Modified Life

Life in Nepal requires lots of modifications. Creativity is a must! To begin, here are just a few ways in which life is a little different:

• Unike in the US, we can’t buy everything we could possibly want in the grocery store. If you want it, you often need to figure out how to make it. Some of our favorite homemade things we would normally just buy are yogurt, ricotta cheese, crackers, english muffins, granola, pasta, and of course, ice cream.
• Doing laundry by hand.
• When there’s no gas and no hot plate, apparently you can use an iron to heat water?!? 
• My pretty strong stomach is no match for the invisible bacteria found in the water. We are constantly filtering or boiling water and/or contemplating our chances when eating out in Nepal.
• Monkeys. They are all around the city. In certain areas, including the baggage claim in the airport's domestic terminal, you need to conceal all food and/or beverages. Otherwise, they'll soon belong to the monkeys.
• New bugs. Especially land leeches during the monsoons make daily walks more adventuresome, requiring regular bug spray and even soaking socks in permethrin to keep them away. And just when leech season finally ended...tick season began.

Of course, we expect that foreigners would and should adapt to their new surroundings. But now, in light of the ongoing border blockade between Nepal and India, even Nepalis are being forced to make modifications to their daily routine. Without cooking gas, we are revisiting how to make favorite foods with the one electrical appliance that we have. Did you know you can make almost anything in a rice cooker? Bread – check! Soup – check! Molten Lava Cake – you bet! Even restaurants are now advertising a “Modi”fied menu, emphasizing the frustration with Prime Minister Modi in India who is believed to be playing a large role in keeping needed supplies from coming into Nepal.

But as the dry winter season begins here in Nepal, electricity is also becoming scarce. Nepal relies on hydroelectricity for power so without consistent rain, we have a limited supply. Many of the rural areas have no electricity at all and in the city, we have to share the supply. This means that during a good portion of the day any given house has no electricity. Below is our current schedule of when electricity is out each day:

            Power is out during the intervals listed.

No sector is immune to the shortages. Domestic flights have been cancelled. Public transportation has been drastically cut. (Christine's commute, as a result, went from $0.20/day to $20.00/day.) Hospitals are short on supplies and in terms of cooking for patients they've even had to resort to open fires. 

Resourceful employees at the Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Centre

Economists are predicting that the border blockade will have a larger negative impact on the country than even the major earthquakes this past spring. But while foreign aid (from India, even) poured in to help Nepal respond to that crisis, most in the world aren't even aware of the blockade, which is now into its 5th month. And so, for the unforeseeable future, it looks like we--along with the rest of the country--won't be traveling. May not be working. And will continue to cook creatively. Between the hours of noon and 4:00 p.m., that is. 

Mountains (The Perfect Wordless Wednesday Theme)

Makalu, 27,825 ft.

Langtang Region: Dorje Lhakpa, 22,854 ft.

Mountains are so elusive! This was five minutes after the above photo was taken. Bye-bye Dorje.

Annapurna South, peaking out at sunrise. 23,684 ft.

Machhapuchhre or "Fishtail" (for obvious reasons), 22,943 ft.

You may already recognize this shot, but we have to include Sagarmaathaa, also known as everest Everest. 29,029 ft.
(In the center with it's characteristic plume.)

For the first six months, we thought these were mountains, as this was our only view during the monsoon rains.
We now know that these are just hills. :)

Nepal Continues to Struggle Post Earthquake

Months after the earthquake, we still see evidence of its destruction on our daily walks. With the end of the monsoons, rebuilding was expected to begin. However, this is currently impossible with the lack of fuel and other resources due to the continued blockade at the Nepal-India border. Even the World Food Programme, a branch of the United Nations, has been unable to overcome this obstacle. They were delivering food via helicopter to many of these affected villages but are now grounded due to the fuel shortages. Many families affected by the earthquake are living in tents or temporary homes made of tin, which provided adequate shelter during the rains but are not as suitable for the cold winter months.

Here are just a few pictures of the homes we pass walking around Kathmandu.

House destroyed on the left with temporary corrugated tin house on right.

Tent cities for earthquake victims remain scattered throughout Kathmandu.

Children playing in one of the tent cities where earthquake victims continue to be housed.

When leaving a research conference at the Hyatt this week, one of the nicest hotels in Kathmandu, these tent cities pictured above were visible from the walkway. While contemplating this disparity and in the midst of subsequent guilt and grief, I just wanted to get them all rooms at the hotel. Although it's not a sustainable solution, I wrestle with hard questions: what is the answer? And how do we get there, especially when the entire country is in survival mode and the rest of the world, and honestly even some of us in Nepal, have moved on from the earthquake? While I don't have answers, we need to continue to seek ways to practically help while living here alongside the people of Nepal. Please continue to pray for Nepal, an end to the blockade, and a renewed focus to rebuild and restore these communities affected by the earthquake. 

Trekking 101

A few lessons learned while trekking through the Himalayas last month:

1. Just keep walking. 

2. Water is your friend. And Red Bull is your best friend. We'll choose that over Gatorade any day!

3. We'll never be truly "local." While in our own estimation a 20-lb. pack between the two of us equaled traveling light, you should've seen the laughs we inspired each evening as we pulled out sleeping bags, down jackets, and water filters. 

4. Beware the flying squirrel! (Click here if you missed it.)

5. Nepalis are, without a doubt, the strongest people in the world. We were constantly passed by teenagers running up and down the trails in flip flops, carrying 100+ lbs. strapped to their heads.

6. There's a common t-shirt in Nepal that says, "Daal Bhaat 24-Hour Power." We now know why--and we agree! The local rice and lentil combo kept us going.

7. If you're not sure which path is the main trail (i.e. the road to/from China), just follow the mule poop.

8. Trekking poles = knee-savers. And quite possibly life-savers. 

9. In addition to being the strongest people in the world, Nepalis are the most hospitable as well. We were regularly given yak cheese, tea, and beds to sleep in, simply because we were guests.

10. Speaking of those beds: I need to shrink a few inches (and I'm only 5'4"). The average height of Nepali men is 5'4" and women, 4’11½". The beds were made for exactly that. So learning to curl up, sleep diagonally with legs hanging off the bed or over the footboard made even lying down a little more interesting.

11. Ramen noodles become increasingly delicious the more miles you trek.

12. Just keep walking. It's worth repeating. The days can be long and the trail difficult, but just keep walking. One step at a time.

Logistically speaking, the lessons really were as simple as 1-2-12. But the deeper reality is that many Nepalis have no choice but to walk for hours--sometimes days--just to obtain basic necessities like firewood, clothing, food, and medical care. Not a single Nepali we met along the way was trekking. They were simply living. We're incredibly grateful for the privilege to walk alongside so many.

Perhaps these pictures will tell a bit more of the story as we trekked from Lingam to Num, where we subsequently took a jeep followed by an airplane to get back to Kathmandu.

All smiles in the beginning. This was the start of our trek with the first "up" seen in the background.
Too bad we had to go down first. 

Up. Down. Cross the river. Repeat.

This was one of five new (since April) landslides we walked over. We're thankful for safety and great weather.

Daal bhaat, our trail MVP. Nepal's twice-daily meal of lentils, rice, and veggies.

Finished!

What's next? A return trip? Planning on it. Everest Base Camp? Perhaps. Stay tuned... and please send Gatorade Chews!

Flying Squirrel - What?!?

During our time on the Himalayan trails, we are always on the lookout for hazards as the path is narrow and the terrain is difficult. Interestingly, some of these hazards are animals. The typical encounters are with mules, cows, and goats as they are herded from one village to another. These encounters can be potentially dangerous on the narrow trail as often only one animal fits (you or the 2000-pound livestock), making it necessary to stay on the inside hugging the mountain. While trekking, I often wondered how many livestock fall off the edge and subsequently prayed that I wouldn’t. On rare occasion, we saw the infamous yak, which we would love to adopt but will have to wait as they don’t do well in Kathmandu's lower altitude.

The trail (aka Road to China)

 Mules carrying goods from China

 The Yak

I think my biggest fear has been the possibility of encountering a snake, especially as many are poisonous. Anti-venom in Nepal? I don’t think so. We can’t even get fuel or cooking gas. Two of our teammates encountered one of these deadly snakes on the trail, but thankfully, our Nepali colleague has some impressive snake-slaying skills and came back with pictures of said snake in his bare hands.

So, when you are finally off the trail for the day and enjoying dinner, one would expect to be done with the hazardous animal lookout, right? This was not the case on one of our nights trekking home. Having just sat down on the floor to enjoy some daal bhaat (lentils and rice), we heard a commotion. We were suddenly face-to-face with a large, cat-sized something possessing a long tail, red eyes, red hair, and the temper to go with it. I wasn’t sure what to do – I wanted to run, but wasn't sure I could get up with my sore knees after a full day of trekking. And our gracious hosts kept telling us to keep calm and keep eating. So we watched as they tried to catch this thing.... What ensued reminded me of the Great Outdoors movie clip when they tried to catch the bat in the cabin:

All I kept thinking about was rabies. Despite the hissing and frightening claws of this animal, the Nepalis were able to stab it in the eye causing it to fall to the ground. I thought it was dead, so of course, got closer to look at this thing and take a picture. The locals were picking it up and stretching out it’s wings/legs – A Himalayan Flying Squirrel – a rare sighting in the mountains. While trying to take a picture in the dark, I noticed it was breathing. Quickly we insisted they take it outside while we tried to keep our distance. Although they "trapped" it under a basket, sometime in the middle of the night this flying squirrel escaped. Somewhere in the Himalayas is now a one-eyed flying squirrel. Hope his depth perception is okay, otherwise, some dangerous Himalayan mountain flights may await him.

The Himalayan flying squirrel

What the animal looked like when sprawled out

Despite the hazards and introduction to new animals (i.e. Himalayan Flying Squirrel), we had a great time on the trail making new friends. Definitely looking forward to being back in the mountains again.

Out of Gas

While these days often end in exhaustion with the increasing difficulty of accomplishing even the simplest of tasks, I am not talking about my own “gas” or energy. Instead, all of us in Nepal are experiencing the hardship of no petrol or cooking gas. Since the promulgation of the constitution on September 20^th, political unrest and shut down of the border with India has prevented these needed supplies and other goods from getting to this landlocked country. And currently, there is no end in sight.

Lines of vehicles for the last bit of fuel

As a result, the roads are virtually empty and lines of vehicles are seen waiting for petrol that likely will not come. Restaurants and many businesses are closed due to lack of cooking gas and difficulty for employees trying to travel to work. Hospitals are struggling with the same issues as well with the addition of difficulty getting medicines. In a country that has electricity only a portion of the day, many places then depend on fuel-run generators - uh oh! It’s amazing how much we can take these things for granted. 

For us, we are also nearly out of gas. We no longer have gas for our shower/water heater and are left with only a small amount for cooking. No worries, it makes for some fun as we begin exploring other options, including our camping stove. Cooking outside is a nice change of scenery, especially when the Himalayan Mountains are in view.

Americanizing the Momo

India has samosas. Italy has ravioli. The US has cream-filled donuts. Nepal? The momo.

This past Saturday we found ourselves elbow-deep in ground chicken, cilantro, ginger, garlic, and Magic Momo Masala. Our language teacher Sama had invited us for a lesson in making Nepal’s most popular snack food. Two billion per year popular! Within minutes it was clear that we were there for the entertainment factor more than our efficiency in the kitchen. (Though just for the record, this bahini made one or two more momos than my didi. J)

While the most traditional momo in Nepal is filled with buffalo meat (in Tibet it’s yak), we think there just may be room to expand the momo’s horizons: do I hear Nutella? Mushroom and brie?

Apparently momo-making inspires a common facial expression. Can someone please help Rose finish her name?

Enter now the ulterior motive behind this blog post. Coming to a table near (those of) you (in Indiana) this winter is the opportunity of a lifetime: to create your own signature momo. Suggest your filling combination of choice… and be prepared to make it a reality. You might just find your name on a menu this Christmas.

Of course, Sama thinks Ghirardelli brownies might be the best way to Americanize the momo.

Juka (aka leeches)

Land leeches (juka in Nepali) are very common during the monsoons and make trekking quite the adventure. Juka is a name I find fitting for these fast, furious, and unrelenting creatures. When I see one scurrying up my boot for the next blood meal, I feel like Jerry Seinfeld, responding to his annoying sworn enemy, Newman. Grimacing with teeth together, I grumble: "Juka!" At that point, my heart starts racing and I begin jabbing my hiking pole at my boot, trying to fling it off. The problem here is that this requires me to stand still, leaving me vulnerable to the many other juka that have now spotted me. Here they come...

They can attack from all sides, coming from the front, behind and even from branches or leaves hanging above. Once they attach and you know it (most of the time you can't feel them due to an anesthetic they inject at the site), the question becomes - what to do? Some would say to just leave it there and once it feeds for about 20 minutes, they will fall off - for me, that's a little bit harder to stomach. Others recommend sprinkling some salt on the juka to get them to fall off on their own. Of course, you need to remember salt for the journey. Most don't recommend pulling them off as sometimes they may leave behind some of their mouth parts in the wound which could get infected. Often you just find a blood spot on your sock as evidence that they got you.

Sneaky juka on my boot

I have come to believe that it is best to be the first one on the trail instead of the last, at least in regards to avoiding juka. The heat and vibration from the first person alert the juka, who then begin to make their move just as subsequent trekkers are crossing their path. I don't know about you, but sounds like the perfect position for my bahini. =)

There's still so much to live for....

**This was written previously, but posting was delayed while awaiting official paperwork. Just for the record, my job in Indianapolis had much longer delays due to paperwork. :)

Mode of Injury: Compressed by house.  I’ve written these words more than 100 times in the last few weeks. The census at the Spinal Injury Rehabilitation Centre (SIRC) continues to rise as patients are brought here from acute hospitals to begin the long, difficult journey called rehabilitation. Many have lost more than just the ability to walk. Yesterday before seeing a patient I read this in his chart: “Lost wife, daughter. Home destroyed." He has no other family. Words can’t describe the degree of grief collectively represented at SIRC right now. And this is just one small fraction of the entire country.

But things are changing. Aftershocks are diminishing. Communities are rebuilding. Just today I sat in on a peer counseling session where one young man encouraged his fellow patients, “We may not have our legs, but we have our hands and our minds. There’s a lot we can still do.” This perspective has not come easily, but he’s determined, persevering to make new plans for the future. Watching his resilience in action, I see it fuel not only his own efforts in therapy, but those of other patients and staff members, as well. Myself included.

As a researcher/educator at SIRC, I have the privilege of spending time with people like Manoj. He's a Nepali doctor volunteering at SIRC. He's also currently applying for residency in my field, physical medicine and rehabilitation.

While nothing short of heaven itself will take away the depths of loss here, there are bright spots lighting the way. For the past 14 years SIRC has been fighting an uphill battle to bring awareness to the need for rehabilitation services in Nepal. Those efforts, which have shown brilliantly in these post-earthquake months, have finally paid off. The government recently asked them to be a national leader, expanding their services beyond spinal cord injury to other kinds of patients, as well as training healthcare workers throughout the country. SIRC is poised and ready to run, bolstered by this newfound support, a committed Nepali staff team, and patients who don’t quit.

“It feels like we’ve lost everything,” explains one younger woman, “but I can still cook. I can still feed and take care of my children, even from my wheelchair. There’s still so much to live for.” 

I couldn’t agree more.

DidiBahini (Sisters)

Since moving to Nepal, one of the first things I have noticed is how central family is to every aspect of life. The family is the core social unit upon which society is built. Families here rely on each other for social and financial support as well as caregiving. There aren’t nursing homes in Nepal, but instead families care for one another through the end of life. In the hospital, it is the family that provides food, linens, and personal care. If physical therapy or any other therapies are routinely needed, the family is briefly trained and expected to provide for their loved one. This is not a chore, but inherent to their way of life.

In Nepali families, the birth order often determines the role of each child in the family. The oldest son is responsible for caring for the parents. Even after the son gets married, the parents still live with him and his wife, which probably doesn’t sound too appealing to many daughters-in-law. The younger sister (bahini) often is the servant in the home, doing most of the cooking and cleaning. She wakes up first, goes to bed last, and generally, eats after everyone else and cooks more if needed.  

In Western cultures, it seems more desirable to be younger. However, in Nepal, increasing age correlates with increasing respect. As you can imagine, I am beginning to really appreciate being a didi (older sister), although my unmarried status would be a little problematic.  I am particularly grateful as I live with my friend Christine, who is younger -- my bahini. Not only is this more culturally appropriate than living alone in a family-centered culture, I now get to enjoy both her company and her service. =) Thankfully, Christine loves to cook and would probably win if she competed on MasterChef. (Thanks Betsy for sending along the application!) Those of you who know me know it probably wouldn’t go so well if I were the bahini….

Regardless, it is good to be in Nepal with “family.”

(An Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Monsoon is well underway--thank God for umbrellas!

In Nepali, the term for the way these ladies are planting rice is an onomatopoeia: chupu chupu.

Completed fields. Successful harvest depends on, among other things, just the right amount of monsoon rain.

Hopefully not too much rain! The view of the road on my way home from the hospital last week.

These semi-circular structures are temporary homes. They provide more reliable shelter from the rains than tents and tarps.

Safe demolition is still needed throughout much of the country. Ironically, this is a steel company's building.

The Boudhanath stupa, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, in January (left) and last week (right). The rebuilding of more than 700 damaged monuments throughout Kathmandu is in progress.

Unchanged Rules of the Road

Post-earthquake activity still dominates the daily scene in Nepal. While we collectively work towards a new normal (rather than a pre-earthquake normal), some key rhythms of Nepali life and culture have come through unscathed. Family and community remain at the center. Rice planting is nearly complete. The annual South Asian monsoon has arrived. And the chaos that is public transportation is alive and well. 

I used to think there were no traffic rules in Nepal, but over time I’ve come to appreciate and be surprised by the reality that rules--maybe just two--really do exist.

1.  The right of way belongs to the most aggressive driver. And apart from fancy INGO relief cars (that’s another blog post altogether), I’ve yet to meet a Nepali driver who’s anything but aggressive. It doesn’t matter if you’re facing oncoming traffic, forcing other vehicles off the road, or need to take over the sidewalk for a few minutes. If you get there first, it’s yours. This might explain why my parents, after visiting Nepal, forbade me to buy a motorcycle and offered to pay for a private driver, should the need arise.

2. Anything can happen. A few months ago I hopped on a public bus along with twelve goats. They seemed less willing than I to get on, but their herder prevailed. I wondered whose responsibility it was to clean up after them, but my stop came before I was able to find out.

Today my taxi driver abruptly stopped the car. “One moment while I buy a donut.” Because this was all in Nepali, I naturally assumed I misunderstood him. Sure enough, however, he turned off the engine, got out of the taxi, walked across the street, and bought a bag of donuts. We were back on the road in no time.

Can you spot my driver? :)

As I now commute two to three hours each day, Mom and Dad's offer for the private driver grows increasingly appealing. Thankfully, so too does the appeal of spending regular time on public transportation. It's what most of my Nepali friends have done since they began school at the age of three. Yes, three. And as so much is different now, it's comforting (in the life-threatening kind of way) to know that some things haven't changed.

This section of my daily commute sunk ~ 4 feet in the earthquake. It doesn't seem to slow anyone down.