My First Motorbike ride from Kathmandu to Godawari:

Yes, I rode on the back of my Dai's motorbike and I had some reservations because the monsoon began shortly after we arrived in Kathmandu for our first WorldTeach meeting.  It was so intense, it sounded like hail was bouncing off the rooftops.  It was so thick and heavy that it looked like one of our blizzard-like snows this past winter.  Us crazy tourists pulled out our cameras and couldn't believe the intensity of rain.  The rain flowed so quickly, it flowed right into our restaurant, pushing all the way back to the bar in the back of the restaurant!  Employees were working so hard to squeegee the water out as quickly as it was pushing back in.  What a sight to see!  

Ganga said if the rain remained that intense, he would go back to my home with me on a micro-bus instead of me riding a motorbike back home.  Shortly after I had three or four mo-mos, a cucumber slice, and one and a half fish fingers, I felt very ill.  In fact, my stomach exhibited a type of hatred for what I had fed it, but I've had similar responses, like this one, every time I eat in Thamel or Kathmandu, so either the way the food is prepared is drastically different or the food is not as clean while preparing it; I'm not sure.  

When our meeting and casual conversations about everyone's experiences in their first week came to a close, Ganga got everyone on their respective buses to return home and since the rain came to a drizzle, I ventured further into Kathmandu and into Thamel, passing the Royal Palace, which is now a museum, and crossing a few roads to get there, which were undertakings in themselves as traffic seems to never stop.  

Ganga drew me a rough sketch of a map to help me find my way and I also asked a man walking behind me if he could show me the way to the Kathmandu Guesthouse, which he did delightedly.  He was very kind and verified with other shop owners of its location.  When I found Dai tucked into his little shop, I sat down and we chatted for a bit before he closed up and we were on our way.

We had to walk through some traffic to get to his motorbike parking lot, putting on our rain gear and off we went.  I felt a little like Gulliver being able to see directly over his helmet.  Riding this motorbike is a difficult sensation to describe.  I felt very vulnerable, more so than when I had ridden on the back of a four wheeler, or my brother's sport bike.  The roads have very little lighting, if any, and the little lights that are on these bikes might shed light on a few inches in front of you.  

There was a lot of weaving in and out of trucks, buses, other bikes, crossing over lines from opposing traffic and then back on our side of the road.  It was a little crazy and cramped when two motorbikes' rear view mirrors brushed up against my arms, just to give you an idea of how close traffic sits until they can proceed on their journeys!  Once we left Kathmandu, it was dry as anything, so if you don't keep your mouth closed and your eyes squinted, you will chew on the ever present dust that engulfs your face and your eyes will burn from all the debris.  The air felt good on my face once we arrived in the outskirts of Kathmandu, but that is when we were driving along on pitch black streets.  Random stray dogs will casually cross the road, people were crossing the road and you could barely see them until you approached much closer.  As we were heading up a never-ending hill, Dai stopped the bike and looked at the back tire and we had a flat.  So?  We walked the rest of the way home, uphill, in pitch black until we found our way back home.  It felt good to move around, but my stomach cramping became worse and worse, getting chills, feeling feverish, so I was glad to be home, arriving safely from a very long and busy day.

Upon arriving, Didi was ready to feed us dhal bhat, but I told her I wasn't feeling well and so Dai said tea with ginger would help.  After drinking tea and trying to evacuate the cramping poison from my body, taking some meds, I went to bed.

I woke up feeling like a Mack track hit me and after receiving my morning tea around 7, I told Didi that I still did not want to eat anything, so she left me sleep and I slept until around 9:30.  We'll see how today goes- I still feel uneasy and a bit shaky, but a restful day should do the trick.  I have to do my lesson plans for school tomorrow (it's hard to remember they have school on Sundays) hand wash my laundry on the rooftop, and maybe explore a little today if I feel up to it and the weather allows me to do so.  There's always an adventure to behold, always stimulated by my surroundings and interactions, different sounds, smells, etc. and it's so important to embrace them all the best I can!

A Day in the Life at School

So I start off my morning waking up begrudgingly as I never seem to get enough sleep, however the Nepalese appear to need far less sleep than Americans.  I wear ear plugs to keep out the sounds of the mosquitoes buzzing around my mosquito net and the ruthless barking and whining of a rather large German Shepherd, who looks at me as his next meal.  His name is Laika.  

After waking up, I collect my towel, wash rag, change of clothes for the day and sleepily walk to the bathroom, which is upstairs and I take the coldest shower that, in hindsight, actually gives me no choice but to wake up, which is fine with me.  I've adapted quite well.  There is no separate shower chamber, so you must squeegee the excess water to the drain against the wall.  Then I head back downstairs and start to get ready, already sweating by this time.  I make no attempt to dry my hair; kind of pointless in this humidity.  Shortly before I leave for school, I am called to eat my dhal bhat, around 8:30 in the morning.  It's difficult for me to start my mornings off with rice and lentils, quite a large platter, including eggs, a side of vegetables, and water and chia (tea).  Completely stuffed, I check my bag and off I walk to school, which, long way or short way, it takes me 5 minutes?  A conundrum if you ask me.  

When I arrive at the school, I've been told numerous times that my class doesn't start for another 20 minutes.  What's confusing to them is that no one preps for a class.  They simply show up and work out of the lesson plan book.  So the fact that I sit alone, most of the time, in the teachers' prep room must be an anomaly to them.  But as time marches forward, many that have made no attempt to acknowledge my presence or just exchange a hello now peek their heads in to say hello, they'll wave from their classrooms as I leave the campus, and are starting to speak as much English, as they are capable, with me.  

My host teacher is a bit of a different character and sometimes I get the feeling that he is using me as his stepping stool for recognition by the government as being an exemplar teacher, so I am learning on the fly how to work alongside someone who doesn't let me finish my sentences, demand I create his lesson plans, and sends mixed messages on times, expectations, etc.  We have our first WorldTeach meeting in the city today to discuss our experiences, struggles, successes, etc.

So, Sunday through Thursday, I start off my morning at 9:35 to work with level 12 learners who are there upon a voluntary basis.  It's a program after their classes are finished to sharpen their English skills in speaking, writing, listening, and reading.  Their mandatory classes begin around 6 am and will run until ~9:30.  This includes the 2-year bachelor's students.  Then the younger students begin their day at 10 am and will go until 4 pm.  So my level 12 class ranges in size from 18-35.  It depends on the day, I guess.  They are a really nice group of students and seem to really have a deep appreciation of my being there.  Already after 4 days, they are becoming more and more comfortable in trying to speak English.  They've learned English as a compulsory subject since the grade 1, and as 12th graders, they were never given an opportunity to present in English.  They can read passages but have no idea what the passage means.  They can listen intently, but don't/can't always process what is being said.  Part of this issue stems from many teachers who are ill-equipped or insecure about teaching a language that is foreign to them, so most of the English classes will be taught in Nepali.  Now you know the rest of the story.

After my level 12 class, I have about an hour to plan at the school until I teach my level 3 students, followed immediately by my level 4 students.  Seeming I've never taught the elementary classes, this was a foreign concept and having no resources, I struggle to come up with engaging activities, games, and other learning components.  So, I've purchased a pack of copy paper and have used colored pencils, crayons, pens, pencils to create flash cards, homework assignments, maps, and yes, it is very tedious, but not only am I trying to engage my students to learn English effectively, but I'm also modeling different teaching strategies to my Nepali co-teachers who work really hard and actually embrace the concept of co-teaching.  Sometimes they help translate, they'll even write down my lessons, ask to use some of my tools I've created, and see a different way of presenting material.  They are extremely friendly, and shy, and speak broken English, but I imagine they're learning a lot just from me speaking English the entire time in the classroom.  

The students are absolutely wonderful and charming.  They work really hard and they work to impress!!  They are very respectful of teachers let alone adults, and so behavior management is not really an issue.  Sometimes, when I think a prepared lesson is going to be a hit, it absolutely fails, and so through constant self-assessment, I need to spend at least another 5-6 hours in the evening sharpening my next day's plan.  

Between my level 4 class and my level 2, I walk back home to have some chiso (cold drink), and a snack.  Then I head back to the school for my 2:40-3:20 class.  I've sung a few songs and they love it and the songs will tie into my lessons, which is great!  They are such fun children, but a major disconnect is that there are age ranges amongst the students.  There are clearly some students who should be bumped up to the next grade level and some that should be dropped a level just so that they have a fighting chance at learning.  There is also a handful of students that have just moved in from remote villages, so while they practice writing their alphabet in English, most of the other students are working on the presented material.  There is a major disconnect, but at the very least, we can share a smile.