A Miniature Christmas

Christmas morning


Me and the tiny mendrup spoon made by our silversmith

Gnome-Keith by our tiny Christmas tree


Keith's new prayer wheel for him to keep on his desk back home and spin while he studies!

Keith's new tiny rice box

Merry Merry Christmas everyone! Keith and I hope you all had a beautiful day...Also, thanks so much to everyone who has left us comments! Love Jenn and Keith

In the Field

The mustard fields between Khenpo Namdrol's and Karma Chagme's before the last harvest. This is where we walk every morning now...

These woman walk the steep path up the hill carrying these huge bundles. The one looking asked me if I wanted to carry one...

Cow with tikka.

Karma Chagme's at the top of the field.

Drolod (opposite this place was where I saw the rat being killed).

Leaves Flutter

into the clear pool at Yangleshod (feeling like fall) as a young man takes a bath in his underwear, repeatedly dunking into the freezing water, then washes his socks with a bar of soap on the step; the cave "priest"--still in street clothes (before having changed into his thin white lungi), vigourously finger-brushes his teeth; a woman throws huge handfuls of what looks like mud, but must be fish food, in to the koi; and the ngakpa K and I saw sitting in the field the other day, takes his small bird off his shoulder and dips it in the water before putting it back in place and climbing the stairs to Chatrul Rinpoche's gonpa. Every few steps the bird falls. He repeatedly picks it up and puts it back.

What He Holds

Maybe you've seen my recent post about Keith's and my crazy bus ride...If so, you might recall that last time we took the bus, somone else's posters miracualously appeared in Keith's hand. This time, we were going along, when before we knew it, Keith had a baby on his lap. A baby wearing huge sunglasses who snuggled into him as though they were old friends!

Note To Self:

Can I watch my mind uncoil?

Here

Our rice comes from the field behind the kitchen,
our milk from the cow down the road...

In the morning, a little girl comes with her bag full of glass jars.
Unscrewed, poured into the silver pan the cook's set out for her.

The milk is bright white,
thick cream clinging.

Here, military men stop our bus on the way to Kathmandu-
look inside our vats of egg curry-
above the seats for bombs.

Adventures in Transportation

We'd been warned to always take the bus by 7:30 in the morning--right after breakfast, and to catch it back up to Pharping by 3:00--advice from Khenpo Namdrol. "Otherwise too crowded," he had said, and I had joked about having to sit on the roof. Needless to say, K and I had not taken his advice seriously--sometimes leaving at 9 in the morning--smooshed into a nook of the bus--people flocking the aisles. And then sometimes catching the bus home around 5:30 (the last bus is at 7:00). Then too, K and I would be crammed into a two-seater with three--the aisles full--people on the roof. I thought I'd seen crowded.

So, K and I had spent the last two days in Kathmandu/Bhoudha--ending with a trip to Fire and Ice in Thamel where we ate buff veal lasagne and salad with lemon dressing like my mom makes at home--the best Nepal meal yet.

When we arrived at the bus park, it was still only 5:50--not too late, we thought. But the Pharping bus about to leave was already full with a few people standing in the aisles, so we decided to wait for the next one--our usual tactic which always guaranteed a seat.

It was after the bus pulled away that we realized that waiting for the next bus with us were at least 60 uniformed highscholers. We all stood there on the median that smelled like piss, by a woman squatting next to a candle, doling out peanuts and cigarettes. We knew it wan't going to be pretty when the bus arrived.

And it wasn't! Before it had rolled to a stop, the crowd rushed to the door, pushing--the school kids laughing. K got on before me, while one man climbed over me and one squeezed beneath my arm. Thankfully, Keith had secured us two seats by the back door. The bus was already entirely full with not an inch of standing room, but somehow more people kept squeezing in until my knees were shoved into people's bums and everyone was squeezed so tightly not a finger could be moved. People were even hanging out the door.

As we sat in the parking lot--I felt a bit claustrophobic--getting hotter and hotter. I could see a square of light out the door and as we finally began to move, for the first time ever, I yearned to gulp the polluted Kathmandu air.

We got to the 1st bus stop where the little beggar girls usually climb on and the conductor said something, and suddenly tons of students clambored off the bus and climbed onto the roof. K and I breathed a sigh of relief--yes, some space...but a moment later, just as many people who had gotten off the bus got on--more in fact! And with each stop more and more people managed to squeeze in. It seemed impossible that anyone would ever be able to get off...including Keith and I--who as you may recall, were right near the door.

At this point, I swear there must have been at least a hundred people on the bus. And I couldn't stop thinking what would happen if there was an accident and the bus tipped over. No one would be able to get off as no one could even wriggle a toe, never mind move. I felt truly anxious! Did people do this commute night after night? I tried to have compassion and stay calm. But it didn't work--I had to get off that bus! Up till then, K had been reassuring me, "Don't worry, at any time we can just jump off!" But it really didn't see possible.

We got to a stop and I told K that was it, I was getting off, but before I could push my way out, more people piled in and before we knew it K had 2 posters in his hand that weren't even his and he wasn't sure where they came from! And now we were really stuck, "Go, Go!" I urged K, but he said he couldn't move.

I guess I looked a little ruffled as a few people near me began to talk, looking in my direction. I imagine they were saying, "Look at that white girl--she can't handle our bus!" And the girl next to me rested her head on my shoulder. I don't know if to comfort me or because she was tired...
But I'd seriously had it. And at the next stop, the last one before heading up the mountain, K somehow found the owner of the posters, and then we wriggled our way out the door. K was none too pleased, but I didn't think it was too unreasonable to take a taxi from there, for $5.50... And it was the most wonderful taxi ride I have ever had in my life.

K says I need to learn perserverance and bravery, but i can't say I have any regrets about getting off that bus...!

Everyday

Ridiculous sign in Thamel!

Pharping house

Inside Snowlands Restaurant. Yes--inexplicably, there is a bed beneath the alcohol. What you can't see is the huge picture of Chatral Rinpoche above the TV and that it's Bruce Willia on the screen!

I Am Loving

1) Karma Chagme Rinpoche!
2) Manjushree Thapa--especially the book "Tilled Earth"--I haven't discovered such a wonderful writer in so long...(http://www.manjushreethapa.com/)
3) Hot lemon and honey, masala chai, and finger chips at Snowland.
4)Our two black dogs (yes Blake, I really said that!)--one is a he-dog, one is a she-dog--as they say here. They are sweet and sleep outside the temple door , never demand to be petted, and protect me from the creepy yellow town dog.
5)Curd--especially when made by Lakpa's uncle.
5)Sun
6)Trail mix with dried coconut
7)Knitted legwarmers from Bhouda
8)The Arya Tara Nuns (the girls in class five were so sweet on my last day...they gave me a little envelope they folded with a drawing of a smiling duck family that Nyima Sangmo had made--the other side wishing me to have a successful life...) Thanks to all you sweet anis for being so nice and sharing your dreams with me!

Dreams of 4 Sweet Anis

My 5 Dreams

To fly in the sky
To be scientist
To go home
To play with tiger and lion
To be very tall

-Tsultrim Wangmo, 13


to visit japan
to go to a village to meet parents
i dreamed that snow covered the world
to play with a horse
to caught a rabbit

-Thubten Chokyi, 14

My Dreams

I want to live with my parents.
I want to become a helpful ani.
Last night I dreamed about my brother.
I won't see crying face on my loving sis-Tsekyi.
I like to be successful person.

-Nyima sangmo, 13

My dream was to learn buddhist books. And to teach others what I know about buddhists. Play with my friends. To help poor and disable people. All the people are happy with their life in the world. When i meet people like you always smile.

-Ngawang Dolkar, 16

Difficult

Difficult: like how hard it is for a tiny boy to fit his fingers into his fingerless gloves (Bekas)--inside out and too many fingers in one hole and where does that thumb go? Snot snailing from his nose into his mouth--sighing when I do--not chanting, "Papa Dina" "Papa Dina" (Give me sweets. Give me sweets.) like the other children. Both of us a little sad--sitting in silence--alternately staring into my eyes and then out through the railing. His long wet lashes.

Happy? Thanksgiving

After much debate, we decided not to go to Hatiban for Thanksgiving. Instead, we'd take the bus to Kathmandu, eat a nice lunch at Roadhouse in Thamel, and then go to Patan to pick up the missing flower for K's statue.

We got on the bus early this morning, slowly making our way down the mountain. As usual, more and more passengers got on until I was pressed against the window there in the last row, and the entire aisle was packed. We kept hearing teenage boys mention, "bhanda, bhanda," but didn't take it seriously over the Avril Lavigne songs emanting from their cell phones...Until we reached the bottom of the mountain and the bus creaked to a stop at the very outskirts of the city. Finally, when everyone began to jump out the back door, then we realized, "Oh, there really is a strike today!" much to our chagrin. Not a single person seemed perturbed that the bus could go no further. They simply started walking.

K and I stood there on the side of the road, kids in their school uniforms swarming by, laughing and talking. Unsure whether or not to try to venture into the city, knowing we could be stuck there if the strike lasted for days...Finally we decided to head back up the mountain and luckily, a bus came along that we caught, standing while we rode back up...

And so we decided maybe we were meant to go to Hatiban afterall...The Hatiban of my dreams I'd heard so much about. The Hatiban owned by the Bhutanese Dudjom Yangsi's father. The Hatiban that the old monk Sonam Drakpa had said there was no point going to because it's not like there was a stupa or anything there. From Hatiban you were supposed to have an amzing view of the Kathmandu valley. It was also supposed to be a fancy restaurant. In my mind, it would be the perfect place for a Thanksgiving in Nepal.

So we hopped off the bus at the place where K had assured me that Hatiban must have shuttles to get you up to it's spot on the top of the mountain. Wrong! And so we walked and walked up through the pine forest. It was lovely, but it sure was a long walk. Finally, we got there and I felt like I was in Thailand. There were flowers everywhere and small villas. The restaurant was beautiful and sort of like a ski lodge. K and I went to sit out on the pation in the sun. We were alone except for a few European men staring at the smoggy Himalayas through their binoculars.

Of curse there was no turkey--we knew that! And so after studying the menu, for some reason we decided upon pizza and garlic potatoes. Big mistake! Not only was it expensive--it was the worst meal we have ever had in Nepal and there's a good chance that the cheese on the pizza might possibly have been rancid!

Next, we continued through the woods, over a ridge, to the Yangsi's place. It was beautiful and silent and a Nepali man let us into the temple. But alas, the Yangsi was in Bhutan. And so we continued our walk, this time now picking our way down the mountain to Drolod. This was my only truly great moment of the day. It was amazingly beautiful walking down the side of this mountain--and so quiet. We stopped to sit for a few moments.

But eventually we reached Drolod and sat down on a bench to wait for the bus to come by. While sitting htere I suddenly heard a loud, "Thwap!" and quickly turning my head, saw a shopkeeper holding a rat by it's tail and killing it by beating it against the ground. He prceeded to throw it in the gutter and then just rinse his hands under the outdoor spigot. That was the best part of my Thanksgiving...

Damn-these pictures never appear in the right order!!!

A moment of peace in an idyllic valley towards the end of our journey....

K happy at Hatiban--before the food arrived...

Hatiban "Resort"

Thanksgiving dinner in all its glory...

from kathmandu

her fleshy thigh pressing into my arm--
dupatta brushing my face--
handbag resting on my shoulder

in the dark of the night-
the front of the bus was red-lighted,
a fringe of tassles,
fake flowers and stickers lining the windshield

they wore dirty brown shawls--
covering their heads-
wrapped 'round their shoulders
one was little
and one was littler
short brown locks curling 'round their ears

the tiny one breathed banana gum on me--
poked me in the side again and again,
raised her hand to her mouth over and over

At the Arya Tara School

The girls are aged 12-20. They are sweet and smiley (except one who seems sad). Under their zens, they wear identical red fleece jackets printed with the name of their school. Their heads are shaved. They are nuns.

As I enter the classroom, the girls jump to their feet and chant enthusiastically in unison, "Good morning Miss!" And today, one girl in class 7 sweetly said, "You look so pretty today Miss!" with other girls echoing the compliment and one girl saying I looked Japanese. Hmm...

After greeting the class, everyone continues to stand until I realize they won't return to their cross-legged positions on the floor behind their tiny wooden desks until i tell them they can sit.

After checking their simile homework assignments, i copy Langston Hughes' poem, A Dream Deferred, onto the board. What ensues is a discussion of the meaning of the words raisin, fester, sore, syrupy, sag and load.

Then I ask the girls to make a list of 5 of their dreams or wishes. In class 5, 3 girls finish before time is up and their lists just about break my heart. Both 12 year olds wish they could be with their families or return to their villages. The sixteen year old says she wishes she could watch television or read stories before bed....

Mmm Mmm Good

Tonight we ate buff momos at dinner. Afterwards, i said that I smelled butter, K said it smelled like cheese and it turned out Maya was eating cheese soup at the other end of the kitchen. Then Tsering said to Loppon that he had heard in Tibet, people eat rotten cheese with worms in it. Loppon seemed appalled and said that what Tsering had heard was false! asking him, "Would you eat that?" "No, rotten cheese is not good!" Loppon exclaimed, "But rotten intestines are very good!" he concluded. "What?" I yelped, aghast. And he proceeded to tell how Khampas make the most delicious of foods...

They grind up kidney, liver and lungs and then shove it into the baglike stomach of a dead animal. Then, they put the stomach back in the dead animal (usually a sheep) whose head is cut off, sewing the carcass up. Next, they put the animal in a very warm place and let it stay there 2 or 3 months. Finally, they hang it above the stove for a while so it smokes. Then, voila! delicious rotten intestines to eat with thenthuk!

I Promise after this no more pictures of Tibet

Various stupas in Tibet


Om Mani Padme Hung

Kathmandu, Nepal

Elephant Crossing
Trying to make our way through a busy festival and out of town to Pharping
Stopped Dead in the taxi in the middle of festival

Vajrasattva on rock, behind here the dzogchen lung was transmitted
House of Dzogchen Pema Kalsang Rinpoche in the retreat center at Dzogchen Monastery
The Monks who showed us the holy sites at Dzogchen
The Shedra (Monastic College) at Dzogchen
Zangdopalri under construction outside Dzogchen Retreat Center

Dzogchen Monastery Tibet

Patrul Rinpoche Cave
Rock Where Shri Singha Meditated
Inside Shedra Temple
Shedra Temple at Dzogchen Monastery

On My Walk To Town....

This is the field at the edge of town which functions as a dump/soccer field. ..

This is the path that takes me from where I live, by all the animals and dirtiest of kids demanding, "Give me..."

The oh so curious goat.

More Pharping...

Those are marigold chains hanging from the awning of Pharping Fresh House--actually not so fresh! The bottled water from their fridge smells like throw up--but they do have decent toilet paper and occasionally saltines (a must for the endless varieties of stomach sickness)!



Keith offering a butter lamp outside Guru Rinpoche's Yangleshod cave (the spot where he attained enlightenment!).

Stupa at Karma Chagme's.

Drinking masala chai in Bhoudha.

View from my bedroom window (possibly Crazy Drunk Guy passed out)!

Our Tiny World

One of the shops in Pharping (where i buy buckets).

Our door (on the other side you will find the old monk spinning the prayer wheel from 3Am until 9PM).
Rice outside our house (before it was harvested the other day).


This is where we live--in the yellow building. Now, it's a while after lunch and so quiet--maybe loppon and tsering are still napping. Cook is whistling across the way. I hear damarus and bells. And crazy drunk guy talking loudly, and earlier, drumming and singing. It's still the festival today so the workers aren't here building the nunnery. So quiet. There's the cooing of pigeons. And the whir of insects. Shadows of prayer fags flutter upon the grass--shadows of birds flying overhead. Flower necklaces around men's necks as they ride motorcycles.