Kitty Box

Orphan Tigress at Chitwan National Park

After another delicious breakfast of paratha and curry, I was led to what I thought would be a squat toilet – something I have to come love in Nepal – but turned back around when all I saw a makeshift bathroom half covered with tarp, no water bucket spicket and worse yet, no hole to aim for – it was a mound of ash open to the neighbors. No thanks. I was led back to that area after repeating “toilet” several times and then realized I was in an oversized litter box. I took a poop, washed with my water bottle, covered up the evidence with the ash and then stepped into both Jamey and Bonnie’s poop. I never had cats before.

Happy Holidays

It’s Christmas night and we are spending it in the nicest hotel in Mahendranagar, a small Nepali city near the Indian border. We arrived in town early afternoon yesterday and had planned to cross the border, hop a night bus to Delhi, and be at an Indian wedding with friends in Punjab on the 26th. A bit of a rush, but definitely doable – that is until I rushed to get to Indian immigration thereby forgetting to zipper up my back pocket, and lost my passport in the matter of minutes somewhere in the 400 meters between India and Nepal. This morning consisted of several hours going in between Nepali and Indian immigration. Not the way I would want to spend the holidays, or worse, make others spend it this way, but our spirits are high. Bonnie and I leave for Kathmandu in two days so that I can get a new passport. We get to see the entire route we biked via high-speed bus. Sigh.

Blah Bhat

Delicious Plate Of Endless Dal Bhat

Nepali food is cooked fresh and it’s delicious. We began our bike trip eating simply for breakfast; chow mein and samosas for lunch and either Dal Bhat or curry for dinner. I was sick the entire 4 days of cycling and had no appetite nor energy, so on day 4, we decided to have a hot breakfast before reaching our destination of Pokhara. We were served a deliciously huge breakfast of parathas (potato stuffed bread) and subjee (vegetables) and were reenergized for a hard day of cycling. From that day on, we began eating hot breakfasts, no matter how long it took for the restaurant to prepare (sometimes up to 90 min), and then dal bhat for both lunch and for dinner.

I started this trip sick of dal bhat (because I had attributed my week long diarrhea to my 1st meal in Nepal which was Dal Bhat) and now I love it. Dal Bhat literally translates to lentil rice. The meal comes served on a segregated metal plate and consists of a large amount of rice, a bowl of dal, subjee (a curried vegetable), spicy chutney and pickled relish. The best part of Dal Bhat is that it's Nepal's version of all-you-can-eat. One never leaves eating Dal Bhat hungry, let alone not stuffed.

Now I will explain how one eats Dal Bhat:

1. Pour the dal over the rice.
2. Mix up the rice and dal with your right hand (the left hand is used to wipe your bum, and is NOT to be used to shake hands, let alone to eat with).
   
3. Pick up soupy rice mixture with your right hand and eat.
   
4. Graciously accept seconds.
5. Repeat 8 hours later.
   

The good news is that according to one of the yoga books I picked up in Rishikesh, yogis should eat a diet consisting of dal and rice since it’s easy to digest. Thanks to both the squat toilet and a healthy diet of dal bhat, my digestion has completely changed.

Caffeine Fix

Up Above Pokhara and Smiling

Just left the high Himalayan mountains where we spent 8 lovely days working on an organic coffee farm. We will bike another 3 days to reach Chitwan National Park to work on another farm for 8 days before our 550 km bike ride out of Nepal and back into India.

Bounded Goddess

Kumari’s Window

Behind these windows lives Kumari, a four years old living goddess, believed to be the reincarnation of the goddess Durga. Kumari translates to virgin in the Nepali language and she is worshipped by both Nepali Hindus and Buddhists until her first menstruation. It is believed that once Kumari bleeds from menstruation or serious bodily damage, the spirit of Durga is released. The goddess will then return to a common life that is fully covered by the Nepalese government. She is unable to wed and will remain a virgin her entire life. I was able to see the most famous Kumari (there are several in Nepal) in Kathmandu.

Too Many Littile Ones

Farmer Babu

There are babies everywhere.

I took notice of the high cost of condoms and was more than displeased with the pornographic packaging. I was also disturbed to find out that Anthony was offered “additional services” during his “ayurvedic” massage in Kathmandu. Obviously intercourse is happening, but how are you suppose to stop pregnancy if its unaffordable to most and the packaging makes you feel dirty for buying them? Anthony has a friend working for a non-profit with a mission to bring affordable sexual protection to countries like Nepal.

You can make a donation here: http://thecondomproject.org/contactus-donate.html

Pretty Pokhara

Lake Phewal, Pokhara, Nepal

After 4 days of cycling up and down the Himalayan landscape, we arrive to Pokhara via Kathmandu. Laundry, internet and a lakeside view are all on order.

Evening Puja in Kathmandu

Evening Puja in Kathmandu at Shree Boudha Gyang Guthi Temple

Buddhist boys line up before the large Buddha shrine at Shree Boudha Gyang Guthi Temple in Kathmandu for evening Puja (prayer). Every day many pilgrims come to circulate the temple with prayer beads in hand and hopes of a blessing. Tourists follow the prayer flags up to the Buddha eyes, but only some know that all they need to do is look within instead up upward. I am increasingly more interested in Eastern religion with every passing day.

Holy Women

Saddhus Waiting for Supper in Haridwar, India

Haridwar, India, is a very Holy city. The streets line up every evening with orange robed Indians hoping to attain enlightenment and a free meal from local ashrams alongside the road. Haridwar is where I spent 5 lovely days at a yoga ashram. I was blessed to be in the presence of many like minded yogis from all over the world as well as with Marta Ji, a Saint, who hitchhiked from Germany to India when she was only 22 years old in search of silk, spice, adventure, and her guru. Marta Ji has a lovely story - she dreamt of a long white bearded Indian as a child and went in search of him from a reoccurring vivid dream. After being misguided to an Island in the Ganga of Haridwar, she found the bearded man from her dreams in a pile of ashes begging for food. Asking him to be her guru, he refused, but quickly decided to make her his disciple when he too recognized her from his dreams. Years later they gave birth to three beautiful children (aged from 26 – 30) and started the yoga ashram.

Indian Home

Yoga Ashram Courtyard in Haridwar, India

Indian homes are wonderful. The homes are surrounded by large walls to keep nosey neighbors away. Once through the gates, a courtyard is the central point of the home and is surrounded by bedrooms, living room, a large kitchen and a garden for fresh ayurvedic meals. The top room sits high above the house and is typically the bedroom of the eldest male of the house. In this way, he can look over the home from both inside and out. This layout allows for privacy for meditation or reading but also maintains a natural movement to pull people to the courtyard. It also allows for an extended family to live “comfortably” together. I could dig this set up.

Kathmandu Prayer Flags

After 2 overpaid taxis, 5 pesty porters, a 27 hour overnight train ride, another 5 equally pesty porters, a cycle rickshaw, horse and buggy, a $60 VISA bribe to Nepalese immigration officers, a 4 hour jeep ride on some of the world’s highest roads through the Himalaya through the night, I arrive to Kathmandu in Nepal with travel companions Bonnie and Jamey. 37 hours; my longest travel time to get anywhere. I welcome the cleaner and crisper air of Nepal. The skies are filled with brightly colored flags.

Nepal Bound, Missing the Farm Life

Bonnie learns how to make Chipati

We are back at home base (Delhi) and are frantically packing our bikes and bags for the next leg of our trip. Another country, another stamp. We are off to Nepal today. Land of the mighty Himalaya, church ground to devout Buddhists, and home for next month. I have had Nepal on my mind since I went to Alaska in 2004. I sat next to a world traveling couple who ranted and raved about the majestic beauty. I am very excited.

Our journey to our first organic farm begins 10 days ago...

Day 1: Biked Delhi to Rhotak (20 miles)

We are celebrities. The locals ride beside us and want to know why 3 Americans would be biking on these roads. Nevertheless, they ask to take pictures of us along the way and we even end up in a newspaper.

We arrive to town at a gas station looking for a place to rest for the night. Upon asking locals for a nearby hotel, the manager of the gas station, Kaptan, asks us if we would like to use his office for the night. We graciously accept, and are treated with hospitality that I couldn't expect from a close relative. Despite broken English, the man shows us around town (his Judo school and a local dance recital), buys us vegetables, and makes us dinner. He was very interested in us and our story and enjoys our company.

Later on we are taken out to see the Agriculture University and bought 3 kg of sweets from Kaptan's brother, Deepak. Deepak insists that we stay with him on our way back from the farm and has set up a person to meet us in the next city for accommodations and a meal. Wow.

Day 2: Biked Rhotak to Hirsar (60 miles)

We get up early, eat a quick breakfast, and are sent off to continue our journey by all the friends we have made at the gas station. We meet up with Rajinder, a pHD student of agricultural economics and leader of an organic agriculture activist group, that takes us to dinner and sets up a meeting with fellow colleague , Nirender, a journalist for the India Times. Again, we are insisted to come back and stay with the family for a good organically cooked vegan meal. Wow.

Day 3: Biked Hirsar to Sirsa (60 miles)

We make good time and decide to ask a woman if we could use her court yard as refuge from the traffic and curious Indians in order to boil some water and make a quick noodle lunch. The woman not only insists that we use her kitchen, but has her day labor help us prepare the meal and lets us sit in her dining room. We are called by Rajinder (pHD student) and told that a lunch has been arranged for us with some people in his activist group. Ironically, the students knew the people we were having lunch with, and came over with a journalist. Newspaper #2.

After being misquoted a few times, we continue biking to the farm. We arrive, are welcomed into the home. The immediate family consists of Harpal, a passionate hippie organic farmer that has seen the world and has been through it all, Surrinder, his wife who studied Botany in the UK and who met Harpal on their wedding night and their son, Jaspal, a 27 year old image of Harpal. We are left to clean up while the family meets with their master. Their master, also a family member, visits Sirsa once a year for a very large satsang of 200,000+ people.

On the Farm

We sit in the first row of the satsang the next morning. Women on one side, men on the other. A rush of Sikhs pile in and sit cross legged to sing and listen to the sermon. Being on my own spiritual journey, this was like hitting the lottery for me. All around me are women with beautifully covered heads.

Bonnie and I quickly learn a woman's role on the farm. Surrinder, the woman of the house, is sick and things are somewhat in upheaval. We are asked to help it the kitchen. We are not to help on the farm and mostly are pulled to the kitchen when organic agriculture is being spoken about. Being the only person in the group that has a food agriculture background, this upsets me, but only for a few minutes. I am in a new country with different traditions and different cultures. I am not in America anymore, and I need to let that go. I gladly offer to help in the kitchen and try to learn as much as possible. There is so much work an Indian woman must do. I feel empathy for Surrinder and wish to see that she is appreciated more.

We go out to the fields and I see what the men do. It is hard work, no doubt. I understand why the women must take care of the things at home to make this microcosm function, but still, I wish her to be appreciated more. Imagine being a botany student in the UK, having an arranged marriage, and spending day and night tending to others. I guess that's what happens when you have a family though - farm or city.

We are again interviewed for 2 newspapers and the local news. Bonnie and I are asked to flank Jamey for the shooting and are asked very little.

We take Surrinder on a bike ride one evening, and she laughs. I feel happy. Don't get me wrong, I am sure she is appreciated. It's just a little culture shock. I disagree that Mother's Day is a Hallmark holiday.

I meet Jaspal's cousin, Cub, a 29 year old farmer who received his masters in Political Science and immediately feel comfortable. Not once did I hold back from asking questions about religion, culture, traditions from the family, but with Cab, I was able to really understand. I asked him about arranged marriage and he put it very simply. Your family decides who will be best suited to take care of you and the family and who can adjust to the family life (being on a farm or on a city). If it's the wish of the family, the couple will meet a few times (usually with others) and will marry shorty after. It is the duty of the man to make the woman as comfortable as possible since it is her that is moving away from her family and her life, to be with his. Since they must be together forever, they try to be happy and try to make each other happy. I, of course, prefer love marriages, but I can see the value in arranged. When the going gets tough, we tend to move on to something brighter. As Thick Naht Hahn eloquently puts it, if scientists can't determine what a speck of dust is, how can we think that we know the ins and out of our partner?

My first experience as an Indian WWOOFer was very eye opening. I am excited for Nepal.

The mighty Ganga in Rishikesh

Rishikesh is a yogi's dream come true. Only vegetarian food, yoga classes of any sort, spiritual highs from just walking to the Ganga and both animals and people peacefully coexisting. We spent 4 days here and I loved every moment of it. After 2 weeks of relaxing, I am ready to bike and begin farming tomorrow.

Day 1: New Delhi with hosts Nanveet and Priya

I woke up restless at 6 am next to both Bonnie and Jamey asleep in our King size bed, to sounds of pigeons, and an almost stale light through the window. We are being hosted by a young married couple named Nanveet and Priya. They are fun, energetic and completlely gracious. It's been less than a day here, and I already love it.