Last words from Linda

It took quite some effort to try to squeeze the explosion of our belongings back into airport baggage allowances, the little blue scales with a dolphin kindly lent to us were most helpful, albeit not very precise.

Last early morning meetings with Dipendra, visits to some shops for last-minute souvenir shopping, last hurried digitization of our survey data in OR2K restaurant combined with a symbolic eating of the Queen dessert with the following ritual donation of our paper questionnaires at the restaurant for unknown purposes. Oh, how hard it was – to let go of our hands that scuffed pile of paper – all those many hours of interviews, so many times of re-reading, going through, all those names ending with Tamang and Gurung and those often unreadable notes “to ourselves” on their sides. It felt like by giving away the paper, the people are given away somehow as well. Now a table on a computer screen replaces that – a very valuable table indeed – the reason and result of us being there in Nepal.

There are many things I take home with me form this visit to Nepal (and Marina has put them in words already in her last post), but one of them is different than those of previous visits: the clear experience-based realisation how true it is that “people cannot be researched like other objects” as Dr. Shrestha put it.

My last post – a way too philosophical

15.05

This is my last post about Nepal, and after Linda’s last words the blog will become an archive already soon.

Right now I’m sitting in the huge room of a wonderful flat in Potsdam, furnished with old, speaking their life elements, which make the impression of the broadness, accuracy and incredible comfort, altogether united in the word of harmony. I remember I had the same strange feeling (and post) back in Kathmandu after the field study, yet now it is already another stage.

Potsdam indeed is a place where the one could dream to come to relax the mind and body after Nepal. The cleanness inside and outside, astonishing green colour, emptiness and the beautiful, silent and welcoming nature. It seems unbelievable that two so different worlds can actually exist in one world in one time. Or maybe there is more than one world and by flying by plane and crossing thousands of miles you also cross boundaries of different dimensions?

I think my emotions still haven’t get settled and I am not yet able to define my impressions, experience and transformations. What is sure now is that it was not enough. I wanted to go to Nepal badly for many years, and now- the wish to come back is a way stronger. I think through my long disease (and inability for the proper treatment of it) in the places of real Nepal I needed to go through a self-cleaning ritual before Nepal accepts me. I went through cleaning, but didn’t stay for more. That is what I’m longing for now. Probably that is all I want to say- all the emotions, impressions and feeling wrapped in words so fast would simply loose their essence.

I am very grateful to myself that I managed to go there; I’m very thankful to Linda, who became a part of my life (and still is) being physically always nearby and through showing her way, by many spoken or unspoken discussions and even opening her bad habits. Ashish and Achut – the guys appeared when we needed the help at most, and even without speaking about research assistance, they showed  us the reality, breaking our western glasses in every single step.  People’s Nepal would never come that close to me without all the tiniest aspects I’ve grabbed from the guys. And of course, all our research partners, who always went over the boundary of being just experts in the interviews and created a net of social contacts and mutual help. I could write more about our already mutual friend Dipendra, fantastic guest house owner, all those crazy and wise travelers we met on our way, shopkeepers who have beautiful dreams about Nepal, waiters and random people too special to forget immediately.

Probably after these lines I would need to feel sad but I don’t – true, I left some pieces of my heart in Nepal, but I gained much more and I know, I will come back.

Marina

Some friends and cultural visits

Once we were invited by Linda’s old-day friend Dipendra to spend time with his family at their home a bit outside of Kathmandu. I didn’t know him before, but his openness and warmth makes you think he is your friend already after a little time of knowing each other. After dirty and loud Kathmandu his house seemed like a paradise, located in such a peaceful, fresh and quiet place.

Next day I went to Bhaktapur- strongly advised by Dipendra to take care of my bags and not get cheated by people trying to take advantage of tourists. All these measures were especially necessary because this time we split with Linda again – she went straight home not willing to pay the high entrance fee again for the place she has visited already before.

Bhaktapur is a large area of many temples and palaces, mostly Hindu, but not without the influence of Buddhism (in fact, the boundary between these two religions is very blurred in Nepal). Shortly after entering I realized that just with a lonely planet provided map it would be very difficult to orientate through narrow streets. At the same moment several people with soft voices and gentle approaches tried to sell their guiding services after several sentences of talk. Getting more and more annoyed by them and myself, miserably walking in circles without understanding where this Durbar square actually is, I was approached again by one young local guy. I send him my angry look hoping he would understand my straight “no guides!”- position, though he seemed to be strong enough to continue that sweet speech. To make things clear I said everything to get rid of him- “I don’t need a guide, I don’t want to see your painting school, in fact- I don’t have money at all no matter what you are trying to sell me (it was really very true)!” Surprisingly it still didn’t work. He was offering showing me around for free just because he wanted to practice English and become a guide. Still very suspicious I agreed to be led, reminding him again that I really really don’t have any money. The guy was my luck- he knew a lot about Bhaktapur and he was very interesting by himself, probably being one of the few remaining young people, still strongly following all the Hinduism practices, at the same time preferring absolute equity between all the people. I got more than I was able to read in the lonely planet or any internet forum. Shame on me, till the very end I was expecting some tourist-tricking trials till the very end.

Probably my punishment for this (or it was just a strong draft in the bus) was a strong throat infection accompanied by the high fever for couple of days.

No time to be sick, though. Very soon we decided to go for one-day trekking to reach Shivapuri peak and I got very very happy even despite lasting fever at night. My happiness didn’t have long life – the reality came with the early morning when Linda came up with realisation about her pressing deadlines for UNU papers and necessity of staying at home to work.

At least I managed to go on my own to Swayambunath – another stupa with big Buddha eyes, fascinating, peaceful and symbolizing wisdom and compassion they are looking over all the attachments which are blocking our way towards freedom.

On the way there I went to buy strepsils from the local pharmacy and the pharmacist insisted on showing him my throat. His conclusion was that i cannot treat it without antibiotics and a set of special procedures I need to do at home. Shocked from my dangerous health status I decided better to turn several time praying wheels around stupa and inspect my throat by own. So from yesterday evening my knowledge about all the bacteria and infections in the throat is so enriched that I managed to define my diagnosis (everyone else is also welcomed for my consultation) from the image of my throat in the small pocket heart-shape mirror. Of course, I didn’t take antibiotics and just relied on the power of stupa.

Well, the fever was gone.

Just in time when after my numerous experiments with Linda’s electronic thermometer I decidedly distrusted it and then bought the classic quicksilver tube to prove my point.

Marina

Everyday life back in Kathmandu

With the bus Pokhara-Kathmandu we really really (really?) finished our field research. Therefore the blog is over too. Almost. From now on we will update with some more posts about our general last day staying in Kathmandu (unfortunately I must say so much more boring than all the previous ones).

We returned to the capital and as proper tourists from the touristic bus (for the first time!) took a taxi to our “home”, which was waiting for us with carefully preserved bags  and prepared room. This time we were having two separate beds and the bathroom outside the room, what a change after all those nights of shared sleeping space and no real bathroom around.

The following days (our last in Nepal) were spent on pretending to work, shopping and helplessly counting how much actually we spent. After making some mathematics and planning of budget we bought a super heater, which was brought out from the darkest corner and cleaned from thick layer of  dust in the small local shop nearby. Just like in the old soviet times this  electrical spiral- heater was supposed to save our time and money, being able to heat water for tea, soups, porridges and even dried noodles (we still had one pack left!). Indeed, the small heater “made in Dagestan” was a powerful as a whole electrical can.  Though nothing is easy here – to make it work we have to stack our brand new metal bowl on 4 floors of books on to of our chair  hoping that this construction will be stable enough. It’s still not yet the most interesting part 🙂 All our sockets are reminding me of my Thai electrical nightmares – true braveness is needed every time when plugging it in or out- sparkles really make me think that current is the most possible danger here.

We adopted a habit to go to eat to our lovely Yellow Guest House (I will really miss it!), significantly improving our stomaches (I almost forgot that the food is never safe here – apart from this marvelous place). Although we definitely got the fair reputation of total nerds – we always go there with computers and sometimes sit for many hours glued to them, enjoying the closeness of the garden and the luxury of writing on the table, not on the knees.

To prove ourselves as true Danish students, we visited the Danish embassy with the aim to talk about the Danish development programme efforts in Nepal and to make a personal contact so important in Nepal that, who knows, could come handy to convince Danida to support our field-trip with a small research grant, that we have applied for. In true scandinavian style the place was like another world within Kathmandu, hiding behind high walls and barbed wire.

We don’t go for parties. We want to go to night entertainment, but it never really worked. The one single time we sat in and Irish pub (drinking soda and eating salad) the rock- band performance was cut short due to “cops problem”. Probably the lack of entertainment is seen in our faces, therefore Linda constantly receives offers of “smoke”, “some hashish” and “weed”, whereas I’m always “tempted” by proposals to enjoy “Nepali sexy guys” or “massage” pronounced in a seductive voice.

Best contacts among the hippie-montaineer-traveller folk of Thamel we have with the amazing males – tall, stringy, fair-faced, tanned, blonde, experienced, well-travelled gone through all those book-story like adventures, fantastic conversation partners, life-wise, truly the most amazing persons. And in the age group of 50-70.

Once me (Marina) went to cut her hair. It was a very funny experience – the shortest hair cut in my life! The most difficult part, for sure, was hair-washing procedure. Three people surrounded her discussing how to make all the construction of me-towels-water. When the cutting part came, then it took a minute maximum to straightly cut all my hair. Very sufficient, I must say! Even though I’m sure the girl never learned anything from haircutting and the fee for such service was way too expensive (4 euros- Linda would do it for free :), surprisingly hair still looks pretty good. So- I’m not complaining.

Having many similarities with Linda we both share the passion for yoga and once we even went to the natural medicine centre across the street. Unfortunately we only made it to the first lesson of basic level – despite Linda’s inspiration our illusions were destroyed immediately after we opened our great budget excel sheet and realized our negative balance. However, we had a strong devotion to continue yoga by ourselves every morning. And so we did! Twice.

Marina and Linda

Circling in Pokhara

28.04

After the short fight the previous night regarding who will occupy which of the two beds present in our hotel room – 1 wider and 1 narrower, we woke up still somewhat “divided”, or maybe the divide was there due to our differing plans.

The boys were busy packing everything for their leave, while Marina and me we relaxedly went to have breakfast. And arranged for a hotel room change to a smaller one just for the two of us.

It turned out that even Nepali people plan in vain here, as we never saw our friends getting on bicycles at all. Instead alltogether we strolled down Pokhara streets, visiting shops and looking around until we ended up renting a paddle boat on Sewa lake to visit the island temple in the middle of it and just enjoy some time on water. Already just coming close to the lake made me fall back in the memories of my previous visit to the temple when I fell in love with a stranger in a boat never seeing him closer than from several tens of meters. I just knew in those moments years ago that if he would have stepped out of the boat on an island I would have to stay with him forever, but I guess he knew the same and although obviously was just as hypnotised by our connection, stayed put in the waves of water.

Once out of my dejavu and on the lake with no sign of any heart-breaking stranger anywhere close, however hard our males tried to convince us  that there are so many wonderful lakes in Nepal and they like spending time at them, their experience with the paddle was least convincing as we mostly were making circles around ourselves and hitting any boat passing us. That is until Marina took things in her own hands and skillfully guided us along the lake and did a perfect boat parking manoeuvre. Thus we marked our last common activity.

Thanking Achut and Ashish for their immeasurable help and assistance before they departed, we then headed to the Institute of Forestry, to meet the joyful Dr. Khanal who did his PhD in one of our fieldwork locations spending a whole year surveying. We felt humble with our express interview round covering 10 times less households than his mega-work.

The rest of the day was spent waiting for a heavy rain and hail to end while considering all the many promising options that were so inviting yesterday. The Sewa lake turned out to be too polluted to swim in it, the paragliding too accident-ridden and budget-stretching,  transport to the sunrise over Annapurnas equally overpriced (especially for me who had done it already before without paying a cent for the joy), and the day too long to have any inkling for partying afterwards. So we resolved to petty shopping and getting a ticket back to Kathmandu the next day from a talkative travel agent, who claimed to be “crazy enough” to promote real eco-tourism in the region.

So back to our usual habits, the plan for the next day was… to take the morning bus.

Linda

the morning never knows where the evening will end

27.04

We indeed did get up following our plan and were full of determination to conquer the long hard walk up again to board the promised bus to Gorkha. In daylight the muddy road up turned out to be quite scenic but so much less mystic (my walk down the previous night had somewhat different emotional background that the one described by Marina – I like walking at night because it is less hot, there are thousands of stars, the senses work in another way, I still had not come close to the limits of strength, and the  heated interaction between my team-mates amused me).

Two thirds up the way our plans were totally crushed once again, by locals telling us that due to a Nepal-wide strike even the local buses will not move an inch in any direction. But of course – this was not the first strike for us and in strikes you always have 2 options – walk and get a ride or walk and not get a ride.

So we walked. And we walked, and we walked (remembered that one small truck that was stuck in the mud and promised to later go our direction, and wondering if it was ever dug out). And we walked and walked.

This was a long walk on the ridge and then steep down, at points it became more similar to climbing than walking. We heard at some point “I HATE climbing” from the lips of Marina, and “give me food, I am HUNGRY” from the lips of Achut but in any case there always were three others with a contrasting attitude so a solution was found. Both Marina was safely brought down and Achut’s belly was filled with his favourite trekking food – dry noodles from instant soups.

When we finally reached the long-desired river valley with a proper road connecting to civilisation, our luck was back on duty and right in the moment when we came down provided us a bus, that had just brought foreign tourist group and all their trekking entourage- numerous porters and guides with piles of luggage in blue plastic. All we had to do is hop on the bus returning empty and have the luxury of having 10 seats each.

As the bus was supposed to go to Kathmandu we decided to ditch the visit to Gorkha DDC and travel back to capital. Joy and high spirits returned to our team and when the boss of the bus-owning company called to change the route, we did not think long to decide that the tourist resort town of Pokhara is a well deserved destination for us, even if it is in exactly the opposite direction from Kathmandu.

Many heat-filled hours later and just one stop to repair the broken bus we landed in the famous Pokhara anticipating all the leisurely pleasures it could offer us – sunrises over Annapurna range from Nagarkot, paragliding in sunny morning hours, swimming in Sewa lake, partying with all the backpakers in Lakeside cafe’s…. Sitting in a beautiful green garden with melodic Tibetan chants in the background, eating perfect european style dinner at a nicely designed stone-top table we felt overwhelmed by the possibilities and the incredible comforts of this city life as well as by the bill for the dinner.

Finally we had learned not to make plans “for tomorrow”, just let things be. Apart from our male Nepali counterparts, who wanted to make a whole city tour on bicycles from early morning on to return to Kathmandu midday together with some friends of theirs.

Linda

Extreme ups and downs in hills and moods

26.04

Next morning we started our activities with heading towards the lowest point, so that it is more fun to go to the very top afterwards (of course the official reason was an unbiased selection of interviewees from all the locations). After reaching two-street big Baluwa village with some small shops and accessible by bus traffic I felt like a village girl for the first time in New York. Overwhelmed by opportunities we went to a restaurant (!!!) where we could have long desired different meal- instead of dhal baat we went for dhal baat with an omelet.

At this point of our journey some specifications about our personalities could explain the uniqueness and greatness of our wonderful research team. There are some things very tightly related to each one of us: Linda and washing hair, me and diarrhoea, Ashish and his long speeches, always starting with the expression “the main thing is that…”, Achut and his cellphone who interrupts any possible moment with  a loud “….SET IT ON FIRE…” as well as his irresistible desire to go to the river to wash himself. Also this time he tried to be very convincing explaining how dirty and smelly he is so that he definitely earned a bath in the river. As always his wish wasn’t fulfilled (our team was very strict in everything)- we said he would be dirty anyways after walking up in the heat and he can wash himself under the running tap later; and our argument was so strong that he needed to give up again.

The way back up although was supposed to be a known way ended in our usual manner – forcing new trails through thorny jungle on steep slopes above river in long skirts leaving numerous red scratch lines on all limbs. Group of local men were observing our deeds form the other side of the river in true wonder. After reaching our first host place on the top of the slope the enjoyment of rest time was not long. In fact, we only managed to take our feet out of the boots, wash them and brush teeth (Linda was fast enough to wash her hair as well), to put our feet back into boots and load our tired bodies with all the luggages for the going to even higher top – the highest point on the ridge.

Though it was hard, it was only one hour long and the beauty of the village on the top was so admirable that we easily forgot about all the physical discomfort. Being able to see Annapurna mountain range, eating well deserved and all time long kept dis-shaped Snickers I felt happy, light and longing to stay just a bit more in this wonderful place.

Our next destination was Bachek (hope I wrote it correctly!), where Ashish had some relatives he had never seen but always willing to visit. We proudly refused to take a lift there (“the main thing is…. that it takes only 30 min maximum to reach that place on foot”) and we started to walk again. Indeed, the way there was so beautiful, that I seriously thought that beauty can recharge bodies just as electricity can recharge computers. After gaining so much energy I even started to dance using my bag as a partner.

The period of joy was so strong, that it ended out of a sudden after we reached the village and the darkness reached us. The truth was that we didn’t know where the house of Ashish relatives is located and we were walking more and more out of the village to a muddy place so dark that even not a single spot in the total space around me was seen. Having flashlight very deep in my bag I was so happy to have Linda’s trekking stick! We had overpassed our “30 min maximum” walk many times and now we were just trying to gain some more information from very rare houses, where we always got answer (or it was only our received translated answer) that only some 30 minutes are left. I heard that so often that I became angry and I asked Linda to tell me what is the time. At that hour we were already walking 12 hours, counting on fact that most of the time the walk was up. My brain told me that I must have been crazy and my whole being dig into the capricious and furious mood increasing every time I heard that only 15 minutes (now the time was officially reduced) are left.

Though for me it was unbelievable we really managed to reach that house where I managed to take a real cold shower from less than a third of a bucket hiding in the garden in front of the house. It made me good again and I could unbiased observe how happy was Ashish in that house. At that time Achut limited his river desire to the wash just from the bucket water, but again it was unsuccessful as he left it complaining that I was using water exactly at the time when his desire was the strongest.

Though the male side was still talking their endless talks we created the perfect king-worth sleeping place outside on the porch, made some efforts to change clothes in the sleeping bag under the tight surveillance of several eye pairs and we fell into the deepest and freshest sleep.

The plan for the next day was to catch the morning bus to Gorkha. Curiously enough this time at 9 not 7.  Of course, the term “plan” sounds already funny for Nepal, but nevertheless we hoped to let it be.

Marina

Work and healing in Simjung

25.04

Something was special about that place reachable through exhaustion and sweat. More remote and poor it somehow seemed to me also more isolated from hypocrisy and our western problems. And indeed- the whole atmosphere was purely healing- it was my first day without medicines.

The research time was spent in very interesting discussions, from which we could get only crumbs necessary to fill the questionnaire forms, constantly regretting not knowing Nepali language. Due to speaking abilities of our friends and maybe also our serious look we were invited not only to meet VDC secretary but also to take part in the meeting of community level based cooperative. And again we had a chance to make nice faces and try to express the full seriousness of our research in the mimics in front of several tens of staring eyes, totally relying on the charisma of Ashish, who was conducting all the talks.

Our next day plans were more ambitious than ever, to say them shortly they implied rapid “down-up-down-up-down”  with interviews in between (breaks for meals, I guess, were not counted). However, nothing can be more certain in Nepal than the fact that you can never make plans. We were suddenly (all day long we were stubborn ignoring black sky and sounds of thunder) caught by rain and hail, which made our necessary evening (again, in the dark!!!) walk up almost impossible especially due to some water sensitive things in our bags. Of course, our carefully prepared for the trip raincoats were successfully left in our hosting place. Pressed by climatic conditions we decided to spend the night in another house kindly offered to us by the local teacher. You can’t imagine how happy was I escaping from the walking up on the darkness again!

Left in the no-light room we turned on a small but powerful flashlight (at least I was smart enough not to forget that!) and started endless talks about Hinduism, gods, and other serious talks unsuccessfully interrupted by attempts to speak about fun. At the end Ashish went to make polite conversations with hosts and I was left to take the mediator role between two “fighting” alliances, presenting two different ideologies. Yes, it was about communism mixed with culturally sensitive issues (what else could be strong?!), so I guess no more comments are needed.

At the moment when our meal was ready I happily gave up my position to fill my stomach. Surprisingly the hunger power was so much stronger also for Achut and Linda, so that they also joined for our common dhal baat (as always) meal.

Due to our changed sleeping location the next day was supposed to be much easier than planned. Happy about that and still pushing our tired brains to make some conclusions we felt asleep despite the hard and narrow bed (of course, again shared between Linda and me) and happy not to see in the dark the amount of dirt present on the bedding which we had to thankfully accept in the absence of our sleeping bags.

Marina

Hard-earned arrival in Simjung

25.04

Incredibly enough this was the day, when 7 o’clock bus was a reality. Although after first 20 mins of driving it stopped for an hour to gather some cargo to be delivered to villages and then had another hour’s stop not long after.

Maybe the driver just needed to gather his courage for the forthcoming ride, that left both me and Marina gasping, grabbing on to front seat-back, trying “not to look” or maybe better “look attentively” and considering if there is any chance of escape and survival in all those many cases when the bus seemed to already lean over the edge of the road dizzyingly high above the Trishuli river. The locals that filled every conceivable space inside of the bus in a tightly squeezed mass seemed to not share our emotions at all and continued to calmly hold their hens, squeeze their buttocks on my lap, stare at “the foreigners”, feed babies and so on.

After numerous moments of “that’s- it-I-am-getting-out-and-will-rather-walk” we had finally reached Balua, which itself already was one of the wards of our field-study area – Simjung VDC. However the height differences in Simjung VDC are up to 1200 height meters and we had to carry us and our big luggage up to reach the best location for basing ourselves for fieldwork.

For me the climb was a nice recollection of my old trekking days and happy realisation that my body is still in a good shape despite the neglect of any regular training. For Marina it was a first time experience on a day with stomach problems. One of the villagers walking together with us was extremely kind to take her big backpack, however, that did not make it easy for her anyway. Our light-loaded friends were meanwhile chatting away with a local maoist showing interest in his stories of local medicinal plants and successfully convincing him to host us for couple of nights. So when we finally reached the high slope together with hordes of goats and children and women carrying loads of leaves for their animals,we already had a place to stay.  A very nice place indeed, as after the Daal Bhaat on the mud floor together with the family, Marina and me were even given our own room plastered with posters of voluptuous Bollywood actresses in seductive poses and hindu gods among them.

We fell asleep fast and sound lulled by the smell of Ayurvedic nasal drops that I used in an attempt to do something about my already weeklong sinusitis and tonsillitis.

Linda

Biting dust in TATA cabrio

24.04

As planned the previous night we did indeed get up and bought the tickets to 7:00 bus just to find out 15 minutes later that due to a road accident there is a strike and the bus will not move anywhere until the next day.

That was a true relief for Marina, who was suffering from a sudden diarrhoea attack. Nevertheless, we did not allow Marina to stay in close proximity with Dhunche toilets, gave her Immodium and decided to start walking in the direction of Trishuli, from where we hoped to maybe get transport on to Gorkha. Already anticipating the full days walk, our luck turned and came in the form of an old noisy truck that was already carrying a few passengers in its back. Climbing up the side of the truck little did we know, what experience that will be.

Five hours standing and trying to grab on to the truck cabin’s roof in attempts to stabilise ourselves while the driver was trying to beat everyone in truck acrobatics on unpaved mountain roads. The deafening ratchet of the metal of the truck, being constantly thrown around, the scorching sun  of around 38 degrees and 10year dose of silica in the form of “Nepal powder” (the omnipresent fine sand dust that kept on being administered through all possible openings and surfaces of our bodies), was so enjoyable that after reaching the initially agreed destination – Trishuli – we happily committed ourselves to couple of more hours that took us to the main highway.

The last part of the trip in a common bus now suddenly seemed so incredibly comfortable, maybe due to the DVD player that kept on presenting us some series about “inspector Surya”, who’s main tell-tale mark was an expressive chew of a chewing gum.

In Gorkha our A-agents went to bargain for a hotel and I was cheating time in conversation with an educated tunnel geologist, who after 8 years of building tunnels had turned to retail and sold me a toothbrush in addition to being very knowledgable about Latvia.

The hard-bargained hotel turned out to be over-priced and low quality, but that’s what you get in a pilgrim-filled town on a holiday. We contributed our own share of dirt to the already filthy bathroom by washing our clothing from the day’s ride that churned out liters of dark mud.

The decision for the next day was archetypical –  to take the 7 o’clock morning bus.

Linda