it is evening now and

I'm standing here just below the roof waiting for the wifi to connect, which is always a fun game, in the Swargdari Hotel and Lodge in Lamahi, Dang district, Nepal. 

And I'm covered in a travelling layer of sweat because hot hot heat hot dust heat hot and I am looking up at the stars, a world away from everything. 

And I watched the sun set behind its glow of heat and dust, and the children waved hello from the roof next door, and the bus ride was only 10 hours, of which half were spent laughing hilariously because dehydration and heat and buses seem to do that to us. 

And I just...I can see the stars. 

-k

167% like

We were sitting on the terrace of the monkey temple this afternoon looking out over Kathmandu Valley when I had that thought.

 I 167% like how common it is to hold hands.

And this applies to everyone, but most refreshingly (counter-North American-ly?) to men. Even though apparently Nepali culture is quite homophobic (more difficult for gay men, I've heard, then lesbians), at any given moment men walking down the street holding hands, clasping thumbs or pinky fingers is entirely "fine"/normal/whatever other routine word you want to apply here. Or else on shop steps, one guy will be lying propped against the legs of another man and everyone is just chilling, and everything is fucking fine, and even though it is not quite as "okay" to be gay here, HOLDING HANDS DOES NOT MEAN A THING outside of casual friendship/affection/niceness. 

(internally struggling with articulating myself clearly enough here without stepping on toes or blatantly using entirely the wrong/inaccurate/offensive language)

And I'm just thinking of back home and hand holding and what that seems to say   and how very much not the same it is here. Imagine if two heterosexual guys just walked down the street swinging their interlocked hands together....except that I don't think many westerners would even be able to get over the fact that they are holding hands to assume they are 'straight' guys.

I mean, I hold my friends' hands often and will rarely ever hesitate at doing so no matter who it is but I know when I walk by people holding hands, whoever they are, I insta-assume they are "together". NOT THAT IT EVEN MATTERS but I think hand holding is such a casual connection and way of being like hey I like you as a person (or a lover, and a lover, etc etc but this makes everything more complicated) that I wish there did not have to be anything surrounding it. And by anything I mean that insta-assumption of oh you must be a "couple". Screw you all, maybe I just want to hold hands. And maybe if you could break the ridiculous barricade of masculinity in (is this too essentialist?) North American culture, maybe some guys would too. 

On the one hand, I guess you could justify hand holding back home as a sign of (*shudders*) possession/this person be mine so stay away, but on the other, can't we all just let it be whatever it is and not try and announce your (*shudders more*) territory to the world? 

That you can just hold hands and just be HOLDING HANDS no matter who you are. Like...world, why you gotta be so define-y about things? Why do I need to be either/or for you? Why you gotta look at me like that? 

AND in Nepal, on the visa form we filled out and on all official documents now, they have male/female/other as your choices for gender. So you don't even need to be either/or. 

(Oh, except I guess saying you can be "other" is wince-worthy....as in, yeah, you have the choice of being something not divisible to our gender binary and therefore not quite the same...though I suppose this could also be seen as a fairly liberating choice like yeah, that's right, f*ck your gender binary.) 

This, I think, begs the question then on what the deal is with homophobia in Nepal...and what does that even look like? Which actually makes me want to investigate homophobia everywhere and society and how people react and in what ways and why...is it a challenge to patriarchy? Is it too "untraditional"? Does the rural/urban divide factor in, and if so, how and where? What is/is there a culture of homosexuality? Of homophobia? How does it manifest in different parts of the world? And how do you define "tradition"? What and where and is there a divide between rhetoric and reality, policy and practice? 

Any ideas, opinions? Am I being too caveat-ish and convulsed? Did you follow those thoughts down to here? 

Perhaps this isn't the most appropriate forum for such a discussion but forget "appropriate". Who else but "the man" defined appropriate anyways? Who else but the--

OKAY I WILL STOP HERE BEFORE I GO TOO FAR DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE. 

Just...hold hands. Love love. Forget your definitions of things and people and just let it be whatever it is, let who be whoever who is, all the way through all of the matrix's of our strange realities. 

namaste folks

-k

PS there is a three day bandha (strike)in effect starting tomorrow. We will then be heading out either EARLY tomorrow morning to Dang before the highway jams, or else Saturday.  Check here for more info on that http://nepalbandainfo.blogspot.com/

PPS also follow the DWC in Nepal blog for the less Kelly-shaded view of life...also more pictures, also if you just want to know what we are doing and not necessarily rabbit-hole rants and thoughts on all of the things, as evidently I am prone to: http://dwcvolunteersinnepal.blogspot.com/

So I thought

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

"this makes me feel..."

One of those moments for the history books, not that this kind of history has ever or could ever or even would ever be written, and not quite sure what the title would be.

Pre-read warning: out will come the personal politics.

Today we met with Dinesh (program director) and Nura (administration and everything else) from Creating Possibilities. First off, they are fantastic people. Super friendly, cracking jokes, laughing at our silly sarcasms, showing us around like friends and not tourists. Over a delicious lunch of momos (which google autocorrect wanted me to write monks.....awkward) they shared some cultural traditions (apparently many/most/old-time Hindu women get their nose pierced on the left side because it eclipses some rogue emotions/beain synapses and makes her more docile....though this is up to interpretation and debate), talked a bit of politics, and Nura had all these sincere moments of sassing Dinesh so hard it was hilarious. Also super nice to see such a casual and chillin' working relationship. It is evident that they both love their work and enjoy with whom they work. Not to mention how small and interconnected and dedicated their team is (a total of 4 CPN staff).

[One day I will explain the chaos of crossing streets in Nepal (the one and only rule being don't get hit) and the way the wind picked up the purple blossoms in a blossom storm and finding a Kenyan Airlines sign while wearing my kikoy pants and telling things by candlelight in a lode-shedded room. One day I will explain the yelling and honking and creakily tall buildings and ditches and flags and 100% cashmere, trekking, nepali tea shops, the taste of tea, incense burning softly and fully.]

Andbutso we arrived back at our hotel and sat down for some chiya (Nepali tea), everyone chatting. Nura turns to me and asks "so why did you choose to come to a developing country and volunteer and do these things?"

So I said some things, a bit about Nicaragua, how I'm always up for new experiences, especially when they involve worlds/realities I've not yet encountered, how much I love what I'd done/felt had worked out positively while in Nicaragua. Told her that this came up because of a TA (holla atcha Will) and it sounded like quite the experience. Told her that what CPN does is close to my heart, education and children and girls and women and rights and literacy and self-dependency and effect. Told her that I want to see how it works in Nepal, the difference of textbook and reality, reality to reality.

And she looked at me and said "this makes me feel so much better" because how can anyone "change the world" and think they know more, although this was Nepalese-ly worded (super diplomatically, that is) as "I'm glad you see this as a learning opportunity and experience" because "some people have very different attitudes".

Aiya.

I credited my excellent peer influences back home (world unmaking conversations) for sharpening my criticality of these things, that this whole 'volunteering' business (in all the senses of business as business as business) is shifty at the best of times, especially due to states of mind, attitudes, approaches, complexes.

And it is not that I am unaware of the criticisms and where they come from for volunteering abroad/"in the developing world". I am quite constantly surrounded by difficult attitudes and underlying systems of privilege that perpetuate all of the shit ever. But I've never quite fully realized the effects of it until that conversation today, and the relief that saturated Nura's voice when she said she was so glad I was not there thinking I could change the world.

And I am not saying this to toot my own horn (fuck that shit) or get pessimistic but instead just to express how personal and affecting these things really are. By these things I mean something along the lines of the 'white saviour industrial complex'/the development 'industry' perpetuating the idea that you in your rich (white) privilege can more effectively "save the people" then the people themselves/assuming west is best (practice)/"they" vs "us".

There are countless devastating effects of such shit, (people being in a "worse-off" position then "before", aid dependency cycles, vast amounts of ethnocentric stereotyping and perpetuation, support for an industry, a world system built on inequality, injustice, the list goes on): this I know, or at least though I was generally aware of. But seeing the relief on Nura's face knowing that I wasn't there to snooty-kid my way around the 'poor rural people', the 'voiceless women and children', and that I am vastly and intensely invested in learning more on their operations, motivations, tactics and actions....I don't know. I don't even know what it was, except to make every article criticizing the voluntourism industry so very and unfortunately real.

And I'm so glad she asked me and so glad we had that conversation because thus far it feels like no one has challenged it, us, what we are here doing. I wish there was some way to communicate how vitally important it feels to be questioned and to enter into this kind of dialogue, ESPECIALLY because the "change the world" trope gets recycled way too much in this kind of volunteer work. And it was not accusing, not angry, not doubting. Just hesitantly hoping for something else, something different.

Fuck how I wish this dialogue could be had more openly in the volunteer-abroad world. But how could "start a critical and open dialogue on social justice issues cross-culturally and check your goddamn privilege before all else and be open to learning and listening and creating a space for justly funded, worded and manifested action" ever stand up to something like "improve your global citizenship and come help change/save lives"?

I don't know how flashy or attractive you can get the former to be, not when the latter is held too close to the heart of too many overly zealous, under-ly critical and well-but-perhaps-misplaced intentioned people? (aka too much of the institutionalized culture of global citizenship from, in my experience, dangerously and especially North America).

So I'm not sure what all of this is supposed to mean or even if I am expressing myself as clearly as I want to be. Whenever these issues come up around volunteering/development/etcetc, I'm either entirely knee jerk or else too cautious with my words to want to speak up.

I think what I want to say is stop telling me and other volunteers that they are "saving/changing the world". I am certainly not. Not even close. Not even remotely. That is not the attitude or vision I take to what I am doing and that is not what I want to go walking around in. I am no saviour and never ever fucking want to be. "I ain't about that life", one cos accurately say. Nor am I doing anything more or less than anyone else is capable of. And I am hardly a changer of anything--far as I know, I haven't torn down the institutions at work around us, as much as it may be part of my antiestablishmentarianist regime. (I also can't believe I just used that word in a workable sentence).

Perhaps I am just want to travel, experience culture, open dialogue, stay critical, honest, and empathetic in appropriate turn, realize my ability and check my privilege. How I choose to do this, how I manifest this into my life is way different then you or s/he or they or anyone else for that matter.

"Difference and danger are two very separate things."

So...does that make sense? Got any opinion on it? Need to call me out on something? Please leave a comment because this is always a conversation I will get into, especially since I am here now.

Always there is room for improvement. Always there is room for growth, and change.

Always there is room to do something differently.

Go be that difference. Whether it means dedicating your life to it or at least being consciously aware and acting in accordance to it, let the stars shine where they may and suns rise when they must.

You are not static, or glue, or bulletproof. You are not the reason why and you are not the reason why not.

I am battling some massively sleepy eyes nanow, so I will let this be as is and hopefully the sting and ouch and wish-Ida-known will fade, fall away fast.

Oh these mere mortal mornings of ours.

keep going
-Kelly

ps enjoy the vista from our rooftop in Kathmandu

cool marble

Under my feet right now. The night is not as humid as I thought it would, a pleasant surprise.

I can't believe what sort of time crunch just happened. I have been robbed of a day but I'm not too worried about that now on account of being in Nepal.

Whoa.

Let that sink in for a moment.

For the 13 hour leg of the journey, (Vancouver to Guangzhou) I sat beside a guy who was part of an adventures training program. He was knitting a headband for most of the ride. I slept, listened to music, listened to loud Chinese conversations around me. Double dose of airplane food, crossed a date line and then we landed. I'd say this layover counts as China because we actually had to cross the tarmac...thus I touched Chinese ground with my feet, breathed in muggy, lush green air. The picture is our geographic location on the airport runway, Guangzhou.

Random things: they had only hot water to refill bottles with in the Guangzhou airport...this was hilarious. It was also 13 hours and a day later in my head sooooo probably not as funny as it was. There was also a blenz coffee place. Most unexpected thing ever. I now have a red stamp from China in my passport. HOLLA.

There were lightning storms on our second leg of the journey to Katmandu, a mere 5 hour blip, most of which I stayed passed out for. Lightning storms like last year landing in Nicaragua.Flickers and bursts of light over the hum of airplane engines.  I was conscious enough to catch the end of a sunrise over the continent, and the millions of stars in the sky, constellations of a different sort than home. It was beautiful.

The roads were familiarly bumpy, the street sounds, dogs, car horns, cross-the-street conversations., so far. I wonder how the light of day will change things.

I cannot promise when I will post next, but I am here and my veins are running with wonder.

keep going
-k

10:25 am

At least, on this side of the world it is still the morning.

I am looking at the watch on my wrist and it covers my tattoo wholly, which is interesting, because I'm not one who usually minds her wrist. But it is Chloe's watch, and she was there, so rightfully so she is hugging my wrist with me.

Let me just say that the international departures side of the Vancouver airport is one swanky place. Hello, casual river nd faux greenery. You have to walk through the "world duty free" area before getting to this gate, and that feels like some kind of perfumed, alcohol-bottle party with clean plastic bags and shiny white walls and this sparkly black floor. I don't want to say it but ... So much swag.

(^of course the spell check accepts swag as a legitimate word.)

Pre-read warning for the rest of this blog, I am doing this on an iPod touch so excuse the ns and ms and ts and as wherever they show up unexpectedly. Also lets realize together that is the a journey, so I know about as much as you do about this. ...okay that's inaccurate I probably know quite a bit more, but the feels and the things I don't know. If you know me, you'll get that. Apologies if you don't.

I always seem to have little kindnesses that appear on leaving day. Last year for Nicaragua it was that little girl saying LOOK AT THAT to my world-map suitcase. This time it was the slow moving check-in desk man who squeezed me an aisle seat for the 13 hour flight to Guangzhou. Rock on. If all goes as it goes, I'll have a window seat for the dizzy flight into Kathmandu. Dizzy because who knows what time it will be in the world. (That is also untrue, as it will be 10:15pm Kathmandu time when we land.) shhaa

These are very colourful boarding passes, which is quite lovely. My shoulders already miss the ache of my backpack.

Follow the DWC journey over at the DWC Nepal blog http://dwcvolunteersinnepal.blogspot.ca/?m=1 which will be a combination of people recounting the day's activities. Also check out DWC's website for more info on who they are.

And then most importantly you will want to google Creating Possibilities Nepal for a rundown on the group we will be working with and who will be guiding us, teaching us and giving us their time, expertise and conversation.

It is time to continue wandering through this. Here is to 13 hours on a plane, and then China! For a layover. Taking opinions: does that count as a country visited? Four hour layover....the jury's out on this one. (I'm looking at you, friends, for how I just said out. You know who you are.)

I think my tag to end these blogs will be keep going.

So let's do just that.

-k

this time

it will be four weeks in Nepal, building and learning and living. One week Kathmandu, three or so weeks in Lamahi, Dang district of Nepal, working with the social organization Creating Possibilities Nepal on classroom construction for girls bought out of bonded labour. I'll post more details, thoughts before we go.

Departure date is Friday May 3rd at noon.

I will be less of a lone wolf than last time, as my official title for this trip is that of Team Leader for a group of 6 other volunteers.

And so it is.