A Monkey Crapped On The Table, & Other Tales From School

Amrita Miss is Back and the world of Manakamana School has gone insane.

I've been at school again for just over a week, and I feel like a celebrity. Everywhere I go, people seem to want a piece of me, to give me things and to spend time with me. My room is filled with an array of paper sculptures and other random gifts from students and teachers alike. When I step out of the door, I'm greeted with a million "Hello Miss", "Good morning Mam", "You come in our class Miss" and "AMRITAAAAAAAA". When I enter a (class)room everyone screams and claps and can't contain their excitement. Some of the teachers have even been ringing me at 7am in the morning when I have been with my friends and hungover (nowhere near school, I hasten to add) - "Where are you? What are you doing? Why aren't you here? Come to see us! What do you mean you have a life outside school?!".

I'm even getting fan mail - yesterday I got a note from a student which said "To Amrita Mam. I LOVE YOU. You are very beautiful and clean". It was the clean bit that really got to me. Every day I'm busy with some extra curricular activity - visiting teacher's houses, going to monasteries, meeting Nepali friends, seeing other volunteers - there's a constant stream of invitations and new things to do. It's great, but a bit exhausting - at this rate I'll be totally knackered by the time I leave school on my birthday!

While I've been away, a few changes have taken place. Some new teachers have arrived, along with new resources, identity cards and musical instruments - progress indeed. The dreaded jack fruit is now out of season (Yes!) and I am now sampling delights such as mango pickle and pumpkin curry. Instead of getting comments such as "you so white", I am getting "your face is changed - darker". Two amazingly cute puppies have arrived in school - they are just adorable. One of my pupils has broken her arm, and one of my favourite kids had his appendix out. It's all go!.

But special mention must go to the monkeys. Now, they have been monkeying around the school since I arrived, cruising past the classrooms and so on. But lately, they seem to have become cocky little b*&%ards - I have to be careful to close my bedroom door in case they steal my underwear. The other day, the librarian was chatting with the computer science teacher, in fits of giggles. They explained to me that, "a monkey came into the library, destroyed all the art materials and left a stool on the table". Nothing that exciting or monkey-related ever happened like that in my school, more's the pity.

Like the monkeys, the kids are still wreaking havoc. As enthusiastic and boisterous as ever, they are both the greatest aspect of being here and the hardest. I was very much in two minds about coming back to school, especially as it meant missing out on other trips. But I have to say it has been so much easier the second time round, and I've actually really enjoyed it. Obviously there are still challenges, but I'm on the home straight now and feel much better equipped to deal with whatever comes my way.

Yesterday, I was teaching Class 3B Old MacDonald Had A Farm. They are so cute singing it, but they just can't get the rhythm right for the "with a ... ... here and a ... ... there"! Anyway, one little boy told me he knew an English song. On first try he forgot the words, but came back and sang it so beautifully - it was really touching. I've been encouraging the older kids to be a little more creative by running lessons on magazine writing or marketing - where they have to come up with a little a product, name, slogan etc - and they absolutely love it! It is these kind of experiences that make me glad I didn't just go and be a tourist for a few more weeks, tempting as that was before.

I've also been working with some of the teachers on some "new ideas and new ways of doing things". It's odd, because I've had no teacher training, but when I showed the Head of English some of the things I've done, he said "Ahh, yes, we were taught these techniques in teaching school - but we don't apply them". And I'm like "why not?". He's like, "I don't really know...it's difficult, the way of teaching is so different. but we do want to make changes". It's just so hard to break the mold here. I have made tons of suggestions for lessons, teacher training and encouraging English speaking. At the moment, everyone is really enthusiastic - but it's hard to know what will happen when I leave. Still, we can but try to make a difference! I'm off to go and visit a school for orphans now, so until next time...x

An Elephant Snotted On Me, & Other Tales From the Jungle

So, after a week or so of delays (due to, you've guessed it, yet more strikes) and some boozing and livin' it up in the city, the Cultural Destination Nepal volunteers went off for our final 'group outing'. We drove west out of the city to the Trisuli river, eyeing up the waves with keen interest (it was the same river Mountaineer Schiller and I had walked by in Langtang National Park). We were all set to go white water rafting, another one to add to the so-called 'extreme sports' list.

 

By mid-morning, we had donned life jackets and were sitting in the raft, our feet wedged in, cruising down the river and cresting the waves. It was good fun, peddling through the water, getting splashed in the face, but all seemed relatively tame until we stopped on a beach for lunch. After that the real fun started as we got tossed about all over the place and got ridiculously wet!

 

We stopped by the side of the river so our guides could check out the waves round the corner... they gave the thumbs up, so off we went. And my god, the waves were massive! We paddled furiously through the spray, up and down, as our guide yelled "forward, forward, harder, harder!". I could feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins as I strode forward and tried not to fall out.

 

When we got to the end of the waves, we high-fived with our paddles and our guide told us we had just done a grade six rapid! No wonder it felt difficult! He also said if we had capsized, we could have hit a massive rock and died. Something they don't tell you before you do it, or mention in the guidebooks! The cheeky (and quite hunky) Nepali guy next to me decided I was a target, threw a bucket of water over me, before pushing me into the river and all hell broke lose. It was great, floating through the valley and being carried along by the tide.

 

We docked on the beach, ready to move on to our next destination. Except we couldn't due to... yet another strike! So we had an impromptu camping session on the beach, under the stars by the river. Sounds quite romantic, except it was bug-infested, stinking hot, there weren't enough tents and we were totally unprepared (bound as we were for our luxury lodge!). But still, seeing the stars and listening to the river was great, and we made the best of it.

 

Next on the list was Chitwan National Park, a large jungle/park famed for its wildlife. As there was no public transport, we ended up going with the crazy Nepali that had pushed me in the water the day before, in his big, insanely decorated oil truck - another interesting form of transport...

 

Nepal is made up of three regions defined by its topographical changes. In the north are the Himalayas, in the middle the hills with the Mahabharat range and the Churia hills and in the south is the Terai, with flatter forested areas. Chitwan was my first proper visit to the Terai, and it was HOT! I was mega excited (not for the first time in this country), because we would be going elephant riding - and I freaking love elephants!

 

That first day, we delighted in out luxury accommodation and took pleasure in cleaning the rafting and camping skuzz from our clothes and bodies. After gorging ourselves on tasty food, it was time to visit the elephants for the first time. But more on elephants later... We went to the local museum and sat drinking cocktails watching the sun set over the river. This was followed by a 'cultural performance', where men dressed as women and danced with sticks - as you do...

 

After a beer-fueled night we awoke at 5.30am (that's late by Nepali standards) and bleary-eyed got up to canoe down the river. We saw peacocks, monkeys and crocodiles to name just a few species. Next it was time for an early morning 'nature walk', jumping over puddles and looking out for wild beasts. We successfully tracked rhino footprints and big heaps of still steaming poo to find the rare great one-horned rhinoceros going about his business in the Jungle.

 

It was then time to visit the elephant breeding centre. Baby elephants are so sweet, I was in elephant heaven! So, there I was feeding cute little baby ele, when cute little baby ele decided to blow down its nose at me. And even baby elephants have big noses, in case you hadn't noticed. I looked down at my shirt (practically the only clean thing I had left to wear after the rafting/skanky camping expedition) and it was covered in a slimy substance, which bizarrely enough, resembled curry - a huge clump of elephant snot! Bet you never knew elephant snot was like curry. But then again, perhaps it's just Nepalese elephants. Anyway...

 

Next on the list was elephant bathing. Now, in theory this all sounds rather lovely - plodding down to the river to give ol' ele' a nice bath, bubbles and radox, that kind of thing. In reality it was rather different - though absolutely wicked! Once we were clad in our swimming togs, our ele came to pick us up - literally. We clambered onto her from a special elephant boarding platform (no kidding) and three of us rode her bareback to the water.

 

Now, I really love elephants. But this particular ride has to be one of the most painful journeys I've had - and there have been some pretty painful ones in this country! I literally felt like I had elephant bone going up my arse - one tip, never go as the third person on an Asian elephant. Being at the front or the middle is much more comfortable, as I later discovered.

 

Ele then repeatedly threw us off into the water, squirting us with her trunk. Very good fun, but quite painful at times - some friction burns! I have concluded that there are few more inelegant (inelephant?) things than getting stuck halfway up an elephant's head, dripping wet and in fits of laughter.

 

After scrubbing ele with a stone, it was time for the ride back. We had been warned our guide was new, and I was concerned when our elephant seemed to embark on a race with the one further ahead - being at the front of a galloping elephant is a bit scary! But fortunately we all survived to tell the tale.

 

In the afternoon, we had another elephant ride - this time in a box-type contraption, so slightly more comfy and sedate. We went through the jungle in the rain, spotting deer and other animals, while our guide tried to terrify Julie with bugs and shouting "tiger tiger", yet pointing to a tree, and 'eeee-snake' but pointing to a stick. All good fun in the jungle.

 

The next day, it was time for me to undertake my own personal pilgrimage to Lumbini, birthplace of the Buddha. Despite a window exploding all over me on the way (my second window-related incident on this trip), I had a great time there, and was pretty much the only tourist in the whole place (I didn't see a single white person). I explored the old village, contemplated my existence in the Sacred Garden and visited various temples built by Buddhist nations from all over the world. It was then time for another long bus journey, this time back to Kathmandu, in preparation for my last bout of teaching...wish me luck!

 

 

A Yak Banged Me, & Other Tales From The Himalayas

At 5.30 in the morning, Mountaineer Bate and Mountaineer Schiller left
Kathmandu to catch the bus to Dhunche for the start of the Langtang
trek. We were sleepy but excited to leave the smoggy city, had just
settled on the bus, the engine was running and we were ready to go. At
this point, we were kicked off due to a seemingly impromptu bus
strike! Strikes seem to affect every business in Nepal - crazy.

After this false start, we successfully set off the next day, bound
for the mountains. After a bone shattering eight hour bus ride, we
ended up at Dhunche at the cutest little bright blue hotel looking
towards mountains in the distance - as Mountaineer Schiller said, the
place ranked high on the 'cute-ometer', and provided a benchmark for
the many other endearing villages we were to stay in over the coming
days.

The next day, we started walking. "Mathi, Mathi" (up, up), shouted our
porter-cum-guide Pasang Sherpa, who was shouldering most of our load
for the ten days we'd be staying in the Langtang National Park. Due to
his humour, nimbleness and physical attributes, we soon nicknamed him
Jackie Chan. He didn't speak much English, and had a maddening habit
of saying "yes" to everything. "Are we going that way?", I'd say,
pointing. "Yes", said Jackie, promptly turning in the opposite
direction. "What are the signs on the wall". "Yes, signs on the wall"
- well, I know that... "Is it this one or this one?". You've guessed
it - "Yes" - even when we asked two opposite questions. To be fair, he
did try "no" out a few times, with equally lack of sense! But he was
sweet, and got us there, which is the main thing.

At our first proper glimpse of snowy peaks, I became like an excited
child. "They're so big, and there are so many", I exclaimed. You don't
say - it was the Himalayas after all. But knowing this only added to
my pleasure, and I kept stopping to gawp as they drew increasingly
nearer. This may sound cheesy, but honestly it was incredible - as we
started walking between snow capped mountains, I genuinely couldn't
believe how big they were, and that I was actually there, dwarfed by
them towering above me. The higher we got, the more Buddhist chortens
(little towers of stones) and walls of Sanskrit we passed, making sure
to go round everything in a clockwise fashion. It really did feel as
if we were inching close to the top of the earth.

I felt such a sense of freedom - even more so than on the village
trek. As it was the very end of the season, we practically had the
park to ourselves, which was a real privilege. For the first three
days we saw no one other than a handful of porters carrying heavy
loads (they lug so much up the hill on their backs, it's insane -
everything you can imagine, from chickens to massive bags of cement)
and some increasingly hairy cows... Now, from my extensive research I
can tell you that most yaks are not in fact purebred yaks, but a
mixture of yaks and cows. The higher you get, the hairier they get -
and hence the more yak-like, or 'yaktastic'. But a female yak (a
purebred, no less) is actually called a nak. But most tourists can't
tell the difference between these yaks, naks and yak-wannabes, and
refer to them all as yaks. Bet you didn't know that.

By the end of our trip we had invented many different yak words and
had sampled many yak products. I can verily report that yak cheese is
yakorific, yak milk is OK, but hot water that has been contained in a
flask that previously had yak milk in is definitely not yakalicious -
in fact, it is exyakly gross. Mountaineer Schiller had a similar
report for Yak butter, which I strategically avoided in favour of
chocolate pancakes.

One of the more exciting yak anecdotes was when a yak, laden with
supplies for the villages, banged me. When I say banged me, I don't
mean "like that" - those of you with rude minds... But it did bump
into me, though not deliberately, and I did end up a little bruised!
Mountaineers Schiller and Bate also melted at the sight of baby yaks
(seriously cute) and at yaks wearing red tassel-like earrings. You
definitely don't see that everyday.

Anyway, back to the important points of this story... After four days
of walking, we arrived at Kenzing Gompa, a small, gorgeous village
nestled between peaks on all sides. A Gompa is a Buddhist Monastery,
and there was one perched on the hills above us. We stayed at the
Lovely View Hotel, which was at the highest altitude we'd sleep at
(and to use Jackie's favourite word yes, the view was lovely). It was
right on the edge of the village, closest to the foot of the
mountains. I remember seeing a 'Hotel at the End of the Universe' in
Nargarkot, but I felt this name could have applied to where we were
staying now. I felt so small as the peaks towered above me, an
insignificant spec among the magnitude.

At this altitude (around 3500m), it was harder to breathe, and it was
considerably colder. "It's like the Arctic or something", said
Mountaineer Schiller, dolled up in an attractive array of thermal
underwear covered with cut off pants and long sock and a woolly hat.
"Well, it is the Himalayas", I pointed out. We were blessed with
gorgeous weather - despite the approaching monsoon, we never got
rained on and had fantastically clear views. At night however, the
clouds rolled in, it went pitch black and you could feel the
temperature drop dramatically as soon as the sun went over the
mountains. I was grateful for my thermal undies and for the many cups
of milk tea Jackie brought us as we huddled in our sleeping bags.
After dinner, we'd sit by the stove that was burning wood and yak dung
(yep, it's those yaks again) in the main room of the lodge, playing
cards and talking rubbish. No change there then, at least on the
talking front!

Compared to our last trek this was five star. In most places, we had
hot showers, pillows and A CHOICE of food! This was a great change to
Dal baht. The only thing was, everything was carbohydrates - you could
have noodle soup, chowmein, rice, pancake, bread, momos or the
disturbingly titled "cream of packet soup". Appetizing! We also
uncovered some delicacies though, such as hearty Sherpa Stew Soup,
Snickers Momo and some seriously good apple pie (one day I ate a whole
one for breakfast).

After a fitful night's sleep (possibly due to the altitude, or in my
case, excitement), we got up early for a serious hike uphill to get to
Kenzing Peak. This was not the peak we were supposed to be going for
(don't ask, or I will positively RANT due to Jackie's
incompetence...but I'm determined this slight issue won't dent my
memories of what was an absolutely amazing experience). Jackie carried
our day bags, and we strode (when I say strode, what I mean is kind of
staggered as fast as we could in the altitude) pretty much straight
up. A short way up, Mountaineer Schiller turned to me, looking a
little green and breathy, and said "I think I'm mildly afraid of
heights". "Not a great trait in a mountaineer", I thought to myself,
but kept quiet, only frightening her every now and again by standing
on rocks near the edge as she sat down and clung onto the mountain for
dear life! But to her absolute credit, she didn't give up, and neither
did Horatio and Hercules, our loyal hiking sticks.

Up and up we went, over hills and along ridges (I've never seen anyone
move so gingerly as Mountaineer Schiller), when suddenly, the summit
was in sight! Woohoo! Over the edge we came, to be greeted with prayer
flags blowing in the wind and chortens blessing the top. We had truly
spectacular views all around, and some good laughs as we admired them
- I felt so lucky to get the chance to have this experience. I'm not a
particularly religious person, but I do think I have a spiritual side.
Standing up there I felt close to some higher being, and very aware of
the power of nature. It was one of the best things I've ever done - a
definite 'high' for this trip.