Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Brief Moments of Clarity

 

As I drove home from the hospital, my heart felt a bit heavy and my frustration spilled over. My good friend Sarah has been fighting for over a year to get rid of a colon infection that has repeatedly had her in the hospital, the most recent episode starting during her visit with me in Durham. I drove up with her to Washington, DC, which was already part of the plan, but the night we arrived, we checked her into the emergency room.

It’s so heart breaking and frustrating for me to see her in pain, exhausted but still so patient and positive. I’ve spent the last few days sitting in her hospital room, robed and gloved, chatting and trying to just be a distraction from her situation. I’ve delayed my bus to New York City until Friday, when her parents will get back into town. I’ve brought magazines and a silly matching game, a stuffed animal from her apartment and some other treats; but it’s just so inadequate! Today she received the news that the doctors will try something new tomorrow, but she won’t be able to go home for another two days at least.

Last night, as I drove to her apartment after a day spent at the hospital, I felt myself coming to a realization. Actually, two realizations. First: now’s the time to have the courage to do what I ultimately decide I really want to do. That might seem silly, but lately decision procrastination has been the name of my game, as if the moment I make a decision about what to do next, I’ll regret it. It’s ridiculous! We can never know when some random colon issue will pop up, or some other health or personal or family issue for that matter. So instead of being afraid to make the wrong decision, it dawned on me that it’s time to have courage to be all right with making a decision.

Not that I’m in a hurry to make a decision, but at least delaying it should be deliberate instead of out of fear.

The second realization is somewhat unrelated. As I puttered on my computer at the hospital, I chatted briefly with a friend and found out that she’s just become pregnant. She’s a few years younger than me, married two years ago now. That has sort of been a trend amongst my friends. I guess I’m at the age where that’s what generally happens. For some reason, after finishing my chat with this now-pregnant friend, I felt completely deflated and unhappy. I’m not married and have no prospects for it. Sure, I think about the possibility of getting pregnant and having a kid by myself, but that’s not really my preferred plan.

As I drove home, the second realization hit mid-rant to myself: “…always different from my peer group, and never seem to follow any of the normal paths… oh.” And there it was. No, I’ve never exactly seen myself as the same as everyone else, with the same aspirations or goals. And no, I haven’t exactly followed the expected route in my life thus far. At times these facts make me proud and at others they make me feel so… apart. Last night, driving, I had the briefest moment of clarity: just because society raises us to expect and strive towards certain ‘life benchmarks’ doesn’t mean those are MY life benchmarks! And that’s ok!

All right, that’s pretty cliché, but for that briefest of moments, I actually believed it. And that belief, that certainty that it truly is ok to follow a completely different route, lifted the curtain of self-doubt for a bright-eyed peek of what life might be.

This morning, the curtain was lowered again and I squinted through the gauze of fear and uncertainty and the ‘get a steady job, find a husband, have a family’ mentality we’re all trained to embrace.

If I can only grab that certain feeling and hold it close, know it and not just lip-synch the words with no conviction, perhaps decision making about my future will feel less scary, less intense. It’s going to take a courage that’s hard to dig up, though.

--Z

Sunday, December 18, 2011

As I Went Walking

 

IMG_8637She looked calm. She looked proud. And somehow, she looked furious. The American flag she held rippled in the wind. When one policeman yanked on her arm to try to get her onto the sidewalk, her expression barely changed as she easily stepped back to her spot on the street.

From my spot on the sidewalk, I watched the chaos ensue with eyes wide and heart pounding. I understood perfectly that for the first time in my life, I was witnessing civil disobedience, raw, live. It wasn’t the positive exciting experience, nor the negative terrifying experience, that I once imagined it might be. It was, simply put, gut-churning.

I’d started the day meeting Frank, from Occupy Durham, and driving out to meet the Walkupy marchers on the road. Last night I went a bit overboard at Food Lion on my way home from a day of driving packs and feeding the marchers. When you meet these guys, it’s not storybook. It’s not inherently awe-inspiring. It’s… real. It’s here and now and real. And so when I realized that the one way I could help them on the road was to feed them, well… I went overboard. Pop tarts. Granola bars. All the makings for twelve full-sized sub sandwiches.

Anyway, Frank and I drove out in separate cars, stopping at a Hardee’s to pick up their packs and Turtle, a marcher who volunteered to ride forward to Raleigh to watch the packs and pave the way for the arrival of the marchers to North Carolina’s capital city. On the way to Raleigh we fed the marchers, who thanked us, grabbed what they could and kept walking. They had covered eighteen miles and had eight more to go. The mood seemed upbeat, positive, determined.

Fast forward. The marchers reached Raleigh’s Mordecai Park. A crowd of Occupy Raleigh and Occupy Chapel Hill folks met them with cheers and hugs and excitement. After some mingling, the crowd moved forward as one, ready to march through downtown Raleigh. As I walked along, marched even, in time to the various chants, I blinked and looked around me. What am I doing? I thought. Where am I?

“We. Are. The ninety-nine percent! We. Are. The ninety-nine percent!”

“Show me what democracy looks like! This is what democracy looks like! Show me what revolution looks like! This is what a revolution looks like!”

“Whose streets? OUR streets!”

I was questioning what I believed. I haven’t got that conviction, yet. That heartfelt knowledge that I was involved in something worth getting in trouble for. It’s the feeling I’ve been looking for for a long time: the feeling of knowing something, for absolute certain. I’m fascinated by the Occupy movement and agree wholeheartedly with some of the things they’ve done or said. Not everything, though, and not with that absolute certainty.

As these questions coursed through me, these doubts and fears, I passed the first cop car. The chant changed immediately. “The police! Are! The ninety-nine percent!” The cop inside gave us a dirty look as he muttered into his radio. At the next intersection, a cop car blocked the cross walk. Like a stream, we flowed gently by, chanting, singing, and nervously getting cameras ready, unsure of what might happen. Within a few blocks, there were two, then three, then four police cars driving alongside the crowd. The majority of the crowd was in a single lane of the two-lane, one-way city street. Cars had previously been passing IMG_8648by, honking in solidarity or in annoyance, but flowing freely as we purposely kept to just one lane. With the police cars there, the entire street was blocked.

Sarah, holding the marcher’s American flag, stood alone in a sea of people, a look of intensity and steadfastness, of frustration, in her eyes.

Or maybe that’s just how I felt.

When the policemen couldn’t make her move, they tore the flag from her hands and tossed it to the ground. They deftly turned her arm behind her, cuffed her and dragged her between them over to a squad car. Her shoulders, bones shifting under the skin, worked as she grimaced and said, loud enough to be heard over the shouting, angry crowd, “Ow, ow, ow!”

IMG_8653Suddenly my arms were full of backpacks, phones and items the Walkupiers didn’t want “lost.” I consolidated all the gear and then watched as one after another, the brothers followed their sister into the street. Chants of “Shame, shame,” and “The whole world is watching!” continued as the police worked at eradicating the threat of marchers spreading the Occupy message. The prisoner’s van swallowed one after another of them, until six of the eleven marchers were gone.

The next six hours raced by, with Occupy Raleigh rallying, calling their lawyers, collecting bail money and gathering in front of the magistrate’s office. Coffee and donuts, chants and mic checks, the continuously dropping temperatures, all blended into the reactions of the five remaining marcher in my mind: Owen, turned inward and focusing on something in his hands, asking me quietly to keep him updated; Kid, hysterical and every inch his name, alternately ranting on his phone and stalking around aimlessly; Cologino, watching and chatty; Nathan, positive, level-headed and smiling as always; and Ronnie, morose but sweet and holding tight to the flag he’d rescued from the street. I answered the phones Garth and Bo had left with me, tweeting the events and doing my best to organize bail. Somehow, I’d turned into a point person for the marchers. I felt like a fraud until it dawned on me that I was continuing my role of march supporter.

Six individuals volunteered to sign the bail bondsmen. They were from Occupy Raleigh and Occupy Chapel Hill. One was a wanderer recently returned from a trip in Mexico and touring the country’s occupations. And one was from Occupy Durham. I felt no doubt as I signed the paperwork in the bail bondsman’s office.

No doubt whatsoever.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Mom’s 11/11/11 Birthday Gift

 

Hey everyone! So, for my mom’s birthday this year (11/11/11), my dad and I put together a book with pictures of friends and family around the world wishing her a happy birthday. Here are all the pictures that were in the book. MANY thanks for everyone’s participation! She LOVES the book! (Just a note, some pictures are on the same page and some have captions or accompanying notes which I did not include here.)

Enjoy! And again, thanks to everyone for making this happen!

 

IMG_8594

JonahErica

Norma

Debora

PaulMaryRichards

NaomiSarah and Mitzi

Nancy and Jo

v1_Judith

Paula Mutzi

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Back in the World

 

Soooo. It’s been awhile, eh? Just about a month, in fact. And for quite a chunk of that time, I was sick. At the beginning of November I went to the doctor to get a diagnosis because the “cold” I picked up during my DC trip just wasn’t going away, plus there were more alarming symptoms popping up. The doc decided to treat it as a sinus infection and gave me some antibiotics and hydrocodone cough syrup. She also took a blood test to rule out other things, but that came back completely normal a few days later.

After ten days of antibiotics and knock-out cough syrup, I seemed to be getting better. The odd dip in energy still hits once in a great while, but I’m up and about now, thank goodness! I helped out a little bit with the end of the moving process, and now my parent’s are happily ensconced in their new place, steadily unpacking boxes and setting it all up. It’s a lovely house and their plans for it are ever-evolving. The guest bedroom is mine ‘til I vacate! We’ve had fun cooking, setting up the new tv, celebrating my mom’s birthday and planning some landscaping.

So, now that I’m mostly healthy again (although not quite 100% yet), I’ve started up pondering my immediate future again. Nothing has much changed, so I’m as conflicted as before, but I’ve begun my Department of Defense Dependents Schools (DoDDS) application and researching which tests I need to take, and how and when. Doing the application (aside from the tests) makes me nervous and unsure that they’ll take me, as there are so many fields I have to leave blank or answer negatively to, regarding teaching experience. Also, my Peace Corps application is complete except for my resume and one reference. Woo!

My immediate-future plans have shifted a bit, too. I bought a ticket to fly down to Miami and visit family, for one thing. It happens to be over the weekend that the REI kayaking trip happens, so I won’t be doing that particular adventure. I decided against Puerto Rico. A friend from DC may come down to visit me, and I still want to go up to NYC to take part in the Occupation there, even if only for a week or two or three, perhaps spending new year’s there. Moving to DC will probably not happen in January.

One thing I need to do very soon is to cancel my plane ticket back to Turkey. I originally set up the flight back for November 30th but I’m not quite ready to set out again yet, although I’m not ruling out doing so in 2012. In fact, last night I dreamt that I was back out in the world again…

For now, I’m enjoying a week-long visit with Remi and Liz in Decatur, GA. I’ve seen four comedy shows in which my brother did stand-up comedy, which is tons of fun. My folks drive down tomorrow and we’ll all celebrate turkey day together. Then Saturday I’ll head back to Durham with the folks.

--Z

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Fuzzy Brain, Achy Head, Sniffly Nose

Note: Today I’m lying in bed and expect to be doing so for the foreseeable future. I’m not a good sicky. I’m grumpy and impatient and horribly disappointed that I’m missing out on beautiful weather, helping my dad move and paint and set up the new house. In short: my mood is on the low side. Keep that in mind while reading this post…

So, it’s been a month now that I’ve been home. Am I home yet? I think so. Want to know how I know? Because I’m forgetting how it felt already.

My memories of my trip are clear and beautiful. I love thinking about my travels and pondering some of the harder questions I came up against, as well as dreaming of returning to the most incredible places. But that feeling, the physical and emotional feeling of being “footloose and fancy-free” and of obtaining a glimmering understanding of a wider world… well, that feeling is fading fast.

Since being home, I’ve visited many friends and told many of my stories. My ideas of what to do with myself – both in the coming months and in the coming years – have been as varied as doing more traveling to Puerto Rico, Nepal, England or within the US, all the way to getting a job with a space systems contractor. In between there’s Peace Corps, hiding out for the winter in a cabin in Minnesota to write, getting a job quick just to start earning again, or bussing up to New York City to join the Occupation there.

That is to say… I have no idea what’s next. And I realize that my options are broad and that having options is not a bad thing, I really do. But I’m so frustrated! Before I left, all I wanted was to have a sense of some direction to take with my life, whether it be a career, a person, a place… whatever! And here I am, in exactly the same place.

My biggest fear is that the whole trip was nothing more than a vacation from life. I didn’t want it to be that. I don’t want it to have been that. There’s still part of me that believes it wasn’t that. And yet here I am, moving forward (or thinking about it, anyway) with nothing more than the same ideas I had before I did the trip.

Note: See note before post. I realize that I’m rather grumpy and negative at the moment because I feel rather awful.

On the positive side, I have a general idea of what to do with myself in the coming months:

*November: Help parents move in and settle in to their new house, which is beautiful. Move my own things from storage into their shed. Celebrate mom’s birthday. Go to brother’s for Thanksgiving. Relax. Work on applications and resumes.

*December: Lots of ideas. Go to NYC to check out the Occupy Wall Street action. Go on an REI weekend kayaking/camping trip in South Carolina. Go to Puerto Rico. Go to DC.

*January: Move up to a furnished apartment or basement in DC. Get a job to keep from going broke. Continue application processes.

 

Anyway, that’s it for now. Trying to end on an up note. Send me some healthy vibes!!

Friday, October 7, 2011

Finding a Groove

 

It’s exactly two weeks that I’ve been home now and I’d still say that I’m only maybe 50% mentally home. Some things seem harder while others just don’t feel important. My stomach has fits now and then and my energy flags at the oddest times. It’s hard to focus nearly all the time and I find myself making lists of things to do, to remember to think about, to plan for. This Sunday I will drive up to DC and I’ve worked out a fantastic itinerary of visiting lots of people.

Here are the things on my mind lately, in no real order of importance:

  • My Career. Oy, what a phrase. I’m trying to focus primarily on my near future but then various other plans extend to make that difficult. In terms of job possibilities, I’m most intent on applying to Peace Corps at the moment. Their timeline is 9-12 months so the sooner I can get started, the better. I’m researching State Department opportunities as well as DoDDS, or teaching military dependents at base schools around the world. The Peace Corps application is fairly straight-forward and I hope to submit it rather soon, maybe even before I leave for DC. The State Department is tougher, for one thing because I’m unsure if it’s really a direction I want to go and for another, because no one seems to want to talk to me about it (including the local recruiter). And DoDDS is a typical charlie foxtrot, with loopholes and recruiters who tell me to just look at their website and not to call them again until I’ve submitted an application. What the heck?! Recruitment doesn’t mean what I thought it meant…
    • I have not yet begun to feel out my possibilities in terms of going into the contractor world. I have some ins there but, like the State Department, I’m unsure if it’s a direction I want to go. I’d be good at it and I think I’m still hirable even after a year hiatus. And it would earn decent pay. I just don’t know and hope to discuss the option with a couple people during my visit to DC.
    • Another thing I will need to consider is short-term employment. Wherever I decide to apply will take time. I have not even begun to think about this, although I wonder if I could work at my writing...
  • My Living Situation. Right now I’m staying with my folks. They’ll begin moving to a new house in late October, and be completely moved in early November. I plan on helping them move and to take residence at least temporarily in the guest bedroom. I’m trying to figure out if I should stay with them until I figure out my next move, or whether I should find my own place. If the latter, then where? I have savings to support myself for six months. This could last a lot longer if I stay with my folks.
  • My Escape Plan. As I’ve mentioned, my ticket home from Turkey was a round-trip ticket. The departure date is currently 30 November. However, Turkey will be cool and getting cooler then and I’m not altogether sure I want to set off so soon. I can change the date on the ticket for $150. One general idea I have is to call the airline (or Expedia) and see if I can make it an open-ended departure date.
  • Chores. Check-ups, dental visits, VA appeals, the list goes on and on.
  • Projects. I always have’m. Most of my projects at the moment have to do with my trip: make a book of pictures and stories; create a postcard to send to my various hosts; write some articles; ponder volunteering, fundraising and/or setting up a pen-pal campaign at the nunnery in Kathmandu. Also, I want to try to brush up and increase my basic knowledge of world history and world religions. And I’d like to get involved with some volunteering, such as with an adult literacy center, and the Red Cross, and maybe an animal shelter.

As you can see, my thoughts are fairly helter-skelter. There are times I think I should take off at the end of November and just see where things take me. Then I can’t even figure out how that could happen.

And I’m still not really completely BACK from my trip yet. I know I have to be patient and give myself time, but it’s difficult!

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Last Words, First Thoughts

Note: No new pictures, unfortunately!

Day-to-Day: 16-21 September 2011

 

I started to write this post on the plane from Istanbul to London, but couldn’t focus enough. In London, I spent my twelve hour layover going through British customs (looooong line), finding the tube and meeting my Couchsurfing hosts Ginette and Martin. They picked me up at a tube station and took me to their lovely home, decorated with their photos of their travels. We chatted until late and in the morning I caught a bus to the tube station, the tube to the airport, and took off on my nine hour flight to Durham, NC, USA!

Since I’ve been home, my energy levels have been fluctuating a whole lot. One day will feel pretty good and the next I’ll take four or five naps. My stomach hasn’t reacted terribly well to being home, although I’ve been eating terrific food (compliments of the chef, my dad). A couple of people think it might be the water… not bad, just different. I think that might be it, because things seem to be settling down in that arena.

As for my mood… it fluctuates a lot also. From feeling chatty to silent, from engaged to completely disengaged, my mood isn’t really settling yet. I’m kinda feeling a bit down, to be honest, although with no real specific reason. And while sometimes I’m excited to share some travel story or another, at other times I actively don’t want to talk about my travels. I have gone through my travel goodies – the souvenirs and stuff I sent home from abroad – but just once, and they’re all packed away. For some reason, I don’t feel ready to “deal” with them yet. Whatever that means.

I guess I’m just not fully home yet. Everyone laughs gently at my bewilderment at being tired and out of sorts, but I really don’t understand it. I’ve been whirling around the world, hopping from city to city, being rootless the whole time, and haven’t really felt this way. Part of it is facing what’s next… which is a complete mystery to me, by the way. We’ll all just have to wait and see…

In general, it’s very nice to be home: chatting and catching up with my folks; eating nice food; having access to a hot shower with soap, where I don’t have to wear shoes; soft toilet paper; and a car and wi-fi and all the things that seemed sometimes difficult abroad; all of this is great. There are no real demands on me or my time, although there are few things that need doing (doctor’s appointment, etc). I had a great visit with lots of family immediately on my return, since there was a celebration party for my brother marrying Liz. Two grandmothers and an uncle, not to mention my brother and his wife’s family… it was a great weekend with good company, conversation and food.

I feel very odd. On the one hand I feel like I never left: my parent’s house is just the same, as is the room I stay in there. On the other hand, I gues I don’t feel like I’m really home, as in staying home as opposed to moving on in a week or two. It’s a very disjointed feeling and I’m trying not to push myself too hard to feeling “normal.”

As a final note to this entry: I don’t plan on stopping this blog. I figure enough will be going on that I’ll want to write about, from searching for “what’s next” to making the decision on whether to be employed and with whom and where… so I hope that any readers out there will stick with me!

--Z

Thursday, September 15, 2011

Counting Down

Note: Not just one, but TWO new picture albums are up!  First, “Turkey: Topkapi Palace Bosphorous Cruise,” which shows my first two days back in Istanbul, Turkey. Second, “Turkey: Selcuk and Around,” which I’ll continue adding to until I move on, has pictures from Selcuk, Ephesus and soon a few other day trip places. Enjoy!

Day-to-Day: 1-15 September 2011

 

Just ten days in Turkey isn’t much, you know. As I knew before I came, it’s barely enough time to find out what I’m going to miss! While I was in Nepal, I was sure my time would be a whirlwind of experiences here as I tried to make the most of my last traveling days. After landing in Istanbul, though, I knew I had to take it easy on myself because my body was starting to become sluggish: slight head cold, exhaustion, soreness. When this happens I know what to do: slow down, relax, recharge.

All right, well, I haven’t really done that. But I’ve cut down on the number of things to cram into my time in Turkey, so at least that’s IMG_8169something! So I spent a day and a half in Istanbul, checking out Topkapi Palace for the morning and then taking a boat cruise on the Bosphorous for the afternoon. It was a great day, tiring but not overly exhausting. The next morning, I took off south to take in Ephesus, which has been recommended to me a dozen times by other travelers and friends. There are a couple cities near Ephesus and I chose Selcuk, which has turned out to be a great choice. The Ephesus ruins were fantastic and the bits of Selcuk that I’ve seen are pretty neat too. And the food… I’m loving Turkish food!

As for the rest of my time in Turkey, I’m hoping to take a quick trip to the Aegean coast to swim in new waters, perhaps visit Sirince for the wineries, hustle over to Pammukale for the calcium-rich travertines and Hieropolis ruins, and maybe even squeeze in Cannakale, which would allow a half-day trip to the ruins of Troy. It’s a lot, and I’m not 100% sure I’ll make all of it, but at least I have some goals to tick off as I go.

Of course, I’m counting down to the day I get home, too… just six days away now! My panic has subsided and now I’m just waiting to see how things go. It’ll be a busy week right when I get home, with family visiting and a marriage celebration and a friend visiting as well. Then I’ll have the two weeks of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur to relax and settle in. I’m a little nervous, quite a bit excited and mostly, just curious. I’m actually succeeding at not getting more worked up the closer it gets. In fact, I feel calmer and more assured about heading home now.

As I’ve been looking back at this year of travel, I’m trying to come up with lessons learned and ideas hatched and insights gained. I’m not sure I’ll be able to articulate everything here, but one thing has stood out to me recently, because it’s one of the most common questions I get asked when I meet other travelers: have I been scared as I’ve traveled on my own in all of these foreign places.

The answer is, of course! But when I really think about it, it occurs to me that never once was my fear really substantiated. I remember arriving in Siem Reap late at night on a bus and being mobbed by the touts and feeling terrified. In Thailand, a tuk-tuk driver ditched me in the middle of a strange neighborhood when I refused to buy clothes at his friend’s shop. In Indonesia, I got lost hiking amongst the rice paddies. In Hong Kong, I couldn’t find my way to a rendezvous point with my couchsurfing host, didn’t have a phone and it was late at night. Three men stared at me in Nepal one time when I was in a market and I felt exceedingly uncomfortable. In Vietnam the traffic made my stomach turn and crossing the street nearly made me vomit. And when I was sick in Cambodia, that was scary.

The thing is, most of the times I was scared, it was because of my own preconceived notions. Exceedingly impoverished people? They must want to steal my things, or mug me, or frighten me into giving them money. Traffic? They’re going to kill me, or perhaps mug me from a motorbike and hurt me. Lascivious men? They’re going to follow me, intimidate me, attack me.

None of these things happened. Nothing even close. Sure, poor people begged and some looked angry when I didn’t give them money. But none ever attacked me or even touched me once I walked away. While it truly is scary, no one in Vietnam came close to hitting me and no motorbike drivers made a grab for me or my bags. Lascivious men? Catcalls, offers, winks and annoying, too-friendly chatter, sure. But nothing more.

In fact, most of the times I started to feel fear, it was the people themselves who eventually helped me. Whether it be other travelers or locals, inevitably people are what have made my trip so amazing. Having gone the places I went and experienced the things I did, that was incredible too. I’m so proud of myself for skydiving, for braving public transport and new foods and amazing adventures, for riding elephants and exploring ruins and sleeping in strange places.

And so, to those who ask me, “Were you ever scared?”

Of course. My answer is, of course! And then I found out that my fear came from my own preconceived notions more often than the reality I was confronted with. That a healthy dose of fear keeps me alert and attentive, but that reaching out to others for help and guidance and reassurance will almost always result in a successful experience. And that people, in general, are good!

What a great lesson to learn about myself, that I can fear, and evaluate, and overcome my fear to become a person who reacts to reality.

--Z

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Travel Day Impressions

Note: I have added the last of the pictures to the “Nepali: Another 25 Days” album. Enjoy!

Impression: Nepali Hospital

IMG_7852On the way to the hospital I passed several tables with severed pigs heads for sale.

My malaria pill bottles were unopened and I decided that I should donate them, an option I’d heard was a possibility in Nepal. It took a few times asking shopkeepers and pedestrians, but eventually the courtyard containing hospital, emergency room and pharmacy was in front of me. It was disconcerting, because the pharmacy was a counter under a tin roof, open to the noise, heat and pollution of the Kathmandu air. There was any entry door to the hospital, but the emergency room had no doors and I could see three beds with people in them. The pharmacy wouldn’t take my meds and directed me into the emergency room. Uncomfortable normally in hospitals, I was even more so in this case. Doctors inside informed me that Chitwan would be a better place to donate them, but eventually I convinced them to take the pills. I’m slightly ashamed to say I high-tailed it out of there.

The pigs heads were staring at me as I walked back to my hotel; the butcher continued his bloody work on the ground next to the tables on which the heads lay.

Impression: CS

My first week in Kathmandu, a local Couchsurfer had sent me a message telling me about a weekly get-together in Thamel, involving meeting people, learning to dreadlock hair and possibly some henna demonstrations as well. During my twenty-six days in Nepal, I managed to make just one of these meetings, and that IMG_7862occasion was on my last day in the country for just half an hour before my taxi picked me up for the airport. I ducked into the tattoo parlor area where the meeting was taking place and was immediately greeted by a mixed group of people in a tiny back room. As most of my Couchsurfing experiences have been, this was a welcoming, excited and friendly experience. I met a dozen people in just a few minutes; watched the organizer, Zen, as she explained how to use a tiny hook-tool to turn a hank of sample hair into a dreadlock; accepted and drank a cup of tea; bonded with a Norwegian-Swedish couple over shared Nepali bus experiences; and was sent on my way with waves, hugs and wishes of smooth travels.

Impression: Nepalis on a Plane

They piled onto the plan like it was a bus: bags tossed everywhere, seat assignments ignored, conversations light and jovial and anticipatory. The flight attendants – a gentle giant of a soft-spoken guy, and a hard-ass lady who seemed likely to punch someone in the face at any moment – were carefully explaining to every non-Western passenger where their seat was and what to do with their luggage. It was mostly to no avail. A young Nepali guy looked at his ticket as he stood next to my seat, glanced around with a frown, shrugged, and sat in the row behind me. I overheard him reciting, “Seat 4C, 4C, 4C,” just like the flight attendant had told him. He was in 5C. I showed him where the numbers were posted and he quickly changed seats. I have no idea if he was confused or just trying to sit next to his friend.

Later, I watched as the flight attendants explained using the toilet to two young toughs, who bobbed their heads from side to side doubtfully in response and took turns. Afterwards, I noticed the flight attendant peer into the toilet cubby, flush, shake his head and then return to the aisle to direct people.

Before the plane took off, there was a mass rush to the front of the plane as the Nepali passengers noticed empty seats. The female flight attendant didn’t pop anyone on the nose, but seemed barely to suppress the urge as she pointed imperiously back to their seats.

And at the Dubai airport, where most of the Nepali’s seemed to be transferring to a new flight, like me, it took over an hour for them to file, one by one, through the medal detector. The shrill beeeep of the machine went off during the entire time as each one was directed, by mime, to remove his belt or sunglasses or other medal objects from his person.

It must be hard to fly for the very first time as an adult!

Impression: Dubai Airport

While I’d like to say that it never even crossed my mind, it wouldn’t be true. I was well aware when we landed, and as I wandered the transit waiting area amongst veiled women and turbaned men, that it was September 11; that I was an American in an Arab country; and that my passport had Israeli stamps in it. The first didn’t make me nervouse; the second made me more aware of my surroundings; and the last factor had me nervously shifting my weight as the airline employee typed away to issue my onward ticket.

The thing is, it was an airport experience like any other. The air conditioning was a bit too strong, perhaps, and the lights far too bright, and the seats way too uncomfortable. But as people milled about, or slept, or stared sleepily at tv screens, computers or books, my most persistent emotion wasn’t fear, or suspicion, or self-preservation. It was curiosity. I watched three women, only their hands and eyes visible outside their black coverings, as they shooed children away to play, chattered with each other, and tried to get comfortable. A white robed man with an Arab head-dressing strolled along, deep in discussion with a similarly dressed friend. There were all degrees of dress amongst both men and women, leaning towards the conservative trend for both sexes and all ages.

I was curious. If it weren’t four in the morning and my brain wasn’t grinding to a slow but inevitable halt, I would have liked to try striking up a conversation with one of these people I know so little about. While eating a snack, I shared a table with a woman and her infant, who snored away blissfully. We didn’t speak each other’s languages, but smiled tentatively and made mimed offers to share our food, both declining but still smiling.

Half of my layover of eight hours in Dubai was spent sleeping (or trying to sleep). The other half had me watching, groggily, the rhythms of a different culture and lifestyle. I hope someday to go back to the UAE and learn, first-hand, about this fascinating place and it's people.

--Z

Monday, September 5, 2011

A Weekend Adventure (with a few hiccups)

Note: I’ve added still more pictures to the “Nepal: 25 More Days” album, from rafting and Chitwan. Take a look!

 

It all started out well, I swear!

IMG_7677The plan was to take a tourist bus from Pokhara to a point where a rafting company would take me rafting on the Trisuli River. The morning started out well enough, leaving Pokhara on a nice morning with a blue sky. The first few hours of the bus ride went smoothly, although at our breakfast stop some of us noticed smoke coming from a tire well. Some Nepali boys banged away at it and by the time we boarded all seemed well.

An hour later, we were pulled onto the side of the road in a small town, wheel well smoking away again. This time, the Nepali boys (which every bus seems to have along for such IMG_7678occasions) took the wheels off and then began dismantling the axle. There were ten of us eyeing the entire operation doubtfully, itching to get to the rafting point that was reputedly only twenty-eight kilometers away. We ground our teeth and sweated for about an hour before deciding to thumb a ride. A passing pickup truck agreed to take us for a hundred rupees each (outrageous!) and we all piled into the bed, where there were benches along the side and plastic stretched over a framework above us.

Rafting went well enough, with everyone but the guides and me having their first rafting experience. I jumped into the river a few times, cooling off from the hard work of paddling in the humid heat. Two hours of rafting and relaxing later, we ate lunch at a shack and showered, fully clothed, under an open-air faucet next to two enclosed squatter toilets. Those tourists who were heading on to Kathmandu left; then those heading to Pokhara. The thirteen of us remaining who were headed for Chitwan waited. And waited. It began to rain and still we waited, starting to chew our lower lips again.

Finally, we were told that there was a strike on near Chitwan and no vehicles except tourist buses could get through, and that the next tourist bus would be by the next morning. They pointed down the road and explained that we could camp in tents and have meals, free of charge, while we spent the night and waited for the tourist bus. Many of us had booked package tours at Chitwan National Park, and none of us knew whether the lodges would honor the packages if we arrived a day late. Oh… there was no telephone reception and no landline telephones, either. We were stuck.

IMG_7687Three girls from England decided to head back to Kathmandu. A pierced and tattooed half-naked couple apparently decided to hang out at the shacks and see what happened. The rest of us – two Indians, two Belgians, two Germans, a Japanese girl and me – decided to try our luck in hitching a ride as close as we could get to our lodges, then call the lodges and ask them to send someone to pick us up. We all piled into the first vehicle that agreed: a truck with a large cab. The two Nepali boy mechanics who rode with the rig rode on top until it began to rain. At that point they squeezed in with the rest of us and all our luggage, making our party eleven in a cab meant to comfortably sit perhaps five. We were all rather cheerful and accommodating, chattering away and being goofy.

Until we started passing trucks parked along the side of the road, that is. When we could go no further we, too, pulled over, to learn that about ten minutes earlier, a tourist bus had flipped, blocking the entire road. We sat back and waited. We bought some chips from a nearby shack, and some water, and a little Coca-Cola and whiskey to help one of the Belgians celebrate his twenty-first birthday.

Three hours later – it was 9pm now – the accident was cleared and we were on our way. It was pouring rain and our crew was a bit quieter now. Another two hours and we reached Sauhara, the small village outside Chitwan National Park. We all hugged and exchanged e-mails and went on our separate ways to our separate lodges, having arrived well past the ending time of the strikes. My lodge, the Gorkha Hamlet, welcomed me and the two Belgians (who had not booked a place and decided to try their luck at my place), fed us a limited dinner and sent us to bed. My room was nice, with two beds and a furiously spinning loud ceiling fan, which blew my mosquito netting around all night but kept me cool.

I woke up the next day feeling nauseous and exhausted and with a headache that made me dizzy. My guide agreed to move my program forward a day to let me rest and recover, and I slept fitfully between rushed bathroom trips aIMG_7735nd sips of bottled water, until 3pm. At that point I joined three Polish travelers for a sight-seeing walk through a part of the borderlands of the National Park, a visit to a park information center with outdated information, a quick trip to some elephant stables, and a culture show that featured a thick Nepali-accented announcer and some wonderful Tharu dances. We managed to spot a gaida, a rare type of creature much like a crocodile but whose snout seemed much longer and narrower.

The next day, one of the Poles – Maria – was sick. The others, Justine and Peter, and I did all of our activities together: canoeing in a long, narrow boat and bird watching on the river; a visit to the elephant breeding center; a quick run to join others who had spotted an Asian Rhinoceros; and an elephant bath. During the canoe trip we saw a crocodile and some pretty birds, including a brilliantly flashing-blue kingfisher. At lunch,  Maria seemed to be feeling better and decided to join us for the afternoon elephant safari. During the safari we saw another rhino, which was huge and really did look as armored as the pictures showed them!

Finally, today, we took a long, bumpy bus ride back to Kathmandu, and it worked out that I’m staying at the same place as the three Poles and the two Belgian guys from my Disaster Day. Actually, this was no coincidence: one of the Belgian guys left his waist pack, which held his passport and money and important papers – in the room at the Gorkha Hamlet. Knowing I was staying there an extra day, he’d called and asked me to bring it to him in Kathmandu, telling me the name of his guest house. And so, here we all are!

Five more days until I return to Turkey, and about two weeks until I head home! Time is flying along!

IMG_7778

--Z

Thursday, September 1, 2011

West of Kathmandu

Note: I’ve added lots of pictures to the “Nepal: Another 25 Days” album, so take a look!

Day-to-Day: 15-31 August 2011

 

IMG_7535It took seven hours, but I finally got from Kathmandu to Pokhara last Sunday. My choices in buses, according to the travel agent guy I talked to, were Green Line Bus for $18, or tourist bus for 500 Rupees (that’s basically $18 vs $7). Call me crazy but I took the 500 Rupee option. The only difference he would tell me between the two was AC and no AC. I admit, I was slightly leery, given my Cambodia experience (where I was seated on a plastic beach chair next to the driver for four hours), but it turned out to be all right.

My first few days in Pokhara, I vegged: slept in, meandered around the main street, gazed out at Fewa Lake and the surrounding mountians, internetted, read books, and so on. Apparently I needed it, because I couldn’t muster up interest or motivation to do anything else!

IMG_7565On Tuesday, I got up before the sun and took a taxi up to Sarangkot to view the sunrise. I was not so lucky here, because the clouds obscured the scenery – namely, the Annapurna Range of mountains that is the reason people come to see sunrise. However, I did get a sneak peek at Macchupucchre Peak and the wall of another peak, snow covered and with those granite crags that seem so detailed, even from a distance. When I got back to my guesthouse, I slept until 1pm.

Wednesday found me flying through the air again: I had signed up Tuesday evening to go paragliding from Sarangkot. It involved riding in the back of a pickup with benches installed, then meeting my “pilot” on a down-sloping field. He was nice enough, though he sounded a bit like a tape recording: “How are you doing today, Zoe… fine, fine, now this here is the harness…” and so on. My answers were acknowledged but not really registered. In any case, he explained how I needed to walk with him, and run with him, when he indicated. We had one false start where the breeze changed directions; the second time, though, we walked together (he was harnessed in behind me) and then ran for about three steps before our chute filled and IMG_7599lifted us up. My harness turned a bit and suddenly I was sitting on air (and straps), watching the world around me!

There were a dozen other paragliders that day, so the sky was amusing to watch. My pilot, Ramesh, explained to me how thermals worked and demonstrated. I had signed up for a thirty minute ride and basically, all I did was sit back and watch! Surprisingly, after awhile I felt slightly queasy… I think it’s because for the most part, paragliders circle. All those circles get to be a bit much after awhile, I guess. In any case, we swooped around, catching thermals and gently rising, then gliding down a bit here and there. Looking down I could see rice paddies and terraced land, Fewa Lake and Pokhara, and here and there I would get a glance at the Annapurna peaks behind the hills.

Near the end, we were over the lake and he asked if I’d like to do a trick. I should have said now, but I couldn’t! So we did a spiral, where we were about sideways to the ground and whirring around our chute… it was great fun but left me feeling queasier than before. Soon after, we glided in for a landing. We barely even stumbled!

For the rest of the day I vegged out with my new friend, Premra from Dubai, who also paraglided. We went and had a long lunch; then watched two movies at another IMG_7616restaurant; went our separate ways only to meet up again an hour later. We decided to rent a rowboat and paddle across the lake to Lychee Resort, an upscale place with a restaurant. Halfway across, we realized our plan’s major flaws: it was darker than usual out and indeed, the lightning and thunder began to worry us. We made it across only slightly soaked, but in the pitch dark. We had a nice dinner, chatted, and tried not to pay attention to the very pretty, dressed up Nepali girls giggling away with the older Nepal men at the table behind us. Premra, who speaks Hindi, muttered that they were negotiating prices and activities. It was really kinda sad.

The row back was dry, other than our feet and butts, but in the pitch dark. Premra, a horror movie lover, had many theories about the dark jungly woods on the mountain behind us and the dark waters and the critters in it ahead of us. Soon our plans’ second flaw became apparent: we could see no landmark telling us where we’d rented the boat from. And third flaw: we had no flashlight to show us a good place to park the boat.

Eventually we just pushed it up against part of the shore, then wandered through a few backyards before finally asking a Nepali couple to show us how to get back up to the main street. We found a nice place for a dessert, and then I was done: back at my guest house, I crashed, sleeping until 9am the next morning.

IMG_7665My last full day in Pokhara, I had someone paddle me across the lake and then climbed up to the World Peace Pagoda. It was a good climb, about an hour going straight uphill on stone steps. There were beautiful views out over the lake and Pokhara, though, which compensated. It was afternoon when I started, so it was hot and humid. Once I reached the pagoda, I met Anya and Lindsey, Canadians, and we got to chatting and decided to share a boat back. So we descended the same way I’d climbed, deciding to have lunch when we got to Lakeside.

And here I am, relaxing at a café, looking forward to the rafting, elephant safari, jungle birdwalk and Chitwan National Park visit that I booked for the next few days.

--Z

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Random Videos

Note: I’ve posted the new Nepal item, check it out! Smile 

 

So, this isn’t really a “blog update” per say. I just realized that I have a few videos I’ve taken and never posted! So, here are three, from three different countries. Enjoy!

First up, a Sinai chameleon eating lunch in Israel:

Next, a whirling Dervish in Istanbul, Turkey (sorry it’s sideways, can’t seem to rotate it!):

And finally, chanting monks from Kopan Monastery in Kathmandu, Nepal:

--Z

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Sniffles & Gorgeous Weather

Note: There are lots of new posts (six to be exact), so make sure you read them all!

Day Four at Kopan Monastery

The minute I woke up I groaned: my nose was running, my throat was scratchy and my skin felt too hot. Breakfast didn’t refresh me much, so before showering and going back to sleep, I took a fizzy Airborne tablet, given to me by Audrey, a middle-school teacher and teacher trainer from Portland, Oregon. We met last night, when she arrived in time for dinner and sat with me. We get along quite well, chatting about everything from travel to teaching to everything inbetween. She’s volunteering for two weeks with an NGO to help train Nepali teachers. Before that, she’s taken the time to relax at the monastery, excited because she is Buddhist and her teacher knows Kopan well. Anyway, she offered, and I accepted, one of the cold-prevention tablets. I slept for a couple more hours, almost missing lunch.

After lunch I bummed around, feeling better but not great. My usual routine continued: reading, walking, napping, using the internet café, looking out at the view. The morning IMG_7502was cloudy, but the day really cleared up and soon the crisp air and sunshine were cheering me up considerably. I sunned for a bit, figuring a bit of Vitamin D couldn’t hurt, and ended up watching the sunset with Audrey from the grassy hill that is the highest point at the monastery. The sky was wonderful, with a ceiling of clouds making my depth perception go wonky over the mountains, and the rest of the sky blue and clear with birds wheeling around. As the sun got lower and went behind a band of clouds, it was as if we were in a theater and the lights had dimmed slightly. The entire landscape seemed to have changed with the lighting. Beautiful!

At tea, before dinner, I met a girl from Marseilles, France. She gave me some great recommendations on places to stay in IMG_7498Kathmandu, Pokhara and Chitwan. Tomorrow my plan is to check out and head to Thamel with Audrey, who already has a place to stay through the NGO. We plan to go shopping where Anisha took me, which should be fun because we’re looking for the same kind of things. I will either stay at the same place as Audrey, if it seems nice and the price is right, or I’ll go check out the French-woman’s recommendation. I figure I’ll leave for Pokhara on Sunday and spend some time there and at the coffee farm the Swedish couple recommended.

Now, at the end of the day, my cold seems to be gone and I’m feeling pretty good. I’m excited to continue my exploration of Nepal and see the beautiful areas I’ve heard so much about!

--Z

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Day of Ceremonies

 

Day Three at Kopan Monastery

Today was a lot like yesterday, except not as wet. Also, my “up” mood didn’t really hold out, although that’s not to say that I was in a bad mood. It just seemed like my brain was a bit muddled with too many thoughts, about all sorts of things. Ah, well…

There were three ceremonies today. The first, at 5:30am, I did not attend. Too early! The second, though, I did attend in part. It was described to me in brief summary as akin to a graduation ceremony, where six students would debate various topics and earn their next level IMG_7461(geshe). It was all in another language (Nepali or Tibetan, I think) and I was just one of four Westerners sitting against the back wall, watching. I have to admit that I have NO idea what was happening, at any time! I think I saw what was part of a debate, although it wasn’t how I’d pictured it. It was more one monk, half-chanting and half-ranting, making ritualized hand claps that thundered through the hall now and then. An hour and a half in, I had to duck out… my focus was scattered and I needed a bathroom (it started just after breakfast)!

The third ceremony was another puja, after dinner. I stayed for the entire three and a half hours and again, I can tell you almost nothing about what I saw, since I have no idea what was going on. There was lots and lots of chanting, some discordant music bursts now and IMG_7493again, and about thirty minutes where tea and various edible goodies like Snickers and ChocoPies were doled out to every monk and every Westerner in the hall (maybe 200 people!). At the end, the eldest monk, perhaps the lama who runs the monastery, spoke. It was in English but because of the combined effects of his accent, having suffered a severe stroke recently, and a shoddy sound system, I could only make out some of the basics: even if you don’t think you believe in Buddhism, you should become knowledgeable about it so that you can know about life and death. I think he told a story about being in a hospital and talking to people who didn’t know anything about these things, in any sense, and it made him very sad.

All day I planned to leave tomorrow, but now I’m thinking I’ll stay one more day. No real reason. I didn’t pack, and a day here versus a day in Thamel sounds good anyhow.

--Z

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Up

 

Day Two at Kopan Monastery

Today I let myself sleep in until just before breakfast. I slept quite well last night, which may in part account for how up I felt all day. In any case, I went to breakfast somewhat groggy, as I usually feel when I’m just waking up, and disliking the heavy, overcast and wet feeling that greeted me. Afterwards, I walked around a bit, eventually ending up back IMG_7454at my room, where I stretched and read a book for a little bit. Eventually, I showered. The hot water is solar-heated, making morning a bad time for a hot shower. I got about a minute of hot, before the water cooled to a just-bearable temperature. It woke me up, anyway!

At ten, I went to the main meditation hall. There was no one else there, not even tourists, for a full hour. Then, a couple led by a Nepali man came in, snapping pictures and talking in what seemed to me rude, loud voices. They saw that I was trying to meditate but that didn’t seem to bother their conversation (or volume) in the least. I stuck it out, though, because the hour and a half of quiet in the morning is turning out to be quite nice. I attempted meditation for about half an hour and then just let my mind work. I had some good, serious thinks about a few things that were on my mind, and it felt really good.

IMG_7455Lunch was again tasty and filling. After, I went to the internet café. It was drizzling rain, so I spent an hour chatting with friends and e-mailing. More stretching and reading followed, and chatting with the Swedish couple. After dinner, as I was helping do the dishes, I met Sarah, a forty year old Australian woman who has recently completed yoga instructor certification. We got to talking and I found that she is a really positive, intense lady. I hope we get a chance to chat more tomorrow, although she’s taking a course so she may not be free until the evening.

All day I felt kind of happy, light, even a little ebullient. It was a nice feeling and I really hope it continues!

--Z

Monday, August 22, 2011

Busy Day of Being Quiet

 

Day 1: Full Day of Quiet

IMG_7449My alarm went off at 6am and I snoozed for a bit, managing to pull myself out of bed ten minutes later. It was cool out as I meandered through the grounds. It had rained in the night and things were still damp, the sky still gray and foreboding in the morning light. It would stay that way all day. I decided to stretch in a gazebo with a view over terraced lands with a backdrop of a mountain chain.

Breakfast was a delicious rice-and-milk soup, IMG_7452along with white pita bread and the usual choices of butter, peanut butter and jam. Tea, masala or black or green, is available at every meal as well. After breakfast, I walked for a bit, then did some writing in my diary. At ten, I went to the main “gompa” or meditation hall, because there is supposedly daily hour and a half meditation sessions. When no one but three Western girls showed up, I went to ask at the reception desk. It turns out the teacher who does the meditation classes left today and there won’t be guided meditations for at least a few days. It really bummed me out, but I stayed anyway and attempted to meditate in the huge, quiet hall with a huge golden Buddha at the back and whirls of colors and paintings and flags and lights all around. I think I may have napped for a short time, but in any case, I made it through an hour and a half of quiet sitting.

Lunch consisted of dal baht, white rice, a curried vegetable mixture and a cooked onion mixture, with the pita and toppings selection and tea. Delicious! And very filling. The rest of the day was filled with reading and walking, pondering and writing, half an hour of internet and chatting with the Swedish couple.

No deep insights, perhaps, but it was a calm and restful day. I may not stay as long as expected, with no guided class of any kind to attend, but even two or three days will recharge my batteries… physically and emotionally, hopefully.

--Z

IMG_7450

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Self-Imposed Idleness at Kopan Monastery

Note: I’ll begin a new album, “Nepal: Another 25 Days,” as soon as I can!

Day 0: Arrival at Kopan Monastery

For the third day in a row, I let myself sleep in after my alarm went off. And I followed my usual routine: wake up, dress, wander out for breakfast and internet; return, wash up, read my book. Today, though, the routine broke here. I packed up all my things and paid my hotel bill (about $20 per night, if you include the tip I left), then caught a taxi up to Kopan Monastery, about a twenty minute ride to the outskirts of Kathmandu, and up a steep hill. Everywhere we saw celebrations, because today is Krishna Astami, the Hindu celebration of Krishna’s birthday.

IMG_7432I arrived, checked in and after dropping off my things, just wandered around the grounds. There are meditation halls and a library, several different areas for guests to stay (from shared rooms to singles and doubles), a fountain, a hilltop to view the surrounding valley, Buddha statues and gumpas, a dining hall, and a store which is also a small café and computer area. Of course, there’s a school on the grounds, too. There are over three hundred monks of various ages who live and learn and pray here. Nearby is a nunnery with over three hundred women, too.

So what will I do here? I am forcing myself to relax and just be. There is a meditation class every morning, so I plan to attend that, but otherwise my time is my own. There are three simple meals and a tea time at the dining hall. Dinner tonight was a vegetable soup and pita bread, with peanut butter or marmalade or butter to choose from. Simple, but delicious and filling. I hope all IMG_7445the meals are so nice! I’ve written out a general schedule for myself to stick to for the next four or five days, which includes stretching three times a day. My general hope for my time here is to breathe a little, relax, think about some of the things that I haven’t really let myself fully consider and feel the things I definitely have pushed aside. I have two books to read and there are plenty of places to walk to and around here.

I’ve already met a nice Swedish couple, young travelers who have been WWOOFing in India and Nepal for the last eight months. There are several Westerners here, doing individual courses of study or, like me, taking the opportunity to just be and to relax.

Mostly, I hope to center myself a little bit.

--Z

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Killing Time in Kathmandu

 

My plane landed in Kathmandu on Tuesday and spent that day and the next with Rimu. On Thursday, I went out for coffee with Anisha, who came to get me on a motorbike; they call them scooters here. We chatted about nothing in particular, although one topic that held my attention and interest was that of dating and marriage. In Nepal, “love marriages” are becoming more common, but arranged marriages are still the norm. Anisha is part of the aristocratic caste in Nepal, and she fully expects that her parents will choose her husband, sometime in the future. She has never had a boyfriend and she explained that while she has friends who are boys, she doesn’t “hang out” with them because of the impropriety it would imply.

For those who don’t remember or didn’t read the post where I told the story, while on my Everest Base Camp trek back in April/May I met a man who turned out to be a Colonel in the Nepali Army. He gave us (my trekking partner, Jan, and I) his card and told us we could contact him when we were back in Kathmandu. We did this, but he was out of town. Nevertheless, his wife and daughters were wonderfully hospitable to us, inviting us over for tea and taking us to an orphanage where we volunteered. Anyway, Anisha is one of the daughters, a beautiful nineteen-year old college student. She’s friendly and intelligent and polite and has been really sweet, keeping me steady as I re-organize my Nepal plans.

On Thursday evening I met with Rimu again, but he decided that he didn’t want to see me any more since I had told him I didn’t have the same feelings for him as before. On Friday, Anisha took me shopping and I bought a modern-style sulwar, a beautifully embroidered, dark green and gold and black tunic that is very long with gauzy black sleeves. It came also with black pants and a lovely shawl-scarf. We also went out and found some bangles to match.

I had the chance to wear my new outfit tonight. Anisha invited me to a Teej party. Teej is a Hindu holiday where women celebrate. At it’s root, it’s really about married women praying for the husbands, but traditions have evolved to turn into women-only gatherings and parties. Teej itself isn’t for another two weeks, but there are parties every day these days. Anyway, both Anisha and her mother were at this party and I dressed up. Most of the women there, being married, wore red as is traditional. Everything from saris to sulwars, modern and traditional, were in evidence, beautiful and shining and elegant. At the party there were light snacks, drinks, music and a buffet dinner. My favorite part was the dancing, where unself-consciously women danced and laughed and grooved to tunes Nepali, American and Latin! At the end of the evening, the Colonel picked us up and gave me a lift home. He’s retired now, but looking forward to finding work as a disaster management expert.

From arrival until now, I’ve run a wide range of emotions: anticipation, excitement, surprise, sadness, disappointment, fear, and finally a resurgence of fascination with Nepal. I’m terribly disappointed that things with Rimu didn’t work out, but it was my choice to end the relationship and I feel some solace in the fact that I was honest enough with myself and him to not drag things out. In any case, now I’m ready to experience more of Nepal, because although it was again a shock on first arrival, I find myself warming right back up to the culture, the people, even the dirt and pollution of Thamel.

My plans? Well, I don’t really have any. Tomorrow I’m going to check the availability at Kopan Monastery and, if possible, stay there until Friday. It’ll be a peaceful, quiet time for me to force myself to think and feel and straighten myself out. Until now I’ve been reading, e-mailing, writing, watching tv, and walking around, not giving myself much of a contemplative moment. After a stint at the monastery, I’d like to visit Pokhara and Ghorka, other Nepali cities, and visit more with Anisha and her family. And maybe take a cooking class! I LOVE Nepali (and Tibetan, and Bhutanese) food!

--Z

Nepal Time

Note: A new picture album is up for Turkey: “Turkey: 96 Hours in Istanbul.” Take a look!

 

After four days in Istanbul, I took off and spent one evening in Dubai, on a bus tour that was fun but depressing as it showed the opulence of the area, and then I was off again to Kathmandu. I have nothing much to report: things didn’t work out with Rimu, and I’ve spent the last three days working through my sadness and planning what to do for my three weeks here. It’s been good to relax and be quiet, even in the bustling, honking, dirty madness of Thamel. I’m doing just fine and will be spending this afternoon at a women-only party, so that should be fun. I’ve done a little shopping and meandering through the lanes of Thamel. On Sunday or Monday, I plan to check in to a Buddhist monastery and do some intense quiet time with some meditation (we’ll see how that goes)!

That’s all for now… sorry for a short and un-exciting post, but perhaps next time will be more upbeat!

--Z

Monday, August 15, 2011

Turkish Delights, Israeli Reflections

Note: I will post Turkey pictures as soon as possible!

Day-to-Day: 4-15 August 2011

 

It’s a weird feeling, always feeling caught up in past, present and future things. I’m going home in about a month, so I’m searching online for tickets (where I’ve found, to my surprise and delight, that round-trip tickets are cheaper than one-ways); I’ve left Israel after three months, so that my impressions and my Hebrew are fresh in my mind when I wake up or try to speak to the locals; and I’m in Turkey, taking it all in!

In terms of Israel, I left on a very good note: having visited my three primary hosts in the country to say thank you and good-bye, it felt like I’d both been there forever and been IMG_7047there not nearly enough time. The things I would do if I went back: snorkel or scuba in the Red Sea, via Eilat and Egypt; spend way more time in the desert; visit many more parts of the Galilee; and try to learn more about, and perhaps visit, the settlements and restricted areas like Gaza. The things I’m holding on to, having just left: saying “excuse me” and “thank you” in Hebrew; looking wistfully for pita bread and hummus, tomatoes and cucumbers, at every meal; eating a hearty lunch and a small dinner; and missing the somewhat homogenous look of the locals. It was such a pleasure to meet and get to know my mom’s friends Deborah and Paula, and to find some new friends of my own. I’m very interested in returning to Israel and perhaps some of it’s neighbors, particularly Jordan and Egypt.

Turkey has struck me as both fantastic and not nearly as foreign-feeling as I expected. Of course, I’ve really only explored the European side. My couchsurfing hostess, Serap, has been friendly and welcoming, and while she isn’t able to spend time exploring with me, she’s been extremely helpful. It has struck me once again how fantastic it is to stay with a IMG_7134local, too, each time I wind my way downhill into her neighborhood – a ten minute walk from the nearest Metro. Thus far, “thank you” is the only Turkish I’ve picked up. The mosques are the most fascinating for me: the Blue Mosque is my favorite, although Aya Sofia was magnificent as well. The pure age of things around here is incredible! The Hippodrome and various landmarks, the bridges and towers and palaces and hamams that date back hundreds, if not thousands, of years, all combine to make me sigh in wonder sometimes. And yet, it’s all surrounded and steeped in European culture and infrastructure and feel! The population is not at all homogenous, is, in fact, so varied that I couldn’t tell you what a Turk “looks” like. I can tell you that the Turkish people are friendly and kind, the shopkeepers inviting but not push. It would be hard to get lost here, since everyone seems willing to help out a lost-looking tourist! The things I won’t get to on this first jaunt to Turkey that I hope to do on my return: a Bosphorous boat trip; Topkapi Palace; and a hope over to the Asian side to check things out. Otherwise, I have to decide on what to do with my eight full days when I return from Nepal. Right now, I’m leaning towards Troy and Epheseus and a day hiking part of the Lycian way; Cappadocia is also high on the list, but further away.

And thoughts of going home, as I search frantically for a decently priced ticket, are resolving themselves into a medley of emotions: not panic, as there was at first, but anticipation, excitement, a bit of apprehension, relief. I still can’t believe that a round trip ticket from Turky to Raleigh and back is cheaper than a one way ($950 vs $1100), but it continues to be true. I have a hundred ideas of what to do when I get home, besides the obvious three: celebrate my brother’s recent marriage, relax, and visit with the family.

Past, present, future, they’re all melting into one for me lately, and yet is it’s own sweet subject of thought, deliberation and wonder. Every day and every moment I keep thinking, “What next?”

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--Z

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Blast from the Past!

Note: The link to the album mentioned in this brief post is down with the “Australia” albums, as well as the link provided in the writing.

So, technology can be great and all, but sometimes it can be surprisingly infuriating, right? So back in March, I was in Australia, and at one point I did a dive at the Great Barrier Reef. It was during a full-day boat trip where they rented out underwater cameras. I ended up renting one with two girls, splitting the cost three ways. One girl took the CD with our photos and promised to send the other two of us the pictures. I never heard from her again and assumed that she’d forgotten or couldn’t figure out my e-mail, or something.

Well, as I was perusing my travel photo albums today, I realized there was a list of albums people shared with me on the right-hand side. Most of them I knew, but one was unfamiliar. It turns out that the girl remembered after all, and somehow I missed the notification that she’d shared the pictures! So, if you’d like to see some low-quality underwater digital pictures, click here: Australia: Great Barrier Reef.

People are good, see? I was so happy to see these, even four months later!

--Z

Monday, August 8, 2011

24 Hours in Safed/Tsfat/Zefat/Sfat

Note: I’ll soon post the link to a new album, “Israel: 24 Hours in Safed.” Also, I’ll wait until my next post to do a “Day-to-Day” write-up.

 

“Whaddaya lookin’ for?”

The Brooklyn accented voice was impatient and authoritative. I turned from scrutinizing the city map billboard in front of me, careful not to move too fast since my pack’s momentum would make me stumble. Sweat was beading on my face and I blinked in the sunlight. The man who’d spoken was already turning away, though he kept looking at me, as though he was in a hurry but felt committed since he’d asked.

“Dunno, just got here on the bus and trying to get my bearings.” He sighed.

“Ya Jewish?” I nodded and he took off. “Well, c’mon then.”

IMG_7058I grabbed my third bag, a paper bag of various goodies and odds and ends, and followed the man. Despite the heat he wore, as most religious men in Israel do, a black suit and a black hat. He wore perfectly round glasses that seemed the type for reading and his white beard covered most of the lower half of his face. His wiry form was soon ten paces ahead of me and I struggled to keep up. I panted out the answers to his questions – where ya from, why ya here, how long, etc – as I caught up to him, trying and failing to keep track of where we were going. Round a corner, down the slope of a hill, up some steps, across the street, then back across the street, round a corner.

It had been an easy morning so far, waking up at Paula’s house in Nahariya, eating breakfast and chatting with Paula before packing up and taking a bus to Akko, where I then caught another bus to Tzfat, which has multiple spellings on Israeli buses, street signs and pamphlets. The bus ride was especially nice, slowly climbing through the hills of the Galilee and round sharp turns as it wound it’s way to the famously religious city. When I’d gotten off the bus at the main bus station, I used my pidgen-Hebrew to ask where Jerusalem street was. The lady I asked blinked and said, “No English.” Apparently she didn’t understand my Anglicized Hebrew either…

Suddenly I was in front of a building, the door opened, I climbed some stairs and was in a lobby-like area of what seemed to be a community center. As I’d walked in the door I just glimpsed a signed: “The Ascent.” The religious man I’d followed headed off down a corridor. When I made to follow he shooed me off.

“No, no, not this way, over there, check in over there. And take some of the classes.” And he was gone. I wouldn’t see him again in my twenty-four hours in Sfat.

After meeting a kindly lady named Olivia, who gave me a printed schedule of events for the next few days after determining if I was Jewish, I checked in with the surly woman at the desk. The form she gave me to fill out had a “Yes/No” to circle as to whether I was Jewish. I tried to shake the hand of a man Olivia introduced me to, only to be reminded that religious Jewish men don’t shake hands with women, and learning that some Jewish women shook hands twice. I bustled up to my dormitory room, which had two bunks and was empty and clean and pleasant. Later, Deborah from Buenos Aires would join me. She was in Safed to take opera singing lessons.

IMG_7080As it turns out, The Ascent is a center for Kabbalistic study and some community members live and work there. Other than being asked more in a twenty-four hour period about my religious status than I have been in three months in Israel, I enjoyed my stay with them. That afternoon I went on an informal tour of the Old City, led by a bouncy, intense and knowledgeable girl from the community. In the evening, I participated in a “Painting from the Soul” workshop, which was surprisingly fun although I thought my picture was like a kindergarten spatter-paint next to the other five lady’s paintings. And I sat partway through an informal discussion of Kabbalistic theory before deciding to go read some good, easy fiction to let my brain rest.

Inbetween all that I still had time to wander around the Artist’s Quarter a bit. There I came across a small courtyard where I was smacked with the sudden sense of déjà vu. In fact, I’d really been there before. About fifteen years before, granted, but it was the same place my Jewish youth group had rested while touring through Zefat. I visited a familiar feeling synagogue during the tour where I had the same sense of familiarity. And I visited the Safed Candle shop, where I’d bought my grandmother a hand-crafted beeswax Havdallah candle for my grandmother, all those years ago.

This morning, I had breakfast at the hotel across the street, then set out to wander the Old City some more. I went to the Citadel, ruins of a Crusader setup at the top of the mountain around which Sfat is built, then followed signs to the Safed Cheese factory, which took me over an hour to find. I looked down on the cemetery where many famous rabbis have been buried and wandered through the Artist’s Quarter once more. After briefly freaking out about losing my passport (I found it), I packed up and set off after lunch to catch the bus to Jerusalem.

I liked Safed. It’s kooky and religious, beautiful and atmospheric. The sunset was gorgeous and walking the narrow lanes and clambering up and down steps was an experience unlike the others I’ve had in Israel. Next time, I’ll schedule myself for several days in this neat little city.

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--Z