Once again, I’ve avoided writing an update because I
wasn’t sure I had much to write about. My life since returning from the field
has felt very…normal…for lack of a better word. Not that I haven’t done
exciting things (I’ll get to that later), but my day to day life consists of waking
up at the crack of dawn, walking to work, arriving at the office (sweaty),
working (sweaty), going out to lunch (still sweaty), going to yoga (more
sweaty), coming home (blissfully cool), sleeping (not sweaty!), and starting
all over again. As you may have gathered, it’s still hot here and I have pretty
much given up trying to look good (as in, not a sweaty frizzball) beyond the
first five minutes after I shower. I have adopted a very laissez faire approach
to dressing, and, although Kathmandu is a city with lots of stores, none of the
stores seem to have clothing that is 1) made well or 2) made to fit a body type
other than a tiny Nepali woman. I’m planning to get some traditional Nepali clothes
made, because they are more flattering than the shapeless stuff I brought from
home, but I’ve otherwise given up hope of finding good quality western clothing
here that is comfortable in the heat.
So this may seem like a mundane topic, and it is, but it
kind of represents the low level of day to day excitement or challenge that I
encounter here. Embracing yoga as a way to accept this slower pace has been
great, but I still crave danger and excitement, and now that I am settled in to
my new home, I have started seeking out more adventuresome activities.
So on to the exciting stuff. You’re probably wondering why
the title of this blog starts with “hash.” While I haven’t embraced the
stereotypical trekker’s recreational activity you may think I’m referring to, I
have found an activity with the same name that, to me, is equally effective at
maximizing my happiness. A couple weeks ago my roommates and I heard about a
group called the Himalayan Hash House Harriers, a subgroup of an apparently
global group of people who meet up on weekends and go running. While I’m not
sure what the Hash is like in other countries, in Nepal it is a fantastic way
to get outside the crowded, smoggy city and into the nearby hills, to meet a
hilarious and friendly mixed bag of expats and Nepalis who share a common
passion for exercise, the outdoors, food, and beer; and who also all may be a
wee bit crazy and find some thrill in extreme running. Joining this running
club has given me a way to get my “outdoors” fix as well as expand my social
circle. (I’m learning that the expat community in Kathmandu is very small, and
after meeting someone once, it is virtually impossible not to meet them again
the next day or week.) At the Hash, I’ve met people from a variety of ages,
nationalities, and abilities. Although the run is typically at least 10 kilometers
over more hills than I’ve ever tackled in one run, I’m learning that the goal
of the run is not to train for a marathon or compete, but to be outside and
meet new people in a beautiful setting. So while I say I’ve been “running,” I’ve
actually been doing a fair bit of walking up giant hills.
While all of the runs so far have been beautiful, a couple
have been exceptional. Two weeks ago, we got lost on the way to the meeting
site and were standing on the side of a dirt road trying to explain to our cab
driver why we didn’t know where we were going, and a Nepali guy and his friend
drove by, saw our running attire and obviously non-local skin tone, and asked
us if we were going to the Hash. Although we had already given up hope of finding the meeting spot in time to join, he invited us
to ride the rest of the way with him and make our own, smaller running group
and catch up to the main group. Not wanting to return to Kathmandu and sit in a
boring coffee shop writing blog posts, we agreed to try it.
The way the Hash
works, someone sets a trail beforehand and marks it with bits of paper, so we
figured we could find our own way. Without our Nepali friend as guide and
translator, however, we probably would have been lost somewhere in a village or hillside. With his help though, we weaved through
the hills and villages, slowly ascending from rice paddies, to jungle, to
pine-crested peaks. At one point, we turned a corner and found ourselves at a
long, narrow suspension bridge swaying over a deep river gorge. The bridge
bounced as we tried to run across, and the view was so breathtaking that we had
to stop in the middle, let out gleeful screams, and drink in the pure mountain
air. What had started as a stressful day and a near-botched attempt to run had
turned into one of the most beautiful and memorable moments of my experience in
this country so far. At that moment, I realized that, to truly enjoy these six
months and avoid slipping into complacency and false security in my expat
bubble, I have to take chances and overcome my fear of uncertainty. This
weekend’s run, while not as breathtaking, was similarly exhilarating and
involved hopping on rocks down a riverbed, running through leech-infested
forest, climbing an even higher pine-crested hill, and finishing the run in the
pouring rain. Traversing the top of a ridge in a monsoon downpour, with my
shoes squelching, dirt-red water dripping into my eyes, and thunder rumbling in
the distance, I experienced some moments of fear, but more importantly, some moments
of pure joy. When I returned to the starting point to a welcome circle of
equally drenched runners and walkers, a cooler of beer, and delicious snacks, I
started to ……SHIVER!!!!! I was so excited to actually feel cold – people kept
telling me I looked cold and offering their raincoats, but I just kept saying, “No,
I’m great. I’m a cold weather person. This is the best I’ve felt in a month.” The
combination of beautiful scenery, challenging conditions, friendly people, and
cool weather was just what I needed to feel perfectly content to be where I am.
Now, just to assure you, mom and dad, that I do not
purposefully seek out dangerous conditions (most of the time) or to make you
worry about me more while I am here than you already are, I’d like to point out that the people who
set the trail are familiar with the territory and they’ve been doing this for
decades. There is some element of danger in many of the things that I do here,
but that is a part of life. I would not be here if there was not some part of
me that enjoyed challenging and sometimes dangerous situations. Fear is
relative here. I cross a busy street every morning where there are no
stoplights or crossing signals, but I’ve stopped being afraid because I’ve
learned that there are much more scary roads to cross where the cars drive
faster and the pedestrians are fewer. Riding in a taxi used to seem scary
because there don’t seem to be many road rules. But everyone who drives here
recognizes that and is well practiced in weaving between cars and being
assertive without being idiots. In the United States, we have laws that govern
virtually every aspect of life. Here, the rules are not so pervasive, or at
least not enforced, but the society has nevertheless found a system that works.
While there are many things that could benefit from stricter laws or more
oversight, people find a way to make things work. Learning how to exist and
flourish in this society and to overcome my fear just enough to experience wonderful things is possibly
one of the most important things I will learn here. Already I’ve stopped
longing for the order and cleanliness of home and started to adjust my view of
the city and its people.
To continue adventuring and explore more, I am hoping to
take a weekend trip or two and go on some longer hiking trips. Because it’s
monsoon season, it’s tricky finding a safeish place to go, and the views of the
snowy Himalayas are obscured by the clouds right now, but I keep reminding
myself that even though I can’t see The Mountains right now, the views are
still beautiful and there are still glorious experiences to be had (for a
cheaper rate, too, since many tourists stay away during monsoon because of the
rain and leeches). Hopefully the next post will include some of these
experiences.
Also, I feel like I should mention that I haven’t ONLY been
working and going to Hash – I’ve also walked through the city to visit the
Monkey Temple, an impressive Hindu/Buddhist temple on the west side of the city
with a million steps to the top and more breathtaking views of the valley. Last
weekend I also went to Bhaktapur, a city about 10 miles from Kathmandu with its
own well-kept ancient city center full of beautiful architecture, temples, old
palaces, and narrow, winding streets. I’ve enjoyed these activities and
visiting these places, but they are definitely touristy things that sometimes
are more enjoyable for their photo-snapping value than for the actual
experience of visiting them. Because they are tourist attractions, there is
usually an entrance fee (at least twice as much for foreigners as for Nepalis),
which can be frustrating when they are literally just areas of a city that,
when you live here, you just want to walk through to get from point A to point
B. But as a “rich” foreigner, I will shut my mouth and do my part to support
Nepal’s tourism industry. There are a number of cool places like this in the
valley that I plan to visit on weekends, and will post pictures on Facebook of
those places.
