SWAYAMBHUNATH

Yesterday I took the early microbus to Swayambhunath Temple (also called the Monkey Temple on account of the amount of monkeys that frequent this area).  Not knowing my way about I took the western staircase up rather than the steeper but far more atmospheric eastern way.  


Nothing could have prepared me for the sheer scale and majesty of the stupa when I reached the top. 

According to my Lonely Planet book the earliest confirmed mention of the stupa was in AD460, around the same time as Roman rule in England came to an end and the dark ages began.  


The above photo shows just 2 of the four faces of the Buddha that gaze out over the city and Kathmandu Valley.  What looks like a nose is in fact the symbol of unity, the Nepalese number 1 (ek) while above that the third eye symbolises insight.  All around the base of the stupa are butter lamps and prayer wheels with the mantra Om Mani Padme Hum which pilgrims spin as they make their circuits. The amount of carvings everywhere took my breath away.  The detail and sheer beauty is astounding.  I spent ages just gazing up at a set of carvings midway up one of  the houses.  They showed the circle of life, beginning with a boy then going through the ages showing a healthy man striding up a mountain, then an old man struggling up with the aid of a stick and finally men carrying a casket up that same road.  Sadly my little camera just isn't powerful enough for me to capture the detail and beauty.  A lady who owned a nearby stall said that each artist had their own unique style and that the art is dying own now.  She blamed internet and tv for introducing a new influence into the art.  Maybe so but throughout the ages every new style must have been seen as rather avant garde.  

  
I felt as if I couldn't possibly take it all in and just wanted to sit and look and look.


Today was meant to be a day preparing my lessons for the week.  I was told on Thursday that the amount of lessons I give is to be increased so that the older boys can have help with every day English. My days therefore will now be as follows:  9.30 - 10.30 conversational English with these boys, 10.30 - 11.00 Class 1 (I don't feel comfortable that their lesson will be cut short), 1.00 - 2.00 Class 2 then 2 separate 1-to-1 lessons with 2 of the senior boys.  They should each have half an hour reading and practising English but they are both so incredibly interesting and take such enjoyment in their lesson that it often goes well over the allotted time period.  


The rain this morning was torrential but it eased slightly mid morning and Mando told me that conditions were perfect for planting the little rice plants.  We went off to a field near the school where some other women were already working and I was initiated into the mysteries of rice planting.  The little plants were tied into bundles and we had one of these each.  The trick is to wade ankle deep into the flooded field, take each plant one at a time and, holding it between 2nd and middle finger (that's what worked for me anyhow), push it into the mud to anchor its roots.  My lines were rather drunken and disorderly so it was decided that I should do the rows down the side of the field where I could use the banks of mud along the edge as my marker.  That worked but I felt so slow working alongside the others.  And unkempt. And clumsy.  We finished that field then began on another near the house next door to Mando's and at the end I looked as if I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards, sideways, every which way, and the other women still looked fresh and lovely.  Quite unfair! 

So now I know how to plant rice.  I also learned this morning not to walk in the grass in sandals during monsoon season.  This was made clear when I discovered 3 leeches clinging for all they were worth to my foot.  Mando firmly refused my suggestion to sprinkle salt on them and instead carefully removed them for me and gently put them back in the garden.  That really brought home to me the feeling of respect for all living things.  I came here to teach but the knowledge I'm gaining is far more than I could ever impart.  Not just of culture and language but of compassion and caring, laughter and gentleness.  

SOME OF THE DOWNSIDES (AND UPSIDES)

Woke to an ominous, leaden sky and typically I've left my umbrella at the school.  Never mind - I've got my waterproofs so I'll wear my rucksack underneath and arrive there looking like Quasimodo.


Although I've never for a moment regretted coming here the first 2 weeks were fraught with health issues.  Within days of arrival I developed a sinus and chest infection that felt as if it would never end. One of the senior monks tells me that when he first arrived from Tibet he felt exactly the same so we agree that it's probably just the adjustment to a different climate (although the pollution doesn't help).  I managed to badly sprain my knees by overdoing things on my mountain hike but took my mind off that my falling down a flight of stairs and hurting my arm, derriere and pride.  The inevitable squits set in and for days I had cramps and alternated between being feverish and freezing cold.  That didn't last long though thank heavens.  The ultimate finale was when I was returning to the house one evening and a dog, which I know and like but which can be temperamental, went for me and bit me.  My mind went into overdrive trying to remember all the things I was told about animal bites here and I was shaking all over - not because of the bite but because of the fear of disease.  I made it bleed as much as possible and then sprayed liberally with iodine.  I could only go to the medical centre in the morning but they saw me first thing before I went to the school and quickly and efficiently gave me my rabies jab. The only thing the 'doctor' asked was how the dog was.  He said to try and keep an eye on it and make sure it stays healthy.  I know what he meant, that if it showed signs of being unwell it could mean it had rabies so then I'd have to get further help.  Still though I couldn't help seeing the funny side and had the giggles all day every time I thought of it.  Headline "Dog bites woman - dog dies".  Happily both dog and I are still fine.


There are numerous dogs here, some in loving homes but others strays and some with the most terrible mange.  Dog owners generally try to protect their dogs against disease and have them inoculated but Mando showed me her last vet bill and pointed out that the cost of the standard rabies/parvo virus/ lepto inoculation has gone up from Ns500 last year to Nr1300 this year.  How can poor people possibly afford an increase like that?  It's vital, for the sake of both the dogs and the people, to keep up annual inoculations but how if the income is so little?


Rubbish disposal is a problem too.  There is a charge for rubbish removal and as many people as possible pay this and have it disposed of properly.  Some people, however, just can't afford it and every day I see men and women carrying bags or bins down to the field behind the house and just emptying them there.  I can't really blame them because if you have absolutely no disposable income then what do you do?  I read in this week's newspaper though that there are plans to increase the cost of rubbish removal enormously and in proportion to the size of the premises producing the waste.  That means that schools and hospitals will suffer the most and they just can't afford this increased cost.  It's a bit of a catch 22 situation.  Money is needed to get rid of the waste but a lot of people and businesses just can't afford to pay.


PM Bhattarai has flown off to Rio for the summit amidst a storm of protest and a show of black flags not only from the opposition but from his own party which seems set to split.  A lot of international analysts say a split cannot work.  The problem is that the assembly has been dissolved, there is no longer any constitution and a lot of people seem to view him more as a 'caretaker' in power and I think that's where the anger lies - that he has gone to Rio to represent the country.  When I ask who could replace him no one can give me an answer. I really need to try to understand more.


Tomorrow the weekend begins and I'll probably go to Jamal and then wander into Thamel for the day to do some shopping, get a much needed slice of cake and post a letter.  A lot of bookshops have a basket where you can put any letters that need posting and they organise it for you.  Very handy.  A visitor is arriving at the house in a couple of weeks, an elderly Japanese lady who comes to Nepal every year to celebrate her birthday.  She used to be very active in the schools here and I think she rather sees this as a home from home. As she's in her 80s I've offered to let her have my room, which is near the bathroom, and move instead into a room up on the roof which at present is used for storing all the paraphernalia not needed by the household.  I love the idea as it's higher up so has better view and is quite private.  The only downside is that at night there will be no access to the bathroom at all.  Mando and I have been highly amused thinking of solutions to that particular problem!  I'll use Saturday cleaning it up and getting it ready and then I think it'll be quite cosy.  

MY CLASSROOM

My class 1 and class 2 boys in my classroom.  More than half of class 2 attends the first class, voluntarily, as well as their own.  A couple of the cheekier ones managed to get into both photos.

The walk to school.  The road is lined with stalls selling absolutely everything a person could want.  The medical centre is a little stall sandwiched between one selling stationery and another selling sweets and cold drinks.  Inside there is a rickety bench where you sit if you need medical treatment and, although there are no white jackets or stethoscopes, the staff are quick and efficient.  The side road that leads past the temple to Vishnu http://www.vegetarian-restaurants.net/Nepal/Kathmandu-Valley/Budhanilkantha-Temple.htm (see below) is filled with stalls selling marigold garlands and flowers beautifully arranged to be bought as offerings.  It also sells the best street snacks imaginable!  Best bought in the early morning when freshly cooked and hot.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BmWssLWo7J4

Twice a day, early in the morning and as it starts to get dark, people gather here to ring the bells and beat drums.  A bit like the rooftop butter lamp ceremonies I see every morning but on a much larger scale.

TEACHING IN BUDHANILKANTHA

My days have quite easily and naturally set into a routine.  Up at 6 at the latest (the rest of the household wakes at 4 so I'm a bit of a late riser) and up onto the rooftop for my morning pikka cha (black tea). With the prayer flags fluttering above me I drink my tea and watch the clouds rolling in over the mountains, the women lighting butter lamps and incense for the gods, the children playing or helping with jobs before the school day begins and the numerous dogs cavorting and playing in the fields amongst people, chickens and the occasional buffalo.  This morning it seems that a water pipe had burst in one of the fields and the children were having a wonderful time splashing in the stream of water and shrieking with laughter.  Washing facilities are limited and a number of people have to resort to using the tap from that pipe and wash as best they can outdoors.  Everyone is so clean though - I'm constantly conscious of being sticky and damp with perspiration, even immediately after washing, but everyone around me always seems fresh and clean.  


Time to make sure my lessons are ready, have a breakfast of rice and dhal and then, although there's a short cut to the school, I walk there through the market, stopping along the way for fruit (a big papaya maybe or lychees with the branches tied with string) to share with the boys, for a freshly cooked samoosa, piping hot and with pastry as soft and melting as butter (just for me) and for The Himalayan newspaper which I buy to keep myself in touch with the news and for the sports pages so covetted by the boys.  All along the way there are smiles and hands raised in Nameste.


When I first began teaching here I could be certain of having half an hour or so in my 'office'  to lay out my lessons ready for the day and just mentally prepare myself.  Now that's no longer possible as the moment I sit down there's a delegation of boys waiting to be invited in to present me with pictures and generally chill out.  I try to use that time with the littlest ones to play with my flashcards and go over words we've learned. I'm constantly overwhelmed by how genuinely happy the boys are and how eager to learn.  The school has so few resources!  For 80 boys there's no bathroom but just one outside tap which they use for their ablutions and laundry (yes they all, even the littlest ones, wash their own clothes and bedding).  There are just 2 squat toilets between then and 4 members of staff (self included) and they don't have beds (although there's a rumour that some may arrive next month).  For all that though there's not a single discontented child here and I think the only thing they would really like most of all would be an area large enough to play football.  


My classroom is a third of one long room which has been divided almost all the way across with pieces of hardboard so a passage way runs down the front.  I have a cracked whiteboard and a desk and apart from that the room is bare.  The posters I bought with me have been put up though and that makes it all quite cheerful.  I start each lesson with 'Simon Says' which is useful for prepositions, direction, colour, all sorts of things and I've swung away from the formal 'sit and listen' approach and have gradually brought in board race games, gap fills etc which are a great success.  The boys were shy about participating at first but are now far more enthusiastic and are desperate to be called up to write on the board even when they don't know the answer.  I can't stop comparing this with the complacency towards learning that a lot of Western children have.  As it's a boarding school and none of the staff stay overnight I asked one of the senior boys how control is kept.  He said that the boys don't need prompting to do the jobs that need to be done.  They get up just after 4 every day of the week for prayer, chanting and meditation and at the weekend (Friday and Saturday) it's up to them whether they play first or clean their rooms and do their laundry first.  Whatever they choose it gets done.  There are no school holidays - most are orphans so where would they go?  Those 2 days a week are all they have.  He told me that so long as they're not playing in such a way that they could get hurt then they're left to have fun.  Yes, but what about the times when they're sick or hurt or have nightmares?  As a mother my heart aches for them.


When I go home in the afternoon I often go down the alleyway that passes behind the school and from the rooftop, from windows, from the corridors and the playing area come shouts of "goodbye miss".  When I look back robed figures are waving me farewell.

ARRIVING IN NEPAL AND ROOFTOP OF MANDO'S HOUSE

The perfect way to start a morning is standing on the rooftop, prayer flags flying, watching the clouds blanketing the mountains and, sometimes, an eagle lazily circling.

There's been a long-running battle between the camera package I installed and Blogger but I think I've finally won!  No time to download any more now as I've dashed home during my lunch break but I'll put some more on my blog soon.  Probably not tonight as I'm off, straight after school, to a local stable (wonderfully called Wind Horse Stables) to see about buying a leading rein for Mando's dog Sheru.  We're at our wits' end thinking of ways to secure him - so far he's broken THREE strong chains since I've been here!  Not a big dog but feisty and very strong!

THAMEL

I decided that the best way to celebrate the weekend and treat my dehydration and mild heatstroke brought on by yesterday's hike would be to overnight in the city centre on Friday night and treat myself to a blowout high protein meal.  As usual I got the microbus to drop me off in the Jamal area which is the old part of the city and my favourite.  Although I was heading for Thamel I love the walk through the narrow little streets where everything still feels authentic.  Thamel is wonderful in its own way and has beautiful handicrafts and better bookshops than I've seen in the UK but it's very touristy and 'spot the whitey' is not a game I particularly enjoy playing.  Went from hotel to hotel looking for a good deal and finally chose one, for more than I'd budgeted (ended up costing £7p.n!.), on the basis of a quiet bedroom overlooking the garden, a soft pillow on the bed, en-suite bathroom (with loo roll!!!!) and hot and cold running staff all happy to keep me supplied with Fanta and beer.  On another occasion I will go to an authentic Nepali restaurant but my craving, like a starving lioness, was for meat so I chose a place called New Orleons Cafe which was really delightful.  Candlelit tables, blues playing (though competing with the acid house (??) from the stall across the street) and a superb menu which covered everything from local food to items like chicken in rosemary and fish with butter sauce.  Perfect.  I deliberated between steak (what cut I don't know) for Nr470 (£3.80) and fillet for Nr475 and opted for the fillet.  It arrived sizzling on a cast iron dish, two big pieces (buffalo seem to have larger fillets than cows do) and with masses of veg and potatoes.  Those I swept to one side and concentrated on making an absolute animal of myself with the fillets.  All slightly spoiled by periodic tummy cramps (inevitable in this part of the world at some time or other) but nothing was standing in my way.  God how I enjoyed that meal!  A nightcap afterwards then back to the hotel for a beer in the garden and the joy of knowing that I wouldn't be woken up at 4 in the morning by praying and chanting (mine is a very religious household and rises very early, weekend or no).  I didn't actually surface until nearly 10 o'clock and felt completely decadent.  My tummy was decidedly unhappy so I trawled up to a little place I found that caters for tourists and bought some plain marie biscuits and a tiny jar of honey for when I got home, and also some ginger tea.  You can get imported tea in bog standard cardboard boxes but local tea is something special.  It comes either in a little embroidered pouch with a tassled zipper or in a beautifully decorated cardboard box. All for 80p! I don't much like ginger tea but presentation like that makes it pleasurable.


I don't really know what's happening with the political situation at the moment.  There never seems time to stop and read a newspaper.  There are still protests in the city though (nothing new for Kathmandu) and trucks full of riot police are constantly flying by.  I saw a number or them around the city, bunched together with their shields ready, but couldn't see why as there wasn't any obvious trouble.  


Back to school today and the boys seemed happy to see me back.  As soon as I get into my 'office' there are some waiting by the door to bring me pictures they've drawn.  My wall is plastered with them (pictures that is, not boys).  My first class, the baby class, is only supposed to comprise 8 boys but Tenzin told the class 2 boys that any who want to catch up with work can attend this one as well so the numbers generally hover around 15.  That's so gratifying but it does make it difficult to give more attention to the couple who really need it.  I've asked to have extra lessons with one in particular and that was granted but Tenzin felt that just 1 lesson would be enough.  It really isn't and I don't want this little lad falling behind.  When the more advanced boys have finished the exercises I give them they don't disrupt the class but instead move in to help any children who are struggling.  It warms my heart, really, but again it makes it difficult to see how much work a child has done of their own volition and how much was prompted.  I've bought them all their own exercise book which must be handed in at the end of each lesson and this at least lets me monitor progress a little more easily.  Before it was a matter of writing on scraps of paper, or in books for other lessons (generally buddhist philosophy) and I just couldn't keep track of things. Now at least I can correct and mark work.  I could do with advice really - I have no training, I've never done anything like this in my life, Tenzin leaves me totally to my own devices and the faith everyone has in me terrifies me!

SHIVAPURI

Since I was a child I've always longed to see what's around the next bend, over the next mountain.  Growing up in a (then) undeveloped part of South Africa gave me every opportunity to explore, climb, satisfy my curiosity but that feeling has never left me.  Last Friday was a special day in the Buddhist calender so I only had my morning class and then the boys had to spend the day praying and chanting.  I left the school with my bag of books and was going to go home but thought I'd just walk to the end of town where the road winds up to the highest mountain.  From there of course every bend called to be explored so on and on I went until I was looking down on the golden roof of the gompa (monastery) that I see up on the mountainside from my bedroom window.  It was SO hot and I hardly had any water but I just had to keep going and eventually found myself at the gate of the Shivapuri National Park http://www.lonelyplanet.com/nepal/around-the-kathmandu-valley/shivapuri-national-park. .  Obviously I couldn't go just that far and no further so I paid my entrance fee and went in.  After following a road that led up the mountain I branched off onto a path that led up - and up - and up ...  Only stubborn determination  kept me going as it was hot, I was thirsty and my knees towards the last part were in agony.  Somehow I made it to the top of Shivapuri Peak, hoping for that glimpse of the Himalayas that you can sometimes see on a clear day.  Alas the day was not clear.  It was incredible though - the lush smell of vegetation, the incredible amount of birds and butterflies, the monkeys crashing through the treetops overhead.  Even though I never did see my view it was worth it.

Back down again, knees protesting at every step but I thought never mind, there were microbuses at the gates when I arrived so I'd just get one of those back to town.  True, but not at 7pm which is when I got back to the gate.  A long slow limp all the way home where Mandu was waiting for me with sympathy and a large cup of pikka cha (black tea).  Mild heatstroke, very sore legs afterwards but I'm so glad I went.  Apparently these mountains were once completely bare and it was the former king who decreed that trees should be planted and the forest created.  Sadly the amount of people flooding here from the countryside means that the population is pushing further and further into the forest and I can't see this government (what there is of it) doing much to stop it.  

A Little Retail Therapy

On Thursday I was chatting to the only other female staff member, a very lovely young Indian woman, Dinaar, about how I wanted to buy more local clothing but wasn't sure of the best places to go.  She suggested she take me into Kathmandu proper after school to show me her favourite clothes shop.  I hadn't been into the city centre yet and so was thrilled at the idea.  As soon as school finished we dashed off and caught the microcab (Toyota Hilux seems to be the vehicle of choice here) and off we went.  She was right about the shop - I could've bought every outfit there!  In the end I settled for a blue tunic with fawn embroidery and fawn trousers to match.  I was measured so it could be tailored to fit me and she said she'll pick it up on her way to the school tomorrow.  They wanted to show me Durbah Square so off we went down the little side streets and on the way I saw another shop with a bargain rail of tunics for just 3 pounds each, so I got one in red with gold and green trim.  I have actually tried wearing jeans but they didn't even get as far as the front door before I went back and changed - local dress is so much more comfortable and feels so good on.


The Square was breathtaking.  I do have photos and will hopefully be uploading them soon but for now will have to just describe. Temples, colour, incense, carvings so intricate and perfect they look machine made...  All over Kathmandu I see these - buildings in states of disrepair, poverty, and then these beautiful carvings.  Incongruous but somehow fitting.  Anyhow, we spent a good hour at the square and then I had to get back so they showed me where to wait for the microcab back.  Only then did I realise how spoiled we were on the journey in.  Then, we had a seat and we were comfortable.  Going back was standing room only and every time I thought it was full to capacity it would stop and more people would cram in.  I tried doing a head count and got to 35 but couldn't see how many more were at the very front. I was at the side towards the back and couldn't stand upright so did the half hour journey bent like a sweaty banana. Home was a welcome sight!


Yesterday being the first day of the weekend I decided to go back into the city to explore properly.  All would have been well except I made the mistake of asking the lady next to me, who had limited English, where I should get off and she told me the wrong stop.  I should have trusted instinct.  Instead I walked, and walked, and walked and eventually got to Durbah Square but more by luck than judgement.  On the way I actually passed a KFC (!!!) and, if it hadn't been so early and if they had been serving, I would have been seen scuttling off down the nearest alley, clutching my bargain bucket and giggling happily to myself.  As it was I had to make to with looking at the pictures.  The Square was more crowded, being the weekend, and every time I stopped moving I had someone or other wanting to be my guide, sell me a mandala etc.  In the end I left. It was the day the Living God was to be displayed (more about that later) and I had no desire to look at a little girl who will spend the rest of her time until puberty locked away behind screens.  I had always thought that the beginning of mensturation was the sign of her mortality and so her return to 'normal' life but I have been told that if she shows blood at all, eg if she falls and cuts herself, then that will have the same impact.  Reminded me of the film 'The Man who would be King'.


From there I followed my feet and just walked.  I had planned to go to Thamel but wasn't following a map and was surprised and delighted when I found myself there.  I treated myself to a 2 course lunch with hot chocolate (2 pounds) and then set off to find the infamous Rum Doodles.  Apparently the location has changed but from the moment you walk in every inch of all space is covered by cardboard cut out feet, each with anecdotes and the names of people who have been there.  The place covers three floors with a roof terrace too so that's a lot of feet!  The waiter told me that when they moved they brought all the feet from the last location with them so I know that's at least 30 years of feet.  I looked for my friend's but it was a bit of a needle/haystack business.


I returned to my bargain rail shop and bought 2 more tunics so now I'm set up for school.  Washing is done in a tub on the roof and I try to do mine every morning before I leave but it's still nice to have changes of clothing.  Oh yes, another rooftop custom - every morning the first thing every woman of the house does is to go up on the roof and ring a bell, then light incense and sometimes light butter lamps for the gods.  Its a way of giving praise for the new day.


The rains are so late this year!  From the school roof I can see the rice plants ready to be planted out but the paddy fields, which should be pools of water by now, are cracked and parched.  Poor farmers!  Every evening huge black clouds gather over the mountains but, apart from a couple of occasions, nothing comes of it.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kumari_(children)

The Weekend is Here!

So ends my first week of teaching.  All in all it's been fun but a bit nervewracking at times.  I feel like a fraud!  I've never done this in my life but Tenzin says I'm teaching in ways no one else has.  Well I suppose I could take that more than one way.  At the ends of every day I sit down with my coursebook and review the following day's lesson and try to work out ways of making up worksheets to give the children a more 'hands-on' way of using the vocabulary they're learning.  They so appreciate everything!  Once when there wasn't electricity I hand wrote sets of sentences, then cut them out so the children could put them in order.  As I couldn't photocopy I had to write multiples of these so the children could work in pairs.  The paper was crappy, my writing probably wasn't great but they enjoyed the exercise and at the end carefully gathered up all the pieces and put them safely on my desk.  No scrumpling up and throwing away!  One favourite game my baby class enjoys is when I draw pictures and write the wrong words next to each.  They go crazy wanting to come up and correct it and I plead blind ignorance and pretend I cant see what the problem is.  It's so hard choosing who gets to come up The littlest ones are generally the most adamant about being chosen and I have to let them stand on my chair so they can reach the whiteboard (which is very old and terribly cracked).  Sometimes in their enthusiasm they forget they don't actually know the answer and don't know which picture should be linked with which word and then I let the other children encourage them.  Learning names is quite hard but coming to me gradually. On my first day I took group photos of both classes and a woman who has a photo kiosk in the market blew them up to A4 size for me.  Result - the boys take great delight in having a proper class photo up on the wall and I've written the name of each boy on his picture so I can remember which is which.  I suppose its natural that those I remember are for a reason - either because they're cheeky, particularly kind, in need of extra help etc.  The quiet ones who get on with they're work are those whose names I'm battling with.


Manju summed up life here a few mornings ago.  She said "When Sheru (family dog) sees you he is happy happy.  When children sees you they are happy happy".  Her way I think of saying what better way to start each day.

First post from Budhanilkantha, Kathmandu

Today is the most auspicious day in the Buddhist school so is, Tenzin tells me, a very lucky day on which to begin teaching.  From lunch time onwards was to be a time of prayer and then free time for the children as I only ended up teaching Class 1.  The lessons are 90 minutes long, which I feel is far too long considering the limited concentration span of young children.  I mustn't forget though that these are children who get up at 4.30 EVERY day of the week to pray and meditate before breakfast.  On school days they then have lessons until 4 but then have further prayer time in the evening.  They don't go to school on Friday or Saturday but most of Friday is taken up with cleaning their rooms and washing their clothes.  I had such butterflies in my tummy while I stood waiting for my class to arrive.  When they did I went through my warmer exercise, took their names and then, to my horror, found I'd been given the wrong course book for their level so all my lesson planning was for nothing.  Horrors!!! A 90 minute lesson and nothing prepared!  As they are the youngest class I just ended up going through the alphabet to try to ascertain what they know.  I made a game out of getting them to think of words for each letter of the alphabet by throwing a ball to them in turn and the catcher would have to think of a word.  I knew that would be one of the best things I bought!  At the end of the lesson I went back to the letter "b" and got them to guess balloon, then gave them each one of the balloons Janet gave me to bring across.  For hours after the sound of bursting balloons could be heard around the school.l

I should really have begun by describing the journey, the arriving, my first impressions - to be honest my senses are still so completely overloaded I don't know where to begin!  The protest peaked and was under control just before I arrived.  Tenzin insists that this is yet another auspicious sign for me!  He was waiting at the airport with a driver which was wonderful as, although I would have loved to have seen Dharamsala, the thought of carrying over 40kg of luggage (!!! I know!  I barely got charged for it though - lovely guys at the airport) was more than I could bear.  He settled me in the house where I'm staying which belongs to Manju, a cousin of Rinpoche.  We talked about the school and then he said that obviously I was tired so he would only come for me at 9 the following morning!  I could have wept but next day there he was on his motorbike dead on time and, although I'd hardly slept the night before (or the night before that) I was really excited.  I spent the first day being introduced to the other teachers and to as many children as possible and discussing the curriculum with Tenzin.  He's actually very impressed with the books I've brought with me.  

Manju's house is in a rather well-to-do area.  It's 3 stories high and she rents out the ground floor of it.  My room is on the 2nd floor which I share with her elderly father and stepmum (my new Nepali teacher).  Manju has her room on the 3rd floor which is where the kitchen and dining area is.  That floor has a balcony area and stairs leading up to the roof where the prayer flags are strung.  That is my favourite spot of all and to stand there in the evening with the mountains sweeping up around me and houses and temples dotted on the hillside, prayer flags waving everywhere, is as close to heaven as you can imagine.

Just as an aside, somehow I've messed up my background colour settings.  I'm too tired to figure it out tonight so it'll have to just stay looking like this until tomorrow.  Off home for my yummy Dhal Bhat now.


(Just to confuse matters further I lost heart yesterday which is actually when this blog was written.  I left it unposted but thought today that better to submit a post with rubbish settings a day late than write nothing at all.  I must mark homework so have run out of time to do more tonight)

Away!

My first experiences of travelling seemed so easy in retrospect.  Backpack, clothing that ranged from sensible to flirty, makeup and any little incidentals I felt might make life more comfortable.  Nowadays the amount of techno gadgets we carry with us mean that going anywhere for any long period of time is more like travelling with a bevy of demanding, annoying toddlers. My middle of the night OMG moment was when I remembered I hadn't charged the spare laptop battery and I know I wont even have reached Kathmandu before my mobile starts insisting it's running low and is hungry and needs charging.  Add to that the baby bag of chargers, surge protector, card reader, USB cable etc - actually children are much easier travelling companions!  I discovered last night that Facebook isn't a fan of Blogger and has removed my link.  On googling why it appears that I need to type in a captcha code first to reassure them that I am an actual person and not just posting spam.   Very annoying to say the least!  I  think the easiest solution would be to change from Blogger to Travelpod but that may have to wait until I arrive.


I haven't heard further from Tenzin so will only know when I reach Kathmandu what the situation is.   I'm going to take it all as it comes.  If everything has calmed down and I can get straight to the school then that will be wonderful but if not and I have to organise getting to Dharamsala then that'll be an adventure in itself.  I'm just going to take it all in my stride - maktub.