Happy Stray Dogs

Stray dogs are everywhere. When I was traveling in Guatemala last year, the dogs were skinny, mange-y and definitely afraid of people. Being an animal person, I wanted to pet them and love them, but it was not a good idea. The people of Guatemala were warm to both me and RF as we traveled, but the same kindness was not extended to the strays. As a result the dogs looked downtrodden and depressed most of the time. You would see a relatively happy one occasionally, but on average, their lives seemed very stressful trying to survive.

Here in Kathmandu, the strays are happy. Often they look well-fed, perhaps because of the large amounts of food in the easily accessible garbage piles. More importantly, they do not look depressed. Some will even run up to you. I had one dog stick his nose in my hand as I walked by the temple he was sitting in. They have such a trust in the human beings around them.

The people here seem to take extra care to avoid hurting an animal. I have been on buses full of people that will stop so as not to hit a chicken in the road, a far cry from the roadkill littered highways of my youth. I am heartened by the presence of dogs that seem to think “I may have a skin disease, but life is awesome!”

Men Holding Hands

Within the first week of being here, I noticed men holding hands with other men. Grown, conservative looking men. Of course coming from NYC, my initial thought was that they must be couples. But I kept seeing more. And more. And more. Now, I know Nepal is trying to be more gay- and trans-friendly, but I also know that the law often seems to move ahead of society in this respect. Finally, I had to ask and was told that it is a cultural thing, not a gay thing.

Two Nepali Men Holding Hands

It is probably my favorite thing about Nepal. Men can be affectionate with each other without their (heterosexual) masculinity being threatened. This is possible. Among the IFPers here, we have all commented on this and thought about our own cultures’ takes on masculinity. In thinking about the USA, I can only come up with the following situations where it is “okay” for non-related heterosexual men to touch:

1. Fights
2. Funerals
3. Football (Sports, really, but I love alliteration)

I am absolutely (and hoping) to learn that men in my country can and do physically touch one another in other situations and circumstances (Bromance hugs, maybe?), so please comment if you can come up with other times. The idea of the lack of touch makes me quite sad. I have experienced it myself, so it is not some maudlin assumption about men missing out on something wonderful in life because they have to protect some silly idea of what it means to be a man. Touch has power. Let us learn from Nepal and expand our understanding of masculinity.

Nepali Hands

As you walk through Kathmandu, you see tons of construction. When you go to a restaurant, you have to wait longer than you do in the USA for your food. Men and women sit at sewing machines making or fitting clothes for their customers. The work in Nepal is done primarily with human hands.

To me, there is something magical about working with your hands. Perhaps because I often do not get to (evidence of this can be seen in how raw my hands got while canyoning). I have made blankets and clothes before, but most of my time is spent like I am spending it right now: in front of a computer, trying to avoid Facebook and Google+ in order complete what I deem as work. I buy my premade clothes and food in highly anonymous ways (even when I can make it to the green market), and I know the buildings I live and work in are made by machines run by people. My life is mechanized, ordered and templated. The specificity that seems to come from something made by hand (this building, this road, your sari) gives me joy. Working hands have a beauty to them, and work done by hands has a personality.

I know I am romanticizing the handmade. I know that the work that I witness can be backbreaking. I can guess that it may be underpaid and underappreciated. I am sitting and thinking about why it is that I find (other people’s) physical labor so comforting. Perhaps it is related to the anonymity of the people that make and grow my necessities. Perhaps because I feel very accomplished when I have completed a physically taxing challenge or even just had time to cook my own meal. Perhaps I am just looking for ways in which to slow down my urban life. I hope that the people actually doing this work find it far more satisfying than I do, and that this connection of the work to the people behind it lasts past my journey through Kathmandu.

Crossposted at Rangi Changi Kathmandu.

Carrie, Manju and Kim in traditional Tamang dress

This past weekend we went to Manegaun. It was amazing to get out of the city and the smog and be in a place much stiller, harder, and vibrant than my normal routine. The lushness of the landscape, the way trees have the ability to grow on a seemingly vertical slope, the rushing rivers and the unmanicured farms, all of these things make me feel part of an ecosystem, rather than part of a rat race. The only other places in the world where I have felt something similar are Guatemala and Ireland. At the village, we stayed with host families, two to a house. Kim and I were placed with Manju. I call my host mother in Kathmandu Aama, but since I am quite sure that Manju is somewhere around my age, Didi is more appropriate. The house had a few goats, two water buffalo (one was definitely a baby that was very interested in these new humans coming around), and an amazing view from our porch-bedroom.

Our first meal with Manjudidi had been already prepared, but the next morning, we were privy to her cooking method. The kitchen was of some sort of clay and basically an open room with some shelves for cookware. In the corner were two raised areas with holes in the front and on top. The firewood went in through the bottom and the pots were placed on top. Once she had a good fire going, after awhile it would die down. Then the magic. She took a wooden tube that looked almost like a recorder and would blow into the embers. As soon as her breath exited the tube, the fire would leap back to life and lick the bottom of the pot! Amazing.

From her pots emerged rice and daal (lentils) and the best potatoes I have ever had. They were spiced but also moderately creamy, but the creaminess did not seem to come from butter but rather the potatoes themselves. I have no idea how she made them, and my Nepali (much less my Tamang – her native tongue) are definitely not up to par for finding out.

The business of living in this village appeared, from our very brief stay, to be hard work. By hard, I do not mean bad. In a recent interview I conducted, it was said “It is because they do the hard work that you are in a position to give.” Spending time with Manju and the rest of the Manegaun village gave me more insight into what the interviewee meant by hard work. Now my question is: what does it mean to give?

Crossposted at Rangi Changi Kathmandu

When you go to an ATM in the States, what you pull out is given in 20 dollar bills. This makes sense, since it is relatively easy to a) spend $20 and b) get change for a 20. (I remember when ATMs used to give 10 dollar bills, but that makes me feel older than I want to feel.) Here in rangi-changi KTM, ATMs spit out 1000 rupee bills (500s, if you are lucky), but the only things I’ve really needed to spend that amount of money on was things to do with my cell phone. My day-to-day living is running under 500 rupees at the moment.

Now, this would not be an issue except for one small but very consequential aspect of life in KTM: no one has change. I should be more specific. No one has change for a 1000 rupee bill on a 350 rupee check! Small bills make your life so much easier, but small bills are hard to come by.

While we were all together, this was less of an issue. Among the group we could get things paid for and then just pay each other back. Small bills weren’t as necessary. Now that I am relatively on my own (though of course I see my IFPers), I feel very protective of my small bills. If I think a business can change larger bills, they get those, even when I have exact change. My guess is that I’ll find those places that seem to always have change for larger bills and frequent them all the time. This probably means I will be in Thamel at least once a week, which would be fine by me.

If in this life or the next I am given the task of designing ATM programs and recommending what bills should be given, my first question will be: what is the change situation in the average business? For now, my small bills will stay with me until I absolutely have to use them.

Crossposted at Rangi Changi Kathmandu.

There were so many people at both of those locations. MK kept commenting on the number of East Asian tourists and how that made her feel good about being a tourist. Everything is big. The buildings, the streets, the open spaces.

Once we were ready for lunch, I figured out that there was vegetarian restaurant relatively close by (walking distance). However, we probably should have called, because it definitely was not there. We walked back to this touristy area (there is a Starbucks touristy; Tip: Starbucks = Western style bathrooms). As we are starting to get a little grumpy from the plummeting blood sugar levels, we walk one block west into an entire different world. This is what I expected Beijing to be like. Smaller streets, lots of vendors, noise, color, and smells, mostly yummy food ones.

We jumped into the first restaurant on the corner. They had an English-ish menu. We ordered Mapo Tofu and Noodles with Soy Sauce. FYI – Mapo Tofu is not vegetarian, but the Noodles are. After eating we headed down the street, where AW got a Communist Obama tshirt, MK took a picture of an “I <3 BJ” shirt (Editor: I am pretty sure that BJ was meant to mean Beijing), and we saw a restaurant that offers Noodles with Sog Sauce. We of course have now dubbed ourselves as Team Sog Sauce, and Commie ‘Bamie is our mascot.

Once we got back to the hostel (which involved a miscommunication about what the goal of our walk was that had us walk nearly all the way around the Forbidden City – oops), we all just sort of crashed. I decided to take a nap. This nap lasted for 12 hours! I’d wake up everyone once in awhile and just think “nope” and go back to sleep. Sunburns are exhausting.

The trip was relatively smooth. Some turbulence in the flight but not much. And the second plan was so massive, we probably could have flown through a hurricane and it would have felt like barely anything. (Editor’s Note: The author is given to hyperbole.)

We have not done much of anything. Just got settled and slept, but we are about to head out. I think today is Tienanmen Square and Forbidden City. It will be a good day, though I will miss TW, which means I will have to send a postcard.

For pictures of the trip, please check out aroundtheworldin90days.tumblr.com. I will be posting more journal-type entries here, though some cross-posting will happen.

Happy travels!

Characters:

LS – Little Sis

BS – Big Sis

Living room of a Brooklyn apartment. Like way out there Brooklyn. Like Bay Ridge or something. So you know, more space than normal.

BS is folding laundry on the couch. She is listening to the radio. The house is that “messy organized” that 20-somethings do. Or at least I do.

LS bursts through the door and lets it slam behind her.

LS

Oh my god, BS, I cannot believe what just happened. I just had probably the most amazing experience of my life. I don’t know what made me do it, but ahhh I’m so glad I did… I just… Oh my god, it was so fucking amazing. Amazing.

BS

(bored) What did you do?

LS

Do you want to know?

BS

Yes.

LS

Do you really?

BS

Yes.

LS

You aren’t just humoring me?

BS

No.

LS

Okay. … Ask me once more. With feeling.

BS

(fake smile, still bored) What did you do?

LS

I masturbated on the subway.

BS

(not so bored) You…

LS

I masturbated on the subway! During rush hour! I feel so free, so unconquerable. You know? Nobody even noticed! I mean, I know NYers are self-centered and jaded, but really I expected someone to think something was off and, you know, ruin the moment. But no one did. I just masturbated right there on the subway and totally got away with it! How fucking awesome is that? That was seriously the best commute I’ve had since I moved here. So relaxing. I think I’m going to do it again tomorrow. And you know what else? Towards the end, I’m pretty sure I saw god. Yeah. Oh my god!!! I can’t believe I did it! I’m so alive right now. I want to run a marathon or leap off a building! Oh. I’m definitely doing it tomorrow. Definitely. Maybe both ways. That way I’ll be nice and energetic [for work].

BS

You can’t masturbate on the subway!

LS

… Yes, I can.

BS

No. You can’t.

LS

Yes. I can. I just did.

BS

Well, you can’t do it again.

LS

Yes. I. Can. And you can’t stop me.

BS

Are you fucking insane?! Only crazy people and assholes do shit like that.

LS

And what does that make you?

BS

I do not masturbate on the subway! I wouldn’t even think of masturbating on the subway. How does someone even come up with something like that?

LS

I forgot my book.

BS

I … don’t even know what to say to that.

LS

Seriously, BS, I think you are making way too big a deal of this. I just closed my eyes and got to it. It was easy. No one got hurt. No one saw. And I had a great time. You know, I came straight home to tell you, because I thought you’d be happy for me.

BS

Really?

LS

You’re the one always going on and on and on and on and on about how masturbation is good for the soul. How it can clear out a lot of tension and stress.

BS

Yeah, but I never said you should [do it in public.]

LS

If you aren’t going to be happy for me, fine!

She pulls out her mobile and hits a speed dial.

BS

Who are you calling?

LS

Mom?

Throughout the call, BS tries to take the phone away from LS.

It’s me. Is Dad there? Yeah? Can you put me on speaker? BS, stop it!

Mom, Dad, I had the most amazing experience today. … I masturbated on the subway, and I’m pretty sure I saw god. Now, I know you think stuff like this is weird. But you always said you wanted me to be happy, and this made me extremely happy. Are you happy for me? …. Well? Good. Thank you. I’m glad to know that some people care about my personal happiness. Well, that’s all I wanted to tell you. Yeah, we’ll still talk this weekend. Love you. And BS sends her love too. Yes, I’ll tell her to call. Love you. Bye!

See? Not so big a deal, is it? You need to calm down.

BS

I can’t believe you just told our parents that you masturbated in public.

LS

Well, I did. Get over it. You know, you really should trust them more, tell them more about your life. You’d have a better, more open relationship with them the way I do.

BS

I am not calling our parents every time I masturbate somewhere new.

LS

Okay. But really you should call them more. They’d feel better. You’d feel better. You’d probably save yourself some hours in therapy.

BS

I … I can’t deal with you right now.

LS

You looked stressed.

BS

I am a little.

LS

Where’re you going?

BS

To my room.

LS

Are you going to masturbate?

BS

No. I am going to go to my room, lock you out, and meditate until I’m sure that this whole episode is a very, very, very distant memory. Like I don’t even want to remember [that you were ever born.]

LS

Meditate.

BS

Yes.

LS

… Oh my god what did I just tell our parents?!!!

BLACKOUT

I worry about burnout. I don’t worry about it a lot, but I can usually tell when I’m feeling it because that’s when the worry starts to creep in. It’s the preview before the full-on exhaustion. It’s the days/weeks/months of denial that I haven’t been putting myself first in my work. It, positively, usually ends in a vacation, in all senses of the word. Last time I went to Guatemala for two weeks. No technology at hand. Just air and sky and people and a really good friend at my side to laugh and share with. Feeling deeply that this is what life should be. Understanding that my own privilege allows me this escape. But that’s another conversation.A lot is happening in my life right now, some of which I have zero control over. My grandparents are getting older, and my grandmama appears to have taken a turn for the worse. My brother is overseas in the army. And then there is school. And work. And volunteering. And with everything that is happening I am piling up my plate to tipping just when emotionally I need space. That space is scary and uncontrollable. I know, somewhere, that I need it.

This time around I find myself trying to add self-care on to my to-do list, but the lists are part of the problem. Today, I am trying to step back from them. I am remember that the work that I do feels the best when I just trust that it will get done. I had created a timesheet for myself for the things that are on this list. I added “Me Time” to it but I’ve since deleted it. That time needs (for this moment) to be focused on quality, not quantity. If I spend 5 minutes with myself and do not think about the other things that must be done, then I have success. If I spend 3 hours trying not to think about those things, then it was not a good time to center myself.

This post (and probable future ones) is not about revelations on how self-care will work for me indefinitely. I know that things will change. Maybe soon I will need to quantify my Me Time in order to make sure it is there. Maybe I will have to schedule it. I like that it molds itself to situation at hand, but my biggest challenge has been and probably will be remembering. When things are so busy I can’t see the forest for the trees, I hope I take that moment to just be. Slowly, I hope I will lose that voice in my head that calls me selfish when I don’t give everything I have and more to everything else but me.

I guess self-care is the goal again for this new year.

I’m sitting here, working on things that I need to do for work and for class but also trying to shove in some relaxation. Figuring out how to read another (or a few) books. How to watch more T.V. How to just sit and do nothing. Shoving and relaxing do not mix well.

Anybody else have this issue? What do you do to calm yourself? I’m going to try repeating “It will all get done” just get myself to slow down a bit. I would like the rest of the break not to be full of stress! Leave your suggestions in the comments.

I was thinking last night about resolutions and about how to reconfigure them to be positive, fun and silly. Something more akin to a dare than a weight-loss goal. In 2011, I am going to attempt to use the phrase “Cheese it, the fuzz!” in a conversation. It has to make at least a little bit of sense in the context.

It’s not a resolution, it’s a newsolution! Or something else. I’m not committed to the name. Leave your own ideas in the comments. Let’s dare each other a silly new year.

Her illness has made it more clear to me how hard it is for me to ask for help from (all but a few) people. I seem to believe not only that I have to do everything myself but that this is the way things should be. Going into next year, I am going to focus on being realistic about what help I need and work on asking those in my life for that help.

On a positive note, I was accepted to the Nepal IFP in my program! I will be spending next summer there (if you need a summer sublet in Brooklyn, please reach out to me) as well as traveling to India. I’m hoping to do research around women’s political empowerment or about the cultural-specific foundations of feminism. I’m really interested in this idea of how feminism is part of culture, including my own. One of the biggest questions I am asking myself leaving the semester is: how does a privileged culture recognize itself when it goes to work in another culture? Hopefully I will have time to muddle my way through some of this question and examine my own culturally-based feminism here.

To all who read, thank you. I hope you are ending your year positively and looking forward to the next one.