India, So Far

It's impossible to capture a country, let alone one whose history trounces that of Western civilization, in a week, but there is something about India in my veins already. It oozes out of every sandstone building; each cut brick possesses its own tale of how it came to be placed in this fort or that mosque. Each marble brick placed oh so symmetrically to the greatest testament to love ever built, the Taj Mahal, is identical, but each was carved by a specific builder. Today, we were fortunate enough to go to the Taj, and it was truly unbelievable. Leaving our hotel at 6.30 to beat the rush and the heat, we arrived not long after dawn, and without any coffee, this proved a feat. But once we were there, walking amongst the buildings that are nearly four hundred years old, I was overwhelmed by the history and the tale of it all. The Taj, according to legend and history, was built by Shah Jahan after the death of his second wife. Legend has it that the morning after her death, his hair turned white so powerful was his grief. To honor her and display his love, he ordered the construction of the Taj- perfectly cut white marble bricks form the four minarets which are pointed just a hair away from the mausoleum itself in case of an earthquake- they would fall to the side- and two sandstone buildings, one a mosque and the other a guest house Shah Jahan would stay in every Friday, the day of his wife's death, flank the east and west sides of the mausoleum, which itself is covered by some of the most beautiful in-lay work (marble carved to allow for the placement of semi-precious stones inside the rock itself!) that has ever been done. A few more days, though, and we return, with a much, much longer post on India, where, if all goes according to plan, I will return soon.

Goodbye Brother Bob

The title of this post is, of course, in reference to dear Brother Bob Seger, who, when he wasn't working on those Night Moves wrote a little song called "Kathmandu." Somehow, it's now the 16th of July, meaning that we leave Kathmandu tomorrow for Delhi. It's so strange how long we've been here; stranger too, though, remains that even after going to Pokhara, retrurning to Kathmandu felt like coming home. The Kathmandu Guest House, which I highly recommend, has a feel that is so much more than simply a place to stay. As I reflect on my time here, at the internship, at the religious monuments, as I trekked through the Annapurna Sanctuary, what comes to me the most was how spiritual of an experience this has been. Coming to Nepal as a rather typical liberal, Western, skeptical secularist, I expected to see these things, Buddhist stupas and Hindu temples, prayer beads and sacred cows, simply from an anthropological perspective, as something that was completely separated from me. It remained something that was merely to be observed with keen interest, but no real emotional connection. As I've been here, though, as I've circled stupas and spun prayer wheels, as I've watched prayer flags whisper their longings to the divine as they sway, blowing in the wind, as I've spent mornings in meditation, focusing on the bright blue splashes clouding my vision, I've become connected with a part of myself I didn't realize was present. One of the thing Indira has focused on in her work is the necessary connection between the sacred and the secular in relation to every person, and I think even those who don't necessarily find anyone religion satisfactory, myself included in that, find something important in spirituality. Of course, we risk falling into the old joke of being "spiritual, but not religious," but there seems to be something that permeates all sorts of faiths.

And with such sadness, I bid farewell to Kathmandu- a city of contrasts, of sights, of sounds, of smells, but above all, a city I have deep, deep love for.

Goin' On A Hike

Where should I even begin in a rather weak attempt to capture the last week? Should I begin with our slightly anti-refugee guide, or the porter powered by raksi who carried some of our team's bags (raksi being the local rice wine, the spirit of choice in the mountains)? No. None of these stories capture the essence of what it meant to sneak away in to the mountains and be surrounded by natural cathedrals (not my words) on all sides. Battered, bruised, and blistered, we reached towering spectacles that are not testament to humanity but rather to something ancient, something that is beyond human. Standing there, at the Annapurna Base Camp (from here on ABC), I could see mountains in every direction in which I looked, and I felt... so free- like the Colin Hay song, "Beautiful World," I was where a man could still be free, or a woman if you are one. It really was a place that was both everywhere and nowhere all at once. I felt so complete and yet so empty as I stood in the shadows of such skyscrapers (the largest were 8000m!). Over the last week, I probably wrote more than I have in the last few months, years maybe, and it served as truly great introspection. And, sorry to disappoint, but I think that's all I can write right now.

We'll All Be Friends in Heaven

"For five seconds, I didn't know where you were!" Milan says to me, laughing through a giant grin. For five seconds, I didn't know where I was, though, either. We went white water, well, more like brown water, rafting yesterday during our travel to Pokhara. The water was the color roughly of the national drink-masala tea with milk and sugar, a light brown color. Six of us, and our two guides, boarded our small inflatable raft on the nearly flooded river. The monsoon rains have been ever-present, but only intermittently (it rains everyday, just not all day long). With life jackets buckled, helmets strapped, and paddles in hand, we began our voyage down the river. I began at the back of the boat, near Milan, Jess, and our other guide, and the trip was wonderful. We stopped for lunch and ate with some Brits on a tour of South Asia, and then we began once more down the river. Milan, I think, became rather bored. Many of the rapids were covered with water because of the monsoon rains, and it was pretty easy going throughout, so we started to play games, i.e. everyone got in the back of the boat and we tried not to capsize. Eventually, I found my way to the front of the raft, and, due to my own ill-thinking, forgot to secure my foot by placing it firmly under the cord. We hit a rapid, and suddenly, I felt myself falling out. I lurched forward to grab the rope, but this little movement provided me with just enough momentum to fall into the masala mess. Quickly, I was submerged in the brown water, and I struggled for the surface. I could not get up. While I attempted to fight the current pulling me down the river, I first ended up coming under the boat. I kept fighting, kicking, with my heart pounding in my chest, and finally I emerged, arms flailing, mouth gasping, eyes searching. Jess and Megan grabbed me and I grabbed the rope; Milan pulled me in and handed me my paddle. And all I could do was... smile. What adventure.

Tomorrow morning, we leave for a seven-day, six-night trek to the Annapurna Base Camp (http://www.ucl.ac.uk/expeditions/tianshan/photos/images/annapurna_base_camp.jpg). I cannot wait.

Field Trip

Yesterday, at 830 in the morning after a night featuring football and an Everest (the local brew), I awoke and prepared myself for the day ahead. One of the other members of our cohort who was doing research on oral health in Nepal had organized a field clinic with a number of dentists in the village of Suldungal (spelling is probably incorrect). The plan was simple: set up a free, one-day dental clinic in the village for the villagers and require them only to fill out one small survey regarding their oral health. Simple. And, unbelievably, it was. Out of all the plans that had been made here for various people and their respective research, this one has gone by far the best. Over 120 people, young and old, came to the clinic to receive free dental examinations, and some even lost a tooth or two. As impressed as I was about this whole endeavor, two things stood out to me in particular. The first was the attitude of the dentists. It seemed as if they didn't consider this charity work that they were doing outside of their jobs. Rather, this, going to an under-served village and working without pay, simply constituted part of the job that they had to do. Signing up to be a dentist meant much more than simply seeing thirty patients a day in some sleepy suburb. This especially proved important and inspirational to both Megan and me as we look for different approaches to the practice of our respective medical interests. There's much more than simply working in an office for patients who can afford it. In less than an hour, these dentists turned a classroom into a clinic, and they treated, without stop, over one hundred and twenty patients. It was amazing.

The second thing that I noticed regards some of the boys who quickly developed themselves into my posse. There was a group of about six, including one who worked rather weaselish and one who was the spitting image of a Nepali Heath Ledger. Anyway, the weasel displayed a remarkable amount of pessimism about his country; he could not wait to finish his school and leave, resigning himself to the belief that this country would never get any better. It would simply languish in a garbage-covered backwardness. Heath, though, thought differently, and perhaps most inspirationally claimed, "This is our country; we are responsible for it. We can make it better, and we must make it better." Heath, you serve as an inspiration to this would be ex-patriot. What a great lesson for the 4th of July.

NO HOMO!

Ever since stepping of the plane, one of the most curious, and, for me, refreshing, things here in Kathmandu is the constant presence of male physical intimacy with other men who are simply friends. Two men, more even!, will simply be walking down the street, arm-in-arm, holding hands, draping arms across shoulders. There is no shame, no fear. It simply is the way it is. Albeit this culture remains one that is incredibly touchy, but the presence of actual male-male expression of love, platonic or otherwise. With some elements of the SJU community being different, this is so very different from what we experience in the West, where two men hug, give each other the three "I'm Not Gay," pats, and then conclude this delightful experience with the ever-comforting pronunciation of "No homo bro!"

Of course, all of this started my cognitive analysis. When we are infants, we constantly need physical touch for our continued development. Without being held and holding someone, we human beings do not develop properly; we remain shells. But why does this stop? Why has touch become so criminalized (excluding, of course, unwanted touch which is and should be)? If we think that human beings are constantly developing and never arrive as finished products, then wouldn't it make sense to say that we have a constant need to be held, to be touched, and to hold and touch back.