Lost in Translation

We have been broken into teams and sent out to Thamel, Kathmandu's tourist district, on an "Apprentice" style scavenger hunt. Each team has received 500 rupees and a list of items to purchase for the lowest price possible. The team which obtains all of the items, which include things like an unusual fruit, something to teach with, something someone might purchase during a "gap yar", and something sweet, and manages to haggle well enough to spend the least, wins. 

My team consists of people who have not yet had the chance to exchange currency or purchase a Nepali sim card, and is running behind because we have to take care of these tasks first. We have no real chance of winning this challenge, but we decide to do our best and have fun with it. 

We make our way through the busy streets of Thamel, alternately trudging through thick mud, or stumbling over uneven cobbled surfaces. Street vendors approach us trying to interest us in their hand carved stringed instruments from the mountains, miniature chess sets, versatile wire trinkets, and tiger balm. The man selling tiger balm refuses to take no for an answer. He follows me for about ten minutes before finally giving up.

Store fronts display trekking supplies, golden Tibetan singing bowls, colorful clothing and wall hangings. On the streets further away from the center, live goats are tied to a post, eating some vegetation that has been placed in front of them, and chickens are jammed into wooden cages. Not far away, a recently butchered goat hangs in a store front. We turn our heads as a man finishes skinning it.

A toddler, 2 or 3 years old, sweeps the floor of a shop with a bundle of straw switches almost as tall as he is. 

Dogs are curled up under store fronts, napping. Occasionally, one hops up to follow us, sniffing at our legs. They stop to lap water from brown puddles. 

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The narrow streets are noisy, congested with honking vehicles. We frequently move out of the way as motorbikes and small cars fight their way through, competing not only with each other, but with the many pedestrians.  

We stop to spin Buddhist prayer wheels at a small shrine before returning to the hostel with our photographs and purchased items.

Buddhist Prayer Wheels

Then I see something that stops me. In the center of a four way intersection, a man sits in the mud. His black hair is long and unkempt. Swarms of people and honking motorbikes rush past him. He looks up at them, but no one looks down at him. There is mud on his chin. He pulls his knees to his chest, encircling them with his arms. His gray feet, caked with dried mud, are flexed, toes pointing toward the sky. 

I keep looking over my shoulder trying to process what I'm seeing, but we are moving too quickly away for me to understand. 

"We are all one  family," echoes through my head. 

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Namaste

We Are All One

I was headed down the ramp to board the plane when I noticed an older couple had gotten separated from their other family members, so I paused and stepped aside to waive them through.  The gentlemen protested at first, but I said, "So you can be with your family." He smiled and replied, "We are all one family, including you" before going ahead, and my heart smiled.

So many important and brilliant people have advocated travel and the experience of different cultures that I know I'm not really contributing anything new to the conversation, but I do believe it's true. Leaving our comfort zones and experiencing the world from positions of vulnerability and confusion can be frightening for most of us, at least it is for me, but it is one of the best ways to understand the world as well as gain a better understanding of ourselves. The most valuable thing I've gained from the limited travel in my life is becoming acquainted with interesting, deep, curious, kind, and grounded people. I've expanded my world by connecting with its residents, and to me, that's how life becomes richer and fuller.

Coming into Nepal resulted in a greater sense of culture shock than anywhere I've ever been. Reading about places in the world where it isn't even safe to brush your teeth with the water and where electricity and water and other basic comforts and necessities are not guaranteed to anyone doesn't compare with actually being in those places and experiencing what others regularly lack. To be honest, Nepal is a difficult place to get used to being, but I know for certain that after I return home, I will have a greater appreciation for the creature comforts I have always taken for granted.

For those of you who have traveled extensively, this is not going to be news to you, but for those of you who have not, I'll try to detail what kinds of things are different in Nepal than what we are used to. First of all, if you're squeamish, toilets are going to be a challenge. If they are traditional Eastern style toilets, you will need to squat to use them and hope and pray you do not lost a shoe. If they are Western style toilets, things are a little easier and familiar, but you may not flush your toilet paper as it clogs the toilets. Where does it go after you wipe?  In the trash can. It should go without saying that this get unpleasant over time. In many bathrooms, there are spray hoses and no toilet paper at all. You can go ahead and use your imagination on that one, and if you figure out how people get out of there all clean without soaking their clothes, please explain it to me. Go ahead. I'll wait...

During the monsoon season from June through August, it rains almost every day, and it is hot and muggy. The result is that even after you have showered, it is difficult, if not impossible, to get dry and stay dry. Once dressed again, you will most assuredly begin to sweat profusely anyway. By the way, the shower you have taken is most likely very cold.

Water must be boiled before you can consume it or brush your teeth with it, and visitors often use antibacterial gel on their hands, even after they have washed their hands with water, in order to avoid contracting any illnesses.

The streets are congested and dirty, and a traveler will be thankful to be walking once he/she has had the opportunity to ride in a car. The rules of the road are not clear, but if I were going to guess, I would say that it's mostly a survival of the fittest sort of situation. The most aggressive driver who survives has the right of way. As a pedestrian, you should also watch out for all possible vehicles. Once you hear the horn beep, the vehicle is already about to hit you.

Electrical wires line the streets and wrap around poles, appearing as easy to sort out as a can of worms. It comes as no surprise that there are frequent power outages.

All of this is not to paint a negative portrait of a place that is a very young democracy, closed off from the world until the early 1950s and difficult to travel to and from because of the mountains surrounding it. I would also not discourage anyone from going there, but one should always travel with open eyes. It's best to know what to expect so that you can accept it and maintain a positive attitude in advance.

I did not come to Kathmandu for a vacation, though. I came to work with others and talk about education and how to provide the best possible opportunities for children all over the world to learn. After all, we are all one family. More later.

Namaste