How do I begin to describe what it feels like to visit the second richest economy in the world after having lived in the second poorest country in the world?
Shell-shocked is the best term I can come up with.
Japan
is
nuts.
Here's a few comparisons for y'all to mull over as you enjoy a beer on a sunny patio in July:
average monthly salary in Japan (allegedly): 2500 USD. [I think this must be wrong...it must be higher because the cost of living is so insanely high here]
average YEARLY salary in Nepal: 470 USD
typical street in Japan: Spotlessly, obsessively clean. Filled with cars that run smoothly and silently. Lined by stores selling every item imaginable from Hello Kitty bags to Louis Vutton suits.
typical street in Nepal: Dirty and disordered. Filled with rickshaws, water buffalo and a few motorcycles all making a heap of noise. Lined with garbage, livestock and a few small shops.
a cheap meal in Japan: 10-15 USD
a cheap meal in Nepal: 1-2 USD
typical streetwear in Tokyo: Glammmmmmmed up women in designer dresses, wearing SKY high stillettos. Harajuko girls in outrageous cos play outfits (google it if you don't know what that means), goth guys in black mesh shirts with hairstyles that defy description.
typical streetwear in Pokhara: Saris and khurta shurbas. Sandals or bare feet depending on your preference and/or financial restrictions. All the colours of the rainbow, with very few frills.
typical bathroom in Japan: Tiny, and containing a toilet likely designed by NASA. Remote control flushers, princess sound systems (as in the toilet makes a noise while you go about your business to mask any embarrassing sound faux-pas), bidets and 'powerful deodorizers'. As in the toilet smells like roses.
typical bathroom in Nepal: A bucket to shower with. A hole for a toilet.
Japanese grub: Sushi, sashimi, pastries filled with mysterious bean pastes. McDonalds and Starbucks if you so desire. french croissants and pain au chocolate. Wine, beer, sake and very respectable coffee.
Nepali grub: Dhal bhat (lentils and rice). Milk tea. Occasionally a warm beer. Very very very rarely a cold one.
Japanese sporting event: Tigers baseball game. Possibly the funniest most outrageous thing you have ever witnessed - quiet, timid Japanese men and women decked out in allll the team gear chanting and screaming and singing. But in an orderly fashion.
Nepali sporting event: Volleyball or cricket in the dirt. Definitely no local sports teams and no stadiums.
Japanese greeting: a complex series of bows....Very Complex. I don't understand the rules...but it's insane to watch. On the trains, the women selling coffee and snacks bow when they enter AND when they leave every. single. car.
on the streets, people keep their heads down and avoid eye contact for the most part.
Nepali greeting: hands over heart, 'Namaste' and a head wiggle.
on the street, people smile and say hello to everyone, calling each other sister/brother, aunt and uncle whether they are related or not.
One country has its roots in order, discipline, structure and rules. The trains are always on time, everything is impeccably clean, there's little to no visible poverty (at least in the cities).
The other country has its roots in chaos. Nothing is ever on time, it's always dirty, most people are poor.
One country is prim and proper. One is filled with passion.
Guess which one's which......
It's been fascinating being here.
It's been over-the-top amazingly awesome to spend time with my family again.
And I'm stoked to go back to my little chaotic paradise soon.....
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Weeping for Joy
I went up to one of the daycares that I work with today. It was intense.
The children are AMAZING. They are all so adorable, and some of them are sharp as anything. They smile and laugh and play and it warms your heart.
And then you look around.
The daycare they attend used to be a stable for horses. I say 'used to be' because they tore it down last week. Before it got torn down, there were three classes: one for 2 year olds, one for 3-4 year olds and one for 5/6s. Each classroom was a 3x3m concrete block with a window. The children in the 3/4 and 5/6 classes gathered around lowered coffee tables, one per classroom. On one wall in each room hung a chalkboard. The two year olds sat on worn pieces of carpet and played with dirty stuffed animals.
That was before the demolition.
The tearing down is actually a good thing - they're putting up a new 6 room school house in its place. Three rooms for the kids, one room for a women's training program, and one room for a kids with special needs program. The sixth room will be an office.
When they tore it down, they said the new building would be in place in six months. Nepali time-wise, that means we'll be lucky if the kids are in a new school this time next year. Extremely lucky.
In the meantime, the daycare has been moved to two closets (one's about 1mx4m, the other is about 3x2) and an 'outdoor' classroom for the older kids. The outdoor classroom consists of four pieces of metal normally used for roofing. There's three walls and a cover overhead. Think stable-without-the-hay and you get anidea of the set up. Devastating.
There's 30 kids who attend the school. The program funding them is actually one of the success stories here (yes, this is what success looks like in a third world country). The kids are all given uniforms and school supplies, they are provided with vitamins every other day, medicine when sick and they get a meal at school each day. The parents, in return, have to make sure they go to school every day. End of story. Every child is sponsored until the age of 16 (donors commit to a minimum of 10 years funding a child), so there's the assurance they will finish high school. Inspiring.
Nepal is a country of constant contrasts.
One where you can bask in the glow of a program that provides hope and a future to dozens of impoverished children, while simultaneously raging at the conditions that hope and future have to exist under.
The children are AMAZING. They are all so adorable, and some of them are sharp as anything. They smile and laugh and play and it warms your heart.
And then you look around.
The daycare they attend used to be a stable for horses. I say 'used to be' because they tore it down last week. Before it got torn down, there were three classes: one for 2 year olds, one for 3-4 year olds and one for 5/6s. Each classroom was a 3x3m concrete block with a window. The children in the 3/4 and 5/6 classes gathered around lowered coffee tables, one per classroom. On one wall in each room hung a chalkboard. The two year olds sat on worn pieces of carpet and played with dirty stuffed animals.
That was before the demolition.
The tearing down is actually a good thing - they're putting up a new 6 room school house in its place. Three rooms for the kids, one room for a women's training program, and one room for a kids with special needs program. The sixth room will be an office.
When they tore it down, they said the new building would be in place in six months. Nepali time-wise, that means we'll be lucky if the kids are in a new school this time next year. Extremely lucky.
In the meantime, the daycare has been moved to two closets (one's about 1mx4m, the other is about 3x2) and an 'outdoor' classroom for the older kids. The outdoor classroom consists of four pieces of metal normally used for roofing. There's three walls and a cover overhead. Think stable-without-the-hay and you get anidea of the set up. Devastating.
There's 30 kids who attend the school. The program funding them is actually one of the success stories here (yes, this is what success looks like in a third world country). The kids are all given uniforms and school supplies, they are provided with vitamins every other day, medicine when sick and they get a meal at school each day. The parents, in return, have to make sure they go to school every day. End of story. Every child is sponsored until the age of 16 (donors commit to a minimum of 10 years funding a child), so there's the assurance they will finish high school. Inspiring.
Nepal is a country of constant contrasts.
One where you can bask in the glow of a program that provides hope and a future to dozens of impoverished children, while simultaneously raging at the conditions that hope and future have to exist under.
Friday, May 29, 2009
What exactly do you DO all day?!?
A few people have been asking what the heck I'm doing with my life these days.
Fear not inquisitors, I shall explain.
I have been in Pokhara for about three weeks now, and will remain in this corner of the Earth for another two months, working with an organization called Nepal House.
Nepal House is a Canadian-Nepali NGO (we recieved 'charity' status in Canada quite recently actually. Pretty exciting), with two branches to it. Here in Pokhara, Nepal House Kaski is the branch which provides psychological counselling services to children who have been victims of trauma, abuse, neglect, poverty, etc. etc.
Seeing as there was a civil war here in the last 10 years which killed over 17 000 people, there's a fair few traumatized children in need of these services.
Nepal House Kaski is staffed by four Nepalese men and women who have been trained in play and art counselling/therapy.
At home in Vancouver, Nepal House Society is the branch of the organization dedicated to providing funding and education opportunities to the Nepalese people working at NHK.
NHS' primary goal is to 'create capacity in Nepal'. Basically, the idea is to try and avoid a band-aid approach to support; instead of bombing in from Canada and helping out for a few months then leaving again, we come here to train the people who work directly with the children. Counsellors, caregivers, orphanage managers and health care professionals from about 15 different orphanages and children's homes in the Pokhara valley recieve support from NHK/NHS on a regular basis.
As a speech-pathologist, I am here providing the Nepali people with some information on child language development and the process of learning. We are running a series of five-day workshops, centered on various topics of relevance to the caregivers and the work they do out here.
It's amazing, and incredibly challenging. The barriers these children (and their caregivers) face on a daily basis are so far removed from the challenges we face at home. The environments they live in are so different from the child care centers I am used to working with, there are concerns about landslides, lack of electricity, road blocks and strikes which take precedence over concerns like cleanliness of toys (where toys are present) or a child who can't say their 's' sound.
Despite this, the people are all so welcoming and so eager to learn that you are left with no other desire than to hunker down and try to come up ways to teach them new skills within the context of their lives, a million miles removed from the comforts and conveniences of home.
Anybody who is interested, NHS' website is http://www.nepalhousesociety.org/
Fear not inquisitors, I shall explain.
I have been in Pokhara for about three weeks now, and will remain in this corner of the Earth for another two months, working with an organization called Nepal House.
Nepal House is a Canadian-Nepali NGO (we recieved 'charity' status in Canada quite recently actually. Pretty exciting), with two branches to it. Here in Pokhara, Nepal House Kaski is the branch which provides psychological counselling services to children who have been victims of trauma, abuse, neglect, poverty, etc. etc.
Seeing as there was a civil war here in the last 10 years which killed over 17 000 people, there's a fair few traumatized children in need of these services.
Nepal House Kaski is staffed by four Nepalese men and women who have been trained in play and art counselling/therapy.
At home in Vancouver, Nepal House Society is the branch of the organization dedicated to providing funding and education opportunities to the Nepalese people working at NHK.
NHS' primary goal is to 'create capacity in Nepal'. Basically, the idea is to try and avoid a band-aid approach to support; instead of bombing in from Canada and helping out for a few months then leaving again, we come here to train the people who work directly with the children. Counsellors, caregivers, orphanage managers and health care professionals from about 15 different orphanages and children's homes in the Pokhara valley recieve support from NHK/NHS on a regular basis.
As a speech-pathologist, I am here providing the Nepali people with some information on child language development and the process of learning. We are running a series of five-day workshops, centered on various topics of relevance to the caregivers and the work they do out here.
It's amazing, and incredibly challenging. The barriers these children (and their caregivers) face on a daily basis are so far removed from the challenges we face at home. The environments they live in are so different from the child care centers I am used to working with, there are concerns about landslides, lack of electricity, road blocks and strikes which take precedence over concerns like cleanliness of toys (where toys are present) or a child who can't say their 's' sound.
Despite this, the people are all so welcoming and so eager to learn that you are left with no other desire than to hunker down and try to come up ways to teach them new skills within the context of their lives, a million miles removed from the comforts and conveniences of home.
Anybody who is interested, NHS' website is http://www.nepalhousesociety.org/
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
A heart of gold, a fistful of pennies
The Nepalese people are often described as the most kind and generous people you will meet.
With good reason.
I am constantly baffled by the ability of people here to give and give and give, despite having next to nothing for themselves.
Last night was my co-worker and good friend Michelle's final evening in Pokhara. She's been here for two months, providing support to the counsellors at Nepal House - teaching them about report writing, confidentiality and a plethora of other therapy-related skills.
In order to celebrate the end of her time here, our family at the coffee house where we go pretty much every day decided to have us all over for dinner. Imagine the world's smallest coffee house (there's four tables in total - max of 10 customers at a time), with the smallest kitchen. At the back of the kitchen are the two tiny rooms that the family lives in - the one bedroom is piled high with clothes, baby paraphenelia, jewellery, blankets , towels and all the other necessities of daily life.
When I arrived, the 22-year-old daughter Sabina gave me a big smile and informed me that I was to borrow one of her saris to wear for the evening. It was gorgeous. There is no piece of clothing more flattering than a sari, I am convinced.
After decking myself and Michelle out in her clothing, bangles and hair clips (Sabina and her sister even had to dress us - you try figuring out how to wrap yourself up in that piece of cloth), we had a photo shoot and sat down to the most incredible vegetarian meal ever. All eight of us.
Between the food, the colourful clothing and the fantastic company you might have thought we were in a five star hotel. Until you looked around and remembered how little these people have.
And yet they give and give, with an open-heartedness and ease which puts our Western concepts of generosity to shame.
That dinner was not the first act of kindness I have experienced here, and I'm sure it will not be the last. And every time I've tried to reject the Nepali kindness for fear of decimating their meager wealth, they smile and say
"you are family here. If I am in Canada, you would do the same for me."
....would we?
With good reason.
I am constantly baffled by the ability of people here to give and give and give, despite having next to nothing for themselves.
Last night was my co-worker and good friend Michelle's final evening in Pokhara. She's been here for two months, providing support to the counsellors at Nepal House - teaching them about report writing, confidentiality and a plethora of other therapy-related skills.
In order to celebrate the end of her time here, our family at the coffee house where we go pretty much every day decided to have us all over for dinner. Imagine the world's smallest coffee house (there's four tables in total - max of 10 customers at a time), with the smallest kitchen. At the back of the kitchen are the two tiny rooms that the family lives in - the one bedroom is piled high with clothes, baby paraphenelia, jewellery, blankets , towels and all the other necessities of daily life.
When I arrived, the 22-year-old daughter Sabina gave me a big smile and informed me that I was to borrow one of her saris to wear for the evening. It was gorgeous. There is no piece of clothing more flattering than a sari, I am convinced.
After decking myself and Michelle out in her clothing, bangles and hair clips (Sabina and her sister even had to dress us - you try figuring out how to wrap yourself up in that piece of cloth), we had a photo shoot and sat down to the most incredible vegetarian meal ever. All eight of us.
Between the food, the colourful clothing and the fantastic company you might have thought we were in a five star hotel. Until you looked around and remembered how little these people have.
And yet they give and give, with an open-heartedness and ease which puts our Western concepts of generosity to shame.
That dinner was not the first act of kindness I have experienced here, and I'm sure it will not be the last. And every time I've tried to reject the Nepali kindness for fear of decimating their meager wealth, they smile and say
"you are family here. If I am in Canada, you would do the same for me."
....would we?
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
mo ali ali Nepali balshu
Allow me to tell you all a little story...
So today, being that it was beautiful and sunny and I found myself with an afternoon off, I decided to take my bike (her name is MeanJean and she is fabulous) and head off in search of the fruit and vegetable market.
My Nepali sister Sonu had already taken me there twice, so I figured I could find my way.
True to form, however, I immediately got lost. For a long time...
Determined not to go home empty handed (particularly because I had promised Sonu I would bring her back a papaya), I finally veered off to a roadside fruit stand to see if I could purchase some goods.
After a good ten minutes of miming and garbling my way through my Nepali vocabulary, a kind gentleman who spoke a bit of English took pity on me and came over to translate. With his assistance, I purchased 4 kilos of bananas, apples and mangos (amph) for 210 rupees. That's about 3.50 Canadian.
Bolstered by these successful purchases, and happy to have found myself a personal fruit guide, I asked my new friend if he could inquire about the possibility of procuring some papaya.
"Yes yes, i asking for you".
Sadly, the response was in the negative. No papayas at this fruit stand.
"You no worry, I am seeing some papaya, you come with me" and he walked off, motioning over his shoulder for me to follow him.
5 steps later, we were on the sidewalk, staring at what was very clearly someone's garden wall.
"You see? papayas!" he cried, pointing upwards.
And there, hanging from a tree in all its yellow-green glory, was a papaya.
"Oh yeah, but I think those belong to someone" I laughed, not thinking he was serious. Was he really about to go ask some random family to sell me two papayas off the tree in their backyard?
"No, no! No worry, I am asking them" he exclaimed, and walked off to talk to a group of elderly gentlemen who were sitting curbside enjoying a cup of chia.
15 minutes and 10 new Nepali friends later, a nice young gentleman walked out of the house, shimmed up the tree and cut down my prize. Coming out onto the sidewalk where I stood, he held out not one but two glorious papayas (meowa).
The price? 75 cents.
You don't get service like this in Canada.
So today, being that it was beautiful and sunny and I found myself with an afternoon off, I decided to take my bike (her name is MeanJean and she is fabulous) and head off in search of the fruit and vegetable market.
My Nepali sister Sonu had already taken me there twice, so I figured I could find my way.
True to form, however, I immediately got lost. For a long time...
Determined not to go home empty handed (particularly because I had promised Sonu I would bring her back a papaya), I finally veered off to a roadside fruit stand to see if I could purchase some goods.
After a good ten minutes of miming and garbling my way through my Nepali vocabulary, a kind gentleman who spoke a bit of English took pity on me and came over to translate. With his assistance, I purchased 4 kilos of bananas, apples and mangos (amph) for 210 rupees. That's about 3.50 Canadian.
Bolstered by these successful purchases, and happy to have found myself a personal fruit guide, I asked my new friend if he could inquire about the possibility of procuring some papaya.
"Yes yes, i asking for you".
Sadly, the response was in the negative. No papayas at this fruit stand.
"You no worry, I am seeing some papaya, you come with me" and he walked off, motioning over his shoulder for me to follow him.
5 steps later, we were on the sidewalk, staring at what was very clearly someone's garden wall.
"You see? papayas!" he cried, pointing upwards.
And there, hanging from a tree in all its yellow-green glory, was a papaya.
"Oh yeah, but I think those belong to someone" I laughed, not thinking he was serious. Was he really about to go ask some random family to sell me two papayas off the tree in their backyard?
"No, no! No worry, I am asking them" he exclaimed, and walked off to talk to a group of elderly gentlemen who were sitting curbside enjoying a cup of chia.
15 minutes and 10 new Nepali friends later, a nice young gentleman walked out of the house, shimmed up the tree and cut down my prize. Coming out onto the sidewalk where I stood, he held out not one but two glorious papayas (meowa).
The price? 75 cents.
You don't get service like this in Canada.
Friday, May 15, 2009
If it's for you in life, it will never pass you by
How does one begin to describe a place like Nepal?
I've been using words like amazing and majestic, in an attempt to convey something of the jaw-dropping, monumental intensity of this place.
But words aren't big enough for this country.
When you're surrounded by the endless sprawl of the Himalayas - and they really ARE endless - you somehow feel like a giant and a grain of sand, all at once....
This feels like a place where you can be something. Where you can help and be helped, where you can teach and learn, all in equal parts.
It feels like the place I've been searching for forever...only I never even realized I was
looking.
There are a thousand reasons to love a place like Nepal. And a thousand reasons why it will break your heart.
You love it for the colours. Look up, and you see blues, greys, golds and whites filling the skies. Look down and you see the dark greens and browns of the forest and earth. Look around, and you'll also see the reds, the purples and the pinks that gleam on the traditional dress of the Nepalis, the Tibetans, the Indians who all live here in a semblance of harmony. You see the oranges and yellows of the fishing boats, reflecting off the surface of Phewa lake. It's amazing.
You love it for the light. Light which can change in the span of a few minutes from the ominous darkness of a thunderstorm to the dazzling light of the sun as it bounces off the snow-capped peaks of the Annapurnas. Majestic. Jaw droppingly majestic.
I've been here a week. And every day, I have to stop at least 18 times just to LOOK. It takes my breath away.
This chapter's gonna be a good one kids.
I've been using words like amazing and majestic, in an attempt to convey something of the jaw-dropping, monumental intensity of this place.
But words aren't big enough for this country.
When you're surrounded by the endless sprawl of the Himalayas - and they really ARE endless - you somehow feel like a giant and a grain of sand, all at once....
This feels like a place where you can be something. Where you can help and be helped, where you can teach and learn, all in equal parts.
It feels like the place I've been searching for forever...only I never even realized I was
looking.
There are a thousand reasons to love a place like Nepal. And a thousand reasons why it will break your heart.
You love it for the colours. Look up, and you see blues, greys, golds and whites filling the skies. Look down and you see the dark greens and browns of the forest and earth. Look around, and you'll also see the reds, the purples and the pinks that gleam on the traditional dress of the Nepalis, the Tibetans, the Indians who all live here in a semblance of harmony. You see the oranges and yellows of the fishing boats, reflecting off the surface of Phewa lake. It's amazing.
You love it for the light. Light which can change in the span of a few minutes from the ominous darkness of a thunderstorm to the dazzling light of the sun as it bounces off the snow-capped peaks of the Annapurnas. Majestic. Jaw droppingly majestic.
I've been here a week. And every day, I have to stop at least 18 times just to LOOK. It takes my breath away.
This chapter's gonna be a good one kids.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Adios Vietnam, Namaste Nepal
Wow, I'm getting worse and worse and updating this puppy.
A quick recap of the last few weeks:
After quitting the backpacker guide job in Hanoi, I headed south to Saigon to see Brandon and Adam.
It was EPIC.
I landed in Ho Chi Minh City and as soon as I got off the plane the boys were waiting for me.
There are no words that can describe how wonderful it felt to see them again. Three years is a long time to go without seeing someone of monumental importance in your life.
Cool as.
They then proceeded to show me a side of Vietnam which I probably NEVER would have been able to access without them. I went to aerobics classes with Brandon's girlfriend Quyen (hilarious...picture about fifty teeny little Vietnamese ladies jumping around on a cement courtyard to some of the most aweful pop music you have ever heard. Soooo fun).
We went to a wedding (Vietnamese weddings last exactly one hour: you sit down, drink a bunch of beer, eat, then leave. You can tell who partied hardest based on the size of the trash pile under their table. Try not to kick over the thousands of empties as you leave).
We went to the Mekong delta and hung out with Quyen's family for the national holiday, then went to a seaside resort where Brandon and I were the only two white people. Sort of makes you feel like a rockstar when people stare at you that much.
I went to Vung Tau with Adam and his girlfriend where I got to experience karaoke. Real karaoke with a bunch of Vietnamese bar staff. I am not even going to begin to try to relate the hilarity of THAT experience.
Stories and experiences to last a lifetime.
I know you guys are going to read this so THANK YOU. Y'all killed it.
Quickly raced back to Bangkok after Saigon, where I was reunited with some folks from Vang Vieng for a night or two on Khao San Road.
And now...at long last...I am in NEPAL.
Two years of dreaming, and I'm finally here. I keep pinching myself. Kathmandu is everything I dreamed it would be and more. The smells, the colours, the people....this is going to be amazing.
I leave for Pokhara in the morning. Nepal House, here I come!
A quick recap of the last few weeks:
After quitting the backpacker guide job in Hanoi, I headed south to Saigon to see Brandon and Adam.
It was EPIC.
I landed in Ho Chi Minh City and as soon as I got off the plane the boys were waiting for me.
There are no words that can describe how wonderful it felt to see them again. Three years is a long time to go without seeing someone of monumental importance in your life.
Cool as.
They then proceeded to show me a side of Vietnam which I probably NEVER would have been able to access without them. I went to aerobics classes with Brandon's girlfriend Quyen (hilarious...picture about fifty teeny little Vietnamese ladies jumping around on a cement courtyard to some of the most aweful pop music you have ever heard. Soooo fun).
We went to a wedding (Vietnamese weddings last exactly one hour: you sit down, drink a bunch of beer, eat, then leave. You can tell who partied hardest based on the size of the trash pile under their table. Try not to kick over the thousands of empties as you leave).
We went to the Mekong delta and hung out with Quyen's family for the national holiday, then went to a seaside resort where Brandon and I were the only two white people. Sort of makes you feel like a rockstar when people stare at you that much.
I went to Vung Tau with Adam and his girlfriend where I got to experience karaoke. Real karaoke with a bunch of Vietnamese bar staff. I am not even going to begin to try to relate the hilarity of THAT experience.
Stories and experiences to last a lifetime.
I know you guys are going to read this so THANK YOU. Y'all killed it.
Quickly raced back to Bangkok after Saigon, where I was reunited with some folks from Vang Vieng for a night or two on Khao San Road.
And now...at long last...I am in NEPAL.
Two years of dreaming, and I'm finally here. I keep pinching myself. Kathmandu is everything I dreamed it would be and more. The smells, the colours, the people....this is going to be amazing.
I leave for Pokhara in the morning. Nepal House, here I come!
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