Welcome to Kathmandu. Traffic is insane, but I luck out with my couch surfing gig- a family that runs an orphanage for 21 girls. Bimal lives here with his wife and daughter, mother and father. He picks me up on his motorbike from the airport, gives me a paper mask for the dust, but no helmet and drives me the 15km to his house (that was nutty).
Then after meeting the whole gang, and letting the girls pet my hair, they feed me a vegetarian feast before showing me to my own room.
Bimal tells me that most of Nepal is without consistent electricity and that since the Earthquake - things are really hard. To get gas, you have to wait in a line for 2-3 hours. The same goes for water.
People's containers in line to get water for their homes in Kathmandu.
Bimal and his family run the Moonlight children's home, an orphanage for girls from all over Nepal that have no parents or at least no mothers. They come to Moonlight at a variety of ages and live with Bimal and the family until they are ready to study at the university level.
The oldest girls, now teens, came to Moonlight at aged 4 when only five girls lived at the former location. They attend private school, a costly endeavor, and study and pray together daily as one big family. I ask Bimal if the government gives him money to maintain the home, but he tells me that they do not and that he relies on trusts and foreign investors for the girls’ expenses and to pay his staff a small salary. “The 1800 chickens in the back also help to raise some funds.” He says with a smile.
To experience Nepal like this . . .I feel honored. To be staying outside of Kathmandu in a small village with Bimal and his family who have invited me into their home, housed me, fed me and included me in their lives ...expecting nothing in return. I am continually humbled by the kindness of strangers.
The roof is the perfect place to do my morning exercise. It is still cool in the morning and the terrace looks out over the valley, the mountains and surrounding houses. Off in the distance a woman carries a large basket hung by a cloth strap around her forehead. Teenagers play some sort of game on a patio across the way. I set my phone up to the work out application I have been using and begin to do my sit-ups, push ups and Burpees.
About five minutes in, I am no longer alone. Four of the girls around nine years old peek their head out, “Sister, you do exercise?” I nod and continue my jumping jacks.
After watching for a few minutes, one of the girls begins to mimic me and I encourage the others to join in. “Too hard Sister!” one of them says, and sits down on the stairs to watch.
“This one is not too hard,” I told them as I run in place and two of the girls mimick what I am doing exaggerating their panting. We do mountain climbers, Burpees, planks, jump rope hopes and the two young future athletes stick it out with the other two watching the demonstration video and counting backwards from thirty for us with the ap.
We finish with squats and the girls collapse giggling onto the deck. “So tired sister! Now breakfast.”
I tell them I want to shower first and they ask if I shower every day, a look of confusion on their faces. I smile and tell them that I shower when I feel dirty. This comment evokes a peel of laughter.
Later they insist on giving me a lesson in how to dress. "Sister , where is your pants? You must cover. Sister where is your tshirt - this part cover too, so Nepal man do not see." At nine, they are adept at following the cultural norms set out by their society and they don’t want me to seem like I am not wearing anything when we go to play soccer in the park.
We all pile into a van, the 15 girls, the mom, dad, their daughter and the two volunteers with one of their boyfriends. There we unload the balls, the badminton rackets, snacks and a small tapestry to sit on and proceed to spend the next three hours playing every game under the sun.
These girls do not stop for a second. From tag, to soccer, to volleyball, to badminton, to hide and go seek to some games I have never played before that include songs and hand gestures or running to find your “twin” when the special word is said. We play Simon says and versions of paddy cake and eat snacks and in general just enjoy the day and one another. Not once do I hear a single, “I’m hungry.” “I’m bored.” “Can I use the iPad?” “This is stupid.” The only comments are “Sister – play this with me please.” “Do you want to play badminton Mona?” “Who doesn’t have a partner?”
When they have to go to the bathroom, they go in pairs to the bushes. When someone is alone, they invite them to join in. They sing songs, ask to play with their parents, the volunteers, the boyfriend and me and when it is time to go, only the three year old, has a moment of resistance, unwilling to let the beauty of shared experience come to an end.
The girls pile into the van, the smaller ones sitting on the larger one’s laps. Always looking out for one another.
........
You know the feeling – that feeling of looking around a place and wondering how you ended up there? I think that’s the exact sensation I have when the principal and MC of Kuleshwor Awas School called me up to the stage to sit with the honored guests during their end of 2072 course year and parents’ day celebration.
Bimal had decided that rather than drop me off at the Monkey temple in Kathmandu, he would take me to few local sites first and then I’d go with him to the celebration at the school where he was to receive a certificate of appreciation for his work in donating volunteers to the school.
That sounded like a good plan. What I hadn’t counted on was being treated like a celebrity. Kuleshwar is not a government school, but it’s also not a private school. It's considered a community school and while it gets some money from the government, it gets most of its funding from foreign sponsors, all of whom were being honored in a ceremony before the students preformed for their parents. I guess the principal saw some future potential in befriending me and took full advantage in front of his community to make sure that I felt honored and welcome (and did I want to come back the following week when the students returned from break to see how school runs and maybe be a parnter with their students?)
They announced that the program would be short but after 2 hours under a red tent in the blazing heat, I realized that the presenters’ version of short and mine were very different.
We finally left after a homemade samosa and momo snack made by the students and headed to the monkey temple. As you probably remember I was pretty templed out after the three weeks in Myanamar. Also the day before Bimal had taken me to the Jungle temple up a few hundred steps near his house.
And that morning before going to the school we had visited Kiritur, the ancient capital of Kathmandu, which had a famous temple that had been severely damaged by the earthquake.
So when Bimal asked me if I wanted to skip the typical way of going up the hundreds and hundreds of steps to reach the top and take the motorcycle part of the way there, I did not resist.
Despite being somewhat on temple overload, the month off was good to reset and no one can deny that the temple is gorgeous. It’s almost like a small village with a series of temples and oblong copper objects that turn around when you spin them. The people walk clockwise around the temple and as they do, they spin the objects saying their prayer as they spin.
The views from the top of the temple are nothing less than spectacular and despite the fog, one could see the four million inhabitants of Kathmandu under an umbrella of prayer flags and mist.
There were monkeys there as well. But after seeing so many monkeys in other places, they felt more like cute, furry pigeons, still stealing anything left unattended or easy to grab from the visitors.
After a brief visit to the tourist section of town to buy some clothes for my trek and talk to a potential guided, we headed then to the town of Patan, which houses a large Hindu temple. Again part of it had also been destroyed by the earthquake, but nevertheless the plaza and temple were both impressive.
We headed home after a full day and decided to stop at a restaurant for a snack where we ate more momos and fried noodles.
Before we left, I went to the bathroom and when I came out, the restaurant was empty and Bimal was standing under a chandelier that was swaying. “Did you feel that?”
I shook my head.
“It was an earthquake! Everyone ran out! I can’t believe you didn't feel it!”
I hadn’t but the girls and Bimal’s wife and parents had and they were calling to make sure everyone was ok. It had been a 5.4 tremor not 3 km from where we were and considered an aftershock of the two big earthquakes the year before.
Coming up on the year anniversary of the first of the two, Nepalese people are understandably skittish when the ground starts shaking.
Let’s hope that’s the worst of them.
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