Nepal Pixelated

Because pictures are loquacious, or something like that.

The plastic greenhouse I built with a farmer, with some pretty healthy tomato plants. Whereas many of the tomato plants outside the house died from disease during the monsoon season, not a single plant inside did (although the yield was a little lower than I’d hoped because farmer was too busy with other work to properly tie many of the plants to the stakes). He wants to build another house next year in an area with better airflow, and one of his friends stated he wants to build ten of them (I’ll believe it when I see it).

My garden’s doing pretty well these days. Right now I’ve got cilantro, basil, dill, fenugreek, spinach, mustard, lettuce, watercress, onions, garlic, radishes, carrots, tomatoes, cauliflower, broccoli, kidney beans, snap peas, and cassava. The bugs and chickens are still a big nuisance, though.

Another volunteer and I returned to the heavenly hills of Sindupalchok to celebrate the Tihar festival with our former host family.

My aunt’s cow ambivalently receives tika during Tihar.

We were put to work the day after we arrived. Here I’m bundling up the rice and then threshing it to separate the grains from the chaff. We concluded our day by each carrying a sack of about a hundred pounds of rice up the steep, slippery path to our house. The Nepalis took it in stride—we were exhausted.

Banji likes to dance.

Tika during bhai tika of Tihar.

Firecrackers.

A quail that was caught in one of our rice patties. We later ate it for dinner. In the words of my host sister, “Not much meat, but it makes a nice curry.”

My spoiled nephew has an extravagant, westernized birthday party.

A spontaneous afternoon “dry picnic”, which is ironically named because “dry picnics” necessarily include alcohol) with some guys from my village.

The only turkeys we’ve ever seen in Nepal. And just in time for Thanksgiving.

A bullet embedded in the wall of a friend’s house, left intact from a decade ago when shooting broke out in the streets of my nearby bazaar during the Maoist insurgency.

D is for Dang. And occasionally debauchery.

Our baby buffalo. And our baby goat. And our baby chickens. All born in the same week!

For the Dang-est Time

I now have just about a year of service left, so your time to visit me in Nepal is running out! If that's not enough, perhaps this ironical post will entice you to drop by my district of Dang:

Today we offer you an exclusive treat as we uncover the mystery that is the great district of Dang. Thus far, Dang has miraculously managed to elude inclusion in Lonely Planet, Fodor's, and other popular travel guides, making it the best-kept secret of Nepal.

Is Dang in the Terai or not? That depends on which Peace Corps staff you ask. Dang is home to not one but two municipalities, Tulsipur and Gorahi, which have just been declared the “New Pokharas of the Midwest.” These thriving metropolises offer an expansive array of activities for both seasoned and novice travelers.

From Lamahi, hop aboard one of the homey purple buses heading west. After ascending the switch-backing road that leads up the countryside, you will enter Dang Valley, the largest valley in all of Nepal. In the rainy season, when the flatter portions of the road tend to flood, the journey in is like a jungle safari ride at a theme park, except more real.

Soon you’ll arrive in Gorahi, Dang’s booming district center. The bazaar’s centerpiece is the iconic martyr’s gate, which can be spotted from the bus on the ride in. The old-fashioned hotels here don’t take reservations, so you’ll want to book a room when you arrive. We are split on which of Gorahi’s lodging venues offers superior amenities: Hotel Three Star is cheaper and has speedy wi-fi, whereas Hotel City Plaza has hot water and fewer bugs. Another classy option is Hotel Green Valley (not to be confused with Hotel Dang Valley, which is a considerably less reputable establishment).

For some refreshment, head to Butwal Bakery, located across the way from Hotel City Plaza, for tasty pastries, cow cheese and fresh curd. The curd only comes in one-liter bags, but its unrivaled taste makes that tummy ache worth it.

If you’re looking for more than a snack, Gorahi’s dining options leave little to be desired. The recent opening of Eat-O-Clock has been a source of great excitement. Along with local delicacies such as momos and chow mein, the restaurant offers the best pizza and pasta for many miles around. Another mention-worthy eatery is Center Point Family Restaurant, which features outdoor seating in quaint little bamboo huts with doorbells that you can ring to call a waiter. Order their famous cheeseburger, which is literally a hunk of melted cheese on a bun.

Just down the road from Center Point is Gorahi’s movie theater for a midday or afternoon showing of the latest Hindi or Nepal film. Its reclining chairs and colorfully decorated hall make for a highly enjoyable viewing atmosphere.

In the northern part of the city, you’ll find a Hindu temple and park that are famous throughout the district. Nearby, you’ll also find Shayne’s favorite plastic store, which sells synthetic tarps, bottles, clothespins, rubber bands, and twine at affordable prices.

If you desire spirits, head to one of the city’s many liquor stores, which sometimes offer free packs of playing cards with your purchase. Their selection of five different bottles of wine—the best between Butwal and Nepalgunj—seems to fly off the shelves, as they are rarely in stock.

Before retiring for the night, be sure to stop by our favorite didi’s snack pasal, and be amazed at how much variety one can fit in a space slightly larger than an elevator. You’ll find Aerin’s beloved Indian chocolate bars, a chocolate cake called “Cake” that tastes just like a Yodel, and many other local favorites.

You’ll want to leave early the next morning in order to have a full day in nearby Tulsipur. Continuing west on the highway for thirty to ninety minutes (depending on your bus driver’s definition of “local”), you’ll arrive in the Tulsipur bazaar. Tulsipur touts a Nabil bank and ATM, an Ncell center, and a handful of places to eat and sleep—everything a Peace Corps Volunteer could want, really.

If you’ve managed to retain your appetite after that didi you were sitting next to vomited in your lap, pay a visit to the renowned Delight Family Restaurant. Delight is nestled away in a quieter part of the city, just past the vacant lot where Nekeia and Maria deposit the bags of garbage they’ve accumulated at site. Sprawl out in the upstairs lounge for a Peace Corps laptop party, or enjoy an intimate dinner in the plush VIP booths. If you’re feeling grungy from the bus ride in, you can even take a shower in their upstairs bathroom. Delight’s international menu boasts chow mein, momos, sizzlers, pizza, burgers, chop suey, and more; the non-international options are more highly recommended. Remarkably, they do not serve daal bhaat. Be sure to pronounce your order very clearly, or you may end up with chili momos when you asked for them steamed or a sausage fry instead of a cold sprite.

Another first-rate option is the Sunrise Family Restaurant—the dim lighting sets the mood just right. Sunrise offers complementary, fast wi-fi service every fifth time you visit (at least, in our experience). And if you’re a mouse, you eat here free!

Tulsipur’s “American store”, located just around the corner from Sunrise, carries a wide selection of luxury items including cow cheese, pasta sauce, oatmeal, canned mushrooms, skin-whitening creams, and fluorinated toothpastes. Ask the cashier for a special volunteer discount, but he’ll probably just blink his eyes and look at you curiously.

Hotel Ekanta is the best-rated hotel in town. Every room comes with a TV, bed, and bathroom, in which there is sometimes running water. Ekanta’s power sockets are the highest in all of Dang—in fact, most people cannot reach them even when standing on the bed. Be forewarned that noise carries through the cavernous halls and oddly situated windows of this establishment, and there is a small chance that a police detective will show up at your door telling you to keep the noise down.

Hotel Western Palace is another favorite. No need to travel across Nepal for that swimming pool—Western Palace is famous throughout all of Dang for its recessed concrete container of water. Western Palace also has a badminton court, without the incessantly barking dogs of Pacific Guest House. The rooms are elegantly decorated with abstract art, including pieces of stained chow mein and patterns of mold. Western Palace is located in the western outskirts of the city, just past the Gorahi bus park. If you reach the pile of steaming garbage, you’ve gone too far and should turn back.

As you make your way down the hill to the bus park to catch a ride home, be sure not to miss our favorite attraction: the goat with the broken leg wandering between the rusted vehicles and decaying rubbish. As pitiful as it is, it’s important to note that it keeps on enduring in spite of its harsh environment. And so, dear traveler, have you.

This brief synopsis represents just a sliver of all the possibilities that await you in Dang. We strongly encourage you to visit Dang for yourself, and write to us with additional recommendations in the area. The opportunities for discovery are truly limitless.

Full Press

I haven't had time to write a new post in the past few weeks, but here are a few written tidbits for you to enjoy:


A vivid, inspired, and oddly accurate parody of Peace Corps experience, composed by a very talented (now Returned) Peace Corps Volunteer who served with me in Nepal:

http://daalbhaat.wordpress.com/2014/09/28/peace-corps-moon/


A little old, but a NPR piece by a good friend serving with me about what it's like being a volunteer:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/goatsandsoda/2014/07/16/331675736/nepalis-treat-this-peace-corps-volunteer-like-justin-bieber


Something I wrote-up about Nepali cuisine for a blog dedicated to the food in the Peace Corps:

http://cookinginthecorps.tumblr.com/post/100826379088/nepal-khaana-khaam

The Circus in Town

“There’s a man over there playing with a snake,” said a passerby.

I was sitting in my village bazaar, chatting with a Nepali couple about family news. I turned my attention to the rapidly growing crowd, and, excusing myself, I went over to see what the fuss was about. The mass of people was encircling a man crouching next to a small wooden box, in which sat a shiny, black snake with a hood that screamed: cobra! It rose out of its box and glared at the man taunting it, who showed no fear.

Suddenly, it struck at his hand and seemed to sink into skin, but the man was unhurt (reveal: the snake was fangless). The man even convinced a young man to wear the snake like a necklace, which made everyone squirm. I tossed in a few rupees in thanks for the show and walked away.

As I was leaving the bazaar, a woman I didn’t recognize called me over to her. She introduced herself and informed me that she could tell the future. She kept saying absurd things like: “I’m a vegetarian, but I eat snakes. I mash them up and eat them.” She offered to tell me my fortune for about $0.55, so I agreed. Presenting me with a plate of uncooked rice, she told me to pick up a handful and then place it back on the plate. Then she mixed all the rice back up and began separating them into small piles. From these, she began pairing off grains of rice and telling my fortune in rather odd language. One of the women from the village helped translate for me.

Even with the translation, very little of what she said made much sense, so I asked a lot of questions. Several times the fortuneteller grew very frustrated and said, “I can’t do this, he doesn’t understand anything!” I understood a lot, actually, I just disagreed with most of what she said. At one point, she told me that, in the future, I should give everything with my left hand and receive everything with my right for good luck. “But in Nepal it’s rude to give things with your left hand, isn’t it?” I asked. “He doesn’t listen to anything I say!” she said. In the end, I walked away a little annoyed at having wasted my money on a sham, but my amusement with her ridiculousness almost made it worth it.

Since they arrived a few weeks ago, the snake man and the fortuneteller have been living in a tent next to the bazaar. No one really seems to want them around, but people occasionally give them food because that’s what you do.

Color Me by Number

Five-A-Day Confections 

On the first day of Deshain my host family gave to me: a sacred blend of five cow products. Milk, curd, unrefined butter (so far so good, right?)… and urine and manure. I learned many months ago that such a mixture exists and is consumed during certain Hindu rituals, but there is another holy delicious concoction also made of five ingredients with a similar name that I’d previously had on similar occasions. What I’d just put in my mouth was no gustatory delight—I knew what I’d done the instant it touched my lips and ran out of the room gagging. I might have thrown up, but I hadn’t eaten anything yet that morning. It’s good for digestion, my host brother claimed between bouts of laughter (though I could just as well have been laughing at him—he’d taken it knowingly). A few days later, a good Nepali friend (a science student/Hindu priest explained that because cows have such a superior digestive system, eating the aftermath of their digestion bestows that advantage upon the consumer. Still not buying it.

Four Newborn Felines

My family’s cat had a litter of four kittens! They are adorable, but that doesn’t stop my host mother from smacking them on the head when they come too close to the milk jug.

Three Tummy Drugs 

Nine months of documented intermittent gastrointestinal discomfort, ten stool samples, two blood draws, and a full abdominal ultrasound. All were inconclusive, save for the test for one pesky little bacterium called Heliobacter pylori, which had given me some problems back in the seventh grade. With a regimen of a couple antibiotics and a PPI, along with some dietary selectivity, I’ve been relatively symptom-free for the past month. Here’s to being completely healthy in year two! Wait, what’s that…

Two Pink Eyes 

My host sister got conjunctivitis last week, which within a few days spread to one and then both of my eyes—just in time for Deshain! The priest who performed my family’s Deshain ceremony warned me that pink eye can spread just by looking an infected person in the eyes, which several other people reiterated over the next couple of days.

My face at the end of Deshain celebrations. That’s as much as my eyes would open!

And a Consanguineous Runaway Bride 

While I was away, my youngest host sister (who lives in the U.S. but has been on holiday in Nepal for the past three months) eloped. People—especially women—in the village have been gossiping about it a lot, asking me whether she’s come home and whether my family is angry with her. I was curious too. Here’s how my conversation with my host mom went.

“Aamaa, Binita bahini Deshainma yaahaa auchha?” (Mother, will Binita sister come here for Deshain?)

“Nai, aabaa Kathmanduma baschha.” (No, now she’ll stay in Kathmandu.)

“Kina?” (How come?)

“Hami dherai risayeko chau.” (We’re very angry with her.)

“Kati samaya ko laagi risaaunuhunchha?” (For how much time will you be angry?)

“Dui barsa samma” (For two years).

Nostalgia in Kathmandu

The day before the new batch of trainees arrived in Nepal, I had a day off and decided to live it up.

I began at the weekly farmer’s market, which a few of us had discovered on a previous trip. Beneath a large tent, a crowd of people moved amidst the farmers, bakers, and other food artisans offering samples of honey, cookies, cheese, salsa, and more. The venders and patrons were an interesting combination of expatriates and Nepalis, conversing in Nepali, English, French, or Italian depending on the pairing. I bought a few avocados (which I later made into guacamole...)



... dried strawberries, a glass of wine, a panini, and bagel with cream cheese—all things unavailable within several hundred miles of my village. It was like being back in Vermont.

Next I headed to the Garden of Dreams, a once private estate that has been restored and converted into a park. Its fountains, pavilions, greenery, and high walls serve as a peaceful egress from the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu. I had to wander carefully, however, as the garden is full of semi-secluded benches with Nepali couples holding hands and kissing. I sat down on a vacant bench to read some Dostoevsky, and for a time lost all sense of time and place.

In the early afternoon, I made my way to Kathmandu’s Civil Mall to catch a movie. The film-going experience is something I’ve missed immensely since coming to Nepal, and watching a Hindi movie in a rundown theater (as I did six months ago) just isn’t the same. Waiting in line, I met a Nepali guy who also happened to be traveling alone. We struck up a conversation and decided to sit together. I paid about $4.50 (which is expensive by Nepali standards) to see Guardians of the Galaxy in 3D, selected my seat on the touch-screen display, and ascended the stairs to the floor where the movie was to be shown. Being forty-five minutes early, I decided to wander around for a bit. I came across a bowling alley and an arcade, where I spent $0.50 playing the basketball shooting game.

The theater was very nice, with comfortable seating, air-conditioning, and a huge screen. As the movie started my new friend offered me some of his popcorn, and I gave some of my dried strawberries to him. Watching an American movie in a theater full of foreigners was a unique experience—there were times when I was the only one in the theater who laughed (having understood some cultural reference or play on words), and other times when everybody in the theater laughed but me (probably due to cultural discrepancies in sense of humor). There was an intermission halfway through, which was something I’d never experienced before.

When the movie ended, my friend invited me to go to a motor show. Despite my not having a pass, the people at the gate let me right in. We wandered around the new models of motorcycles and cars, chatting about life in the Nepal and the US.

I had never been to a motor show in the US and, not being a gearhead, found it uninteresting. Neither, as it turns out, did he. Later, we sat with some of his friends and had ice cream. As it started getting dark, I took my leave and headed back to my hotel.

A year ago, I would have said nothing was particularly special about my day. You can do all the things I did—go to a market, park, movie, or expo—without much effort in the US. This time, though, everything felt extraordinary. The flash of lights of an arcade, the crash of bowling pins, the buttered upholstery smell of a movie theater, the flavor of a hearty chili, the anonymous intimacy of a park bench—these represent just a few items from the volumes of sensory and cultural familiarity I’ve yearned for over the past year. When I do return in just over thirteen months, I hope, for as long as possible, that I will relish these everyday pleasures as much as I did on that Saturday in Kathmandu.