Getting Ahead by Getting Started

I'm writing this in a sort of post-illness euphoria. When I'm sick, even with a mild headache, I convince myself I'll never feel well again. I spent a few weeks in Kathmandu in June for In-Service Training (IST), where I was beset by hives, fever, body ache and chills, some mild digestive problems, and boils (those beautiful photos will live on forever in my Peace Corps medical file). I felt sure I had COVID (nope), dengue (nada), and a staph infection (nix), and even spent an extra two days in the city to sort out my symptoms with the Peace Corps medical team. But as all tests came back negative, I had to return to site. A week later, I am happy to report I'm finally feeling clear-headed and healthy.

Hypochondria runs in my family (looking at you, Sue & Lili!), and I add my own flavor of magical thinking to this anxiety soup. I'm not sure my symptoms weren't psychosomatic: a conspiracy between brain and body that enabled me to return on a different flight than the rest of the Arghakhanchi volunteers. Anyone who's ever travelled with me knows I'm an awful flier. On the flight from Bhairahawa (my closest airport) to Kathmandu to get to IST, we hit some bad turbulence, people were screaming (I surprised myself by not being one of them), and I was convinced the engine stalled three separate times. And with the recent Air India crash fresh in the news, I wasn't feeling particularly eager to board a plane. 

Not to mention one of my long standing beliefs: I swear, whenever you look up the passenger manifest of any crash, there's always a group traveling to a microchip conference, or a figure skating championship, or a symphonic orchestra concert--or a group of Peace Corps volunteers heading back to their permanent sites in the Arghakhanchi district. It was my delusional belief that if I got on a different flight, then maybe I wouldn't be tempting fate. The upside is that I'm only required to fly four more times: to and from Mid-Service Training (MST) and Close of Service (COS) Conference.   

Well, what a pleasant way to open this blog post. Is that one of the rules in E.B. White's The Elements of Style? To capture your reader with macabre musings? Despite the tone of this post so far, I enjoyed myself in Kathmandu and I'm looking forward to summer in Arghakhanchi. It's been fun to get to know every square inch of my site: discovering where I need to step gingerly or risk falling down, which jungle footpaths shave 10 minutes off my trip, and which houses have what fruit trees. I haven't been this in tune with my environment since I was a kid, running through my apartment complex and spending hours outside everyday.

Corn!

During IST (June 2-17), I was busy with programming from 8 am to 5 pm, but I used the evenings to explore parts of Kathmandu I hadn't been able to visit during my previous trip in March. These landmarks included Boudhanath Stupa, Pashupatinath Temple, Patan Durbar Square, and Budhanilkantha Temple (Floating Vishnu). Each of these probably deserves a full post to really explain their legends, history, & current cultural practices, but here I just want to describe how I was struck by Boudhanath and Patan Durbar Square. More detail on the design and purpose of stupas and royal squares can be found in my posts on Namobuddha and Newari architecture. 

Floating Vishnu statue, carved from a single stone and believed to be more than 1000 yrs old

We ventured over to Boudhanath in the evening, joining the mass of circumambulating pilgrims in their prayers. Although I was a head taller than everyone else, it was easy to get swept into the crowd. I felt no panic, though, just caution as I tried to avoid stepping on the prostrate worshippers. I'm envious of pilgrims who can shed their old shelves in the crowd. My body woes and neuroses are too strong, and I remained firmly tethered to the here and now, thinking: "Oh, that building is pretty," "Wow, the whiteness of the stupa is blinding," and "I'm hungry, when are we going to eat?" We eventually went over and sat at Roadhouse Cafe and watched the crowd from above. I'm so trained to associate crowds with danger, but you could see that there was no danger here. The legends of the stupa are countless, and it's said to contain the bones of The Buddha. I don't believe that, but it was still electric being so close to a place that is revered by so many. 

The crowd from above @ Roadhouse Cafe

The omnipresent eyes of Buddha

With my visit to Patan Durbar Square, I've now been to the three royal squares of the most powerful city-states in the Valley (Kathmandu and Bhaktapur being the others). Patan's square was the smallest of them, but by no means any less impressive. Actually, I'd rank Patan's the highest, since you could enter the royal residence (it was fun imagining myself as a member of a Malla court), which contained a comprehensive and well-curated museum. 

After a few hours there, we left to explore the surrounding city of Lalitpur, eventually stumbling upon the residence of the Lalitpur Kumari and deciding to go in for a blessing. We were received in her living quarters, which were like a tenement, all cramped passageways and little light, while her father/handler barked directions at her. Seeing the Kumari silently sitting in her throne, she really was just a tween with a scowl. I might have bought into the mythos if there was a certain level of opulence and grandeur to the experience, but mostly I came away feeling sad for her and angry with myself. 

Big Bell, Patan Durbar Square

Bhandarkhal Water Tank, Patan Durbar Square

And now, back at site after my weeks in Kathmandu, the real work begins. My priorities, informed by our Logical Project Framework and a community needs assessment, are to work on fruit tree, beekeeping, and vermicomposting projects. This process requires me to be a self-starter, which is an adjustment, as I'm perfectly (and unfortunately) content with idleness. I could sit on the veranda with a book and a view of the hills and stay there happily for 12 hours. 

The second hiccup of this process is that there is no separation between my "work" and home life. My community is my workplace, and my training partners are my neighbors and host family; therefore, I always have to be on. I expect this summer to be a period of growing pains as I learn to juggle it all, but my hope is that by fall, I'll feel more comfortable with this situation (and have a  project in hand!). 

It's such a privilege to be living in Nepal. I'm reminded of that every time I see the Himalayas or a monkey swinging from a tree. This morning, I realized that--aside from rice and lentils--my diet is mostly fiddlehead ferns, lamb's quarters, okra, lychee, mango, and buffalo milk. That would have been unfathomable to me six months ago, let alone two years ago. 

That's all for now. Thanks for reading. 

Here I Yam! Can you spot me?