Thursday, November 27, 2014

A stroll down the water

Well, admittedly my days are a little less exciting than they have been in recent weeks.  This week I have spent quite a bit of time working with an excel spreadsheet, and tomorrow and the days that follow will probably find me doing the same until Nathan comes (hurry up already!).

I'll post things when they come up because maybe something exciting will happen, who knows? But if not, I will at least try and post photos now and again.

Thanks so much for reading up until now. It means a lot to have emails and messages from everyone as well as page view numbers indicating that someone other than just my mom was reading along.

The significance of flowers to Nepali culture is wholly fascinating.  Marigolds especially feature prominently many homes and ceremonies.  Such is why its a huge and booming market, with most flowers being imported from India.

Boats for rent, for cheaps, extra cheap if you are willing to bail out water as you go along.

The beaten path down the Fewa Lake front

"Garbage disposal free of charge"

A smiling cup of Namaste cappuccino.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Willy Wonka Goes for a hike, continued

Heading down was as torturous as down hills are. When doing so, you are using your crappy hamstrings instead of your awesome quads and glutes.  Your balance is off and your footing always feels a little unsteady, like a skid on your bum is imminent at any step.  And the stones and rocks and silty dirt suddenly become the rug that gravity wants to yank out from under you.  It’s a tough go, and you’re still hot and a bit tired from going all that way up there.

It’s the only way down though, so you do it and as you move along you realize your heart isn’t pounding as much and the sweat is drying from your forehead a little bit and maybe it isn’t so bad to have to go all the way down again. Who knows, maybe a cab will be waiting at the bottom that you can take back to town?

At this point in the season the rice is nearly all harvested in this area, so the farmers are working hard on making their paddy stacks (the hut shaped rice chaff piles) which is actually really interesting to observe.  They stick a tall post into the ground and spread the first chaff all over the ground in quite a thick pile.  Then they take two ox or three scrawny horses side by side and walk them merry-go-round style around the pole, letting their legs wind the chaff tighter and tighter creating a solid,  circular base to stack everything else on in a nice, tight pile.  Then after piling the bundles of chaff up and up and up, they complete it with an angled roof to deflect some of the rain over the season.  I hadn’t considered how the stacks were made so hiking when this was happening was neat.

On the way up, everyone was working but on the way down people began to break for lunch.  Most people called out a Namaste to me and I would reply but not stop walking.  Then a boy of about 15 came chasing up the paddy to say hi to me, he seemed genuinely happy to greet me so when he invited me down to where lunch was happening I thought, sure why not go convene with the locals? Besides, maybe I could ask a few questions about what they were doing.

His family was about 6 or 7 women, one quiet old man and himself, a 7 year old brother and about a 4 year old boy.  I was engaging him and his brother asking how much English they spoke, which they both did because they go to an English school so I was thinking it was pretty neat to stop and chat with the locals in my own language and everything.

The ladies kept calling things out to him so finally he stopped and asked, “So do you have any chocolates for the baby?” which instantly deflated my interest in being there in that moment.  “No, I don’t have any chocolates, do you have some for me?” I replied, with a friendly smile but also an interest in seeing his reaction.  He looked a little confused, because why would he have chocolates for me when Willy Wonka Foreigner was walking through his turf?  He also quickly asked if I wanted to take pictures of his family, which I sensed would come at a financial cost, so I politely declined and headed back to the path.

I was really disappointed that happened and all the rest of the way down and back to the guesthouse I was quite bothered by the whole encounter.  I thought I read the situation right. I thought maybe it was a novelty for the family to talk to the strangers that visit their country, but I was wrong.  It seems like a simple encounter and that someone asking for chocolates is no big deal, but here is basically says, you’re not from here, you have things, give me those things.  Would you ever ask a random stranger for chocolate? Not likely.

I felt a bit reticent to write this post so bluntly because there’s something about being negative that makes me pause and think about my assumptions and as well, about how fair it is to discuss them in a forum to which the parties I am talking about are not invited.  I recognize that I could have read the situation entirely wrong, but then a conversation this afternoon with the owner of Sacred Valley Inn where I am staying (a UK born Canadian cum Nepali resident) made me feel less crazy and cynical about the experience.  She even said that in her 20 or so years here she has developed a certain ear for a genuine Namaste or the “I want something from you” Namaste.  Mostly though, she says she ignores calls from strangers because even after this long here, people in her own neighbourhood pester her about giving them things like treats or chocolates because she appears to be a foreigner despite marrying a Nepali man so long ago.

She personally feels that the people living in the areas where tourists frequent (Sarankot in this instance) have been a bit spoiled by handouts, or have developed a culture of begging where there never was one before.  We, westerners, go to developing countries with trinkets to hand out because we see that people don’t have as many material goods as we do and we figure, hey, it’s just a pen or a balloon or a soccer ball, people need this stuff.  But they don’t, not really. 

In my opinion, it creates the impression that Santa Claus has come to town, that we have so much wealth that we can instantly give it out like a no-strings-attached ATM machine.  Meanwhile, myself, and many other travellers, devote quite a bit of the household budget to go places and experience new cultures.  We are not endlessly wealthy, we are relatively wealthy, but the ratio for my cost of living to the cost of living here still leaves me as part of the working class strata (when I have a job that is, right now I’m just a bum student—even worse!).

This idea of handouts is quickly becoming one of my pet peeves about travelling because I saw it happen in Senegal where I lived for 2 months, in Guatemala where I was part of a mission’s team for 2 weeks, and in in many other places where begging or stealing or swindling has become part of the imbedded local culture. 


Where does it stop, you might be wondering?  It stops with people from developed countries or privileged positions not handing crap out to local people, I think it’s as simple as that. If that were to happen, it would take time to undo the culture of begging because it took long enough to develop it.  

Tomato tunnel money makers.
I’ll also add in a thought that Nathan and I both agree on, which is begging, like proper asking for money begging, also causes harm because it’s an unsustainable and shallow income stream.  Unsustainable because the beggar doesn’t know where the next dollar or rupee is coming from if it’s coming at all, and shallow because the skills people are being paid for aren’t transferable. If you think of ‘beggar’ as a work position, what are they qualified to do outside of begging?  What are you really paying them for?  Especially in the instance of children where the window for long-term reintegration into ‘normal’ society is so wide open, why encourage them to stay on the street so their family, or Maribou or brothel owner can make money off of them?  Right now in Kathmandu many street kids, mostly boys, are self-funding an addiction to huffing glue thanks to the generous handouts they receive.

At any rate, I welcome your comments, thoughts, or experiences on this topic, because I find other people's take to be really interesting. 





Monday, November 24, 2014

Willy Wonka goes for a hike

Today I set out to hike to Sarankot, a town at the top of a big hill and the launching point for all the paragliders in Pokhara.  I had been there once before but we took the long route through town in a taxi at 4:30am or so to see the sunrise.  Today was going to be different. It was the first day of the next two weeks of my life…

Since the in-field data collection is done, I need to keep busy for the next two weeks until Nathan comes, and as well, take advantage of getting exercise comfortably out of doors while I can.  So my hair-brained idea is to go hiking in the morning, then come back and do work on my thesis all afternoon (and hang out with real live people if anyone wants to be my friend, but that’s a post yet to be written).

These are pictures I took out the bus window.
Today I left a little later than planned because of breakfast and last minute shopping with a lady I had met who headed to Kathmandu later this morning.  9:30am seemed like a reasonable time to set out regardless, because the hike to Sarankot is said to be about an hour.  To get to the entrance point is about 30 minutes but it’s a flat walk so that doesn’t count, right?

I bought a fresh bottle of water, reloaded my SIM card in my cell phone, left the valuables including my camera behind and headed on down the road.  Pokhara is really interesting because it is mostly built up, until it isn’t.  The main area where all the touristy stuff is is called Lakeside and it slowly peters out until you find yourself slogging down a pretty stony, dirt road that leads fairly suddenly to a more rural part of the area.  There are also less cars and more space for the animals to graze, the rice paddy appears and you feel far removed from Pokhara, the tourist town everyone knows and loves.

To get to Sarankot, I found a sign heading to the paragliding landing spot pointing up saying Sarakot 6km so up I went, around the first bend then the second, it was just me and the butterflies enjoying the cool morning breeze.  Then I came across a father and daughter ‘grass cutting’ for the gai and the bakhra (the man was pleased with my Nepali).  He asked if I was alone and heading to Sarankot and I said yes I was. Sometimes Nepali people ask fairly blunt questions that seem a bit weird like ‘oh are you alone?’ or ‘where are you staying?’ or from a friend’s family member, ‘where are you keeping your bank cards?’ But if its someone you know or get a good vibe from, it’s probably just genuine concern for you.  So I asked how far to the top and if he thought it was ok I was alone, he said about an hour and that it was fine.  Then I said my parting Namaste and carried on. 

Being that I have been off the ‘exercise wagon’ a little lately, I was reminded of the sheer joy of completely ruining yourself doing something physical.  The hill to Sarankot is steep, and though it was a road I was following, the road was totally crap to walk on because the terrain went from soft dirt to big stones to cobblestone to grass to puddles to buffalo pattys… it kept changing so I really had to watch my feet the whole time.  But that’s part of the fun I suppose, and I continued. 

The next person I met while washing my face in a cold and fresh water-spout from a stream was a lady who explained in great detail using hand gestures how exactly to get to Sarankot. Unfortunately my fluent Nepalese hasn’t kicked in yet so I sort of did my own questions “Up, then up and up?” and gestures, thanked her and carried on again. 

Since I hardly met anyone after that, the walking was really quite meditative because the dry heat and the grasshoppers brought me back to when I was ten years old walking along the Credit River on a hot August day.  That mixed with the smell of fresh cut wood wafting down from a building project that reminded me of my Dad made me feel quite at peace thinking about him and whether or not he would have liked traveling to Nepal.

I continued up and about 40 minutes into the hike I came across a sign that said “Sarankot à 1 Hour” which was a little off putting.  At that point, just over 1/3 of the way I was pretty much dying because that idyllic heat in my memory didn’t scorch as much as the hot breeze that picked up, spurred on by the blazing sun.  The steep climb to the next switch back felt less of a challenge and more like torture because my legs weren’t accustomed to the 45 degree angle of the hills.  It was really a testament to my willpower that I continued on, up, around and back on the flat. Up, around and back… it went on endlessly until I think I was about three quarters of the way and confronted by some pretty indignant water buffalo that I thought, maybe this is a bit too much for me today.

I sat and ate an orange and waged my options… shoo the buffalo away and carry on or think about the probably 1.5 hour hike then walk back to the guesthouse?

With all the sugar of that fresh clementine coursing through my blood I came to my senses and decided that the “pup out and head downhill to the hideout” route was probably the best option for me.

You must be wondering where Willy Wonka is in all of this?

Tune in tomorrow to find out.



Wiiiiiizzzzzzzz!

We Canadians are few


A big long post with hardly any photos

It is quite apparent that the majority of foreign people I meet here are German, French, British and Dutch, with the odd Japanese, Russian and possibly American.  But nothing sounds so sweet as a very particular lilt in speech that indicates that the new friend you are talking to is none other than a good old Canadian.  Admittedly Canadians are a special breed, but we number very few here in Nepal and I started to wonder why.

Why is such an outdoorsy, adventuresome group of travellers not here in Nepal, the mecca of trekking and traveller’s trots and truly cheap exchange on the dollar?

Perhaps we are not educated, I conclude.  Perhaps I need to devote a few words to pitching you on coming here in the future.  Even though my breadth of experience in Nepal is limited, I feel I have put in good enough time that I can tell you with certainty, you should come here before things change, or they figure out what they’ve got here and start charging appropriately for it.

Just 'cause its cheap, doesn't mean someone ain't paying

On that note, travelling in a developing country is cheap.  Food is cheap. Getting from one place to the next is cheap.  Souvenirs and local clothing are cheap. Your dollar goes a lot further here than it does in Copenhagen, or Barcelona or Paris or Warsaw or any other major city I’ve been to recently.  But beware, there is a social cost to that cheapness though.  I asked a rug dealer in Kathmandu recently, where his rugs were made.  “In my factory!” he proudly exclaimed.  To which I countered, “Yes but are the people happy working in your factory?” and he looked me straight in the eye and unflinchingly replied “Yes of course!” which I barely believed. I googled ‘fair trade rugs’ and found a place in Patan to shop when we’re in Kat next.

But I think it’s a good point to make though, often when things are cheap it means that someone is paying the price for your choices.  Cheap food at a restaurant means low wages, no social safety net for employees and low wholesale prices for farmers.  Cheap souvenirs can mean child labour or really crappy working conditions for those making the goods. So I try and think about that as I go through my days here.

The airfare to get here is certainly expensive, but that’s true when you want to fly anywhere these days, however when you arrive here it’s quite affordable, shall we say, so then what?  Well, Kathmandu is a huge sprawling city that nearly ate me alive, but I’m glad I went there because the capital is often the centre of activity for a country. 

A quick and dirty take on things to do

This time around, the SAARC meetings are happening next week when all the South Asian countries meet to hash out a unified future for their countries.  This has also brought to light some of the social issues in Nepal such as the ill-advised spending of the government.  Why does the government need to spend such a huge and special budget on things that the Village Development Community funds (VDC) or the VAT tax money should be continually updating anyway, just to impress their friends?  I guess, that’s they way things are here for now and this is one of the reasons it’s still a developing country.

But for the average traveller, Kathmandu offers historical and religious sites like Pashiputinath, the oldest Hindu temple, and Kathmandu Durbar Square, or Patan Durbar Square with its ancient architecture or Swayambunath Temple with its monkeys or nearby Bhaktapur or Nagarkot (by hiking or taxi ride) for the sunrise. There’s lots to see and it’s easily accessible if you’re patient and ask a lot of questions—but don’t let that deter you because getting there is half the fun!

After that there are other larger cities that can easily be reached by plane (usually late and a little scary) or bus (less scary, less expensive and a full day) and shows you more of the natural splendor that this country has to offer.  Most people head to Pokhara as a launching pad for trekking on the Anapurna mountain range and a plethora of famous treks.  Palpa (aka Tansen), where we were this week is considered ‘off the beaten path’ has a little less to offer as a city, but some pretty manageable ‘walks’ that don’t require a bunch of gear and overnight commitments.

Lumbini being close to the Indian border is a destination for pilgrims and school trips alike.  It’s also located in the Terai region, which is astonishingly flat compared to the hilly region of Kathmandu and Pokhara.  After spending 6 weeks in the hills, it’s really, really flat and the agriculture is evidently different (you’ll see why when you get there).

Insight on the people

And what else?  Nepal wears its culture on its sleeve while quietly keeping the integrity of the everyday life of its people a little discreet.  Home life is different than Canada or western culture.  Most marriages here are arranged marriages rather than love marriages.  Families with similar outlooks often strike a deal to marry their children who are probably compatible but mostly ‘family-culture’ compatible.  The couple most often moves into the home of the groom’s family, where he possibly grew up, and the wife often is subject to the mother in law as well as the males of the household. 

There is quite a lot of literature specifically looking at this dynamic, whereby women in many developing countries with arranged marriages are always on the bottom:  as girls, as brides, and then as wives (for more accessible reading on this look up “Unequal Citizens: Gender, Caste, and Ethnic Exclusion in Nepal” and other papers written or managed by Dr. Lynn Bennett).  It is only after the mother in-law passes on that the girl then grows up and takes over her own household when her children marry she can be in charge of the incoming bride.  She essentially spends her life waiting for the power to shift in her favour, so when it finally arrives, who can blame her for taking advantage?

The long standing expectation for women and men here in Nepal is you will marry whom your parents choose, do the bidding of the household, later bear children, and carry on the cycle after the previous generation passes on.  It’s a scary prospect for some young women, who are either influenced by western culture, or by the notion that perhaps a bit more choice in their own destiny should be allowed.  Its also a strong part of the social culture here, and this approach to marriage is not to be underestimated in its importance to broader society, no matter which role they are playing in its construct.  The literature I have read only sometimes touches on how important the integration of two distinct families is in a broader societal sense, and as such we can sometimes walk away with a one sided, western-driven view of it all.

Either way you cut the pie, marriage is a commitment of two people for life, and the current divorce rates in western marriages would certainly stand to say that its not a perfect system we have developed by any means.

Wrapping it up

While I do avoid going out at night, it’s mainly because I am a solo traveller wary of the dark when nightlife happens with alcohol and emboldened men and children working in dubious trades—it’s just not my scene. But overall I feel safe moving around and I often see people with their kids on vacation here.  I really enjoy the simplicity of village life that is easily observed: the early morning feeding of goats and buffalo; the hand crank fans used to clean the chaff from rice grain; women washing their hair at a roadside fountain, always dressed in brightly coloured clothing, muted colours not being preferred at all in Nepal because that simply wouldn’t suit their dispositions.

While I am not sure I did this sales pitch justice, I will conclude by saying I definitely recommend you visit Nepal because its much more accessible than you would think. The climate is ideal, the people are open and friendly, and if you play your cards right, you probably won’t come down with the trots at all, or at least not that badly anyway. 


 


Saturday, November 22, 2014

Nifty nifty, this is fifty - Sunday photos

The fiftieth post! Huzzah! Whizz bang!

If you're still with me, then thanks for reading!

Here are some more photos from Lumbini…