Missing Nepal

I'm really missing trekking in Nepal this year!

I'm afraid I can't afford to go this year and that is really sad because the Shree Navavi Jayee Library that so many of you helped create in the Rasuwa district will be dedicated in a formal ceremony on January 25th, 2012. I want to let all of my friends in Nepal know that I am with them in spirit. I am honored to have been able to be a part of such a worthy project. Certainly all of the people who will be able to use this new library must be very proud of the efforts of their community. The village was able to obtain books not only from Room to Read but also through assistance from the Joy Foundation and donations from the Indian Embassy. I will be praying that the library is well used and that I will be able to see if for myself some day.

May you all enjoy peace and prosperity!

-Jennifer Gerard

Morning Prayers

Modern sleeping sacks are very constricting. It is impossible to roll over without taking the whole sack with you. When I crawled into my sleeping bag, I was fairly toasty and ready for sleep. A few hours later, I realized I was not sleeping well at all. My feet were very cold. It is also true that it can be very difficult to sleep at high altitudes if you are not acclimated and we were high enough that I could have been suffering a little altitude sickness. In any case, I was wide awake by the time Belief and Atit came politely rapping at our chamber door. It was still quite dark outside, even though I think that they let us sleep in, until at least 5 am.

I was eager to get back into the warm bath, so I jumped up and pulled on my swimming suit hastily. It was a most remarkable coincidence that I had a suit with me at all. The day before I packed for Nepal, a friend had sent me a box of books to donate to the children at the village school. She included pencils and stickers, which came in very handy, and surprisingly, she sent me a new swimming suit that she had bought in the wrong size for herself. I would normally never pack a swimming suit for Nepal. Pools are hard to come by and I am suspicious of the water quality. But the suit was there in my hand, and so I threw it into the case. I had no idea that the my adopted family would be taking me on a trip up to the hot springs at Tatopani.

Tania needed a little extra time for her morning ablutions, so the boys and I went ahead of her to the baths. As we approached, I heard the deep, sonorous harmonies of "Om mani padme hum." At the far side of the tub, beneath the spigots, were three monks each with a sacred white head covering. They chanted all the while as we disrobed, the boys stripping to their underwear. I was a little concerned that my feminine flesh would be disturbing to the monks but the boys didn't appear to have any reservations. Tania followed the chants and soon found her way to the tubs well. She peeled down to a bikini and entered the water as discreetly as possible. We stayed very quiet so as not to disturb the morning meditation. I settled in on the right side of the tub and watched enraptured as the sun, rising in concert with the melodic chants, began to lighten the sky behind the mountain peaks. As our surroundings brightened, to my amazement, I watched the monks transform completely. It was soon clear that these were not men at all but women with very deep voices. Nuns, perhaps, I thought. A few moments later I could see that the sacramental vestiments they wore on their heads were actually white plastic bags meant to keep their hair from getting wet.  Sacred and holy all the same, but still a very good reminder that events are not always as they appear, especially across cultures.

The View from the hot springs

Looking at the View

I'm sitting outside our guest house in the early morning after our bath.  We are having milk tea and waiting for breakfast.  Here you see me writing the Lyrics to 'A Froggy Went a Courtin,' for JR to teach his students.

Our gear is packed and ready for the hike back down.  Tania and JR are standing in front of the kitchen building.

This is what it looks like inside the kitchen.  Actually it was very dark inside, but my camera has illuminated the view for you.

Tatopani

Goodbye, Tatopani.  Goodbye, Spectacular View.  I hope I will come this way again someday.

Brilliant Night at the Top of the World

I had wrapped my forehead in a red bandanna to keep the sun from searing my scalp on our climb. Heat and exertion caused me to peel down to an undershirt, but soon as the sun fell below the mountain peak, a distinct chill settled into the valley. I quickly pulled my long sleeved shirt on again.

The last slow steps of our journey were made at twilight. We came to a little plateau with a small cluster of homes at its edges. Stumbling up out of a rocky field, I noted that there was no railing for the steps up to our guest house. It would have been ridiculous for a hand rail to exist at the end of such a long precarious hike, but still, I wanted it to be there.

The guest house was sparsely decorated and it looked very clean. It reminded me of hostels I have visited in the Swiss Alps. There was some concern when we were back in Kathmandu that we should have our own bedding because there might be lice and bed bugs. When I saw the place, I had no such concerns. We dropped our sleeping bags and clothes on the wooden beds, which were covered with a thin cotton filled mattress and a comforter. Then we returned to the dinning room where we spread ourselves out comfortably on the long benches. It was dark and quiet outside. Aside from the six of us, there were no other guests.

TN and JR ordered dinner for us. Butter cookies and barley wine came out immediately, followed by steamy fried puffy pink shrimp crisps! This is something like a shrimp potato chip. At the top of the world, a thousand miles from the ocean, in a place where every consumable had to be carried miles up on someone's back, I was greatly impressed by the home made shrimp crisps. After snacks, we had another excellent meal of dal bhat, which kept coming until we were stuffed.

It was an incredible high, literally and figuratively, as we were at 2,400 meters or 7,874 feet. TN admitted he wasn't sure that I would make it, but I did and I was feeling triumphant. The altitude made me feel a little light headed and, except for the ankles and knees, my body felt fantastic.

TN and JR had been telling us as we climbed the mountain that the hot springs were medicinal. 'People came from all over Nepal to be cured of many ailments, including arthritis and all manner of skin diseases,' they said. JR told me that his wife, who had stomach problems, made a pilgrimage to the hot springs once a year. She felt much better for about 8 months, and then she would start to plan another trip. Any arthritic person who was able to make the climb to the hot springs would certainly think themselves cured simply by virtue of their arrival, I thought. As for Tania and myself, the idea of jumping into a public bath with skin diseased people, possibly lepers, wasn't all that appealing, but we decided to see what the situation was before we got too worried about it.

After coming all that way, I was eager to see the hot springs, even in the dark. To my surprise everyone else was willing to wait until morning. Tania was so tired that she decided to go to bed even though it was only 8 pm or so. JR, TN, Belief and Atit accompanied me over to the baths.

The night sky took my breath away. It was a moonless night, filled with billions of dazzling stars. Even in the southwestern US, I have never seen so many stars so clearly. The last time that I saw stars that clearly was when I crossed the Tibetan Plateau. Though it was dark, there was enough starlight that we could see where we were going. JR offered his arm so that I wouldn't trip on the stones and in a couple of minutes we arrived at three stone baths with stone spigots in the traditional shape of an open crocodile's mouth. Far above us was where the natural hot springs originated. By the time the water traveled down the pipes to the spigots it was steamy but comfortable enough to stand under for a short period of time.

Similar Crocodile Water Spigots

No longer concerned that skin diseased people might have just recently vacated the bath, I decided that I wanted to soak my ankles and knees in the hope that my legs would be able to carry me down the mountain the following day. I removed my shoes and socks and rolled up my pant legs and climbed the icy cold steps to the bath. No one would climb in with me at first, but then Atit decided to wade a little as well. The water was a muddy yellow color. I could not see through it. My feet stepped carefully on the smooth stones while I held on to the wall. All was quiet except for the sound of water spilling into the bath. The brilliant stars reflected in the steaming water. I could have stayed for hours! Alas, I decided that I could not to make everyone stand out in the cold waiting for me. So, after ten minutes, I climbed out, dried my feet on my shirt and put my shoes back on. When I got back to our room, Tania was already breathing deeply. The boys said they would knock on our door at 4 am so that we could really take a bath.

Visiting a mountain village school in Nepal

I had no real plan, just a vague idea that I was going to take some books to Nepal and donate them to the school library of a small mountain school in the Rasuwa District. For several years I have been assisting two boys with their education. I wrote about these boys earlier in Dream a World of Good. Their village did not have an adequate school when the boys were young so their father moved the family to Kathmandu so that they could get an education.

Meanwhile, back in the village, several of the village leaders had been actively working to improve the quality of education in their district. They befriended a group of biologists from Italy and behold, a new school was built. This was a spectacular achievement and one that the village is enormously proud of and I'm sure the Italians are too. When I heard about the school being built, I wanted to see it and make a small personal contribution. Why? Just because I wanted to see where my adopted family had come from.

After the long ride up in the mountains from Kathmandu, we hiked about 45 minutes down a very steep and rocky path on the side of a mountain. Because I had not done any serious hiking for at least 10 years, and I am about 40 pounds overweight, by the time that we reached our host's home, I thought that I had wrecked my ankles and my knees. I was concerned that I might not be able to hike back up the mountain the following day. My adopted nephew and his father were carrying my packs and books for me, and still the local women carrying enormous loads of firewood on their heads passed me with ease.

Tania who is 10 years younger than myself and keeps herself in good physical shape with yoga did not appear to be suffering at all. I think she was overjoyed to be out of the city, on a brilliant day in the Himalayan hills. Everywhere up there the view was plunging and dramatic. I say plunging rather than soaring because I spent much of my time looking down at how far I would tumble before a tree or some rocks would break my fall. The path clung tightly to the side of the mountain and was very narrow in places. A constant flow of life, people, animals, insects all buzzing in harmony moved along the path. This was the kind of trekking Tania had been hoping for since I first mentioned that I was going to Nepal.

When we arrived at our host's home, they gave Tania and me some milk tea and let us rest for a while before they sent us another 10 minutes hiking down to the school. This time they helped me out by loaning me their grandmother's walking stick.

When we finally arrived, the upper school yard was empty, but when we turned the corner around the side of the building, hundreds of students were lined up and waiting for us. Tania and I were both astounded. We had no idea that this would be such a formal occasion.

Let that be a warning to all of you who are planning to travel with me at some point in the future. You never know what kind of a predicament I might lead you into.

The students had climbed all over the hillside collecting flowers and sewed them into necklaces (Mala) for us. Thank God Tania was there because I ran out of space around my neck for all of the necklaces that we received. When we had been properly lavished with adornments. Someone said to me, "Wouldn't you like to say something?" They were waiting for my unprepared speech.

Arrived in Kathmandu

You take the utmost care in washing the food you eat.
Have you ever thought about disinfecting the mental food you consume?


-I just found a beautiful little book of quotes called "Words of the Spirit, thoughts to live by" they are compiled from discourses from Para Pujya Ma.

I am here in Kathmandu and have brought my camera, though unfortunately, I am unable to use my USB port and have no card reader, so I will have to paint the pictures with my words for now.

Kathmandu, has changed very little since my last visit except that things are slightly more expensive and there is even less electricity and more garbage. People seem to have given up on the idea that government will be solving their problems any time soon. As a result, there are more electric generators at shops and restaurants.

I spent much of yesterday visiting with old friends and business acquaintances asking them questions like, "Why can't I find good turquoise any more?" The old charm of the jewelry is rapidly disappearing. I see far less solid silver work and more mixed metal combinations. According to one supplier, fewer Tibetan traders are able to get visas to leave Tibet. Only the very old people are allowed to travel. The result here in Kathmandu is that it is very difficult to find the good turquoise to make Tibetan style jewelry with. We see ugly dyed blues and pieces with out interesting veins and contrast. The change in the silver work is a result of the sad state of the world economy. The cost of silver is quite high right now and no one wants to pay what it is really worth so we see silver fronts on pendants and brass backs or just plain thinner lighter work.

...

Unexpectedly, a good friend decided to join me on the trip. She is a wonderful companion. She is well traveled and has that open minded flexibility that one must have for this kind of travel. I will have to ask her if she minds being a character in my blog before I tell you more about her.

Yesterday, we arranged our journey to the village school. My friends have planned what sounds like a wonderful trip. We will go by jeep up the mountains to the north and a little west of Kathmandu. We have to hike for 45 minutes carrying sleeping bags clothes and books. Perhaps it will take a little longer for me to get to the village school where we hope to talk with the children and arrange a letter exchange with the the children at my boy's school in Ohio, USA. We will stay over night in someone's home in the village. The next day, they would like to take us further north to a place called Tato Pani, the name means hot water and it is probably the highest hot springs in the world. It is not the same Tato Pani that is on the Annapurna trek. After that we are going even further north near the Tibetan border to visit a beautiful village and see a spectacular view of the Himalayas. I promise that I will take photos and if I am not able to upload them now, I will when I return.

If you have any photos of school children in your area, could you please send me a few photos to butternutsquash2@gmail.com. Don't forget to tell me which country you are in. I would like to have some images to share with the Nepalese students when I arrive. We leave for the village early 5:30 am Sunday morning March 7, 2010 in Nepal, so if you have them please send them today.

Peace!

A Hand On My Heart

I was gasping for breath and my heart was pounding at an uncomfortable pace so I stopped for a minute by the side of the path. Surrounded by a quiet green forest, on the side of a mountain, the Himalayan peaks were no longer visible from where I stood. There were no houses, or fields, only a still forest, an empty path, and the heavy sound of my own breath. For most of the day, I had walked up hill, with with a 30 pound pack on my back. Three days' walk behind me was the airport up at Jomsom where I had begun my trek, and 4 days' walk below me was the nearest paved road that led to Pokahara in the Annapurna region of the Himalayas. I was starting to panic. The hikers that I had been tagging along with that day were far ahead of me and it was getting late in the afternoon. When the sun drops behind the mountain peaks, there is a sudden drop in the temperature in the valleys. Packs of wild dogs and the occasional leopard, might also be roaming around up there at night. Not wanting to be cold and alone in a completely unfamiliar place, I picked up my pack and started up the dirt path again.

I had intentionally let my traveling companion go on ahead of me. Neither of us was feeling well. She had a headache and wanted to get to a place to rest as quickly as possible. I knew that she would be alright with the trekking group that had adopted us. We were not part of their group, but their friendly group leader was a bit surprised to see two completely unprepared young women hiking alone in Nepal for the first time... or maybe he just thought we were cute. He encouraged us to stay close to his group.

I had some digestive problems and wanted a little privacy. There are no public rest stops on Himalayan treks--you just squat behind a rock--so I dropped back from the group. By the time that I reached that quiet place in the forest where I stopped to catch my breath, I hadn't seen anyone on the path for about an hour and I really wasn't sure how many hours I would have to climb before I would reach our planned resting spot.

The path led me over the crest of a hill and to a wide flat area among a very small cluster of mud and stone homes. Two boys, about 13 and 8 years old, were standing on a hill above me on my right. I hardly noticed them because I was focused on putting one foot down after the other. The older boy called down to me, "Please help my brother."

I looked up at the boys and saw the older brother with his arm around his younger brother supporting him. The younger boy had sliced his leg from mid inner thigh to mid calf. The wound was not fresh, but it was an angry red with thick yellow puss oozing out of it. I inspected his leg more closely and asked the boy if there was someone in the village who spoke English. The boy shouted for a man who came quickly. With paper and pen in hand, I carefully explained that the boy's leg needed to be washed, very thoroughly, with water that had been boiled and soap. Then I pulled a full course of antibiotics from my pack. In Nepal, anyone can go to the pharmacy and buy antibiotics. You do not need a prescription. The pharmacist often knows the normal dosage for your weight. For about $4 US, I had bought one full course of sulfa antibiotics, for myself, just in case I got into trouble on the trek. I explained to the village man to cut the pills in half and give them to the boy morning and night until they were gone. If the boy became more sick, then he should stop taking the pills and they should take the boy to the hospital.

As I was explaining all of this, a small crowd from the village formed around us. There was an old lady who repeatedly put her wrinkled hands to her eyes and then stretched out her arms to touch me and pull at my dress. There was a man who was limping and another pointing to his elbow. Everyone had a malady. Everyone needed help. I was surrounded by at least a dozen outstretched arms and open palms. I opened my pack again and pulled out a very large bottle of Centrum vitamin pills. Putting a few vitamins in each open palm, I pressed my hands together and acknowledged the god within them. Then I lifted my pack and continued on my way.

An hour later, I was climbing another steep hill. The sun had already gone behind the mountain and I was feeling very ill. I stopped, almost in tears, with my heart pounding out of control. Behind me a porter appeared. He was a member of the trekking group that we had been tagging along with. He was the 'sweep,' the last person who collected the straggling tourists. Strapped to his head was a 200 pound load of tourist gear. The man, who was only about 5 feet tall, reached up and put his warm callused hand on my heart. He smiled. Then he stayed with me until we arrived at our resting spot about a half hour later. He didn't speak to me, but knowing that he was near was all that I needed to take my fear away and to keep me moving.

*On another trip, my husband and I slept one night in a remote village hospital on the very same trekking route, because we didn't make it to our destination before nightfall. The hospital was no more than a large barn with no equipment or electricity. The beds had straw mattresses and no one came or left while we slept there. I still think about the boy with the wound and wonder if he was all right. Could I have done any better? I regret that I didn't give them my bar of soap, or money to pay for a donkey to take him the 4 day trip to the hospital. These things simply didn't occur to me at the time.