this would be a pretty cool spot to blog from, even though I will upload this later. We are currently in the Garden of Dreams in Kathmandu, surrounded by some seriously dreamy garden space. The black and grey birds, similar to our crows, are chatting around us, flitting between the shadows on the tall leafy trees. A fountain is dripping through its tiered basins, and still you can hear the city streets outside.
All of this is here for about three dollars. The day heat is threatening to overwhelm, but in the shady spots with this little breeze, suggestive of the clouds bubbling in the sky, makes it okay. Such luxuries will not exactly be provided for us when we leave to Dang.
Which looks like it may happen a little later than planned on account of the bandha/strike tomorrow. Nothing to fret over, as usually these strikes are a way f opposition parties to demand space and start talks with the people in power, but it will slightly interrupt public transportation rounds. Likely we will be able to continue with everything as usual, because the tourist areas rarely get struck too hard. It will be interesting to see how strikes happen and what they are like in Nepal... perhaps we will have to venture out and converse with the strikers. I wonder if the streets will be quiet, which shops will stay open.
So yesterday was quite the day, so much so that I wasn't sure how I wanted to write about it. (I'm taking much for granted in being able to blog this often....once we are in Dang it will be significantly more difficult to access consistent enough wifi...or so I've been warned. It might be a case of writing posts but just not publishing them until we return. Who knows?) It was our first foray onto public transportation as a group...which was a fantastic experience. I think just personally I've been mentally preparing for a team that rejects every "cultural experience" on account of western standards/expectations, but so far these girls have been wonderfully open and flexible and excited about everything. Trying new foods, eating with their hands, crossing the road even....I am quite proud. Rock on, team.
I know I haven't ridden every kind of public transit, but I have a guy feeling that managing Nepali buses is a feat and a half. Wow. All decked out in colourful tassels, Nepali music blasting through the mini can interior, no idea how or when to get off...now that's my kind of ride. Forget the space and awkward silences and scared to brush toes of the TTC or translink.
We headed to the CPN offices for our official orientation. Of course we had to finish our chiya (tea) first, and then take our time chatting. I thought it was an excellent conversation/presentation on how CPN works. It was nice to have a transparency talk, to start to understand how and why they work as they do. And it is killer to see how not-by-choice dependent they are on the wishes of donors in terms of who they can support. And yet you could not meet two more positive and practical people then Nura and Dinesh. They are invested in the long term goals for the girls they support, looking beyond a gr 10 education to helping provide a bit of vocational training as well.
And you can see it. There were a few girls living in the flat above the office space, and the girls were just so smilingly proud to show their rooms, the view from that balcony. It was amazing. One of the girls, Laxmi, works as a part time office administrator with Nura and Creating Possibilities and it makes me the most happy. I wish I could capture the feeling in that house, from the hostel that Dinesh's wife is in charge of for some of the other students CP supports in the city to the art on the walls and beautifully carved doors....wow. What a soft, beautiful energy in that place. And I think it reflects much of what CP is about, a friendly, local, genuine effort to make walls and lives a little bit easier, softer around the jarring bits.
I am so proud and humbled to be working with them. I think there is so much to learn from Dinesh and Nura, so much to learn from everything in general. I would love to be able to stay longer and work in their office, help them with English things, website things, just learn learn learn. And I think in part why I'm so drawn to this space they've created is because it is probably one of the most collaborative spaces I've ever seen in the charity/NGO/non profit/development sector. They have a handful of different sponsors from around the world, each with a cause in mind for support, and they manage to make it work, looking to partner with different schools and places to make it happen. Not without difficulties and some steep restrictions, but still. They are not bitter or resentful about the red tape--rather they are innovative in stretching boundaries and finding corners to fill, and so productive. And even STILL they aren't mindlessly working through things with forced smiles...there is a serious degree of consideration and criticality they take to what they do (re: Dinesh's opinion on Next Generation Nepal and how they function and the problematics of the book Little Princes. Haaaaa.)
I need to wipe the stars from my eyes but it is really difficult because I've never had the privilege of working with an organization quite so closely. Oh the possibilities that seem to be growing and growing in front of me. *makes a bunch of Kelly noises because typing them won't quite translate* I'm very happy to be where I am. I am very happy that DWC has enabled me to be in this position. AND IT IS ONLY THE THIRD DAY.
Let there be light.
We left the office for a bit in the afternoon to visit the Pashupatinath temple complex. As non-Hindus (and wearing leather sandals, taking pictures), we couldn't get inside the heart of the temple but we walked around the outside of it, all the intricate building details, the incense, the burning funeral pyres by this small leg of the Ganges river (if I have my facts straight). I still can't really trust myself with words to describe it, and I can't understand why, if it is a hesitation to smudge that kind of place of worship with words and thoughts or if I am just not going to be able to accurately capture the EKG-type ups and downs, contras and counters in that space. Nimble footed crippled beggars sliding over huge stone steps, traditionally coloured and bearded ascetics charging rupees for pictures, debris floating in the river being picked at by small children, the loud phone blaring sounds of hymns, the mutt-scruffy dogs sniffing around shrines.
There is this centre for the elderly, the first and only of its kind in Kathmandu, like a lost and found for old people. An orphanage, I think, was what it was called. (Aside: there seems to be no way to politely say "old people". any suggestions?) We wandered through it (our guide being one of the students from CP), namaste-ing these crinkly, listless, slow-wandering old folk. I don't know what to make of it. At the very very least least, it is a place for them to go.....but I don't know. I feel distant and acute at the same time when thinking about it, step by slow step leaving the compound, grass peeking through the uneven stones.
I'm not certain how one would find things in Kathmandu if you didn't have someone who could tell you where to go or you weren't up for wandering. The side streets are begging for exploration and rightly so. The colours, the children, the flags strung between windows and life that goes on, even the way the sunlight slants through the dust.
Just...all of it. Recalling the things that have happened is bringing back the yesterday-present feelings smacking me in the back of my heels, dogging me across the street. I think I was just touched yesterday, in the side walls of my body kind of way, not a tingling but a melting without heat, a collection, a clay pot spinning.
Dinesh sat with us when we returned, and we all shared stories of our lives, of different small things, missing flights, how you just have to let it be sometimes. Dinner was wonderful-rice and dhal and pickles (but prepared Nepali way, so hardly even pickles) and an omelet for me. Delicious. Broke out my ugali skills in eating with my hands...or at least just my right hand. Rice is definitely more difficult to consume single handedly then ugali. A tasty mess.
Bounced a basketball around outside as the sun set. Did I describe already how these sunsets aren't quite like other sunsets? Like dropping muted colours into warm grey water. And then it gets dark. Just that.
Our bus ride back at night was a riot: a crowd and feet and body parts and laughing Nepalese people and us as tourist ducks and this big-eyed tired tiny human beside me for part and no streetlights and holes in the sidewalk and eventually home, past fluorescent store lights over closing up shop wares, an entire boar's head, red insides just there, the fruit carts rolled away for the evening. A star or two, amongst the dark.
So that was Monday.
This is Tuesday:
a garden of dreams and bright bright sunlights and shady spots and ATMs that worked and fearlessness and crossing streets (which is something I recognize that I will be saying quite a bit, just because it is quite the most unreal experience I've yet encountered) and long lunches under awnings trying Tibetan food and wandering into narrow narrow narrow streets and the smell of donut pastries on the street and market smells, because market smells, and the colours and colours and coura of legumes and vegetables and things and saris and brass pots and carpets and scarves and this is where the tourists stop showing up and finding another temple and pigeons everywhere and getting smudged on the forehead, yellow-red, flower petals sprinkled, the prayer wheels turned, bells rung, ohm. Namaste, return through gradually widening streets and yes, sir, I promise I'll be returning because that cashmere is the most soft, softest, ever, and I realize now that I want to burn incense on the regular and also flowy pants. That'll happen. And Nepali music. This I will seek out when we return after Dang.
So the evening has passed, is passing, our wifi maybe here or not. As is, as will be.
namaste
-k
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