Sometimes you just never know...

...the impact you can have on one's life!

Jumping right into teaching English as a second language in a foreign country to brand new students with brand new co-teachers in very bare classrooms with very limited resources would be a severe understatement if I called it a challenge.  But when the native teachers know you are there to help, the students and their well-being are in your best interest, very quickly you become one of them.  Very quickly do students expect your presence every day, and when you don't show up, they are very upset and want to know where you were.  Essentially, we became one big family.  A school family, if you will, where every morning I could expect a genuine "Namaste", or "Namaskar", which is the Nepali word for this humble greeting.  The headmaster's stoic presence, barely giving me eye contact on my first day, might be indicative of fleeting volunteers, incompetent or unreliable help, a distrust for a Western presence.  Even he smiled from time to time and asked how I was doing.  When you can touch, what appears to be, the hardest of hearts, you know you're making a difference.  You know you're setting the stage for future partnerships and friendships.  You know you finally belong.

I'll be honest; I did not always know if my presence made a difference in anyone's life, and just when my spirits would let down, one of my level 2 students would walk me home, another student would draw a beautiful flower for me and tell me how much they love me, a teacher would sit down and tell me about their family and their children, a complete stranger on the street would smile and acknowledge that I was a part of their community.  It's those little signs that say, yes, we are so happy you are with us!  Days can go by without that sort of gratification and I guess I wasn't sure what my last day would look like.  I knew, with time, that my teaching experience became more enjoyable, easier, friendlier, with smoother transitions.  I knew my students and I had formed bonds that made learning so much fun!  But what happened today caught me by surprise and brought uncontrollable tears before my level 12 students.  I simply couldn't stop and some of the girls also began to cry.  Here's how the morning went:

I woke up around 3 am and was awake since then, thinking of everything I had to do to make my last classes perfect with my students and teachers.  I printed certificates of appreciation for all of my students' hard work and amazing energy in the past 6 weeks of my experience at Kitini.  I printed letters to my co-teachers and a letter to the headmaster and the staff at Kitini.  I still had copies to make and as load shedding can be an unpleasant surprise, the electricity can turn off just when you think you have 20 more minutes.  Due to the tragic landslides that have just occurred in Nepal, load shedding has become a little more unpredictable, so at 7:45, I ran to the stationary shop while there was still time.  I ran back after about half an hour's worth of copying, did finishing touches on my lessons, got ready, are too much daal bhat, and off to school I went.

I walked to my level 12 class and I noticed a certain quietude amongst my students.  They would stare at me, look down, no attempts to answer any questions, so I asked, "why are we so shy today?"  Their response?  We are going to miss you so much and today is a very sad day for us.  So as I continued to pry thoughts and words from them, I tried to fill the silence with how much they mean to me.  One of my students, Baburam, sang a beautiful Nepali song about marriage and the family and the important roles that parents will serve for their children.  A stunning and very trained Nepali voice.  Then his friend, a bit more shy than his dear friend, was encouraged to sing a Nepali song and it was one of the most beautiful, passionate voices I've ever heard.  You could feel the words as he closed his eyes and let his voice carry the way.  He sang a song about all of the trials Nepal faces and how he wishes for peace and harmony for all of his country.  Next, Sharmila pulled a beautiful bouquet of daisies she arranged for me.   My host teachers and headmaster soon joined us, but not just to administer the certificates I made for my students, but they brought me a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, an honorary scarf, and said many kind words.  We then gave each student their certificate, took pictures, and then Saroj had one male and one female stand up to day what the class has meant to them.  After they left, Asmita read me a poem she made for me and it was just as she finished, tears ran down my cheeks and I couldn't stop.  One of her lines in the poem said I was always smiling.  As I began to cry, she told me I was making her out to be a liar because I wasn't smiling anymore, to which we busted out laughing.  

There's never really a perfect time to say goodbye.  There's always that moment that you wish you could just hold onto, stop in time, never let go.  I felt that at that very moment, but as anything, time must move on and we have to trust that our memories, fond moments, and even keeping in touch, if time allows, will guide us into our future.  That guiding light will remind us how much life is worth living.  We may cry (a lot!), and, if the culture allows, we may embrace one another, but life is the opportunity to connect and reach out to our brothers and sisters all over the world.  We mustn't forget our own and we mustn't forget about those that co-exist all around us.

So, knowing there is never the right time, we all agreed that this was it.  They would go home and I would continue my last day school.  We couldn't say enough goodbyes and share enough farewell smiles, but time continued to push on.  

When I came to the teacher's room, my level 2 co-teacher kept telling everyone how sad she was sad that this was my last day.  In fact, the teachers kept using the word "bored", which didn't mean that she wasn't interested, but rather she felt no sense of ambition for the day because she was so sad, already feeling the void of my absence.  

Shortly after, I moved onto my level 3 students who were unusually quiet.  They did every assignment and activity so obediently and quietly and when I asked why they were so quiet, they mimicked invisible tears coming down their cheeks, saying "we're sad".  As some students played games I created for them, others wanted to use that class time to write me letters, provide me tokens of their love.  The human touch is such an integral part of our survival and well-being and students couldn't stop holding my hand, touching my arms, standing side by side as if we were attached at the hips.  It was such a sentimental class and when it was time for photos, students couldn't get close enough, all of them pushing each other to be right on my lap.  Even my co-teacher kept saying she was sad and she was going to miss me so much.  She learned so much from me and she explained how I've taught her so much and helped her out and she was going to miss it all.

I moved onto my level 4 and they were really gearing up for the game they were about to play, Jeopardy!  Boys versus girls.  I don't think you could ever find a more competitive match, especially when you separate the teams by gender.  It is fierce!! They will literally crawl over each other just to whisper their ideas to give them the best chance of winning!  They keep a watchful eye and make sure that each side has the same time to think of their answers and will let us know if we're slacking as the hosts at the front of the room.  Wow, it was intense and I laughed so hard SO many times!  There's nothing more exciting than hearing the loud screams and clapping of my students when they answer the question correctly and are awarded points!  They are so proud of themselves and so motivated to do the best they can! It turned out that, yes, the girls won again!  The boys were so disappointed in themselves, but still kept a good head and finished with such admirable sportsmanship!  Although the girls received prizes, the boys were still given chocolates for their hard work and efforts in the game.  Even to see my co-teacher so involved and excited to be a part of this game was absolutely wonderful!  I had him engaged as well!  I gave him my Jeopardy board and questions and showed him how to use it for review, a learning tool, and he was so excited!  The bell rang and it was time to say goodbye.  We took more photos, but, again, it just never seems like it's enough, but time gives me no other choice.

I usually head home for some tea and snacks after my level 4, but the male teachers invited me to have tea and lunch with them.  It's very rare for females to have lunch with males- Nepal is a very gender-separated society, but we packed the tea house and there was no different treatment, feeling so welcomed and then they paid my bill.  Just before it was time to head back to the school, one of the male teachers, who barely said a word to me, but always exchanged a "Namaskar" every morning, caught my attention.  He stood tall and looked up to the sky and said "If God allows for me, I will see you again."  I replied, comfortingly, "we will see each other again."

We headed back to the school and one of the female teachers, who had just started opening up to me, sat down with me and used this as her last opportunity to ask me as many questions as she could think of, share as many stories and cultural aspects of Nepal, telling me that the Nepali teachers' English is very poor and they don't practice it in fear of being wrong or sounding incompetent and the only time they will use it is in their English classroom for about 20 minutes, if that.  She told me her daughters, who speak very well, tell her her English is poor and they can't understand her.  I was confounded by this because I thought she spoke rather well for someone who doesn't practice.  I wanted to freeze in that moment to tell her she speaks better than she believes.  She must practice, even if she talks to herself while walking home.  She has such great enthusiasm to learn and with that, she became embarrassed and headed out to her next class.  That was our unofficial parting, but she was so sweet and was so excited to learn so much about me and knew that I didn't judge her speaking skills, but I wanted to listen and learn as much as I could from her.  She will forever remain in my heart and her smile will always brighten my day.

From there, I headed to my level 2, my last class of the day.  My co-teacher waited for me and we walked into class together.  I shared some words with my students and my co-teacher and she translated.  I gave them their certificates, pencils, chocolates- I couldn't shower them enough with simple gifts that they will treasure and remember!  When we described what the certificate said, you would have thought I handed them a delicate flower.  They took such good care of it, protecting it from the others, from dust, pencil marks and smudges.  This will be something they will be proud of for years to come!  The students then shared their tokens of love, a beautiful pink rose, a red flower, arts and crafts they created, a glass box with little figurines and a big heart inside and then my dear co-teacher said "I'm really going to miss you.  Please don't forget me.  I hope this will help you remember me and us at Kitini.  Here is a token of love from me."  It may have been the most English I've heard her speak to me.  She was clearly touched by my presence and I didn't know until this very moment.  She brought the disciplinarian in to take pictures with her camera.  Her gift was a wooden frame with a maroon background and a golden Ganesha inscribed on the maroon.  It was so precious and so fragile.  I loved it and was so emotionally moved by her thoughtful gift.

Since it was the students' day, they decided what song we would sing as our last song together.  They, unanimously, all shouted "BINGO"!  When we sang it together, even my teacher joined in and I wish I could have recorded their voices.  So beautiful, so full of energy and a sound that rings harmoniously in my mind.  We handed back some of their other assignments and we did some fun activities and it was soon time to leave.  We took so many photos together and just as the bell rang, students stayed another 5-10 minutes just to be with me.  Some waved, gave me a high five, all smiles saying "Bye Teacher! See you tomor..." and, in mid-sentence, when they realized I wouldn't be there tomorrow, their smile faded and they walked out the door.  Three of my older students stayed behind, helped me pack up my bag and just stared at me.  They wanted a hug.  It's not tradition in Nepal for teachers to hug their students, let alone friends with friends or family, but it's just an understood bond, love, and connection that doesn't have to be mentioned or shared.  It's known.  But when I embraced these girls, one just held on so tight.  She was my classroom leader and she helped me out so much and for that I am very grateful and I will always remember how beautiful and bright she is.  Her name is Sarmila.  

My co-teacher came back for pictures of just the two of us.  She also took that moment to share other photos on her camera, tell me about her husband, her two daughters and her son.  She looked so young to me, which may explain why I was taken back when she said her eldest is twenty years old!  Her husband is the president of the Rotary Club here in Lalitpur.  She spoke with such pride and love and I didn't want her to stop telling me her story.  But time interfered and onward we went.  She stood in the middle of the classroom and just looked at me.  I told her if she was okay with my giving her a hug, I'd like to give her a hug.  She just smiled and when I embraced her, she held tight and then quickly broke away.  She was crying.  As she wiped her eyes, she said "I'll see you" and she left the classroom.

My day wasn't quite over, even after all of these mixed emotions.  I headed back up to the office for an official farewell from my headmaster, some additional permanent male teachers, my assistant headmaster and my host teacher.  They wanted me to share some things I've observed about Kitini, some good, some bad.  I really emphasized how everyone has been so kind to me and how bright their students are and that it doesn't matter where we are in the world, but, as teachers, we have to keep working hard.  We can't settle for what's comfortable, what's easy.  We have such a huge responsibility and it's the future generations of our country.  If we give everything we have to the learning, inspiration, and hope of our students and to each other, the future of our countries have no choice but to improve, becoming better places to live.  We must help each other in these efforts and raise the standards for our students, our schools, and our communities.  All the teachers and headmasters present nodded their heads, listening intently.  I told them that a country, like the United States, has so many resources and I wanted them to keep in touch with me and let me know what they needed.  They were enamored by this and very humbled.  The headmaster finished our farewell by saying how I've made an impact on teachers and students here.  He was constantly checking in with my co-teachers to find out if I was successful in the classroom, what students were learning, and if their English was improving.  Everyone had learned so much as their skills were so basic and that the next time I come to Nepal, I must return to Kitini and teach again, for longer this time.  He stood up and I stood up and we exchanged a final "Namaste!"  He left the room and every remaining male stood directly in front of me and did the same.  One teacher, as he exited the room, turned around in the doorway and said "Please don't ever forget us."  I told him they will all stay in my heart forever.  Saroj spoke and said "if God hears my prayers, we will see you again in two years."  We all quietly left and just as I exited the campus one last time, the stationary shop owner quickly came over with a gift wrapped for me and said "Thank you."  He and his wife, too, exchanged one final "Namaste", along with the school disciplinarian.  I was floored, walking on clouds, but yet saddened this had all come to an end.  As I walked through town, I carried my flowers, my gifts and letters with such pride, humility, smiling at the genuine kindness I experienced in the past 6.5 hours.

From time to time I've wondered how my presence was received at Kitini.  Everyone kept telling me that if I was going to have any impact, I needed to be here for more than two months, more like six months or a year.  Perhaps that founded my skepticism and self doubt that I would accomplish much in my six weeks at the school.  But it all came to a head on my last day.  It wasn't about the gifts, cards, or flowers that told me I was appreciated.  It was the sincere expressions, the humility, the tears, the sincerity that conveyed just how much I was appreciated.  Sometimes it's not all about the lesson, learning and applying 100% of what is taught.  Sometimes it's reaching out with no expectations, expecting nothing in return, but giving it your all.  Sometimes it's the human touch that can impact a child in a way we'll never understand.  It makes all the difference in the world that you are there with them.  

The majority, if not all, of the students at Kitini, and other government schools, come from great levels of poverty, disadvantages, difficult living conditions.  Many of the students live in hostels; no parents, orphans.  Many students have come from their villages away from their families just to receive an education.  They are aware of its importance.  They can't afford private schools; in fact, they can barely afford the expenses of a government school.  But you would never know that by seeing the smiles on their faces.  An eager energy that when you walk into that classroom, you belong to them and that your presence gives them new light, a newfound hope, and a confidence in their learning they've never felt before.  I can't help but wish and pray that all of them will find a place in this world, guided by their education and natural talents.

And that's not just the students.  I'm talking about the teachers as well.  My rapport amongst the teachers grew so quickly and it was like I was getting to know a new teacher every day.  I've never experienced the sort of openness that the Nepalese share.  Back home, there's judging, bullying, petty cliques, and that's not the kind of atmosphere that's conducive to learning.  But the Nepali teachers share something different.  It's a school-wide camaraderie and as much as I may have had an impact on them, they've touched my heart and taught me so many things about life in return.

Even as I am typing this, one of my dear friends from Kitini just called Didi's phone to tell me she misses me and is thinking of me today and wanted to wish me safe travels and, if I had any time, to stop by for tea.  Her name is Sangheeta and I had the opportunity to have tea with her earlier in my stay, meeting her whole family, wishing time was on my side and I could squeeze in some tea time.  [sigh]

If God allows, I will, indeed, return again to see all of my friends and family I have here in beautiful, serene Nepal!

Just follow the calendar...or wait until the government decides...or...or...??

One of the most confusing and ambiguous parts of my journey here in Nepal is figuring out when there's a holiday.  You might be saying, 'duh!  Look at the calendar!' And sure, you're correct, but only about 50%, so it still doesn't add up.  If you look at the Nepali calendar, which follows the Bikram Sambat calendar as the West follows the Gregorian calendar, you will find that Nepal's calendar is approximately 56 years and 8.5 months ahead of the Gregorian calendar.  So they are in the year 2071.  While looking at a Nepali calendar, any days that are highlighted in red indicate a national holiday.  You will typically see multiple days of holidays, especially during the festival season, which is about to start up mid-August and the celebrations will begin.  Nepal and India are known for using the Bikram Sandat calendar, but so do other countries such as Sri Lanka, Bhutan, Indonesia, Malaysia, Bangladesh, and Thailand.  The maximum number of days that can be in a Gregorian month is 31, but Bikram Sandat can reach 32 and the days within each month vary according to each year.  As the Gregorian calendar begins the new year on January 1st, the Bikram Calendar begins its new year mid-April.  Confused yet?  I haven't even begun.

So it seems like it would be fairly easy to figure out days in which I should not show up to school or head into Kathmandu because the streets are closed for special occasions.  Maybe on the days that are highlighted, but there are curve balls everywhere.  On July 13th, Sunday, I showed up to school.  I couldn't figure out why I had a few of my level 12 students standing outside of our building, but they informed me that the class would not be there that day.  I asked if they were home.  I received a little Hindu head bobble, which means 'yes.'  I asked if there was a reason they were home and not at school to which I received the same reply.  Nothing more, nothing less.  So I sent the three students home, thanked them for their courtesy visit and we would reconvene the following day.  Still confused and having no clue, I went home to prepare for the rest of the day, returned to teach my level 3 and then after class, my co-teacher said it was a holiday.  She said a few words in Nepali and as much as I tried to follow, I had no clue.  I kept hearing the same words over and over again.  So then on my way to my level 4 class, I ran into my other co-teacher who told me there was no class, but a drawing contest.  If you ever want to confuse an OCD American, like me, throw off their schedule, don't fully explain why, and tell them something random is about to happen.  It works every time!  

I kept trying to get as much information from my teacher and he tried his best to explain that the holiday was in memory of an honored Nepali leader.  So I asked if I could join him and as he rounded up his students, he escorted me to the room where the contest would begin.  The younger students were herded into the primary classrooms, ready with their rulers, erasers, colors, and pencils to begin their contest.  They had about 35-40 minutes to create their best drawing of this honored leader.  I, along with a male Nepali teacher, monitored one class, but there were at least two or three other classrooms that were under close scrutiny- no cheating, no talking, just draw and create your masterpiece!  

Over half of my classroom was so excited of my being there as they were from my level 4 class. When the time was up, we collected all of the drawings, finished or not, and combined them with the other classes' work.  Then three Nepali teachers had me join them in judging the drawings.  Some drawings I thought were phenomenal were quickly tossed aside as the Nepali teachers were looking for something in particular.  (One minute error in this leader's dress, accessories, objects he was holding can eliminate a student from winning.)  They selected four pictures and we all crammed into one room, over 65 students and at least 6 teachers to announce the winners and deliver their prizes.  Nepali teachers handed out prizes to 3rd and 4th place winners, which were notebooks and a pencil.  Then they wanted me to participate in handing out the prizes to 1st and 2nd place winners, taking our picture and smiling big!  Just the invitation for this event's contest is huge- it meant that even as early as July 13th, I was accepted as one of the faculty.  I wasn't just a foreigner teaching a language that so many struggle with, but it was more about the rapport, camaraderie, and embracing a cultural celebration that was not my own.  That very little gesture has stretched for miles in my school.

From there, one of the co-teachers saw how much I enjoyed the first contest that she showed me into a room with middle school, younger high school students (70 of them- I counted).  The room was significantly smaller than a small dining room.  The older students had essay-writing contests.  When they finished writing, they were called individually to the front of the room where they read their essays.  I would say they read their essays to the class, but it was more or less reading so that the two teacher judges could hear them.  Others were barely paying any attention, readers were almost whispering their essays all in Nepali, and after all essays were read aloud, the judges left and came back.  Ask me what any of the essays said and I haven't a clue!  I listened to essays written and read in Nepali, a derivation of Sanskrit called Devanagari script.  Again, it wasn't what I could understand; it was all about my being present for this celebratory day!

After prizes were delivered to 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th places, we all dismissed and I headed home.  It's amazing how listening to a foreign language for over one to two hours straight can fatigue one's mind.  I felt exhausted, spent, like I couldn't even decide if I wanted to buy a juice box and pack of biscuits on my way home.  Just so exhausted.  When I returned back to the school to teach my level 2 class, my host teacher was marking some papers and he asked if I knew it was a holiday.  I told him yes and that I participated in the celebration contests.  He told me then that the school closed after that, so I could go home.  So I walked back home, still unsure of how the day was decided.  Perhaps I never will.

So what was the holiday?   The holiday was to honor famous and original poet, Bhanubhakta Acharya.  His story is quite moving and I found some of his works I was able to research so genuine, so real, and so true.  He observed the struggles of life, was falsely accused and imprisoned, where he developed severe health complications and died.  It made sense why many of my students made sure to include Bhanubhakta holding a book and a pencil in his arm and hand in their drawings.  His inspiration came through words, touching the lives of many, writing relatable and thought-provoking inspirations through his gift of writing.  Upon my return to the States, I can't wait to find more of his writings and embrace more of his talent.  A tragic ending for Bhanubhakta, but a legacy that is raised up and celebrated for years to come!

Last Monday, July 28th, my level 12 students and some of my co-teachers told me that they were 75% sure there was a holiday, 25% unsure.  So, in my own facetious manner, I asked when they would be 100% sure.  No definite answer.  So I said if I didn't hear anything, I would come to class and if no one joined me, I would know that there was a holiday.  By the time I left my last class, at 3:20 pm, the school was still 75% sure.  So that evening, I texted the assistant headmaster and, yes, it was a holiday.  It was the close of Ramadan for Muslims and their fasting was over.  The government called Tuesday a national holiday, but couldn't make the decision official until the weather patterns were known and the weather was conducive for the Muslim celebration.  

It's not just Hindu legacies, Muslim holiday observances, but even the visit of Indian Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, will shut down the Kathmandu Valley for two days during his stay.  At first, last night, the government called a holiday, but no one was certain if it included EVERYONE.  So, I texted my assistant head teacher and my host teacher and found out that the morning classes were running, but he was unsure about the afternoon classes and thought that it was only for private schools that use public transportation for students.  So I went to school and he later told me that a holiday was called, but for schools like ours, the headmaster was given permission to close their schools- he had to see how the roads impacted the arrivals of their teachers and students.  So we went to our classes.  None of my co-teachers were there.  In fact, at least 1/3 of the teachers were out, half of the students made it to school.  I promised my level 3 class I would take them to the library tomorrow, but then they told me it was a holiday.  I told them all the teachers told me school was open tomorrow.  They told me it was on the calendar.  There was no red on the calendar.  This Westerner is thoroughly confused...again!

So I arrived home after my level 4 class and Didi thought I was done for the day.  I told her I think I still have class.  I would check and if there was no class, I would head back home.  It's good it's only a 10-minute walk, unlike some of my fellow volunteers who have 30-minute walks, one having a 45-minute communte.  Can't imagine with all of this confusion!  So I returned in the torrential downpour and half of my class was there.  Right after we started class, our headmaster walked in and told the students it was a holiday tomorrow.  Now, I'm wondering how I'll keep my students focused for the rest of class.  I think of my classes back home.  If there's an early dismissal, you've lost them.  They're elated, making plans, can't focus and can't wait to exit those school doors.  It was different.  My little 2nd graders put all of their energies into the lesson.  We worked on adjectives, talking about their favorite objects, colors, descriptions and instead of saying them, they yelled them at the top of their lungs!!  It didn't bother me; it excited me!  Their English sounded so good!  We had to finish an activity and color the objects in their assignment.  They all gathered around each other, sharing my colored pencils, talking, focusing on coloring within the lines, but there was something so much sweeter.  

My newest student, Joshep, who has come from the village, knowing very little English, but so excited for my class, tries SO hard, especially when I'm working with him, started to sing B-I-N-G-O, a song I taught them a few weeks back.  The words were pronounced with such crisp accuracy, his sweet little, innocent voice carried amongst the rest of his peers and he was so lost in his own world of pure happiness.  A few rounds later, two other little boys joined him and they sang B-I-N-G-O for the next 15-20 minutes, only interrupting the tune if they needed my help, but went right back into their songs, without skipping a beat!  He is the sweetest boy I've worked with in Nepal and has such a beautiful smile.  You would never know how disadvantaged he and his family are by watching his zest for life, his happiness amongst the camaraderie of his fellow peers, his very contagious smile.  He will always step out of his classroom to wave to me and say 'Hi Teacher!'  To hear singing in English, when 6 weeks ago, he could barely pronounce more than 'teacher' was so edifying and exciting for me.  If I haven't made a difference elsewhere, I know I've made a difference in Joshep.  You make a difference in one child's life and the world will, indeed, become a better place to live!

Not to digress, but Joshep needed public recognition!  So on my way home, I was joined by a student who lives next door to me.  Her name is Sabine.  I asked her if there was a holiday tomorrow.  She said for students, yes, but not for teachers.  Then she was talking about today and how there was a holiday, but not really...so I'm back at the beginning.  I know students aren't going tomorrow...now I am back at stage 1 of confusion.  The big question is...do I have a holiday tomorrow??  Time will tell...or maybe just when I show up to school.  

So much to admire...so little time...

I still can't believe how quickly everything is going!  Although I am so excited for our trekking week in Pokhara, that, too, will fly by very quickly and before I know it, I will be flying to my home in the States.  

On Monday, Dai and I woke up at 6 am to hike to the Shiva Temple and, let me tell you, it is quite a climb!  I consider myself fairly athletic, strong, with plenty of endurance, but Nepal has proven me wrong numerous times!  I struggled to keep up with Dai, breathing heavily, sweating profusely, feeling like my lungs were going to fail me!  I hate to admit it, but I felt some relief when I heard Dai breathing heavily as we started to climb the steps and, sadly, I felt some level of satisfaction that I wasn't alone in this strain of energy levels.  Frankly, we were working very hard on empty stomachs and I wondered if I would collapse just trying to climb the 300 some steps to the temple, let alone the rocky hills and inclines we faced along the way!

It was the second time we had been to this temple, except this time it would be very much alive with Shiva devotees.  You see, this month is dedicated to honoring Shiva.  Women will wear green and yellow bangles (the colors that represent Lord Shiva), and green cloths.  They will fast on Mondays and offer whatever fruits, flowers, rice, and water to the god in the temple.  There are three or four stairways that lead up to the temple, each avenue about 300 steps toward the sky and there were long lines monitored by a Nepali police officer on each stairway.  Even in times of humility, prayers, and offerings, devotees can be highly energized and become disorderly, eager to present their offerings to Shiva.  

Men, women, children, elders come in their best dressed, women wearing stunning and immaculate saris, bangles, make-up, perfumes.  There were little shops and makeshift stands to sell a collection of offerings on the holy leaf, including coconuts, flowers, bananas.  I even saw a woman bringing one tiny apple.  I wondered if that was her only piece of fruit she had at home and what kind of personal sacrifice she was making by offering it to Shiva.  

Outside of the entrance to the temple, there is a pit where devout Hindus will set fire in the holy leaves and I asked Dai "why the fire?" to which he replied that those who expose themselves to the heat of the flames (without burning themselves, of course!) expel all of the evils and impurities from within before they enter the temple to present their offerings, say a few prayers, and head to the holy men, or priests, to receive tikkah on their forehead as a sign they have been blessed by Shiva before they leave and head home to conduct the rest of their day.  Others will stop by a small statue (at eye level) of Hanuman (the favored monkey deity), placed tikkah on his forehead and also take tikkah from Hanuman and place it on their forehead.  Others will do the same to a statue of Nandi, Shiva's bull and vehicle.  Others light small lamps filled with oil as they offer prayers.  

All the while, you can hear constant sounds of life such as chatter and conversations in Nepali, bells constantly being rung to command the attention and presence of the deities so their prayers may be heard, babies crying, mothers comforting their babies, fathers holding their children, excited to have a child in their arms and a part of this celebration of Lord Shiva.  There was some Nepali music playing upon our arrival, but then one of the holy men took control of the microphone to organize the lines, keep people focused, keep the lines moving, etc.  Since Dai and I weren't devotees, we were able to surpass the lines and at first we went to the temple's edge, where you really feel like you're on top of the world.  You can see all of the villages below, rice fields, terraced lands, and on the outskirts of the villages, the huge city of Kathmandu and all of its tall buildings.  From there, Dai and I found a bench and sat down, my weary body so thankful.

We observed for a while before heading back home for our morning chai tea, followed by dhal bhat and then rushed for showers and got ready.  I needed to head to school, Dai needed to drive his motorbike into Thamel for his shop.  It was a great start to the morning.  So much to take in, religion-wise, and contemplate the depths of the belief systems that are so grounded in the Nepalese communities!  

We will hike a local mountain one of these mornings, but will need to rise at 5:15 am to leave by 5:30- can't wait!!  Oh yes, and watch out for those leeches!!

Canoe ride, jungle walk, and, yes, the elephant charge...AGAIN!

I must first apologize to my readers as I have been without Internet for the past week, no phone service, just isolation.  So I'm not slacking on my updates, but rather could not post them.  This one is lengthy, but hopefully you will enjoy!

So after our evening of observing a Tharu Cultural Dance performance, seeing local garb, dances for both men and women, and an opportunity to complete the finale with audience participation, some of us purchased some bracelets, T-shirts, drinks, etc., it was time for bed to rise the next morning for our canoe ride through the jungle on the Rapti River.  For as stifling hot and humid as Chitwan was, the performance center was air-conditioned, a gift we were all so very grateful for, and double the blessing when our fan and air conditioning unit worked in our resort rooms.  There was no need to draw the mosquito nets as we had none in our rooms- another blessing!!  I slept like a baby, and rose around 6:30 am, still feeling like I could've slept much longer!

We headed to breakfast and shortly after, some of our group changed into longer pants and sleeves because our guide told us the mosquitoes were really bad.  So we doused ourselves in repellents and were on our way back to the elephant center.  Sure enough, more eager tourists were mounting the elephants and we watched them venture off into the jungle, a routine, I imagine, I would tire of so quickly.  I wondered how many years these beautiful creatures succumbed to the repetitive cycle...

So our guide was a very serious, but genuine Nepali man, who has been a guide for over 30 years and carried such a wise way about him.  Not only was he very knowledgeable about the different species, flora and fauna, in the water and on the terrain, but he also exhibited a level of seriousness when it came to our jungle walk and staying quiet while in the canoe.  The canoe was carved from a local Nepali tree, protected in Chitwan National Park, reminding me of the Algonquin canoes.  They were long and narrow, with little wooden seats for us to sit upon, with our legs stretched forward straddling the next person in front of us.  After we all filed into the canoe, a different Nepali guide directed our canoe ever so quietly.  All we heard were the sounds of the jungle, the oar sifting through the water, almost as if a nature CD was playing in the background, except...it was the real thing!  Perhaps to the guide's dismay, I could've stayed in the canoe all day long. I was truly at peace.  

As we glided along the water, the canoe was quite low, and so were our seats, so it was almost as if we were at eye level with any creature that may meet us in the water.  The guide brought our attention to two or three native alligators and two marsh muggers (crocodiles native to Southeast Asia, especially Pakistan) and just as appealing as their name sounds, their faces were even more unsightly and, I'll say it, ugly.  We heard all sorts of birds on both sides of us, especially the 38 cm Nepali kingfisher, which sounds like it was laughing at us and as its call was quite hilariously contagious, I found myself laughing along with it, even if we were the butt of his joke!  I just couldn't help myself!

Although our canoe ride came to an end after about half an hour, we were ready to begin our jungle walk, led by our guide.  We were told to keep watch for leeches, ticks, the likes, and to be quiet because the quieter we were as a group, the greater the chances of seeing the inhabitants of the jungle.  To see a tiger is a rarity as they are so shy, so I wasn't expecting much.  So I followed directly behind the guide because I wanted to hear everything that he said.  Our guide was such a wealth of knowledge and had a sharp eye for things we weren't conditioned to see.  As soon as we began our walk, we saw more Touch-me-Nots, and then came upon a tree with many tiger scratches on the bark, some new, some a few days old, but that was almost as cool as seeing a tiger.  At least we saw its tracks of existence!

As vulnerable as we may have been in the middle of a very dense jungle, I felt no fear, but rather a sense of bewilderment, excitement, and awe.  It was the first time I've walked through a jungle and shortly after, we heard rustling high up in the trees above us.  Berries were dropping from high above.  Yes, there were monkeys, but as they are very human shy as well, they were very skillful at staying hidden in the canopies as we searched frantically, cameras ready, but to no avail.  They were gone and all we had were shaking leaves and berries at our feet.

As we continued, we heard what sounded like a different kind of bark.  It was a barking deer on the other side of the jungle, another sound we had no visual to, so we continued.  I have to look up the official name, but we came across a vine that wraps itself around the bases and trunks of trees, sucking the nutrients and water from the tree, allowing the vine to grow bigger and thicker while the tree dies.  They just wrap themselves around these trees like a boa constrictor its prey and never let go.  Quite an entanglement to behold.   

We started to move into thicker grasses, many of them as high as my chest, so, not really interested in what lies beneath the grasses, I walked with my hands in the surrender position and continued to listen to our guide.  We were heading into the territory of a mother tiger and her two cubs.  There were spots where she had urinated to mark her territory and her urine is so potent that it kills the grass almost immediately and the grass turns black.  How cool would that have been to see her and her babies?  I wondered if we were being watched as we continued to penetrate the thickness of the jungle.  As our group was rather large and not the quietest by nature, seeing the mother and her cubs was out of the question, but it was energizing to imagine what they looked like!  

We came to a small clearing by a rhino watering hole and took some goofy pictures as a group, but as I went off on my own on this narrow stretch of land, I saw two of the most regal eagles, golden tips on their black wings and their cries so piercing, but serene all the same.  As we continued and moved through the thickest part of the jungle, seeing many termite hills and structures, something that the sloth bear will rub its back against to break the structure and feast upon the millions of termites throughout, we soon came into an open clearing.  We were approaching the elephant breeding center.  There were large trees throughout the clearing and we saw more markings on the trees, except they didn't belong to a tiger.  They belonged to the wild bull elephants.

So the breeding center will let their cows (female elephants) go out to this clearing where they will be met by the more dominant bull elephant that lives in the wild.  That's why the bark was shaved off of the tree.  He uses his tusks to mark his territory and the younger, less dominant bulls have no chance at the females.  Once the elephants mate, the females are brought back to the center.  This was the point at which I wished I could have turned around.  

As we approached the information center, someone fell victim to leeches because there were small pools of blood on the concrete floor.  We all checked, but you will know if you have a leech.  It's no surprise.  You'll feel a little burn and then it starts to itch.  We were lucky. 

There were different placards that displayed different components about the elephant breeding center, such as why they exist and the benefits of elephant re-population, different ways in which they will use the work elephants, such as for tourist reasons, to help rescue people during flooding or mudslides during the monsoon season, and so on.  They also showed the physical nature and anatomy of these giant species, tools used to train the elephants, and the diet of the elephant.  

Although it sounds effective and useful for those who need rescued, something still did not, and does not, sit well with me.  When the elephants are born, shortly after, the calves are chained to a wooden post.  These shackles, if you will, cup the feet of the animal.  Usually just one foot is captive, but I witnessed two feet keeping the elephant anxious, unable to move comfortably, or at all, and I just wanted to cut them free.  I couldn't watch their nervous behavior, just like one would see in a zoo for very active, free-roaming animals that will just nervously pace up and down, side to side, clearly NOT in their natural environ.  Well, here's the scoop with the chained calves.  If an elephant, from a very young age, is chained to a wooden post, every day, he starts to believe that he cannot break free of the chain or the post.  As this calf grows into an adult elephant, he is still chained to a wooden post, a bit larger, but nonetheless nothing that could withstand the brute strength of this species.  However, since he has been conditioned to believe it cannot break free, it simply doesn't even try.  Well, seeing the elephants lined up in their chains, moving anxiously was not a sight I wanted to see.  Okay, so they rationalized that from 12-4, the chains are removed and the elephants are taken into the jungle to eat, drink water, be in their natural environ, but that doesn't account from 8am-noon, where they are on display for tourists to take pictures, they can be accounted for, and it's a daily routine of thought control of some of the most intelligent species, emotionally and intellectually.

So, this is where my somber state of mind had an instant rush of adrenaline.  As I was observing these captive elephants, I lingered behind our guide and the rest of our group.  Steph was nearby and Natalie was near me.  Natalie and I just had a conversation about how this trip to Chitwan really ended on a disturbing note.  As we walked casually along the path, off to our immediate left was a small group of Chinese tourists taking photos next to a free-roaming, 2-year old male calf.  I thought it was a bit risky; Natalie and I stayed on the path.  The Chinese tourists moved further ahead and Natalie and I watched the calf playing by himself, heading towards a wooden structure and found some clothes on a clothesline he thought he would play with.  Well, just as soon as he took the clothes from the line, a man came running after him with a rather large stick.  The calf dropped the clothes and took off.  The man continued to pursue the elephant and as much as it pained me to watch, I knew what would happen next.  He really wound up his arm and whacked the elephant on the back right leg.  He hit so hard, the smacking sound went through me.  Dust flew off of the striking site and the man casually walked away while the elephant, at first seemed upset he was punished, but then he kept stretching the struck leg backwards, curling his tail, and letting our numerous sounds, flattening his ears.  Natalie and I continued to watch, upset at the whole scene, but I had a feeling that the calf's new responses were not responses of shame, but of anger.  He was angry and the guide yelled across the distance that the elephant was mad and we needed to keep moving.  

I'm no mathematician or physicist, but I knew that if we headed towards the guide with this calf in his infuriated state that it brought us closer to the elephant than if we headed back in our direction.  Well, just as I was processing distances and anticipating our next move, the calf turned towards us and started charging.  Natalie grabbed my arm, saying 'Holly....Holly...' and I was ready to bolt, thinking Natalie was coming with me.  Little did I realize at that moment in time, Natalie froze.  I could pull all I wanted with her hand gripping my arm, but her feet were stuck in concrete as the elephant continued to run in our direction.  So, I guess you could say natural instincts kicked in and I pulled away from her grip and ran in the other direction.  Seeming the fence was directly behind us, and all of the elephants behind the fence, there were very few options to take.  As I ran, the elephant turned his focus on Natalie and as I stopped and looked at her, her eyes had no sense of urgency, quite blank really, and she moved in slow motion, processing what was occurring was on a serious delay.  

Our guide stayed where he was and yelled instructions to Natalie, telling her she needed to hop the fence, come in his direction, hop the fence again.  That sounds really nice, but it makes no difference if you've frozen.  I didn't stray too far, but I, too, was trying to help Natalie with directions.  As she closely climbed the fence, unsure of all of the adult elephants chained behind her, she pulled one leg over, but by that time, the calf caught up to her and pinned her other leg against the fence, rubbing his body on her leg, and disallowing her to move any further.  As it was an effort to pull her other leg over, she managed to do so, and safely, and gingerly walked on the side of all of the other elephants, much larger than this 2-yr old calf.  As she walked, the calf followed.  He pretended he was eating grass, looking elsewhere, but the moment she moved, there was her elephant shadow.  The guide kept telling her to run, hop the fence, very unrealistic instructions for the situation, but up ahead, there was a huge puddle and she had to take her chance.

As Natalie climbed the fence, still with a disconcerting blank stare on her face, I walked with her and the calf stayed behind.  As we continued along the path, along with the guide, Ganga's wife, Madhavi, Sam, and Brittney, just as we looked up, another free-roaming calf was charging our way!  Sam and Brittney grabbed each other and pulled off of the path, the guide and Madhavi pulled aside, and the calf, 3 yrs old, came right for us!  Again, Natalie grabbed my arm, saying 'Holly...Holly', I broke free again as she temporarily froze, but then her instincts kicked in and she ran, dropping her pink bag as a distraction.  I jumped over the ditch and found myself in a basketball defensive stance, as if I was ready to do rapid fire.  My adrenaline was kicking high and I was ready to bolt across the field if I needed to, even on limited energy reserves from rice and lentils.  

In hindsight, I realized that we totally lost sight of the first charging calf when the second one charged us, which could have been a lethal mistake.  Make no mistake about it, don't ever underestimate the strength and power, even of 2 and 3-year old elephants.  The guide told us that someone last year was charged by a young elephant and he managed to break her leg.  Even worse, if any one of us tripped and fell, the elephant can easily trample, smother, and seriously injure someone.  As my adrenaline was still shooting throughout my body, I also wondered how much young calves charging a threat or an easy target can rile up the adult elephants.  Could they really realize their strength when a younger member of their family is in distress??!  Elephants are very close familial units and feel the energy of one another and respond in any way that is needed.  I didn't even look back or observe the energy of the adults.  As vigilant as I usually am, I found myself acting on instinct, eyes only on my immediate threat.  A serious lesson to learn, especially around large, and potentially very dangerous, animals.  I found my knowledgeable guide to be of no help during these two charges, but when one is in these circumstances, it rarely matters what someone else says- it's up to you to call the shots.

Chitwan National Park Part II (the Elephant Ride):

So, I must first apologize to all of my readers as time has escaped me after I promised a part II to my journey to Chitwan.  That, and load shedding has really frequented power and Wi- Fi loss.  So, here it is.  I hope you're ready.  

As soon as we got out of our micro-bus, we were met by the guides that orchestrated our one night, two-day stay at Chitwan.  We stayed at the Rhino Resort and set our bags down and headed to lunch.  Following lunch, and many cups of Nepali tea for me, some of us ventured further on the grounds of the resort, observing some of the largest water buffalo, appearing so docile, but natural instincts told me to keep my distance anyway.  It was so incredibly humid, even from the moment we opened up the bus door, that it almost steals your breath until you adjust.  We had some time to burn before our elephant ride through the jungle, so we continued to explore through the humid outskirts of the jungle, just along the river, where we saw docked canoes, tiki bars, many water buffalo and small bird fowl that coexist symbiotically.  The buffalo let them perch on their backs, or heads, to pick bugs, ticks, etc while the birds receive their nutritional supply.  We took many pictures of exotic insects, beautiful butterflies, two wild elephants in the distance, and the VERY COOL Touch-me-Nots, which are jungle flora that, when lightly touched, shrivel up, then later open up again into its beautiful form.

When we returned to the resort, after a long time of sweating through many layers, not even noticing the sweat dripping from our entire beings, it was time to head to the elephant ride.  We hopped in the back of a truck that had benches for sitting and we took our rickety ride to the elephants.  As this was my first time seeing an Asian elephant in person, I had so much excitement and anticipation, remembering their very unique markings on their ears, faces, and trunks.  Perhaps it was because of my encounter of a 60-African elephant herd while in South Africa, being charged by the matriarch while in a tiny Toyota Camry that made me stare at the elephants and think, "wow, how small!"  That impression was short-lived as we climbed steps to get leverage on our elephant (only 3-4 passengers per elephant) and quickly placed ourselves in the wooden crate/box-like platform.  I had the back left corner of the elephant, so as soon as her hind leg moved, climbed upward, dipping downward into the river, I moved as well, so I wrapped my legs around the corner wooden pieces and stayed like that for a good two hours through the jungle.  It was no wonder I had bruising on my thighs upon our return.

Everything seemed so surreal; were we really on top of an elephant?  And this one wasn't angry at me?  I couldn't see much of the elephant as I faced backwards, but I was able to see everyone else on their elephants.  It was so peaceful so high up as the elephants quietly, and cautiously, continued on our journey.  Even now and then, the elephants were stopped because the passengers, leaning more one way or the other, started to look a bit lopsided and the elephant mahout would stand on top of the elephant and re-adjust the fixings to straighten out the platform for the passengers' safety and the comfort of the elephant.  

And that's when it happened.  I heard the crack!  Our elephant mahouts, those that direct and ride the elephant, typically given that elephant at a very young age and bonded to it for quite some time, kept these elephants under tight, and, what I perceived to be, abusive scrutiny.  Never did I feel like our elephant was going to veer off into her own direction, or buck us off, or even drown us all, but I still heard the crack of a stick that the mahout uses to whack on their head.  As we ventured further into the jungle and some groups took different routes, you could still hear the crack on their skulls.  They also had the Ankusa, which is the metal training tool with the hook, which they may use to stab in the head, ears, and mouth (the most sensitive areas of the elephant).  Most mahouts had ankusas with them, but they just used the sticks through the duration of our ride. 

When I heard the crack on other elephants and my own, I had a gut-sickness as that method of controlling the elephant went right through me and I began to regret that my money sponsored this kind of behavior.  Not all mahouts were abusive and some more than others, but nevertheless, as cool as the ride had been, seeing the depths of the jungle at a safe height, even seeing the endangered Nepali rhino and her calf, and feeling so charmed by the unique beauty and grace these elephants exhibited, all I wanted to do was free them and let them roam in the wild for the rest of their lives.  It hurt me to witness this cracking on the skull.  I wondered if it even hurt the elephant as their skulls are so thick and massive, but abuse is abuse is abuse!!!!  Had I know that kind of treatment would be administered, I know I wouldn't have opted to ride an elephant.  

One of our mahouts was especially skilled in tracking animals, taking us through the jungle to see them, one being the two rhinos and a calf at the tail-end of our ride (no pun intended)! We came across three species of deer, including the barking deer, a family of wild boars, and sitting nice and tall, my face caught a lot of spider webs, leaves, some tree branches, and one branch almost stripped my shoe right off my foot.  It's no wonder that one of the Hindus' favorite deity is Ganesha (elephant-headed god), son of Lord Shiva and his wife, Parvati.  Ganesha is known for many types of blessings and gifts, but is commonly known as the "remover of obstacles". Think about it!  How can one tell where an elephant has been in a jungle?  You follow the trail of broken branches and clearings made by their massive girths and weight.  So, for a Hindu, they may pray to Ganesha to remove obstacles, burdens, temptations from one's life.  It all came to mind while we trudged through the jungle, quite graciously I might add.  I found a peace within just by staring and really watching the faces of the beautiful giants behind us.  There's such a peace found within their beauty, their unique markings, the way they move, and the only time I fell out of that stupor of awe was when I heard the 'CRACK!', again...

As one of the mahouts located rhinos, all mahouts have a unified holler to communicate with each other, the elephants picking up their paces, and as we came out of the jungle and into the clearing, there they were, a mother rhino and her calf.  I've never seen anything like them!  I've seen the rhinos in Africa, but the rhinos in Nepal reminded me of some prehistoric dinosaur, like the Stegosaurus, or even the Triceratops (to a degree).  These rhinos looked like they had plates of armor fitted around their enormous bodies.  They were absolutely gorgeous and quiet in their eating and maneuvering around the grasses.  It was like I couldn't take enough pictures.  They were too magnificent to take my eyes off of them.  It was absolutely incredible!  This experience was unforgettable for many reasons, but also because these sightings are rare and although the rhino population is starting to climb again due to conservation efforts, one is not guaranteed to see one, even on a two-hour elephant ride.  

As our elephants ventured forward, we came across one more rhino and as the sun caught the top of his head, the tufts of hair on his ears reflected red through the sunlight.  What spectacular features!

As our ride came to a close, and at least ten elephants with passengers lingered behind us, we disembarked from our wooden platform with careful steadiness and climbed back down the stairs.  Our mahout directed our elephant over to us and that was the first time I saw her gorgeous markings and serene face.  She brought her trunk over the fencing and that was the first time I touched an elephant's face, trunk, and ears.  I felt like I needed to thank her for dealing with us as passengers and putting up with, what I perceived to be, needless cracks of the stick.  Her eyes were so calm and she stuck around for us to each take pictures with her, pet her trunk, which was so much rougher than I thought, and hairy!  But she was beautiful, hair and all!  

So, for those of you who were so enthralled by my opportunity and want to know, "how was it"?  Honestly, my answer is bittersweet.  It's obvious of the bitter part of that sentence, but the sweet experience was my seeing a certain natural serenity in the danger and the ecosystem that exists within the depths of the jungle, but I also feel so touched to have witnessed and felt the grace and beauty of an elegant animal, so intelligent, so unique, and so gentle in its purest form.  A disposition I will never forget for as long as I live!

Our Journey to Chitwan National Park!

To say that our drive to Chitwan National Park was very scenic and serene is an understatement.  In fact, there are no words to describe the depths of the majestic mountains that we drove alongside of, climbing, descending, never fully able to capture the moment in a photo, not because we couldn't find the right shot, but, simply, it was very difficult to take a steady picture as our driver wove in and out of traffic, passing large transport trucks along the way and creeping along hairpin bends of the mountain's side. 

When I first went hiking with one of my best friends in the Catskills, he told me that if I wanted to get out, take a picture, look at something and explore, just shout out.  I could only wish that our driver had the same conditions.  I would probably never arrive in Chitwan because I would have pulled over so many times because the beauty is so overwhelming!  I couldn't fathom how many pristine photos I would have to choose from, but nevertheless, we took various shots of rice fields, the terraced mountains, the raging river alongside of our travels, muddied by the constant rains, and temples we saw along our way.  One of our travelers asked how many temples we thought Nepal has and from the looks of it, big or small, the temples are endless and I just don't think I can count that high!!  They are all unique, adorned, and sacred in their own way, but I never feel like I'm looking at the same temple twice!

Prior to my departure from the states, I spoke with one of my colleagues and we were talking about my levels of excitement and I shared with him that I wondered if the mountains were so high I would have to throw my neck back and stare straight up to try to see the peaks.  Well, my curiosity was answered today and yes, the mountains are so high they will even extend into the clouds and you cannot even witness the tops of their peaks.  We even passed our equivalency of a ski lift and it extended over the river, up alongside the mountains, and into the clouds.  I couldn't even take a picture because the people looked so small against the mighty cliffs that the camera couldn't capture such minute detail.  I totally think Jurassic Park could have been filmed here as the scenery looked the same as the helicopters arrived on the isolated island.  

There were various walking bridges that extended across the river, which also served the residents of the mountain, allowing them to reach civilization.  I'm not quite sure how they traveled to the bridge, which looked flimsy by nature, but a father and son crossing disproved my premonition as I watched them travel across safely.  There was also a huge pipe that bridged the gap between the mountains and there were leaks springing from various angles.  The solution?  A man sat atop of this pipe working on it nonchalantly as the river raged beneath him.  One wrong step, loss of balance and concentration would send him helplessly into the river's mouth.  What a sight to see!

We arrived in Chitwan within approximately 4.5 hours and it is very humid here.  I've sweated through two and three layers this afternoon already.  Sweating happens so consistently that I almost don't even notice it.  It drips down my face, it drips down my back and all I can do is get wrapped up in the beauty and the stimulation and the communities that surround me!  

One of our volunteer's birthday is on Sunday and I hope she has had the time of her life for her 21st!  I think the elephant ride was a really cool way to spend her birthday weekend and I'm so glad we could all share a wonderful day together!  Happy Birthday, Sam! I know there was no cooler place to celebrate your day than here in Nepal!!

Well, more later on Chitwan.  There's much more to share about today's adventures!    Until then, shubharahrti!

Deer Farm, Botanical Gardens, & Shanti Ban...

Today, Sunil (Dai), Heather and I went to see the deer farm, the botanical gardens, and then Sunil and I ventured further and trekked to visit the Shanti Ban Buddha temple.  En route to the deer farm, we passed a Buddhist monastery and were allowed to go inside to the main campus, where young Buddhist monks-to-be were playing soccer with a ball about the size of a tennis ball.  We took some pictures, walked around a bit, smiling and saying hello to the young monks-to-be and ventured further on to the deer farm.  After trekking through the open greens, listening to the sounds of nature, passing a few homes and many chickens along the way, we had to stoop and pass through a very small door- I felt like Alice in Wonderland- and onward we went.  The entrance to the deer farm was locked, so we walked alongside of the electric fencing and our journey was abruptly ended when we were invaded by leeches.  Watching Sunil and Heather pull them from their toes, ankles, feet, legs, I thought I was safe as I wore my hiking boots and my long, athletic pants.  I saw one on my boot and I just could not pull him off my boot!!  We turned around, started heading back when I felt this numbing, pinching sensation right behind my ankle.  I pulled up my pant legs and I must have had at least five small leeches around my ankles, at the bottom of my legs and Sunil helped me pull them off.  We walked another 15-20 minutes and I felt the same pain again, so I pulled up my pant leg and I had two more, one really fat one just behind my ankle.  My first experience with leeches and they loved my blood!!

We ventured further down the hill, making a right and heading to the botanical gardens.  A very serene and beautifully decorated place with flowers and trees, and greenhouses!  Many people come from different places to visit these gardens and have their pictures taken, all dressed up, and there was even a film shooting at the tail end of the gardens in the lily gardens.  Very peaceful with little running brooks and streams- so serene!

We continued moving to the end of the gardens and made our way uphill, through a tiny village that was gathering for a wedding ceremony.  The woman was beautifully adorned and the man was accessorized as well and it was so amazing to see how this event draws in the entire community!  As we made it to the top, Heather took a micro-bus home since she has been to the Shanti Ban a couple of times and Dai and I continued on our way.  It was like trekking around the mountain, climbing higher with each turn, through muddy sections, rocky and stoney sections, and if I wasn't cognizant about looking out from where I was, I would have missed the plethora of breath-taking views of the Himalayas and of Nepal!

After climbing upwards for quite some time, passing very poor villages, many religious coming down from the Shanti Ban, we arrived.  The steps to climb were almost straight up, meant for smaller shoe sizes, and as I tried to climb and take a picture at the same time, I almost fell back!  It's amazing what that steepness can do to one's spatial awareness!  When we reached the top, I was breathing quite heavy, sweating so much, but it was totally worth the effort of reaching the top!  The Shanti Ban is incredible and I couldn't help but find myself staring at it for such a long time.  You hear of these temples and how elaborately adorned they are, but until you stand before its monstrosity, you never really have an idea!  They had just lit a candle, which you can see in the front of the statue and laid flowers before Buddha as an offering.  Once I stopped taking multiple pictures and fully letting myself behold what sat before me, I turned around to face Nepal and, although pictures can tell a thousand words, I still don't feel like the picture truly captures what its view is conveying to its beholder, but a photo is the closest we'll get until you actually come!  It started to rain again, so we started to descend and head for home.

In total, we trekked about three hours and forty minutes and the sweat was just pouring off of me.  We crossed through little alleyways, walked through a home after its hosts invited us to pass through, and as we continued to descend, we passed the materials that mold multiple Buddha statues.  The body piece was about as big as a standard above-ground pool, perhaps deeper.  As we came to the end of our trekking journey and walked through the door, I pulled up my pants and I already had my boots off, and my sock was drenched in blood from that fat leech, and, apparently, a leech crawled up my pant leg and had a feast on my knee.  I couldn't find the leech, but my knee showed he was there and I couldn't get it to stop bleeding.  It was another perfect little circle from where the leech attached itself.  Good stuff!

After showering and receiving much needed roti bread and tarkahri (vegetables) and washing it down with the most delicious chai tea, I feel like I am ready for bed.  It's only 4:30 pm.  The little girls next door want me to put 'medicine' on their cuts on their hands and put a Band-aid on so they can do their homework, so I may play doctor and then finish up my lesson plans for our return to school tomorrow.  Until then, 'shubharahtri', which is Nepali for goodnight~