is nothing special, but housed in its boundaries contains the Lumbini Development Zone, which is essentially a huge park full of ruins and temples that the city encourages outside developers to build on.

  meditation in the sacred garden

A few countries have built temples around the ruins of Buddha’s birthplace.  France, Germany, Korea, China are some of note.   Each temple was perfectly manicured and most had resident monk populations.  The United States has of yet not built a temple in what has been deemed one of the most important religious sites in the world.  Another example of how the US is falling behind in the scheme of the world.  Even France has a temple here! 

The experience in Lumbini was spiritual and rewarding.  But alas, one day was enough, and it was time to move on to Kathmandu.

  Our 10-hour mini-van to Kathmandu was clad with fellow travelers, and had some of the most beautiful scenery we’d seen on the entire trip.  Halfway there, a landslide fell directly on the road, and delayed us about half and hour.  However, a more picturesque spot for a delay you could not ask for.  Behold! 

 And now, we are in Kathmandu.  An exciting, extraordinary city, very friendly to the tourist.  Good music, good food, onward ticketing offices at every street corner, temples galore, all nestled in between beautiful, high mountains.  It is very comfortable here and it will be hard to leave.  

We plan to volunteer teaching English in Kathmandu for a few days before heading to our homestay at Ajamvari Farm.  Until then, we shall study, work and relax in one of the world’s most interesting places.  Cheers. 

India is a big country. 

After spending two days taking buses into the mountains, we realized in Manali that it was going to take about two days to get back out and continue the itinerary we have created.  We are trying to begin our homestay and volunteer work as soon as possible, but must travel quite a distance to get there.  We knew we had to leave Manali as soon as possible. 

All the night buses were full so we decided to hire a private taxi to drive us 8 hours into the night.  At 10:00 pm we met out-driver outside of our guesthouse, bound for Chandigarh.  He was to drive us down winding mountain roads most of the night, before finally popping out in the vast Himachal Pradesh valley at sunrise.   He drove swift yet cautiously, criss-crossing mountain passes, rivers, and little mountain towns.  At 6:00am we arrived at Chandigarh station, where we hoped to get a last-minute train ticket.  After waiting two hours for the rail office to open, we were told it was impossible to get on a morning train, and would have to wait until evening.  We had a certain urgency to keep on the road, so after traveling 8 hours by taxi, we hopped on a bus destined 11-hours to Agra.

We rode the bus for its entire run.  We made friends with the attendant, and saw an incredible variety of people get on and off during the course of the day.   The most crowded it ever got was after school had been let out, and the high-school aged students who all at once swarmed the bus, including a few who climbed up to the roof and rode from there.  When we arrived at sunset we said thankyou to our driver in Hindi, who put his hands together and softly said , “Namaste”.   We are staying a few days in Agra to see the Taj Mahal, before making a bee-line for Nepal, to our farm and our homestay.

Unfortunately, flooding has affected hundreds of thousands of people in northern India, including around the India-Nepal border.  The border crossing we are planning to travel to is included in this disaster, and we do not know how this will affect our travel plans.  

Lha, the Tibetan word for “our innate nature of fundamental goodness” serves as the resource center for McLeod Ganj, and the Tibetan community that resides there.  Lha provides daily English classes for the community, and Ian and I were happy to lend a helping hand. 

It seemed the entire city had gathered in this one room to take a language class.  Seated cross-legged in the very crowded room was  an arrary of  monks, fashionable Tibetan youth, and a few foreigners who had been delegated to lead a small group discussion in English, whether they knew it or not.  Ian and I took seats at opposite ends of the room and simply began speaking English to the Tibetans, who very enthusiastially tried to keep up with the conversation.  This was by far the most rewarding experience of the entire trip. 

 But alas, that was days ago.  The evening after our work at Lha we hopped on a tourist bus at 8:30pm, designated to arrive in Manali at 5:00am.  There were numbers on our tickets, but none on the seats.  Ian and I counted the rows and found the seats we had been assigned, but a few foreigners, not seeing any numbers, just took any open seat they could find.  When the driver’s assistant came to collect the tickets, he got  upset that no one was in their assigned seats, and began yelling in Hindi and English at the tourists.   

It started raining as soon as we left and the road began to snake up the large mountains.  There were foot-high concrete squares acting as the road’s shoulder, but nothing more than that protecting the bus from the hundred foot cliffs just feet from the road.  The road was trecherous, the bus staff was mad at everyone, and it was raining incredibly hard.  Nerve racking. 

                         view from the balcony of our $6 hotel room in Manali. 

We arrived in Manali in the early depths of morning, and walked a two kilometers to our hotel, tucked away high in the hills of Old Manali. 

                                                     surrounding buildings of the hotel, Manali.

Our next move is to get down from the mountains and back into Rajasthan and the Indian desert, which looks like will take a few days by bus.  Our next destination is either the Taj Mahal in Agra, or to make a bee-line to travel by land into Nepal.  But who knows, plans can always change in India.  Cheers!

from journal:
“Delhi was a cess-pit of dirt and grime, a melting pot of all that is unholy. Not fun.”

Fortunately for us, we left Delhi in a hurry. On to Dharamsala…

Delhi was exhausing. Even the most seasoned of travelers will have a difficult time with this city of 13 million. But alas, we are out of it now.

Ahhhhh, Dharamsala. Home to the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan community in exile.
We begin volunteering tomorrow, working with Tibetan Refugees in whichever way we are needed.

Cheers!  More to come!