Creature Comfort

Today I went across the street to explore a swamp where I used to play in my childhood. The dry bed of the swamp, usually home to about a foot of murky water, was testimony to the low rainfall of recent months. I walked over the spongy, black humus, never sinking more than an inch or two into the damp ground. Clear afternoon sunlight poured into the dry swamp, lighting up old, fallen trees and the earliest autumn leaves turning subtly from green to yellow and orange.



I was wondering about the creatures that occupied this wetland when it was full of water and what they might be doing now that it had dried up. Then I heard what that sounded like thousands of wet tadpoles writhing in the mud, gasping for water. And that's what I found. It was fascinating and heartbreaking to watch them suffering, and I felt an urgent need to do something, to help them. I picked up a handful of those that were still wiggling and rushed them back home to put them in a bucket of water. They furiously swam about and then died because the water was way too cold for them. Does that make me a murderer? Disheartened, I took a break and wondered what to do.



Plan B: I would transport them from the swamp across the road to the swamp down below our house and hope they wouldn't mind a drop in elevation of about 100 feet. I found that some in my earlier bucket of dead tadpoles had miraculously been revived, and I immediately set off into the lower wetland. Before long I was traipsing through a similarly dry swamp, but this time through dense brush, small trees, and any number of stinging, poisonous plants. The tadpoles weren't looking good after being sloshed around for 30 minutes as I sought out a watery shelter for them. I finally found a place, released them, and felt a mix of satisfaction at having done something great and regret that I couldn't have been more gentle. I was plagued by the immensity of the problem as I realized that I would need many buckets and many difficult trips walking through forest and mud to save the remaining tadpoles.

I sat down in the yard behind my parents' house to pick burs out of my clothes and I saw a red-bellied woodpecker sitting inside our fence. When I walked out of the house it was startled and gave a small bark, whereupon I suspected it would fly away. But it didn't. It just sat there, just like an injured bird. Again, I immediately went into savior mode and stepped toward the bird to administer first aid. But then I stopped. I decided to just pick burs and watch the bird. As I picked and watched, it occasionally called out to other red-bellies in the surrounding trees, and they called back. I felt sorry for it.



Then I noticed a small yellow spider crawling on my right hand. I had never seen one that looked quite like it, so I leaned in for a closer look. It had four legs on its left side and only one front leg on the right. How bizarre, I thought. It must have lost the other three in a gruesome battle. Then I aided the little spider in its descent to the grass, took a peak at the bird that hadn't moved, and pulled out a few more burs. The bird suddenly flew up into the air, into the forest, out of the trees, all the way around our house, and then back into the forest. I could hear it celebrating with friends and family.

The spider came back. It was unmistakably the same spider. Four legs on the left and one on the right. It crawled all the way up the chair, up my shirt, and back onto my right hand. OK. What are you trying to tell me? I strongly believe in the Law of Attraction: every moment of every day I will attract into my life the people, creatures, and situations that I need to help me heal, grow, and learn more about Divine truth and love and about myself. And that is what I want more than just about anything. What can I possibly do for these animals? What can I do for a tadpole, a woodpecker or a 5 legged spider? The spider had moved to my left hand, attached a small strand of web to my finger, and began to dangle in the wind. Before I could stop it, the spider released himself and flew away, out into the yard.

I began to cry. The grief was unrelated to the animals. It was about pain that I've been carrying with me since childhood. It was the feeling that there was no trust and no love in my family. Mixed into that pain was the realization that nearly everyone in this world, probably everyone on my street, and in the communities around me, everyone I know is suffering. And what can I do but cry? The sun had found a new, lower position in the afternoon sky when I finally felt that I had let go of some small part of this grief. I felt a new peace with my suffering and with the suffering of the world. It's not my job to save anyone or any creature. I saw that the lives of the animals crossed my path today in order to teach me a couple of lessons. The first was from the suffering tadpoles writhing and gasping in the drying mud: we are the same. You are suffering just like us. Why do you think you can save us? My desire to save is rooted in my discomfort with suffering. I don't want to allow suffering and I have been so arrogant as to believe that I could do something to stop it. The truth is, I believe, that I cannot heal anyone or anything else until I've healed myself.

To believe that I can save someone is to perpetuate the disempowering belief that they need to be saved. To put the bird or the spider in a box would be to limit their opportunities to experience life. Clearly, both were entirely capable of taking care of themselves and of teaching me a valuable lesson. I don't know what will happen to the tadpoles, but I've observed that life has a way of balancing itself out. I pray that I can continue to observe it with enough patience that I might eventually be able to achieve some balance in my own life.

PS: I didn't take the bird photo. I just took it from somebody's website. Thank you somebody.

Two August Tenths

Dictionary.com says that august means, "inspiring reverence or admiration; of supreme dignity or grandeur; majestic" I've recently come to believe in god, and I think august is an appropriate word to describe a little bit of what god must be. But this isn't a post about divine fractions.

I'm at Brigham Young University in Hawaii. Yesterday, after an amazing flight from Melbourne, Australia, to Sydney, and then to Honolulu, I arrived in my country's only island state. I left early in the morning on August 10th and I arrived early in the morning on August 10th. That's not a typo; it's just what happens when you cross the international date line. I'd never done that before, and the experience was a mixed bag.

My first 10th was extraordinary. I woke up early on a rainy Melbourne morning, packed my bags, had a big raw breakfast of grated and chopped apples, sliced bananas, cinnamon, and soaked chia seeds all over a big bed of green lettuce and celery. That's what I've been eating just about every morning. Then I went to the train station to do some busking. Here's what Dictionary.com says about busking:
1.Chiefly British . to entertain by dancing, singing, or reciting on the street or in a public place.
2. Canadian . to make a showy or noisy appeal.

I was doing the British version with my flute. On the way to the train station I knew that I would walk by a special house in the suburban neighborhood of Caulfield. The house was special because right out in the front yard there was a little orange tree that was dripping with beautiful, ripe oranges. The grass in the small front yard was long and there wasn't a path from the house to the tree, indicating to me that no one was taking advantage of this fruity bounty. I had been wanting some of those oranges for two full days, on and off. I stopped in the drizzling rain, looked at the oranges, contemplated hopping over the knee high brick fence and grabbing a few. But that brought up some moral questions. It would be stealing. I believe that stealing is wrong.

What was stopping me from going up to the door, knocking, and asking if the owner minded if I picked a few off the tree? Nothing but a small fear of a word that has taken on an unnatural importance in my mind: NO. I didn't want to hear that word. But, the truth is, the owner of that tree had every right to tell me no and I would have no right to be upset with him if he did. Once I had that worked out, I rang the doorbell, asked the grumpy old man who answered if I could pick a few oranges, and he said...."Yeah, OK." Haha! Victory! Honestly acquired, fresh, nutritious vegan pirate treasure. Lately, I've been going mad for fruit and vegetables. I hesitate to eat anything else.

Anyway, busking. I walked into the train pedestrian tunnel, opened my green cotton satchel up in a way that would, I hoped, invite many gold coins to be tossed in it, and placed the oranges artistically around its corduroy perimeter. Then I began playing a mix of Nepali folk tunes and a few little devotional ditties that I've created myself, and I smiled with my eyes at the commuters, students, and other folks who walked through that music filled tunnel. The fact that it was cold and raining usually seems to deter people from sharing their hard-earned money with vagabond flute players, but some kind of magic was happening in the Caulfield Train Station's Pedestrian Tunnel on the morning of August 10th (the first August 10th).

Forty five minutes later, when my fingers were aching with cold, I decided to close up shop (my bag) and hopped on the train to Southern Cross Station with an extra $16. Not bad for a quick day's work. From there, the bounty of August 10th continued to increase geometrically as I received love, food, friends, and veritable "get out of jail free cards" at every turn. I could do no wrong and every person, place, and thing in the universe was conspiring not only to make my life easy, but to make it downright joyful.

That was, of course, until I flew into my second August 10th.

My second August 10th landed me in Honolulu International Airport. I felt strange, sleep deprived, too hot in the humid, tropical air, and confused about what to do and where to go.

Goals, Pyush, and Trees

Of the four classes on my schedule this semester at Kathmandu University, two of them seem very interesting, so I have agreed with my program director that I will take only these courses, and spend the rest of my time being a better Ambassador of Goodwill. The two interesting courses are: "Public Policy" and "Population, Development, and Natural Resource Linkages." Both courses have already filled my head with new thoughts and ideas.

A few days ago my friend Safal invited me to his home to spend a few hours and visit with his mother who was in town from Pokhara. The visit was very pleasant and I was even offered home grown tea and popcorn from the Ghimire home in Pokhara. Safal handed me a book called, "You Can Win," and, though generally I find such books distasteful, I decided to flip to the section on goals. I'm sorry if I misrepresent the words and ideas of the author, Shiv Khera, but I'll try my best to summarize his ideas and my responses. He says that if we have no goals then we will never accomplish anything or go anywhere. I'm not completely convinced that this is true, but I decided to keep reading. Khera then said that, in order to define our goals, we must first define what success means to us.

My definition of success includes happiness, health, meaningful relationships, financial security, and maintaining a positive attitude. Many of these indicators of success seem to be maintained through my practice of meditation. However, I realized that if I identify a few skills that I could acquire, both for income and for pleasure, that could contribute to me achieving a greater level of success, then I would be more likely to achieve my goals. So I made a list of smaller goals that seem achievable. Here they are:
* Serving & Volunteering
* Creating art, playing music, learning the banjo
* Building bread ovens and biogas systems
* Vehicle repair and maintenance
* Storytelling & Listening
* Cooking
* Learning/Teaching Yoga and Meditation
* Singing & Dancing
* Sustainable Agriculture

Also floating around in my mind are thoughts of long-term goals that I might like to pursue. Paul and I have been talking about starting a farm on some property that his family owns in central California. We would make a point to employ young people who are being emancipated from the state after going through residential treatment facilities. Paul is really excited about the idea and it is something we will continue talking about about planning during this year. I've also been thinking about getting into counseling or therapy.

In order to achieve my goals of spending more time in service and volunteering, this week I spent a day planting trees in the town of Banepa. I also spent a day packaging Pyush, a chlorine solution, which will be sent to Western Nepal for a Cholera epidemic that broke out about a month and half back. A Nepali friend of mine got together with his friends and decided that the town of Banepa needed more trees. So they organized, petitioned people, got some support, and started planning. I called my friends and went with a crew of 7 to shovel, pick, and carry for the day. Despite the rain, we all had a great time and I look forward to going back to help plant the rest of the 700 trees intended for the main highway. Check out the pictures in the new album under the "Links from Nepal" box.

The Pyush project was also very interesting. Cholera had disappeared from Nepal 10 years ago, and now it has come back with a force. This organization has already sent at least 5,000 little bottles of the solution, each of which can clean about 600 liters of water. They are in the process of packaging thousands more, but they need a lot of people power to do all the packaging. This week I plan to help plant more trees and package more Pyush. I am also talking with my home Rotary Club to see if they can offer some financial assistance to ENPHO, the organization that is heading up the Pyush project.

That's all for now. Thanks for reading!

Nagarkot and Shantaram

This weekend a small Manchester College reunion took place in the village of Nagarkot, about two hours outside Kathmandu. Paul Sparks, Dawa Sherpa, Kashish Das Shrestha and I, along with a few other Nepali friends, spent a night in a comfortable hotel perched on the side of the mountain that Nagarkot clings to. The destination was clearly a spot for wealthier Nepalis to escape the insanity of Kathmandu, and for trekking tourists who want to enjoy a few Western comforts.

I have discussed the benefits and perils of societies and economies that have become totally dependent upon tourism. There exists a giant paradox in this dilemma: tourists bring lots of money and business, but they slowly (or very quickly) begin to change local culture, customs, and values. The general sense that I feel when I am in a town that has completely dedicated itself to serving the economic and consumer interests of travelers is that the town has no soul. Places that were described 30 years ago as friendly, rural, honest towns have been transformed into streets filled with pimps, pushers, and touts who aggressively try to convince you that you are in desperate need of their "sexy girls, hashish, and very cheapest hotel rooms."

I don't think we can implicate anyone as the certain creator of these cut throat worlds of greed and disrespect, but few of those involved are left unvictimized. The sudden introduction of foreigners with loads of money they are willing to spend quite freely inevitably creates gross inequalities within these communities. The additional demand for drugs, sex, and all things Western brings with it myriad other violent changes to these societies. Not the least of these changes is the abrupt transition from being always focused on the needs of family and friends before one's self to the very Western tendency to worry excessively about "I, me, and mine."

There are also benefits that can be identified from the advent of tourism in previously "undiscovered" places. The introduction of expanded educational facilities, increased access to drinking water, health and sanitation, and access to internet and other multimedia facilities are a few of the advantages that tourists often bring to developing places. The crux of the problem lies in weighing the costs and the benefits. I don't envy the person who has that job.

In other news, after many favorable recommendations, I have begun reading the book, "Shantaram." It's a long book, but after just 150 pages I absolutely love it. I would highly recommend it to anyone who is interested in learning more about real Indian culture or who is just looking for an amazing and enjoyable book.

India and Vipassana

Dear Friends and Family,

The last month has been full of travels, adventures, and profound life lessons. A good friend came to visit and we took a three-week trip to India. After my return to Kathmandu I went to directly to a 10-day Vipassana meditation course that was extremely challenging and rewarding. I feel more and more at home in Nepal and I can’t believe that 7 of my 12 months here have already passed. I anticipate that returning to an Indiana winter will be a challenging transition, but I look forward to catching up with my home community and sharing many lessons, experiences, and photos.
My first semester classes at Kathmandu University finished at the end of June and, in keeping with my secondary title, “Casual Scholar,” I didn’t spend much time worrying about exams. I strongly agree with Rotary’s philosophy that, while I am here in Nepal, my primary job is to be an Ambassador or Goodwill, which means that my time is much better spent creating friendships, serving this community, and traveling around this beautiful, ancient land. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I am certain that I won’t be receiving a degree from KU. I am very comfortable with this, and although my professors would like me to work harder to pass their classes, they seem to understand that my studies are not my primary purpose in Nepal. My second semester classes will begin in 4 days and I look forward to exploring new subject matter with four new professors. I will be taking courses on Nepal’s environmental and development policy, Statistical analysis, and macro and microeconomics.

I left for India on the 1st of July with my Australian friend, Casey Deng, and an Indian friend, Deep Sedai. Deep is from the town of Kalimpong in West Bengal, India. I recently read a novel called, “The Inheritance of Loss,” much of which takes place in and around Kalimpong. The town was a beautiful mix Indian culture with British architecture, all nestled up in the foothills of the Himalayas. In addition to giving us a tour around his home, Deep took Casey and I to his brother’s wedding. The wedding was an amazing example of ancient Nepali traditions and it took place at a rural temple on a hill right on the border between India and Bhutan. Because there was no security or fence, I can now add Bhutan to the list of countries I have visited, albeit for five minutes. I hope to upload some photos very soon.

After Kalimpong, Deep returned to Nepal and Casey and I traveled on to Darjeeling. Because this part of India was recently “acquired” from Nepal, nearly everyone speaks Nepali and I observed many similarities between these two areas. I developed a fever in Darjeeling and stayed in bed for about four days. I was planning to rest for a few more when the hotel manager frantically knocked on the door and informed us that, because the police had just shot a member of the Ghorkaland National Liberation Force (GNLF), a political separatist group, there would be a strike that would leave us without food, transportation, or anything else. Therefore, we had to leave at that moment. I staggered out of bed, packed my bags, and we searched for the elusive jeeps that all seemed to be full of people fleeing the town. When we finally found one, I was happy to be moving again, on our way to a train station for my first Indian train ride.

Unfortunately, there were no seats left on the train to Benares, the next stop on our journey. We had to make the 18-hour journey sitting on the floor of the train. I didn’t mind the ride, but I was relieved to finally reach our destination. The Indian landscape seen from the train door was breathtaking and thought provoking. I saw so many expanses of rice paddies and other agriculture land that was being ploughed with ancient, handmade ploughs and oxen. These scenes looked as if they could have been from one or two hundred years ago. As Casey and I sat in the open door with our legs hanging over the ground flying below our feet, we wondered about safety and regulations. In developed countries, there are many fewer opportunities to die. There are guardrails, flashing lights, laws, people to enforce the laws. Life is very safe and comfortable. In developing countries, there seem to be many more opportunities to die. Safety is not a priority. This results in more unnecessary deaths, but it also lends itself to a more intense and visceral experience of life. As we travel around these countries, everything is always unknown, exciting, never boring. This is a bit exhausting at times, and I appreciate people like food inspectors and police offers in my own country. It seems that as countries achieve greater levels of development, they have more rules and restrictions and, in some respects, life becomes a bit duller. An interesting paradox.

The town of Benares was incredible. The expansive, winding maze of tiny streets is full of cows, religious pilgrims, and vendors of everything from tea and t-shirts to haircuts and hashish. A doctor quickly diagnosed me with an upper respiratory infection and I started my daily regimen of antibiotics. The city of Benares is famous for the massive Ganges River that flows slowly by the dozens of ancient temples and burning ghats on the eastern bank. The ghats are where two to three hundred Hindus are cremated every day and they are burning from morning till night. Casey and I took an early morning boat ride on the Ganges and, despite the fact that the river is the only sewage management plan for many cities along the banks, and the bodies floating in the water, we decided to go for a swim. This is an ancient tradition that all religious pilgrims must perform in order to wash away their sins. I’m pretty certain that we were dirtier after the dip. In many developing countries, waste management is a very serious problem. The Bagmati River running through the center of Kathmandu is also supposed to be a holy river, but it, too, is the cities only sewage management plan. The sewage from most of the houses in the valley runs directly into the river, untreated. When approaching the river from any direction, you can smell the stench from half a kilometer away. A number of factors are impeding progress on these issues. First of all, due to a collective feeling that it must be the responsibility of someone else, few people are willing or interested in taking action on these issues. The sheer size of the problem is also overwhelming: in both the Ganges and Bagmati, the waste of millions of people is pouring into the rivers every day. Additionally, weak environmental policies, political instability, and giant, corrupt, and bureaucracy-laden governments make the design and implementation of effective policies very difficult. As they dismissively say in Nepali, “Ke Garne?” (What can be done?)

My time in India ended with a 12 hour train ride to Delhi, and on that ride we actually had beds in a sleeper car! As soon as our train arrived (an hour late) we hopped in a taxi for a mad rush to the airport. Although I missed my flight, a friendly woman at the airport put me on the next one for no extra cost. Thank you friendly lady! Casey and I had a fast and tearful goodbye as I quickly filled out my customs form and ran to the plane. She headed back to Australia and I went to my meditation course in Kathmandu. The course began that afternoon and I had to go directly from the airport to the meditation center.
As soon as I arrived at the Dharmashringa Vipassana Meditation center, I had to turn in my passport, paper, pens, books, phone, camera, and any other valuables, forms of entertainment, or snacks I might have. I could only have my clothing. On the second morning I and the other 150 meditators took vows of silence and agreed to abide by five precepts: no killing, lying, stealing, sex, or intoxicants. Easy enough. From the first day we began meditating for 10 hours per day and I quickly understood that this would be a very difficult experience. My legs and back began aching, but as the teacher explained, this is exactly the same experience that every meditator has had throughout history. The purpose of the technique is to learn to observe all sensations objectively and with equanimity. After 10 days of practicing this technique I feel that I am much more peaceful and that I am better prepared to deal with life’s challenges. I am now sitting to meditate for one hour every morning and every evening. These Vipassana centers are all over the world and there are a few in the U.S. I would highly recommend the course to anyone interested in learning more about the nature of suffering and mind.

Now I’m back in Kathmandu, sitting in the kitchen of my friend, Paul Sparks, preparing for a short weekend trip to the town of Nagarkot. I've been missing all the great people I was meditating with, and who I didn't get a chance to talk to until after 10 days of sitting together all day every day. But as they repeat over and over in the course, everything is Anicha (Impermanent). Everything in the universe is constantly changing. Thanks all for reading my blog and sending your love. I can’t wait to get back to the US to share more photos, lessons, and experiences.

May everyone be happy!

Educational School Trip or Wild Party?

My life here is becoming routine. This brings a sense of ease and comfort, but it also carries with it a feeling of restlessness. My classes will wrap up this month, but because I don't have to pass the classes, I cannot share in the frantic, end of semester-oh-my-god-I-have-to-study hysteria. I have enjoyed most of my classes and I've learned much about the dynamic and confusing field of international development. My most important lesson has been that this field is so complex and difficult to understand that it will take years for me to get a handle on it. I have also realized that in order to understand the nature of development I need to have a much better understand of economics and statistics. Daunting.

A couple weeks ago my classmates and I were very excited for our first class trip/field visit to learn about hydroelectric projects, landfills, a proposed airport site, and each other. We left Kathmandu early one morning and drove for about 12 hours to the Kaligandaki Hydropower Project. The bus full of 17 students and one advisor wound its way through the mountains, along narrow roads that sometimes dropped sharply down 100s of feet to the rocks and rivers below. We sang songs, danced, and napped until we finally reached the small town where we would be staying. The "organization" of the trip was hilarious and very characteristic of Nepali society. When we arrived, the sun was setting and no one was sure where we would stay, what we would do, or if there was food available. But nobody worried. Instead, we found a little tea shop, ordered snacks, and danced to cellphone MP3s until some of the senior members of our class informed us that everything had been taken care of.

The next morning we traveled 10 minutes down to the Kaligandaki River, home to Nepal's largest hydropower project. The facility was incredible. I gained an entirely new appreciation for engineering projects and I'm actually looking forward to going back to the U.S. to visit the Hoover Dam. This project provides Nepal with most of its electricity, which is certainly a great advantage. However, we were approaching the dam with our Environmental Impact Assessment and Natural Resource Management classes. As the dam diverts nearly 50 kilometers of the river and leaves it bone dry for half the year, the environmental impacts are considerable. Unfortunately we didn't have a lot of time to spend at the site, so we didn't get to ask many questions about the actual social and environmental impacts of the dam's construction.

After having breakfast (dal, bhat, tarkari, the usual) we began traveling back toward the giant tourist town of Pokhara. We were supposed to visit a number of different projects in and around Pokhara, but since none of our professors showed up for the trip and the only advisor was really just a secretary who has no background in our courses, we spent the rest of our time boating on Begnas Tal, a beautiful, clean lake, and dancing at some of Pokhara's famous bars in the evenings. The trip was a lot of fun, but we didn't learn much. The only complaining I heard was from a girl who drank too much wine one night. I'm told that future trips will be much better organized and that we will spend most of our time learning. I'll let you know.

Paul Sparks, a good friend from my days at Manchester College, arrived in Kathmandu about two weeks. ago. He has been staying with me as a settles into the city and begins his internship with an NGO (non-governmental organization). From the first day I met him, Paul shocked and inspired me with his Los Angeles vernacular (What's up homeboy?) and endless, memorized recitations of poetry from Rumi, philosophy from Camus, and his own inspring songs and poems. His atheist, marxist, Church of the Brethren perspectives gave a special flavor to me early college years on the first floor of Garver mens' residence hall. Four years have passed since Paul and I lived in the same state and I am amazed at our common thoughts on development, economics, spirituality, and life. I'm so relieved to finally understand what he's talking about and even to offer him some food for thought.

That's all for now. Thanks for reading.

PS: I'm becoming conversational in Nepali, more tolerable while practicing my flute, and my family just purchased plane tickets from Chicago to Kathmandu for August 15. Right on.

Political Unrest and Rice Planting

On May 3rd Nepal's Prime Minister, known by his Maoist code-name "Prachanda", fired the Army Chief due to a disagreement about incorporating Maoist Rebel Fighters into the country's national army. The army was engaged in a violent battle with the Maoists for a decade and only recently is the country enjoying peace. However, the next day the Army Chief was reinstated by the President of the country, who actually has power over the military. That day the Prime Minister stepped down. Now the country has no clear leader and since then, busloads of Maoists have been coming from the rural areas of Nepal to demonstrate and protest in the city. I am amazed at the response of the Nepali people. I imagine that in a similar situation in a Western country, there would be some kind of chaos. We like to know who is leading our country. But perhaps people in Nepal are very accustomed to chaos and, prime minister or no prime minister, everyone goes on with business as usual. I asked my friends about this and they said that it happens all the time. The don't have any expectations of political stability.
There is a lot of infighting amongst the political parties, many of whom seem to be very self-interested, while many others are trying to satisfy the very diverse needs of their constituents. Thus far, the protests have been peaceful, but there does not seem to be a clear end in sight. I will keep you updated as I learn more.

I recently took a trip with three Nepali friends to a small mud and stone house in a small, mountain village north of Kathmandu. We had to walk uphill, carrying all our rice, lentils, and potatoes for about five hours to reach the house, which is owned by Guru Dev. This spiritual teacher used to be a wandering holy man who spent 22 years of his life living alone in this hut. Now he runs an ashram and school and he has a large following of devotees in the Kathmandu area. He allows anyone to go and stay in house in order to practice meditation in a peaceful environment, far from the city. It was a difficult experience and it made me realize that I am quite weak and reliant on others for so many of daily needs. I don't think I would survive for long alone up in the mountains. I was very appreciative of my Nepali friends' expertise in cooking on an indoor, open fire. Every meal was a delicious, heaping mound of hot rice, lentils, and curried vegetables. We spent our days collecting firewood, walking down the mountain about 15 minutes to buy buffalo milk from an old woman twice a day, and digging a big hole as a compost pit for the hut. I had some amazing conversations with the villagers in the area and I even visited a school that had received a lot of benefit from Rotary!

Three days ago I had another unexpected vacation from school, so I took a three day bicycle trip to different towns around the Kathmandu valley. I went alone so that I could more easily make friends and interact with local people. This decision turned out to be very fruitful. Everywhere I went I was greeted with smiles and invitations for tea. I saw so many beautiful scenes of mountain and village life and I even spent an afternoon planting rice with women in the small village of Soontan. After a long and bumpy ride down a mountain road that was paved with small jagged boulders, I was so happy to finally see pavement again. I quickly rode past the women, dressed in their bright red traditional clothes, knee deep in mud, quickly but carefully pushing plant after plant into the muddy water. I have long been interested in the cultivation of rice, so I turned my bike around and rode back to ask about the process. Two minutes later my boots were off and I was knee deep in mud, clumsily trying to plant a handful of the small starts. The women thought it was hilarious and they immediately began asking if I was married and if I wanted to marry a Nepali girl. After finishing that field and planting one more in a rainstorm, the women took me back to their home, where they live as a joined family, with all the uncles, aunts, and cousins in the same block of houses. I enjoyed a wonderful dinner with them and I slept in the room of a boy named Kedar. His family is from one of the higher castes in Nepal, and they seem to be having some great success with their agriculture. They own a lot of land and now all of the cousins are studying in good schools and going on to higher education. The family's prosperity will most likely lead to an end of their agricultural practices as they transition into the modern age. We spent about an hour that night trading MP3s of my American songs from my USB drive and in exchange I received several hundred Nepali and Hindi songs! That is not what I expected to find in a small, farming village. I promised that I would definitely be back in four months for the rice harvest.

The next day I rode down into the ancient town of Panauti. The town was full of beautiful Newari architecture and elaborate wooden temples. I found a Saddhu sitting on the steps of one temple and he beckoned for me to come and sit with him. I was surprised to find that he spoke English quite well and I spent the next couple of hours learning about his life as a wandering, ascetic holy-man. He said that he was orphaned in India by his mother, who was presumably a prostitute, and that his whole life has been very difficult because he has no people to call his own. He just wanders around the world, surviving on the charity of people who believe that they ought to give something to these holy men who sleep at the temples. This man really changed my perception of Saddhus and helped me realize that, despite the long dread-locks, big beards, and lack of any attachments of material possessions, they are still humans that suffer from the same fears, desires, and pains as the rest of us. In fact, this particular Saddhu begged me to take him to the U.S. This was a common theme on my trip through the country. I was asked by at least four different people to take them or their family members to my home. I wasn't sure how to respond to such requests, so I mostly kept silent.

During a slow climb through the remote villages between Panauti and Kathmanu, I gained a clearer perspective on the beauty and hardship of living in such a rural area. Although the houses in that area are connected to the electric grid, many of the children must walk along the muddy dirt road for nearly an hour to reach their school. Access to transportation is limited to maybe one or two buses that pass each day, and it would be extremely difficult to get any kind of emergency medical services. After reaching the rim of the Kathmandu valley, I began the adrenaline-ruch of a downhill ride toward the city. The road was muddy and steep and my brakes were in poor condition. I survived the ride and rode into Kathmandu feeling exhausted but gratified.

Classes are wrapping up soon and on Thursday of the coming week I'll be taking a four-day class trip to learn more about Natural Resource Management and Environmental Impact Assessments. My good friend Paul Sparks, who graduated from Manchester College one year before me, will be arriving in the city on June 1st and he will be staying with me for a few days. Around the beginning of July I'm planning to spend about two weeks traveling around India!

That's all for now. Thanks again for reading. I just posted 10 new pictures.