TravelStream™ news feed for member jeschill on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/jeschill en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Tue, 31 Jul 2007 06:19:17 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1185873780/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1185873780/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1185873780/tpod.html Tue, 31 Jul 2007 06:19:17 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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London, United Kingdom

Wow, I can't believe that it's almost over now. I spent the night in Standsted last night ( not a bad little airport) and one bus and two trains later I am sitting in Heathrow, absurdly early for my flight. I really love being in new places. But the actual travelling part, I could live without. My last few days in Italy were great. Ate alot and drank alot and even spent some time by the pool. And I am ready to come home. Four months is enough to live out of one backpack!
So, looking back on the sum total of my trip, what can I say? Did it turn out as I expected it too? Of course not, these things never do. More importantly, did I get out of it what I thought I would? Weelll, sort of. NO major epiphanies, but then who was I kidding anyways. Did I figure out some important stuff about myself? For sure, but those things were already in me and I already knew them. It is good to be reminded of them now and then though.
I DO think that I gained something I didn't expect to. I came on this trip to be alone, to be independant, to do my own things and learn my own lessons. But it didn't actually turn out that way. The first few times I ever went traveling, I was so enthralled, so in awe of everything. Just being away made me feel so free, so liberated, like I could be whoever I wanted. I guess that's kind of what I was seeking this time. I guess I was trying to find the freedom to be myself, by myself.
But the funny thing is that when I got to Nepal, I didn't feel that same sense of liberation. I guess I just felt like same old me. As my dad says, "no matter where you go, there you are." Some of the initial glow, of just being away, was missing. I didn't even feel culture shocked. Everything felt just kinda normal. But as time went on, instead of being impressed by where I was, I started to really feel moved by the people who were around me. I have traveled quite a bit, but never have I spent so much time getting to know people, as this time. And I'm not talking about other travelers. Living and teaching in Nepal was a whole new challenge that really enabled me to get involved in their lives, to see the way they live. Even as I traveled through Portugal and Italy, I ended up spending a lot of time with the people who call those places home. I really think this is much more difficult than just being your average tourist, but so much more rewarding. Instead of figuring out who I was, what I wanted, where I was going, I started opening to all these other lives and feelings and modes of feelings. The whole thing ceased to be about me and became something else. And I think for me it was a logical next step. I mean why do I go to all these places? Yes it's to learn about myself but I didn't realize just how much you can learn about different people, their lives and their thoughts and their dreams and their hardships by really immersing yourself in their lifestyle, or how rewarding it would be to me.(Am I getting old?)
I can say without a doubt that on this trip I met some of the most interesting, geniune, warm- hearted and welcoming people that I have ever met in my life. People very different from those that I see at home everyday. People that welcomed me into their homes and into their lives. This is really not what I expected to experience by coming here, but I believe that I am enriched personally by having experienced it. And yes, it was a major challenge at some points. It was a lot harder than buying museum tickets and getting drunk at the biggest club in town. But in the long run it was so much better. It brings tears to my eyes to think of some of the relationships I made, irreplaceble, with people I would have never otherwise have had the chance to meet. To me that is what made it the experience of a lifetime.
And, in the meantime, I have learned some important things about myself. I realized I can adapt when I need to and live in a culture completely alien to my own. I realized even more how much I love history and sociology. And I realized that friendships can form, in all sorts of ways and in all sorts of places and with people that you least expect. and ya, I did know all that stuff, but it doesn't hurt to remind yourself of that. And to challenge yourself now and again.

So gains and losses? Well I lost a grand total of five pairs of sunglasses. One mountain equipment co-op jacket. Had some serious health irregularities along the way. From chronic insomnia, diarrhea and vommiting problems to every external weird thing you could possibly think of, including a weird foot thing and a swollen earlobe (which earned me the nickname THE LOBE) and then the tonsilitis. But these are truly trifles compared to what I've gained. If nothing else I am just a more well-rounded person, and another notch closer to the person that I aspire to be. Have I changed... of course not, just a little happier, a little more relaxed, a little more blonde and a little bit closer to all the things I hope to learn in the future. There are some truly gentle souls out there in the world, who have a lot they can teach you, sometimes you just have to look a little harder to find them. But when you do you realize that it's all worth the journey.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1183050600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1183050600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1183050600/tpod.html Wed, 25 Jul 2007 14:29:18 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Lisbon, Portugal

Wow, I think that I am experiencing some sort of reverse culture shock.... I have left the sometimes enchanting, sometimes infuriating, always interesting country of Nepal. I was really sad to leave but all good things must come to an end and it was great to leave it on a positive note. After an emotional parting from Rajesh and Amelia, I reluctantly walked into the airport, no looking back.
So my flight left at the ridiculous hour of 345am. I arrived at the airport promptly at 1230am, having of course not slept a wink. The flight was like 95% male Nepalis, apparently headed to the gulf for work. I only saw two other women and one other white person. Everyone was gaping at me and I felt grumpy and tired. It was funny though, another white lady was behind me and everytime we lined up in one pf the million queues we had to stand in, some official would come out and direct us to the front of the line. I felt a bit bad but all the men were like "It´s okay, ladies first." Sweet.
So we finally board the really crappy Gulf Air flight. I kick some dude out of my window seat, grab a blanket and pass out. An hour or so later I wake up to beaming sunlight on my face. The guy beside me has reached ACROSS me to open the window shade and stare out the window. At five o´clock in the morning! I stare at him angrily, grab the shade and slam it down. God!
Four hours later I arrive in Bahrain and spend six US dollars on a cup of coffee and a bottle of water. I have four hours to kill but fortunatly have a big, fat book to read. I wanted to buy something that would really last for awhile so hopefully I wouldn´t have to buy a book in Europe. So I bought Anna Karenina by Tolstoy. Never read it. I like it but I can tell already it won´t last the rest of the trip... It did distract me nicely though.
Next flight is again Gulf Air, seven hours to London. And this plane is five star. Big seats with tons of leg room, the little flaps on the headrest so you can sleep without your head flopping around. And personal t.v´s. I watched three movies. There was not a bad selection either. Stupidly, I watched "Bridge to Terabithia" because I had exhausted most of my other options, plus it was one of my favourite books as a kid. Of course I end up crying like baby. During a Disney movie, for christ sakes.
So I arrive in London and make my attempt to navigate the tube system in the middle of rush hour traffic. I actually did pretty well. Even when we all had to get off because there was a problem on the line, I figured which line to switch to to get to my destination all by myself. Actually the tube system is incredibly easy to navigate. Plus everyone speaks english. Worn out, I meet Radha at Brixton station. She asks if I feel like a beer, and of coursethe answer is yes. We have a few and dinner and she kindly picks up the tab. London is incredibly expensive. My BLT sandwich was like 15$. Thanks Radha!
We took the train to her friends place and I crashed on her fold out couch. I don´t recall having slept so deeply in a long time. In the morning, I had a coffee and headed back to the airport. I was going to stop at Buckingham Palace but I had all my bags and was short of time. Anways my flight to Lisbon was only two and a half hours. I got the window seat again and the views were stunning. I was dying of excitment by the time I got off the plane, I haven´t seen Stacy in a year and a half. And there she was, looking adorably pregnant. We had dinner and a chat in central Lisbon before coming home, which took awhile because her car broke down!
So now I sit in her sweet little home, having just come back from a walk around her cute little neighbourhood. Both Stacy and her husband are at work and I have spent the day "making myself at home." It´s so beautiful here, or what I've seen so far is! Tonight we are heading back to the aiport to pick up Kathy and then all the girls will be together again! I see some debauchery in the future! We spend a few days here and then we are heading down to the Algarve on tuesday.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1185382320/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1185382320/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1185382320/tpod.html Wed, 25 Jul 2007 14:17:06 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Treviso, Italy

And get my ass kicked, damnit! I guess this is kind of a lame blog entry, but the fact of the matter was that is did characterize my time here so far. I some how got tonsilitis... It's been a few years since I danced with this devil, but let me just say, it was nastier than ever!
The first few days I arrived were grand. I was feeling a little fatigued but it didn't seem unordinary. It's so hot here as well. There is actually like a heat warning. Some days it was pushing forty. That's pretty rough. So it didn't seem weird to feel a bit shit. Angelo took me to meet his family and friends. And oh, the rumours are true. The Italians really know how to eat. They eat a plate of pasta as a starter. And drink. Beer, wine, you name it. They have their own wine here called proseco. It is a sparkling wine, very light and very nice. They even have their own version of sangria. It's called a spritz and made with proseco. Lovely. In my first three days I met some really lovely, hospitable, and gentle people. I settled into my really nice hotel, cranked up the air conditioner, swam in the pool and generally enjoyed a slower pace of life. Wine at lunch and naps in the afternoon. Long dinners, delicious food and a really beautiful small Italian town (which by the way is not in Tuscany. I am a bit of an idiot it seems....)
Ahhh then disaster... The throat starts to swell up... and I start to feel a bit crappier. By the next day, the fever had set in. The problem with tonsilitis is that it's not just a (motherfucking) sore throat (sorry but that emphasis is warranted) but there is also flu-like symptoms. Fever, chills, aching arms and legs, all that good stuff. This initally overshadowed the throat so I didn't recognize as soon as I should have what the problem was. Angelo came by like six times hovering over me with a thermometer and clucking away like a worried old lady (which he practically is anyways). Here it is 35 outside and I have the aircon turned off and extra blankets piled on. I refuse food and spend a sleepless night. Too sick to watch tv. Definitly waaaay too sick for Anna Karenina. I couldn't even hold the damn thing up, let alone try and comprehend the endless dialogue.
Day two. My throat is on fire. Angelo stops by. It's his birthday. I'm bitter as hell. He shoves the thermometer at me and I nearly kill him. I tell him "It's tonsilitis, I know it. I need a doctor or I will die." Yes I am a huge baby when I'm sick. But I was suffering. Of course it's sunday. First thing monday I am promised a visit. It seems like an eternity. Can't swallow whatsoever. Spend the day watching CNN and BBC, the only english channels on the television (kath and stacy are laughing now...we watched that in Portugal too). When I can't bear to hear for the fortieth time who won the Golf Tournament in Scotland (bet you don't know but I do, first time for a European to win major title in eight years. Yes, it was that fascinating), I watched the Italian and German movie channels. Everything is dubbed here, so no english sub-titles The trick is to watch something where the plot line is so thin you really don't need to understand the language to know what's going on. I saw a sweet Hilary Duff movie and American Pie Three. I think they were almost more funny that way. All I can think about is "I'm in Italy and THIS is what I'm doing with my time here, what a cruel twist of fate." I send Angelo to the gelato store THREE times (truly the man is VERY patient) for lemon-slurpee thingies and ice cream. I am so hungry I am nauseated. The hotel people inquire after my welfare. Even the gelato man became concerned about me.
So, that evening I get a call. Angelo. The extended Italian family has conferred. Instead of tomorrow morning they have decided it would be best to go to the emergency room tonight. After the birthday party. Ahhh the hospital drive. Off we go. A few of Angelo's relations come along. "Whhhyyyyy...." I whine. "Because they are concerned for you, you are part of the family." "Three days ago they didn't even know me! What the hell is this, the bloody Italian mafia????" He actually had the good humour to laugh. The last this I feel like is smiling and having both my cheeks kissed, but everyone is so genuinley worried for me I don't even have to fake it. Not quite as good as having my own mum but it helped. We arrive at the hospital to find it closed. At night they only see grave cases. I almost weep. I'm feeling pretty grave. Angelo's niece Lucia gets on the phone and much Italian ensues. I have no idea what the hell is going on. All I know is that the thought of going home empty handed is crushing. I know the medecine won't make me feel better right away. But psychologically it might.... a placebo would be just fine right about now. All of a sudden, they are calling my name. They found a doctor who agrees to see me. I feel a bit guilty. It's the middle of the night and all the lights are off in the office. "Don't worry, he has to see you. It's part of the Hippocratic Oath." says Angelo. Ya, right, whatever.
It takes about five seconds to reach a diagnosis. He looks in my mouth and says "Yes, it is tonsilitis." And five minutes later I have the prescription in my hand. "What did Lucia say to that Doctor to make him see me?" I ask Angelo. "Ahhh she probably just flashed him her crotch" he responds to which she screams with laughter. The Italians love to joke about sex. I don't care what she did. I am in the woman's debt forever.
So I get my miracle drugs and go home. It will be two more days before I am up and about again. I watched a lot of crap tv. And cursed the world. Managed a few chapters of Anna Karenina. Bitch alot. It was shit but I owe Angelo ( and La Familia) a lot. They were very kind to me and glad to see me again when I was finally up and about (which was yesterday).
So today, finally, I feel like a normal person. Sort of. It's really hot here. It's eight pm now and I'm sweating. But now that I only have a few days left, I really need to pack it in. We went to Venice today. It's only 20 minutes away by train. I have been there before but I can't believe it was almost ten years ago. I didn't really remember it but as soon as I got there it all seemed so familiar. I even passed the hostel we stayed in. Archie's. Total dump haha. It was a beautiful day but absolutely packed with tourists. We took a boat ride around which I really loved. Great day to get my one millionth sunburn. I have four days left. Tommorow we are going to see the mountains (in the air conditioned car yes yes yes) and then we have another birthday on the weekend. Then monday off I head to wet wet london. And sleepin' in airports (my favourite!) till I leave tuesday. And then we will be communicating the old fashioned way. You remember... like face to face. The end is near, but it aint over till its over.... one last entry, with my excellent and insightful comments on the trip overall, and all its random parts, will greet you the next time you check. Yes, I know, the suspense is killing you.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1184583360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1184583360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1184583360/tpod.html Wed, 25 Jul 2007 13:45:26 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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The Algarve, Portugal

It been awhile but I'm back. Truthfully I am not actually in the Algarve, I am sitting in the Barcelona Airport, where I have spent the past 25 hours. With great difficulty I located this computer, and for a fabulously expensive price, decided to update my blog. I figured I saved enough money by skipping the hotel room last night. I had a pillow, a sleeping bag and a bench all to myself, and fortunatly it wasn't one of those idiotically designed ones with arm rests that don't go up so that you can actually lie down. Though it was hard as a rock, with the help of two adavans I was out like a light and slept for nine hours. Funnily, it was the best sleep I've had in awhile.
So Portugal, what to say about that lovely little slice of the world? It was great. We spent a lot of time on the beach which was fine by me. For the first few days after Kathy arrived we did a little sight seeing. We went into Lisbon, saw the big church of Fatima, the Convento de Christo (which was incredible, apparently it was in the running for the seven wonders of the world), did a little shopping. In the evenings we went out locally a few times. Stacy and Bruno live in Entroncomento (which means junction), a cute little town. Beer and wine is ridiculous cheap. In a restaurant a beer is like one euro. and wine is like 90 cents. They have something here called green wine (because its made from green grapes, don't know what the hell they use to make white wine) which is slightly sparkling and very light and delicious. We also tried the caracoices which are snails. (Or I should say I tried them) They still are in the shells and have their little antennas and everything. It's not good to look at them too much before you eat them and the big ones kind of scare me, but other than that they are delicious!
So after a few days the girls piled into Bruno's 1979 Mercedes, called the Mushi Bomb (somehting to do with the army I think), and headed to the Algarve. It was a gorgeous drive and the scenery was somewhat similar to what you might see in the Okanagan. We stayed in a place called Portimao which has the biggest beach in the Algarve, Praia de Rocha. Bruno's boss has a condo there and let us stay in it for a significantly discounted rate. Sweet! It was only five minutes from the beach, though we only went there once. It was just so huge and there was an issue with sand fleas. So instead we checked out other places, including our favourite beach, Lagos. Very, very incredible. In the evenings we usually went to Albuferda, which was so adorably cute, narrow cobblestone streets, seaside restaurants and rows and rows of bars.
So mostly we were pretty subdued, Stacy being pregnant and all. Me and kath really only got drunk a handful of times. One of those times was my birthday. We went to Lagos in the day and then into Albuferda. I drank some beer at dinner, then we went to an outdoor bar where they sell these gigantic cocktails that come with about a hundred garnishes, including like a mini firework, and cost like ten bucks. So ya, I had to have one of those. Tequila sunrise. Next we moved onto the sangria. They have both red and white here but red is better. Its very cheap and they use brandy, cointreau, gin, red wine and beer to make it. I'm telling you this stuff tastes like fruit punch, and it sure freaking packs a punch. No mix and every familly of alcohol is represented. Enough of that stuff and you just cannot be held responsible for your actions. So at some point in the night we decide we want to leave but we weren't finished our final jug. Solution? Steal it of course. Stacy told us not to but what can you do, it seemed like such a good idea at the time. So somehow, Im still not sure how because it was almost empty, the jug spills everywhere in kathy's purse. So we sit at a table and take everything out. Everything seemed to come out okay. the phone still worked, ditto for the camera. And everything made it back into the bag and back home, vitamins, cigarettes, nail polish. Except one thing. And what do you think went missing? Kathy's passport haha. "I TOLD you not to still that damn jug" said stacy. "But did you listen?" Anyways to make a long story short, the passport was retrieved, a good samaritan found it and turned it over to the police. So, all's well that ends well! You can't have a birthday without getting a little ridiculous!
Though that wasn't the only time sangria made us do crazy things.... On one of our last nights Kath and I drank two bottles of wine, followed by two jugs of sangria, after which I drank three pints of beer. We went on a thieving rampage. We met these guys who were on a stag and ended up partying with them. I blame them for egging us on. Everytime one of them got a beer they were like "This is a nice mug, do you want to pinch it?" So we did. Stacy was like "They were calling you guys gypsies" and i was like why? and she said "because you kept stealing everything!" haha. So the long and short of that story is, Kathy now has five beer mugs in varying sizes and one Hieneken ashtray to go along with her sangria jug. I'm telling you, it's the sangria. That stuff just makes a person totally insane and should only be drank with extreme caution, though it never is.
So we returned to entroncomento for a few days, met some of Bruno´s friends and had dinner with his parents a few times. Did some BBQ´s and sampled Bruno´s homemade sangria. They really love it here! We were pretty good that night though. So I left yesterday and took the train up to Porto to catch my flight into Barcelona. Bruno made one of his friends pick me up which made me feel very embarassed but it worked out great. I only had a few hours but I got to see a bit of Porto. It is much different than central or south Portugual, it sounds stupid but it seemed more european. I love to come back one day and spend more time in the North. Anyways, at a later date I will tell you the story of the Portuguese blind date. It deserves it's own entry.
No disc drive here so no pics for now. Fear not though, I have a disc combining mine, stacy's and kathy's photos so there is like five hundred! Ciao for now!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1182493800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1182493800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1182493800/tpod.html Fri, 22 Jun 2007 03:54:46 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Pokhara, Nepal

So our weekend at the National Park in Chitwan overall turned out to be pretty fun... It started it off kind of shitty but certainly improved by the end. And my six days in Pokhara were perfect. Exactly what I needed and one of my new favourite places on earth.

So we left for Chitwan in the pouring rain, all ready three days late because of the bus strike. I was already feeling a bit grumpy, something I really haven't felt much on this trip, I had been stuck in Ktahmandu city for a week and things were getting on my nerves. I hadn't had enough "me" time. The weather fortunatly cleared and we made our first stop, on the Trisuli river, for white water rafting. Which was really, really fun. And kind of scary. Our guide told us we went through "grade six rapids" what ever that means but I think they just tell that to tourists to make them feel cool. I did almost fall out of the boat though...our guide was screaming FORWARD, FORWARD and I was trying to paddle but there was like no water under the boat because we were flying through the air. My friend Radha said "there was a huge rock there so if you had of fallen out you would have died." I don't think this is really the case but it made me feel cool. I so cheated death.
So when we got off the boat we found out that the buses were again on strike so we could not leave untill tomorrow morning. We would be camping by the riverside for the night. Now don't get me wrong, I like camping. And as the sun went down it was really beautiful. But this place was HOT. Like really, really hot. We had all been sunburned to varying degrees that day (me not too bad) and it was soooo humid. I seriously thought I was going to sweat myself to death. This greek guy was like "I never thought it would be possible to die of dehydration while sitting beside a river." At night three of us cramped into a tiny tent and sweated all night long. I actually slept with a towel in my hand because every few minutes I would be woken by the sweat that was running off my body in little rivers. It was uncomfortable to say the least.
When we woke up in the morning it was once again pissing and I felt dirty and disgusting. Then I realized I had accidentally left my raincoat out all night and it had mysterioulsy disappeared. The night before our guide had said "Don't leave anything outside the tent, it will get stolen." Duh...I'm an idiot. So here I am, in the middle of monsoon season and headed for the jungle with no freaking raincoat. Bummer.
We go to get our bus, but for some reason that we were all to tired to ask about, we end up driving to Chitwan in a truck. The TATA'S are imported from India and are Nepal's answer to the big rig. The are painted with crazy colours, flowers and gods and the cabs are decorated as well. Bright wool and tassels hang from the ceiling and mini-idols cover the dashboards. Their horns all make little songs and they are always constantly honking. On the backs of every one of them you see the words "Horn Please!" I was actually pretty stoked, I have seen these menaces of the road all over India; they speed down the roads constantly honking their horns and stopping for nothing. I have always wanted to ride in one. Besides it was much cooler being in that cab than being on a bus anyways. And now I can say I've ridden in one. Why exactly we never got on a bus we didn't find out...
So we arrive at a gas staiton were I am forced to endure a toilet of nightmare qualities; the worst one so far in this country, when I realize my sunglasses have just snapped. I almost snapped myself at this point. They weren't expensive obviously but it was the principle. What other bloody thing was going to happen next??!!? (Incidentally, it was at this point that I took the picture of the tata and Amelia suddenly jumped into the photo. She said she was kind of scared to do it because she knew I was choked and she thought I just might choke her. I almost did, but then a second later I laughed, and again when I saw the photo. I still want to laugh when I see it).
So we finally make it to our little lodge in the national park. Fortunatly for me especially, it was really clean and beautiful rooms. I really liked it. We stayed two nights and the place was amazing. Awesome food too. It rained alot but that kind of reminded me of Vancouver. It really pours once it gets going. Amelia had an extra raincoat. Over the weekend we went on an elephant ride, fed the babies in the breeding center, went for a canoe ride (we saw a crocodile but it wasn't doing much) and a rhinocerous which was pretty freakin cool too. We also got to go swimming with the elephants but that was kind off scary because we had to ride the thing bare back down to the water and all three of us at once (normally there is a little saddle-thingie). It's really high once you get up there and there is nothing to hold on to. It feels like you are going to fall off the entire time. We all agreed that our thighs were stiffer from trying to stay on the damn thing than from the entire trek we did last month.
So after that Amelia headed to Lumbini and Kenzie and I went to Pokhara. I LOVE Pokhara. It is so clean and cute and beautiful scenery and very, very peaceful and so chilled out. I never wanted to leave. I went bike riding and boating and hiking in the mornings and chilled in the afternoon, in the garden or by the lake. I ate breakfat at a restaurant overlooking the lake that played classical music and where my organic coffee was always refilled. I strolled along the lake, visited the temples, read a novel. I tell you I could have stayed there forever. My own little room was in the cutest hotel run by this adorable family with cute babies, surrounded by a gorgeous garden. And it was three minutes walk from the little town. Yes, this place is totally touristy, but the folks are so laid back and you can still completetly experience the culture. Early in the mornigns the parents send the kids off in their school uniforms and the cows and buffalos mooo their way down the streets. The tibetan ladies try to get you to buy stuff and you see lots of Nepali tourists as well as white tourists. After the lake strip peters out you can wander into the village, go to a yoga or meditation retreat or visit a children's home. Unfortunatly for me I could not visit the yoga retreat because it was closed for the season. And though the lake itself is gorgeous, in the fall and winter you can see the entire Annapurna mountain range reflected in the lake. All we could see was clouds. I didn't feel so bad but Kenzie has been in Nepal three months and still had not seen mountains. She didn't go with us to Langtang. On our last day one of the biggest peaks was just barely visible, she was so happy! Anyways I have to go back of course, at a different time of year, and soon! I can really contemplate the nature of existence in a place like that!
Now I am back in Kathmandu city and even it is seeming cute and making it hard for me to leave. I am back at our favourite hotel in Thamel, the Mustang Holiday Inn, or the 'Stang, as we like to call it. Though it is a very hot time to be here ( and a very bad time to see mountains!) it is the best time of year for water rafting and flowers blooming. Everywhere little porch and terrace gardens are growing and birds are chirping and everything smells so nice. (Well obviously not everything, you certainly have to pick and choose your venues), but I am sad to leave and can't believe three months have just flown by all ready. At least I am seeing my two gals next in Portugal and don't have to head home quite yet. I know the money will just start flying fast and furious in Europe and the bulk of my trip is over. But I am grateful for all the fun I've had and everything has just gone so smoothly, I know it will continue to do so.
So, I leave at 345am on June 26th, arriving in London at 320pm. I am staying at my friend Radha's house, or more correctly, at her friend's house, as she just got back from Nepal last week. And then on the next day I fly to Lisbon. Two weeks of sun, sand, wine, my two best friends and Portugal. Ahhhhh....

]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1181290800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1181290800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1181290800/tpod.html Sat, 09 Jun 2007 06:25:07 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Langtang National Park, Nepal

I have neither words, nor time, nor space to describe my entire 10 day trek in Langtang except to say that it was absolutley INCREDIBLE! Saw some of the most beautiful views that I have ever seen in my life! Instead I thought that I would describe what was definitly a high point on the trek, a high point on this entire trip, and certainly something that I will remember all my life.....
It is our fifth evening into the trek and we are holed up at the Lovely View Guesthouse and Lodge in the tiny village of Kenzing Gompa. Incidentally, a Gompa is monastary in Tibetan and we can see it perched high up on a hill behind the village. Most of the villages we have been visiting are populated by Tibetan Buddhist tribes who wandered across the border hundreds of years ago. Since we left our starting point, the town of Dhunche, we had been pretty much just heading up, up, up every day. The weather had been gorgeous; blue skies and bright sunshine almost everyday, though it is getting cooler and cooler as we go up. We are on the very edge of monsoon season which usually starts around June. Since we left on May 27th we were thanking the weather gods for our good luck. Because it is off season, the trek is deserted. For our first three days we see no one else besides the occasional porter lugging rice and bottled water up the track (it's utterly amazing the amount of crap these guys can carry on their heads!) and a yak or two. Often we are the only guests in the entire lodge. This circumstance only contributes the feeling of complete remoteness.
At Kenzing Gompa we had reached that highest altitude that we would be staying for the trek. The air is thinner and breathing is harder. The following day we were climbing up to Kenzing Peak to view the glacier and than stay another evening at the Lovely View before making our way back down to Dhunche.
We are lounging in our room after a six hour day on the trail. It had been relatively flat that day but we were still pretty wiped out. After a nap and a cup of tea we are called down for dinner. Compared to our village trek, this trek was five-star. We got (semi) hot showers almost everynight and because it was off season we did not have to pay extra for the privilege. And instead of eating dhal bhat every night we actually got to choose off the menu. Though the selection contained no meat and very few veggies, at least we got to vary our carb selection. Instead of rice we could have noodle soup, chowmein, pancakes, porridge, bread, pasta, or my personal favourite, "cream of packet soup." We also experimented and discovered some new favourites, among them was the hearty sherpa stew and the delicious snickers momo.
At this elevation (around three thousand meters), its much colder than when we started out. As soon as the sun goes down the temperature drops. We huddle around the stove in the main dinning area as the proprietress of the lodge shoves dried yak dung patties inside. Hot tea is not only enjoyable but necessary. We play cards for a bit, have a rousing memory tournament with our guides and the other tourist in the lodge, a lone Korean girl. Given the various language barriers, memory seems like the easiest choice. At nine o'clock we head to bed.
Back in our room we put on every piece of clothing we have brought. Secretly we are both kind of glad that we did not drag thermal underwear and toques all the way to Nepal for no reason. I almost broke out my emergency blanket but thankfully the lodge lent us some yak's wool comforters that weigh like, thirty pounds each. We read for a few minutes by candle light and then go to sleep. Except I can't sleep. It is so black outside I can't see anything beyond my window ledge. It would be deadly silent as well, the village is completley shut down for the night, except for the wind that is screaming down from the mountain and blowing into every crack of our little wood cabin. I am warm underneath my many blankets and I am wrapped around my water bottle which has been filled with boiling hot water. Though I am completley comfortable, for the first time on my entire trip I think of the safety and comfort of my own bed. I am not scared, or even homesick, I guess I just felt very tiny, like this little, insignificant speck lost in the far reaches of the earth that could be blown away forever. Even though I can hear Amelia breathing in the bed beside me I feel very alone. Not lonely, it's not the same thing. Just like I am one of the last people on earth, small, powerless and surrounded by imposing and intimdatting natural forces that could wipe me off the face of the planet and that hardly register the blip that is my meager existence.
I sleep fitfully that night, waking up often. I have been told that it is a sympton of mild alttitue sickness. I think more likely it is the alien and awe inspiring landscape in which I find myself. I look at the clock and it's a quarter to five. Time to get up soon anyways. I begin my painful morning ritual of dragging myself out of my warm bed and into the freezing cold morning. Breakfast is at five-thirty. I order tibetan bread and peanut butter and nescafe coffee with milk. When the bread arrives I am informed that there is no peanut butter, so I am offered yak butter instead. Why not? I think. When in Rome.... besides, yak cheese is delicious. As I sip my coffee and yak milk I decide that the cow kicks the yaks ass in terms of dairy products. Amelia and I are in the habit of saying that everything is "yaktastic" or "yakalicious" but that is really more because we think that yaks are cute and that the word itself is just so bloody versatile. Take it from me, yak butter is definitly NOT yakalicious.
We walk into the early morning light, I am rubbing my freezing cold hands like crazy. Up untill now our Sherpa guide (affectionatly nicknamed Jackie Chan) has been shouldering the bulk of our stuff while we carry our day packs. Since we are coming back to the lodge, Jackie grabs our day pack and all I have to carry is my walking stick. This turns out to be a real blessing. We set off up the mountain directly behind the guest house. We have been climbing up the entire trek but this mountain was seriously steep. As we go higher and higher I start to get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. The village we have just left is now just a tiny speck and the drop down is so steep it hurts my calves just standing still. As I hunch over my walking stick panting for air, Amelia asks if I'm okay. "You know," I say, "I think that I might be mildly afraid of heights." She laughs and say "well everything you've said on this trek up untill now would indicate that." I think about all the suspension bridges we have crossed to get here and how I practically ran across each one. By the time I got to the other side I would comment with my usual "I did not like that." Funny, I guess I am afraid of heights and never really realized it. Bad time to realize it. The track just keeps going up and I try not to look down. I remind myself that hundreds of tourists do this hike every year. And not one fatality. Not one that you know of, thinks the evil side of my brain. As the sun pokes over the mountain, the temperature skyrockets and the sweat drips of my chin and nose. Every few feet I have to pause and suck back air which makes my throat and chest burn. At this altitude the particlesof oxygen in the atmosphere are 57% of what they are at sea level. I don't know what is making me more queasy, the lack of oxygen, or pure, unadulterated fear. We finally reach what I think is the top, but my relief is short-lived. Instead I find myself standing on a narrow ridge; the track about two feet across. Coming up I was scared because there was always a sheer drop to one side. But at least I could put my hand on the other side and touch the side of the mountain. On the ridge there is a sheer bloody drop on both sides and the wind is blowing like a banshee. Psychologists say that a phobia is an irrational fear of something. But seriously, is it so freaking irrational to be worried about plummeting to your death several thousand feet up the side of a mountain? I mean it doesn't seem too plausible to just spontaneously fall off, but what if I tripped, lose my footing? Get vertigo? Oh my god, oh my god. Now you might not think it's so scary. Maybe you think I'm just a big baby. But I can admit my fears. I think I know my own limitations pretty well. I would never go bungy jumping or sky-diving. I just don't like being terrified. "So", I wondered to myself, "If you're so smart how the hell did you find yourself up the side of this bloody freaking rock?" The answer was simply due to my usual, and sometimes overly passive style. I let Amelia do all the planning, figuring I was in for whatever. I like to think of myself as a go-with-the-flow type of chick. So as a result I had no idea how high we were climbing. And even if I did I doubt I would have known how it was going to make me feel.
We stopped for a rest on the ridge. I sat down next to a big a rock and wrapped my arms around it; hanging on for dear life. Our little sherpa bounded along the edge like a mountain goat and perched on a rock that was overhanging the edge of the cliff. My stomach did a sommersault and I wiped sweat from my brow. Then Amelia climbs onto another dangerously steep edge and chirps "Can you take a picture of me? It's on landscape setting though so you have to keep it really still." I make a supreme effort to stop my hands from shaking but fail. As we get up to go I debate just waiting for them where I was. I mean I had pretty nice views from where I was and the trail up ahead was as steep as it was narrow. I am loathe to admit this but looking up that trail made me feel like peeing my pants. You're probably laughing but I'm serious. I haven't felt like that in longer than I can remember...As if reading my mind, our guide said "We go up one way, come down another." Shit. "Is the way down less steep?" I ask. Jackie laughs and says "yes" which means absolutly nothing. He speaks very little english and answers yes to every question.
"Mathi, mathi" yells the guide and up indeed we go. Finally, after what seems like an eternity but is more like about two hours, we reach the summit. I have never felt so relieved in my entire life. I literallly feel as though I am standing on top of the world. Not only are the views totally out of this world, but I feel pretty proud of myself for not giving up. I did it! I conquered my own mini Mt. Everest. We spend about an hour on the summit and I actually relax. The top is flat so I don't feel like I am constantly teetering on the edge of oblivion, and the top of the mountain face overhangs the cliff side so I can't actually see the bottom. If I do somehow fall off here, I should stop after about thirty feet instead of like, a thousand. So how high were we? After checking on the map, we learned that Kenzing peak is 4,450 meters above sea level, or about 15,000 feet. From the village we had climbed 1,500 near vertical meters. I was pretty astonished. Sure its not like insane or anything, but not bad for someone with an irrational phobia. Everest base camp is located at around 17,000 feet so we were pretty close to that. Who woulda thunk it?
This may sound cheesy to some, and over the top to others, but standing on top of that mountain gave me a sensation of being close to God. I am not a religious person, obviously everyone knows this. But I have always felt really inspired by nature; it's beauty and it's power. I think it's the closest manifestation of the power of God, or Mother Nature, or what ever you want to call it, that I have ever felt. I can throw around words like awe-inspiring but the word does not approximate the feeling. Words never do. Suffice it to say, that the experience was something I will never forget, and a high point not only in my trek but also in the experiences that add up to the sum total that I call My Life So Far.
As we left to go down, my fear returned. You don't have to look down going up, but you do have to look down to go down. As we got ready to leave, Amelia shot me a sympathetic look and said "Do you want to go in the middle?" I nodded pathetically feeling somewhat safer having someone both in front of me and behind me. As we walk the tight-rope that is the ridge coming down I stay glued to our sherpa, walking in exactly his footstepsand praying that he can somehow grab me if I tumble over the edge. Probably wishful thinking considering I had at least 40 pounds on the dude. But they are strong little bastards.....
Once we got off the ridge I calmed down, and my breathing returned to a semblance of normality. Coming down I could really see just how high we went. By the bottom I was looking at the base of the mountains across the valley; at the top their peaks were at eye level. Back at the Lovely View we jubilantly celebrate our victory with over-priced beers. I can't tell you how great I felt! It really was an accomplishment for me, considering I was so freaked out! Would I do it again? With my two feet firmly planted on the ground I can unequivocally say yes. Get me back up on a mountainside and I can't rightly say. But I like to think that I would. Regardless, what a great memeory. I will never forget the feeling I had standing up there!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1180084500/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1180084500/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1180084500/tpod.html Sat, 26 May 2007 06:15:09 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Dhulikel, Nepal

Wow, I don't know quite how to start this one. A lot was accomplished in seven days! I had an absolutley amazing time. But it was also really challenging as well. Physically it was definatly one of the hardest thigs I have even done. We walked six to seven hours, everyday, and most days it was at least 30 degrees. There was alot of uphill, as you can imagine and alot of sweating and certainly some swearing! It's amazing how your body manages to keep going when your mind is screaming "Stop this frigging insanity right now!!!"
The scenery was absolutly out of the world. Stunning views and we did not see any other hikers the entire time which was neat and made us feel like we were so intrepid and going places no other white people had ever been. Of course this isn't true but the way that people stared at us you could almost believe it was. And than the little children would burst out with "Give me one chocolate!" and we realized there really is no such thing as "off the beaten path." Though I would say that this is as off as it gets.
It's amazing to see how these people live. It's like a time warp to three hundred years ago. We really and truly roughed it like I never have before. The houses were made of mud and usually the goats and cows sleep in the bottom floor of the house. There was flies everywhere. I named the first village we stayed in "Land of a Thousand Flies" but then I realized that every village could be called that. Food was cooked over a fire inside the house and I have no idea why but they really aren't into chimneys here. But the should really try it out because it makes breathing so much easier! And most villages had no running water or electricity. Can you imagine hiking seven hours in the blistering heat and NOT taking a shower when you got home? That is what the british call manky. In fact it's so manky it's absolutly skanky (which, incidentally does not mean slutty, like in Canada, but more like disgustingly gross; as in "There is a bit of skank stuck to your leg...") Some places did not even have toilets. But in some ways that was almost nicer. We have developed a rating system for toilets in this country. A ten has a western style toilet, toilet paper, running water, soap, is clean and does not stink. There are certainly no western toilets in the villages, nor any toilet paper. Those of us that had the forsight to bring our own (yes! I did actually plan ahead!) hoarded each and every square. We called it White Gold. Usually there was no water and the little shack itself was situated in such a place that to reach it one has to tramp across the shit infested animal pen. The buildings were so small you practically had to get on your knees to get inside and the doors never locked. And the smells.... oh the smells. These toilets don't actually flush so I guess describing them as toilets is kind of misleading. Anyways, the first person that had to go would come back with a rating. It was always a little disconcerting to hear two or one. It got to the point where I was happier to hear zero because that meant no toilet at all.
I find it strange too that they find shoes so disgusting. You have to take your shoes off before going inside the homes, but the floor is made out of dirt. How is the shoe dirt any different from the floor dirt? Never found the answer to that one!
That being said there was some deifinite highlights. First of all, I was very proud of myself because I am fitter than I thought. And I did not get one blister the entire time (I love my hiking shoes soooo much!) It was so great to get out of the city, breathe clean air and not see heaps of garbage anywhere. One particularly hot day we passed this beautiful river and went swimming which was not only really refreshing but also practical! I brought in my soap and shaved my armpits. It was sweet.
The toughest day was probably day five, when we crossed "Death Valley". Yeah we really liked naming things on this trip. Anyways it was hot that day. So freaking hot. After coming down a mountain and into the valley, we expected to be going up the other side. Which would have sucked, but what actually happened sucked worse. Instead of getting back on a shady trail, we had to walk straight up the totally dried up river bed. It was like walking through the desert with the sun boring a hole into my rain. We even came across some bleached animal bones. Serioulsy. Even the wind that was blowing was burning hot. We finally came to one lone building sitting all by itself in the middle of nowhere. It felt like some out post in some futuristic post-nuclear world where everything has been wiped out and only a few people have survived. We ate some instant noodles and slept on hay mats for half an hour. After we headed out again it was back into the blistering desert and when we finally got to the end of it, we had to walk straight up the side of a mountain. It was one of those days where I was like trying to remind myself why the hell I thought this would be a good idea. It flt so good to see our village for the night, even if it was five little shacks and our bed was a blanket on the floor. I tell you, giving up almost every comfort in the world sure makes you appreciate the little things!
Everyday we stopped in different villages for lunch and dinner. It was mostly good old dhal bhat but there was the occasional variety. At one spot I ate a plate of the spiciest chowmein I have ever had in my life. And lots of nepali tea. Like six times a day. And noodle soup. Lots and lots of noodle soup. At our first house we were sitting around waiting for dinner and our guide just walks out, grabs a chicken and slits its throat. Nothing like getting to know your dinner before you eat it. He did taste good though.
I did actually enjoy hanging with the barynard animals. It was another one of those things that made me feel ten years old. Lots of things to pet. And little babies. I became obssessed with catching baby chicks. I would chase them around the yard untill I caught them. And we saw some seriously adorable baby goats. Grown up goats are really stupid looking. They have the most vacant looking expressions. They don't show any sort of emotions like say, for instance, dogs. But the babies are freaking adorable. Their ears are gigantic and their legs are so long and skinny. And one of them was in love with us. It followed us everywhere and when we sat down, so did he. He tried to crawl on our laps and at night he tried to sleep under our bed. I think he thought he was a dog. We named him Gilbert the Goat. It was nice to know as well that he would live a long happy life as goats there were used for making local cheese and not mutton stew. [PHOTO_ID_R=img_0636.jpg
Than there was the raksi. They say it's Nepali beer, but believe me this stuff did not even remotely resemble beer. Didn't look like it or smell like it and certainly did not taste like it. It tasted more like it was made in a still in the farmyard or maybe a dirty bathtub (that is if they had bath tubs in this country). My nickname for it is bog water. On our last night we stayed in our guide's village. After dinner we all gathered in yard, and the Neplais broke out the raksi and a drum. They sang folk songs and danced and they made us dance too which was sort of embarassing at first but really, really hilarious, especially after enough raksi. I was a little worried about the morning's four hour hike to the bus, but amazingly, no hangover. My guide checked on me by asking "Do you have raksi problem today?" Not entirely sure what that problem might be but I was glad I did not have to find out.
So we made it to our bus. And the bus ride was something else alright. It seemed a little strange right off because there really wasn't an actual road where it was parked. It was just sitting in the river bed. So we climb aboard and head off. It was so crazy the bus just drove down the river bed for like two hours. It was so unbelievably bumpy and the bus was rocking from side to side. I really thought we were going to tip over a few times. You should have heard the goats that were being transported beneath the bus. You could hear them sliding around and they were bleating like crazy. I had my hand resting out the winow but I removed it after it was almost cut off by the cliff side. And at some points the river was starting to flow down and we were literally driving through like two and three feet of rushing water. I was certainly relieved when we made it to the actual road. But my releif evaporated as the driver sped off like a crazy man down the winding and dangerously narrow road. On the right side the cliff side was so steeep and dropped hundreds of feet. The road was so twisty that at every corner the driver would honk in case there was someone on the other side because there was barely room for two vehicles. Despite this ingenious method we still almost had a head on collision. The people standing in the aisles went flying. I had a vision of my own death. I kept thinking about the "Dangers and Annoyances" section in my Lonely Planet guide and how it said there that more foreign tourists die in bus accidents than any other accidents in Nepal. I lived to tell the tale though haha, but it was nice to get back into Kathmandu in one piece.
So at the moment Amelia and I are holed up in Thamel, a haven for white people loaded with western goodies. We rewarded ourselves with pizza, chocolate mousse, beer and red wine. And our hotel has scorching hot water, a bath tub and laundry service. All which were necessities at this point. So we have had two days here and tomorrow we are leaving for trek number two. We are going up to Lantang to hike the Himalayan mountain ranges. So after two months in Nepal I am finally going to see snow peaked mountains. Exciting! We will be gone for ten days but this time we are staying in lodges so although it will be rustic, it will be a little more luxurious for us and we have been assured of running water. And it won't be so bloody hot as we will be quite a bit more north.
It looks like we picked a good time to go trekking as the teachers strike is still going on with no end in sight. Yesterday I was walking back to the hotel when like, a hundred people started running like crazy down the street. Everyone started ducking into shops; I was thinking "Shit, should I be running too?" All of a sudden the military shows up in full riot gear, machine guns in hand and barracades the road. I asked this guy beside me "what the hell is going on?" And he said "Well there is a teacher's strike right now" and I'm thinking "So?" but apparently they were protesting at parliament and the military threw tear gas at them and so they all ran into Thamel with the military hot on their heals. I don't think it's very safe so protest here, the military doesn't seem to put with much BS. The Lonely Planet says it's very important for tourists to avoid protests of any kind. I tried to look nonchalant and as un-teacherly as possible as I strolled by. I was a little nervous though. They had some very big guns.
So I'm headin' to the hills......
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1179389640/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1179389640/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1179389640/tpod.html Sat, 26 May 2007 04:53:32 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Kathmandu, Nepal

I haven't written anything for awhile, but I will be heading off tomorrow morning on a trek so I figured I might as well drop in one last note. Nothing spectacular has happened of late, so how about a bunch of little random stories and comments?
First off, my teaching time is over. It seems as though it has happened at a good time. Because of pressure from the Maoists to slash tuition fees in half, all schools in Nepal are closed indefinitly. So my last day has turned into a day off, which is nice as it has given me some time to get organized for my trek. So on my last day of classes I had an "incident" with one of my students. The day started off well enough. My class five and six gushed over my leaving, begged me not to go, and one girl stated she wanted to kill "the day off." I had to promise I would visit if ever I returned to Nepal which I assured them I would. The warm glow I felt lasted untill my last class of the day, class 8. Up untill now it really hasn't been a problem, there are only four students in the class, three boys and one poor girl. One of the boys is a real a**hole. Disruptive, annoying, etc. but I really didn't care too much. Normally it was all in good fun, lots of joking around. His best friend told me the name of the girl he had a crush on so I used it for leverage whenever necessary. I would say "Rajesh, if you don't be quiet, I'll tell Jarina you want to kiss her...." So fine. My last day he was especially exuberant, punching and beating the other students. Kids do that a lot here, so it wasn't out of the ordinary. The teachers are allowed to hit the students too, although I refrain. My kids would always ask me "Miss, why don't you beat that naughty boy?" but something about that does seem to go against my moral fabric. So this boy always brags he is in a gang, and he has brought this chain to school before that he wraps around his hand to beat the other kids. I had warned him before not to bring it to school, and I am pretty sure he wouldn't dare bring it out around the other teachers, so I said "that's it!" and took it away. I'm not exactly sure why he let me take it, he is stronger than me and could have stopped me. I like to think it is my scary, authoritative side. In retaliation he stole my text book and refused to give it back. But I was so not backing down. I didn't need the damn book anymore anyways. I told him "you can keep it, but you are not getting back this chain." Then can you believe it, he threatened me. With his father. He said "I will tell my father and he will come here." I was like "Good, then I can tell him how you misbehave in class, we can have a niiiice chat." Then he stared ominously into my eyes and said "You don't know who my father is." Can you believe it? But I was so not backing down. I wondered for a moment, had I stumbled into Nepal's inner city? I looked him straight in the eyes and said "Bring it on." My god, I must be the worst teacher in the world. But I couldn't help it! That little bugger, trying to intimidate me? AS IF! So at the end of class I reported the incident to my vice principal. She was like "Who is this? Rajesh? Oh yes he is very naughty boy!" Ha Ha let them deal with Nepal's littlest gang banger!!! And his father too! I'm outta here!
So next on my list of things to comment on is some of the nice and not so nice creatures I have encountered on my stay here. Before the whole chain incident I was going to title this entry "Nice Bugs and Nasty bugs." Now, I know what you are thinking, there is no such thing as nice bugs right? But it's true there is. The other nice I was in the school yard with the girls, playing with the puppies. The ugliest stray dog you have ever seen in your life recently gave birth to possibly the cutest puppies ever. There are three of them; Tommy, Rexy and Snowball. And yes, I named them. The girls were afraid to touch them because they are mostly afraid of the strays that roam around but I showed them how to hold them and now all they want to do is "go find Tommy." They especially like Rexy who is known by his other name, "the polite one." Is there anything more adorable then a three year old holding a puppy for the first time? I highly doubt it.
But I digress.... as we played, the girls were like "Miss, look!" Over by the slide I saw a thousand gold, twinkling lights. Fireflies! I have always wondered if these little guys actually existed. I have read about them in story books, and I even thought I saw one once. It was in Thailand and it landed on my friend's hand. But there was only one of them, it was like four am and we had been indulging in mushroom milkshakes at a rave all night. Needless to say when I woke up the next day I was having a pretty difficult time distinguishing the realities from the delusions of the previous night. But these fireflies were no hallucination, apparently they are pretty comman here. Giggling like a little kid we ran off gleefully to catch them. They are actually pretty easy to catch and not gross at all. These things are so cool.They actually have an electrical charge in their butts! We even put a bunch in a jar. I know I spend most of my time here with kids, but so many things here have the effect of making me feel about seven years old again...
Which brings me to the nasty bug portion of the story. One type in particular (and I personally believe it is the same one every night) has been harassing me. El Senoir Cockroach. I have tangoed with these nasty buggers before, but this one especially horrifies me. He is incredibly bold. The first night I made his acquaintance he was crawling in my sleeping bag. Oh, a nightmare come true. I stood outside my door (which is outside) wondering what to do for at least half an hour. Would it be reasonable to wake up the whole house because of a bug in my room? Not really, but still, how could I sleep knowing he was there? Finally an uncle walked by my room, looked at me and said "what are you doing?" I begged "please, there is a cockroach in my room..." He slipped off a shoe and ran into my room, waving it in the air. He finally caught the little beast and threw it outside. He's been back though, last night he landed on my shoulder. I stiffled a shriek. He likes to hang out right outside my room and when I'm at dinner I have no way of tracking his activities. I have a new nightly ritual now. When I go in my room, I pick up a big metal pipe that is meant to be used to prop open a window. Then I meticulously search my entire room, moving every piece of furniture. This is actually not as time consuming as you might think. There is only two pieces of furniture in my room, a bed and a chair. And if I come across him an epic battle of good and evil ensues untill I finally chase him out. Once the room is "clear" my towel is stuffed into every crack in the door and the pipe stays frimly within arm's reach. I still sometimes have trouble sleeping though. Just knowing he's out there... It's really lame I know but these things terrify me. My heart pounds and I break out into a sweat. Nimu asked me "are you afraid of bees too?" "Of course not" I scoffed. "But" she replied, "cockroaches are harmless." Ahhh the endless wisdom that comes from a ten year old....
Okay that is enough silly, random chit chat for now. Tomorrow morning I am heading off on a seven day village trek with my group, we will be staying in a different tribal village every night. Once home, I have one day to rest, do laundry and renew my tourist visa, and then Amelia and I are going up north to Lantang on a ten day trek through the Himlayaas and to see a glacier. The end of that trip will bring us up to our trip to the Terai region for rafting and safari for three days. SO, I have a lot going on, I am very excited and happy to be on my way. I will miss my girls but as they say here "What to do?" It's time to move on.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1178449920/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1178449920/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1178449920/tpod.html Sun, 06 May 2007 08:19:29 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Kathmandu, Nepal

I really tried to think of a catchier title than this. Maybe a pun, or something that rhymed. But I just couldn't. I mean what more is there to say? And it wasn't yesterday, it was last week. But I really don't think that's the point here, do you? All I know is, that's certainly something that you don't see everyday.

I did have some warning about the impending spectacle. On tuesday night Grandpa, Nimu and Aunu came into our courtyard, leading a little goat on a rope. They tied the rope around the stairs that lead up to my room. Aunu said to me "You know that tomorrow is Buddha's birthday and also my 10th brithday right?" And I said yes. "And you are coming with us to the temple tomorrow to do puja (worshipping) right?" And I was like yeah.... "Well" she said, "tomorrow this goat is going to lose it's head." I must have visibly squirmed, the two girls shreiked with laughter. Aunu said "I will MAKE you watch." I shrugged, how bad could it be? As I went up to bed that night and passed by the goat, my first instinct was to pat it on the head. I hesitated. I figured there was no point in befriending the little beast. Not now, on it's last night on earth.....
The next morning we woke up early and then sat around waiting for three hours. Nepali's tend to do this. It seems no matter what country you visit there is some version of this. Mexico time, Fiji time, Thailand time, whatever. So there is a Nepali time too...it's like all the rest and bears no resemblence to the actual time. Finally a pick up truck pulled up out front. I use the term truck pretty loosely here. The whole thing couldn't have been much bigger than my Honda Prelude. All toghether we had five men, four ladies in bright red saris, five children between the ages of fourteen and three, one white girl and one goat. What followed was some strange circus act whereby we all got in, then we all got out, a rug was brought, the children sat on the floor, still not enough room, we all got out again, rearranged, children on laps, a few unfortunates standing in the "aisle", one goat laying down on one white girl's feet. It was actually pretty comical. But after about thirty minutes, we were off.....
It was a really hot morning and squishy in the truck. But once we got off the main road and headed towards the mountain, the breeze picked up and the temperature cooled significantly. It was actually a really pleasant ride, through a little town and a large forest. I haven't had the chance to see much nature here so I always enjoy the bits I do get to take in. On the mountainside we saw a large gold Buddha statue. (Incidentally, the girls informed me that here it is not pronounced booda but bud-DAH!, after much practice I think I may have got it right).
We pulled into the temple, piled out of the truck and entered the main square. There were two large sacred pools, one full of water, the other full of twelve spouts that released water onto a stone platform. Before you go into the temple you wash your hands and feet, and then you are supposed to drink from every tap. Even though I was assured the water was okay to drink, I still sipped pretty gingergly. Actually I mostly faked that part. Then we got in a long line up to acutally get into the temple. All the women were holding baskets full of fruit and rice and tikka and other puja paraphenalia. And pretty much everyone had a goat-on-a-rope.
As we got closer to the entrance, I started to see the pools of blood and some headless carcasses. And here is possibly the worst part of it all. Nepali's, like many other Asian cultures, view the feet as the most disgusting part of the body. This is why you must always remove your shoes when entering a home or temple. Now I don't know about the feet being disgusting, but who am I to argue right? But seriously, the floor of this temple was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my life. It was covered with mud and blood and guts. People were exiting with crud splashed up to their knees. As we approached the doorway I saw the pile of shoes. Someone's shoes had blood all over them. But everyone's shoes go in the pile, no exceptions, especially not for the only foreigner there who was desperatly trying to appear inconspicuous amid the stares. Now may I just say that I think I am pretty tough. I'm not high maintenance and am very open-minded. Would I be here if I wasn't? But when it came my turn to take off my shoes, I seriously balked. I swear to God it was one of the most difficult things that I have ever done. As I slipped them off, black goo oozed through my toes. As I entered the temple, I had to step over a bloody puddle. The roti I had for breakfast rose up in my throat....
As I stepped (on tip toe, not that it made any difference) inside, I beheld a large bloody altar in front of me. Two small boys (shall I call them altar boys?) used their hands to sweep bloody puddles into a hole. Now, I don't know if any of you have seen any large amounts of animal blood but it's bright red. Almost like paint. Except you know it's not paint. The men waited with their goats on the side while the women walked onto the altar, leaving food and putting their foreheads against it. There was one goat ahead of ours. And he was big.
My familly made me stand in the perfect viewing spot so that I could get a good picture. It's morbid I know but I did want to record this once in a lifetime experience. And everyone kept encouraging me to do so. The girls gathered around me while the priest splashed water on the beast and chanted, it was really ritualistic and pagan seeming. The goats seemed pretty calm, that is untill the priest grabbed it and started dragging it up to the altar. Then it started bleating like mad and going to the bathroom everywhere. I guess you would too if you were about to get your throat slit....
I didn't know what to expect but I had kind of invisioned a big machete and one swift chop. Not so. It was actually more of a small knife and a sawing motion. Blood spurted like a fountain and the damn thing struggled and made strangled cries the entire time. And it took awhile. I had time to take a picture, turn away in disgust, take another picture and turn away in disgust again. Finally, Nimu looked up at me and said "let's wait outside." I hadn't even seen our goat meet it's maker but believe me one was enough.
While we were outside Nimu started taunting me. "You were scared!" "No, I wasn't" I stammered and tried to explain the difference between scared and squeamish. "I think this is horrible" she said. "You must remember" I said, "I have never seen anything like this before." She looked at me with wide eyes. "You don't kill animals in Canada?" "While we do" I searched for a response, "but not where other people can see it." "Where do you do it" she asked, "in the kitchen?" It was right then and there that I realized that most Nepali's had never seen pre-packaged meat in there lives. I also realized how little I actually think about where the food I eat comes from....
After that we washed our feet again, thank god, and waited for the men to finish disposing of our goat. Its started to rain and we hid under the dirty ruins of another temple. I looked around at the decrepit temple, garbage strewn everywhere, bloody streaks from where the dead animals were dragged and random carcasses laying about. It probably sounds like such an ignorant white person thing to say, I probably should be talking about the beauty of cultural difference or some god damn thing, but all I felt like was getting the hell out of there and downing a stiff drink.
As we headed back to the the truck, Uncle said to me "Isn't it beautiful here?" All I could manage was a weak smile as I stepped over some garbage floating in a bloody puddle. Our goat came home with us in a little white sack that dripped blood all over the floor of the truck.
That night we celebrated Aunu's birthday with a cake and candles. Something a former volunteer had showed them and now they do for every birthday. And my principal said "Because we did puja today, we drink" and handed me a beer. And we ate goat. Pretty tasty too, as long as I don't have to think too much about how it ended up on my plate.....
I did ask him about the whole sacrifice ritual though. In my limited knowledge of Buddhism, I was pretty sure that he was totally against killing anything and that buddhists are forbidden to take the life of any living creature. My principal smiled. "Ahh but we are Hindus and we celebrate this way." Buddha is actually considered an incarnation of the Hindu God Vishnu who developped his own following. In Nepal Buddhism and Hinduism go hand in hand, you don't really have to be one or the other. So would Buddha really be happy about all the goat slaughtering on his birthday? I doubt it. We would probably all be better be people if we adopted the buddhists ways. As for me, does this experience make me want to become a vegetarian? It did for like five seconds, but meat is so tasty! Besides when I'm here I kind of have to eat whatever they give me. (I know, excuses, excuses) But I won't soon forget the experience though, if ever. I think everytime I eat meat it will cross my mind. It's true about ignorance being bliss, but knowledge is power too.....
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1178014380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1178014380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/jeschill/nepal/1178014380/tpod.html Tue, 01 May 2007 07:08:24 -0400 Julie's Travels 2007

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Kathmandu, Nepal

In no particular order are:

1. EATING- It's not as if I'm a picky eater. I'm not. In fact I
actually really like rice and curry. Ask anyone, everytime I am
out at a restaurant, whether asian or not, what do I order?
Curry. I can tell you what the curry is like at Milestone's,
Earl's, Joey Tomato's, I've had 'em all. I don't mean to be
repetitive, I am just trying to make a point here. Let me just
illustrate it for you. Say you really loved spaghetti and
meatballs. It was your favourite thing in the whole world.
Now imagine eating it three times a day, everyday. For the first
time in my life I truly understand what it means to be sick of
a certain food. I will be starving, my stomach growling and a
plate of curry is placed in front of me. I tell you I instantly
feel like vomitting. And even worse is what it does to our poor,
western digestive system. Never mind that I am eating carbs
(potato curry) piled on top of carbs (white rice) everyday. I am not
worried about the weight gain though... nothing stays in the system for
longer than twenty minutes anyways! A few bites of this
always-spicy-as-hell dish and I can feel my guts begin to churn in
agony. I am used to it actually, it just wouldn't feel like a
normal day without a hurried trip to the bathroom haha. I am jealous of
all those smart asses who brought their pepto bismal though. But
no, all my bragging about having a cast iron stomach has certainly
caught up with me.... And I don't know if I will ever be able to enjoy
another plate of curry again!

2. GOING TO THE BATHROOM- Okay, again, it's not the squat toilets
I mind so much, they say it's better for the digestive system.
And the fact that they don't use toilet paper? Well hell, I can get
used to that. All the toilets have this little water gun next to it,
and in the hot temperatures you dry off pretty fast. (Although I must
add here that trying to go in a sari is a whole new challenge!).
It's the smell. And the grossness level. Trust me, it's
high. Squat toilets don't really flush, they are mostly just
holes in the ground. And the bathrooms are all open. The shower,
the sink, nothing is closed off by a door. Just try to imagine
the stench of it while you are brushing your teeth in there! The
first time I saw the bathroom at my place I was like "There is no way
that they shower in there!" But oh yes, it's true. I have to
relate a funny story here... In our first place when I was staying with
Amelia, she related an experience to me that was as horifying as it was
hilarious. On one of our first evenings, she was taking a shower
and accidently dropped her special, expensive facial soap. And
can you guess where it landed? Ha, that's right, right into the
squatter! Well of course she couldn't just leave it floating in
there, so she had to REACH IN AND GRAB IT! I can't even relate how
digusting it must have been! And because there are never any garbages
in the bathrooms, she was left there holding the soap and wondering
what to do with it. She finally out of desperation threw the soap out
the window and spent the next ten minutes washing her hands.... nerves
of steel I tell you. Which leads nicely into number three...

3. TAKING A SHOWER- I have already related the smell and absolutle
manky-ness of the bathrooms (manky is a british word but so apro-pos,
don't you agree?), but then there is the other matter of freezing cold
water. Am I spoiled? A little too pampered? Perhaps. But I
challenge you, when you wake up tomorrow, still cozy from your bed, and
stumble down to the bathroom, still blurry-eyed from sleep, leave the
water on cold. Most mornings it takes me five minutes just to
force myself into it, and my heart literally jumps out of my
chest. Interestingly, I don't feel I need coffee anymore to wake
up. Hair washing usually has to happen on a totally seperate day
because I can't stand to stay in it that long....

4. SLEEPING- Okay I know I have already complained about this but I am
literally sleeping on a bed of plywood. Plywood, laid on top on
wooden slabs, covered by a very, very thin mattress. Now they say
that this is good for the back. Maybe so. Or maybe I just don't
know how to sleep on it properly because most mornings my neck is so
stiff I can hardly move. The next problem is the dogs. Back
home, if a dog is barking incessantly at four in the morning, it's
really acceptable for you to stick your head out the window and yell
"Shut the f**k up!" But here, no one seems bothered by the fact
that every dog in the neighbourhood is barking it's damn head off ALL
NIGHT LONG. It doesn't help I guess that most of the dogs are
strays and don't have owners, but even the ones that do are never told
to be quiet. It drives me crazy! Me who loves my silence and dark
rooms.... And when the dogs finally do shut up, that's when the
mosquitos come out to play....

5. RANDOM ILLNESSES- I am normally not a sickly person. But I
have found in the past that when you go to a new country, the body can
react in funny ways. But this is a whole new level I tell
you. If it's not the raping of the intestines or a mosquito-coil
induced migraine, it's some other random thing. Lately I have
been plauged by these weird jabbing pains in my neck, which I thought
were from the bed but now I'm not so sure, and a throat that is so sore
I can feel it in my ears. I thought maybe I was getting a cold but
apparently oh no, it's simply from all the exhaust fumes and
pollution. It's frustrating because it would be so nice to wake
up for once and just feel healthy, not to mention I think my family
thinks that I am some sort of hypochondriac, but other white people
have been telling me the same stories...oh except for the neck thing
which I just can't figure out. My whole bottle of advil is
gone... and my carefully rationed sleeping pills are dwindling too...
It's one thing to feel ill, but not having all our little western
goodies just basically sucks the big one. There wasn't much I wouldn't
have done for you if you had come up to me last night with a cup of neo
citron....

So there you have it. If you don't care about stuff like eating,
sleeping, going to the bathroom and keeping yourself clean, than Nepal
is a veritable paradise! No, I am just ranting now, there are
plenty of amazing and wonderful things here. And they do say, you
don't go to a country to change it, you go to be changed by
it. Plus I guess I am learning how tough I am. And how the
little things don't matter all that much. And why a night in the
most touristy area of town with a steak, a beer and a soft bed is
enough to keep you going for another week or two!!!
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