Tsivia's Notes From Nepal

Traditional daal bhaat.
Photo Courtesy of Tsivia Chonoles

Two weeks in, and here is a short list of things that have become almost second nature: eating with my right hand and no utensils (unless I am at school and eating in the canteen); showering at night after a very sunny day, since the hot water relies on solar-power; wearing socks to bed (the days might be warm and sunny but the nights are most definitely not, and most buildings do not have central heating); answering to “teacher” at school and didi, older sister, at my homestay.

    As I sit writing this, it is a little after seven-thirty in the morning on Saturday, February 4, (which I believe means it is around nine in the evening on Friday back home) and I am listening to the village waking up. After two weeks, my days seem to be settling in to a pattern.

    The village starts to wake up between five-thirty and six every morning, when the temple bells are first rung. This is followed by the sound of early morning traffic horns honking; in Nepal horns honking is just another way of communicating. I usually stay in my blanket burrito until sometime between seven and eight, when the sun is usually up and I can go outside after getting dressed to warm my toes and fingers. Rik, my homestay sister, eats her daal bhaat – soupy lentils poured over a heap of rice (aamaa, mother, Rina usually makes alu, potatoes, with every meal as well) – while I drink my morning tea. She takes the bus to school in Bhaktapur proper, and the bus leaves at a quarter to nine. After she leaves, I eat my own daal bhaat and alu while aamaa Rina feeds Rit, my five-year-old homestay brother. Once he has finished, she takes him to get ready for school.

    I walk with Rit to school, since he attends kindergarten at Nabin English School where I am teaching. My bag goes in the staff room, where the rest of the teachers are signing in and collecting their books and pencil containers for the day. I stand outside with them in the sunshine and listen to them talk in Nepali, even though I still cannot understand them. They talk to me in

    English sometimes, usually Amita, who teaches English, and Babi, who teaches Grammar and Social Studies. I’ve never been very good with names, so I am still learning the others’. Tiffin, lunch, occurs between one and two in the afternoon; my first week, when I was following Amita’s schedule, I would eat lunch with her and the other juniors’ teachers and they would share their food with me – usually popcorn, soybeans, fruit, and sometimes sweets. This past week, I have been eating in the canteen, which costs between 20 and 30 rupees a day depending on what I eat – converted, that means I’m paying about $0.20 to $0.30 USD for a small meal. Meat is very expensive, I’m told, so both at the school and at my homestay, everything is made with vegetables.

    After classes are done for the day, I walk home. Sometimes, I’ll take a walk down to the road that would lead me to the Medieval city of Bhaktapur, but I haven’t been too adventurous yet, as I’m still struggling with the language. I can ask one question (tapailai kasto cha?, how are you?), but the problem with asking questions is that people tend to answer with things I don’t yet understand. So, thus far, when people have tried to speak to me in Nepali I apologize and tell them maile bujina, I don’t understand. I told my homestay sister – only half-joking – that I should probably try to find a children’s Nepali book of letters to help me learn.

    Most nights I try to help aamaa with dinner, chopping vegetables or helping to roll out the roti, flat bread that is almost like a mix between pita and naan, when we aren’t eating rice. We eat early, around seven or seven-thirty, and after Rik and Rit go off to bed, I shower or get ready for bed myself. As important as the family is in Nepali life and culture, there are no family meals. Aamaa does not sit and eat with us; she feeds Rit while Rik and I eat, and then once we are all finished, she calls Rishi, her husband, to eat his dinner. Twice so far, she has eaten with me and Rik.

    Although I haven’t been adventuring much on my own, last Saturday, January 28, Anish took me to the Medieval city of Bhaktapur to show me around a little and get me set up with a permanent visitor’s pass so I won’t have to pay the $15.00 USD entry fee every time I may want to visit on my own. The Bhaktapur, Kathmandu, and Patan Durbar squares were some of the historical sites that were damaged badly by the earthquake, so there is still a lot of repair work happening in Bhaktapur.

    Nepalis usually work and have school on Sundays, but January 29 was a holiday – Martyr’s Day – and I have been told that I do not have to teach on Sundays. Last Sunday though, many women got dressed up in their red Saris and congregated outside to take the bus to Kathmandu. Aamaa was among them, taking Rit with her on a visit to her parents, who live in the city. Wednesday, February 1 was another holiday, celebrating the goddess of education. So Rit went to school for an hour to pray and then came home, where he and Rik put tika on their schoolbooks.

    So far, here in Nepal, I am finding a blend of customs and traditions that contribute to a rich culture and history. Modernization is happening, slowly, and I hope that as it does, it does not change the things that makes the Nepali culture so unique. In the next few weeks, I will, I hope, have a chance to explore more and improve my language skills. As always, you can follow my adventures or hit me up with questions/comments on Twitter (@GetScaredLater) or Instagram (@Get_Scared_Later).