#NAMASTE VOL. 2

 NEPALESE NIPPERS & MOUNTAIN MONASTERIES

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These kids are nothing short of edible. Caramel skinned faces paired up with cheeky grins is a sure way to make me melt. The supervising teacher - classic Nepalese - packs a smile on her that is all kinds infectious. I'm nervous - what do I say to these kids? What do I do? I have no previous experience and I think my palms might be sweating. Once I enter the dimly lit day-care room and the arrival "namastes" are set aside, my fears, (along with my shoes) disappear.

The teacher puts a DVD on; a short film clip appears, displaying the importance of brushing one's teeth. I remember how ridiculous it is being a kid.

 Easily my favourite part of the day is nap-time. That docile calm after the storm that is lunchtime is a moment to treasure. These kids are little Asian monsters; putting EVERYTHING in their mouths, spitting and biting each other like it's no-one's business and reducing themselves to a pile of tears on the floor just for a little attention and a hug - but when it comes time to rest, all is forgiven, the simplicity of silence and sleep.

Tuesday, 11th September 

We take a "casual" walk up the mountain to a monastery, perched majestically upon a mound easily visible from the view from our house. Half way up - huffing and puffing uncontrollably - I realised even I had severely underestimated how unfit I really was. I didn't think it possible. But boy am I glad I stuck to it.

PRAYER FLAGS FO' DAYS! 

Six months ago the one and only reason I decided Nepal would be my next destination.

Nepal is every colour of the spectrum. Alive and vibrant. Ornate and opulent. A real treat for the senses. I try to remember the 'full monty', the involvement of all the five senses, but it's impossible. First hand experience is the only medium that won't lie. It's really something I have never experienced quite so pronounced before. 

#NAMASTE VOL. 1

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I arrive in the busy, noisy and bustling mess of a city that is Kathmandu late on a Friday afternoon. I have never experienced a drive like the one from the airport to my central Kathmandu hotel. Motorbikes flick-flacking between beautifully dressed women and impatient taxi drivers. Now, three days in, I still am not sure which side of the road Nepali people drive on. You need a certificate to drive on these roads…or a death wish.

Toss out the Lonely Planets and dispose of the Rough Guides, you’re on your own here. 

 

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After embarrassing bursts of excitement over seeing tubs and tubs of Nutella in a local supermarket, I become familiar with the ever popular trekking scene of Nepal as I meet my first pseudo-hippie/mountaineer loner friend; Chris from Canada. A tall and gawky guy, Chris shows me around the manic streets of Kathmandu’s tourist Mecca, Thamel. A few close encounters with nearly being mown down by motorcycles, we part ways at my hotel, sure to never see each other again. But this is not how Thamel works. A few hours pass and my volunteering counterparts and I are done with dinner and are now exploring Kathmandu at night. I catch sight of Chris in the streets and hail him over. Next thing, the four of us are hiking up a flight of stairs to the renowned English style pub/bar, Tom and Jerry’s.

Our hotel, being just one building away from another seedy drinking hangout, Buddha bar, means that I nod in and out of a sweat induced slumber to the sounds of Rihanna and other Western music offenders.

  Fast forward to this morning. My Norwegian volunteer friend, Ole, and I embark on a cramped hour long journey to our host family and placements. They laugh at my big, polka dot bag (that shares the same weight as a heffalump) and I cheekily reply: “well, I AM a lady am I not?”. That shuts them up.

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It’s quieter here. More Nepalese in a way. Ole and I share the same opinions on how we thought Nepal would be. This is more like it. Greener, more peaceful, less dusty, slower and calmer. 

CA$UAL TUE$DAY