Lovin On Lebanon!

For the past week, we've been trying to figure out what we should write on this blog about our incredible vacation in Lebanon. It was one of those experiences that is difficult to put into words...so we're not going to try. Instead, here's a link to many, many pictures that will give you an idea of how amazing our vacation was.

Lebanon

Road Trip To Raamechhap! (09.18-20.09)

Disclaimer: I got a bit long-winded, so feel free to read this post in bite-sized portions if necessary. But, in my humble opinion, it will be worth your time. Plus there are great pictures to keep you entertained.

We (Amos, myself, Jim & Mavis from MCC Akron, Bal Krishna--one of our MCC partners--& his wife Shanti, our interpreter Sunita, and Petra, from a German INGO) left this morning for Raamechhap district in Eastern Nepal to visit one of MCC's partners for the weekend. I just came along for "fun"...mostly to get out of the noise of Kathmandu.

We were under the impression that it would be a 6-hour drive. So, confident in our rugged 4WD jeep and capable driver, we began our journey. At the first major intersection, the driver asked Bal Krishna if he should go left of right (something even Amos knew). OK, so maybe he is a new driver. But we still have that 4WD!

After emerging from the choking pollution and chaos of Kathmandu, the road grew windier and the buildings fewer; the terraced hills and dales lush and green, rivers rushing below us. We wound up and around the tree-lined hills, reaching a peak of about 6,500 feet, where we stopped for lunch after 4.5 hours on the road. The air was clean and cool (and a bit thin for my altitude-sensitive self). We ate at a rustic hole-in-the-wall (literally) and got back on the long and winding road again.

We made a gradual descent into the valleys, giving way to occasional exhaust-spewing trucks and buses (somehow you can't fully escape them no matter how far into the sticks you go), squeezing around precarious corners. Small waterfalls gushed through the trees and onto the road. A family of monkeys scampered across our path.

We took a snack break about 6.5 hours into the trip. As I munched away on my gargantuan cucumber, happily thinking we'd be there any time now (and calculating how much longer I could go without a toilet), Amos asked Bal Krishna how much longer it would be. When I heard him say, "3 hours...at the most," I immediately had to decide whether to choke on my food or spit it out in shock. Apparently that 6 hour estimate was, um, flexible. (And so was the 3 hour estimate.)

Back to the trusty jeep: we piled in, rather grumpy and wrinkled, sweaty and full-bladdered (I hope I'm not just speaking for myself here.) Here, the pavement ended and the real adventure began. For the next 4 hours (yes, FOUR), we bumped and crashed over a "road" that mostly consisted of skull-sized rocks jutting vertically out of dirt and mud, the occasional stream and/or pond, and ruts so deep I could bury myself in one. At one hopelessly sludgey place, we encouraged our slightly nervous driver to just put it in 4WD and ram through it. This is when we were told that there was no 4WD. Oops. Thankfully, a larger vehicle went ahead and cleared the way for us (and also mentioned that our tire was damaged as he drove by).

Minutes later, we were encouraged to see bright yellow construction vehicles ahead in the distance, a sign that someone was doing something about this "road"...but it wasn't until they scooped up massive piles of earth and rocks (no doubt undoing work they'd just done), swinging it dangerously close to our windshield, that we could pass by. How kind! Our obstacles from here on out were smaller, but many: hogs, goat herds (and stick-wielding herders), semi-naked children (who also tried to latch onto the back of our jeep), dogs, unafraid birds, roosters, cows, bucking water buffalo, cows, and of course oncoming vehicles on a road barely wide enough for one. It seemed, in fact, better suited for pack animals. I found myself dreaming of a ride on a sure-footed donkey (which we also encountered later on the road), rather than the whiplashing jeep ride (complete with a slam to my thigh with the gearshift every time the driver changed gears). Meanwhile, my bladder capacity was in great danger.

We passed by beautiful, rough houses made of mud, brick, wood and stone, mustachioed with bunches of field corn drying under the eaves. Laboring men, women, and children of all ages struggled past with impossible loads of stone, branches, firewood, bricks. The terraces surrounded us, a world of greenery on every side. Distant village homes dotted the hillsides on precarious ledges. If I forgot myself and my discomfort for long enough, this surreal and ancient landscape captivated and transported me. And seeing women my age sweating through their daily chores sobered me. "Why not me?" I thought. I could've been born here, inheriting this life of labor.

And as day grew into night (and the driver still hadn't turned his lights on, causing much angst in my already troubled heart), we finally, FINALLY pulled into the little village of Mithili, our destination. A nameless (and perhaps the only) hotel welcomed us with its climbing bouganvilla and modest mint green rooms, complete with the unexpected luxuries of a ceiling fan and TV! (Too bad the only channel in English was ESPN...although Amos was pretty excited about this.) We capped off the night with daal bhaat (traditional Nepali meal of lentils, rice, and curried vegetables), and slept like dead (wo)men.

Saturday morning began with crowing roosters, bleating goats, and a laughing yoga session being led on a nearby hill (if you don't know what this is, just use your imagination). In spite of all the headaches, this is unarguably a place of beauty and serenity, where time stands still.

From 7:30-9:30 AM, we attended a special program the school had arranged for the Desain Festival (the Nepali equivalent of Christmas). What a treat! (Insert sarcasm here.) Garlands of flowers were put around our necks and bouquets of flowers put in our hands by some of the young girls (decked out head-to-toe with fancy dresses and stage make up) who performed a variety of dances for us--in between all the monotonous, redundant speeches and introductions. The dances started out as lovely and traditional, but hit a low point when one pre-pubescent girl, dressed in what could have been an ice-skater's costume, busted out some hesitant moves to a Nepali pop song. Oh, how I cringed. This was followed by a speech (given by Jim Olsen, the only one brave enough to offfer a few words on behalf of MCC). It became apparent, however, that our interpreter had disappeared. After a few throat-clearing moments of awkwardness, she returned, a bit frazzled, and did her best to translate "MCC" & "Global Family Program", of which she knew nothing about. (Poor girl, it was also her first time translating.) It was clearly painful for all involved. Meanwhile, a few respected guests--government officials, police officers, etc. avidly read their morning papers while the program dragged on and ON. Trying to wrap it up, the emcee of the program announced "the last item of the program...", followed by "and now, one more item..." and yet another "last dance",  which was, of course, followed by another item. We squirmed, sweaty legs sticking to our plastic chairs, dying flowers irritating our necks. Not to be outdone by the girls (and to truly finish out the program), the boys wowed (and possibly frightened?) the crowd with some very spirited barefoot karate kicking...of flourescent tube lights. I worried, but no feet were visibly damaged.

Finally free, I was able to enjoy what I had come here for: silence and relaxation. And I was not disappointed. BUT. I should've bottled it up to use for Sunday, for The Trip Home. Importantly, I was now mentally prepared for this 10-hour journey, which is half the battle. What I wasn't prepared for was our near carbon monoxide poisoning after a collision with wayward rocks jammed our exhaust pipe up into the bumper, and was feeding us a steady stream of exhaust. Thank God for Nepali's innovations, though: at the next rest stop, our driver knocked it back down as far as he could, and attached a bit of hollow bamboo on the end to ensure that the smoke would blow out, not in. Genius! By this time I had a small migraine brewing and was more than ready for decent food, a toilet and home--all of which would come much later than hoped for.

Our next food stop redefined shady. As I was deciding reluctantly between rice or cold lentils, a farmer burst into the restaurant with a large (and quite stubborn) ram, and let it up the stairs. I chose this moment to walk out in search of ibuprofen.

After lunch, our group mysteriously dispersed. The three Nepalis in our group were nowhere to be found, while us impatient foreigners stood, arms crossed, by the jeep. Amos went off to search for them, and after about half an hour, returned with the rest of our crew, who had decided to take advantage of the cheap local prices and bought giant Chinese woolen blankets (which we then had to find space for in and on top of the jeep). At this point, I admit that my patience was out the window and dashed upon the river rocks far below.

Thank God, nothing else too out of the ordinary (whatever that means) happened the rest of the way home (oh, except a very near head-on collision with a giant bus, and an animated discussion with some Maoists at a checkpoint, who were demanding premium fees from us foreigners).

At long last, Kathmandu welcomed us back with loud, dusty, crazy arms. The city never looked so inviting. It's been a long weekend.

We're Still Here!

It's been a bit since we have written. The past month has been full of visitors (mostly from MCC), rain, meetings at the police station, and other "normal" adventures of Nepali life (dodging puddles, dancing at a Hindu wedding, battling an army of cockroaches in our kitchen, etc). Because we didn't have our camera at the time, there are (unfortunately?) no pictures of the wedding, but surely you can create some fascinating mental pictures of us taking a stab at traditional Nepali dance.

Amos and I celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary on the 6th of this month. We enjoyed a lovely, romantic dinner to the sound of rain pounding on the window panes. The monsoons are dwindling now, and we're approaching the most glorious time of year in Nepal, full of blue,kite-filled skies and magnificent mountain views.

Unfortunately, both of us have been dealing with various sicknesses in the past week or two, but are feeling better now...and just in time for our upcoming trip to Lebanon! We also received our new camera a couple weeks ago, which will greatly enhance our otherwise dull blog posts. Thanks to all who made it possible for us to replace our camera. We are so thankful! We'll certainly make great use of it in Lebanon. The quirks are still being worked out of our laptops, and we hope that they will be completely back to normal soon. For now, we're still borrowing another MCC laptop. It will be a relief to have all the dangling bits and pieces of this scenario finally behind us. Here are a few photos from our new camera!

 

Surprise, Surprise!

On Friday afternoon, we received a phone call from the local police department. They had recovered some items and asked us to report to the police station to see if any of the things were ours. With our friend Bruce in tow, Heidi and I went to the station, purposely keeping our expectations low. We were quite surprised when we saw our Macbook and the MCC laptop I use for work among the items that had been recovered. The details as to how the police were able to find our stolen computers are still quite sketchy. Apparently, they were able to track phone calls that were made from one of the cell phones, taken from our neighbors. Four men were apprehended at a police security checkpoint. When the police searched their bags, they found our computers, along with our neighbors' laptops. The police suspect the men were taking our computers to a different part of Nepal where they could easily sell them.

Yesterday, we received another call from the police department, asking us to go to the station for a press release. We weren't sure what to expect, but we accompanied our landlord to the station. After a few minutes of waiting, we were ushered into a small room. The four men who are suspected of breaking into our apartment were standing along the wall, handcuffed to one another. Since we didn't realize that we would be meeting these men, Heidi and I had not prepared ourselves for the feelings this meeting brought. The men stood with their heads bowed. Their clothes were dirty and torn. They ranged in age from around 25 to probably close to 60. As reporters asked questions and took their pictures, two of the men began to cry. I had many questions that I could not ask. Do they have families? Why had they chosen this lifestyle? Did they not have other options? Were they just trying to feed their children? Or did they need money for other reasons? Our landlord also peppered them with questions about the burglary. Did the dog bark at them? How did they manage to get up on our balcony? Had they been watching our house? The men answered some questions. They gave their names, stated where they were from. But most of the questions went unanswered. I thought of the restorative justice work I did while in Lancaster and was reminded that most victims of this type of crime, regardless of where the crime happens, have similar questions. And most of our justice systems have not found ways to answer these questions.

Today, I was once again called to the police station. The police needed me to sign the report they were writing. As I waited for the report to be finished, I asked the inspector to fill in some details. He was able to tell me that only one of the men actually entered our apartment. Apparently this man is quite skilled at climbing so he was able to scale up the pipes on the side of our house and get up onto our balcony. I also found out that at least one of the men had watched our house. They knew which room we slept in and which room they could break into. Although I have no way of knowing how accurate these details are, they at least help me to make sense of this event. The details take away some of the mystery, answering at least some of our questions.

We now have to wait two weeks to get our computers back. I think they may have wiped out our hard drives, since the computers weren't working properly when I checked them at the police station. The police suspect that these men sold our other items before they were apprehended, but they are continuing to look for them.

On Friday, as we returned from the police station, we again saw a rainbow in the distance. Another sign of God's faithfulness? Perhaps. The rainbow did remind us of the support we have felt from friends and family during this process. We are also thankful to the police for their work, although we have some reservations about it. We are grateful to have some of our items returned, but we still have too many unanswered questions to call this justice.

Breaking & Entering

Last Sunday, Heidi and I woke up and realized that our house had been broken into overnight (or burgled as the Brits say). It had rained hard during the night, and I guess the thieves took advantage of the noise, managing to get in and out while we slept. They clearly knew what they were looking for- portable electronics and cash. The neighbours in the apartment below us woke up to a similar scene: broken window, missing electronics and a lingering sense of insecurity. We spent most of Sunday in a bit of a daze, trying to make sense of this experience. We replayed images in our minds: strangers going through our things, drawers opened with their contents strewn on the floor, Heidi's purses dumped on our balcony. This violation of our space came at a most inopportune time. Over the past few weeks, we were finally feeling a bit more settled, beginning to adapt to the rhythms of a place that is still quite strange to us. And then this happened and effectively threw us off balance. Our apartment has served as a refuge for us, allowing us to escape the reality of living in one of the poorest countries in the world; a reality that sometimes threatens to overwhelm us. When we need to forget that we live in Nepal, we can always retreat to a place that feels a bit like home. We can turn on happy music, drink a glass of wine and be filled with renewed energy. In subtle and not so subtle ways, the break-in last weekend threatened this space that we have relied on. We are doing what we can to restore the security of this space, recognizing that the process will take some time.

In addition to the fears and sense of helplessness that this experience has brought, we have also been encouraged by the many people who have expressed their support- our family and friends at home as well as our friends here. We have received emails, phone calls and visitors, reminding us that our most important assets cannot be stolen from us. Yes, it's quite annoying many of our things, some of which we had recently purchased, are now in strangers' hands, but they're just things after all. When you live so close to many people who struggle to put food on their tables, you realize that losing a computer or an ipod is not such a big deal.

Last Sunday, Heidi and I took a walk, since we needed something to do other than sitting at home thinking about the break-in. We stopped by the house of a Nepali friend. As we explained what had happened to our friend's father, a Nepali pastor who does a lot of work with handicapped people and is himself in a wheelchair, he compassionately assured us that with suffering comes blessing. Of course, we had heard these words many times before, but they held new meaning on this day, coming from this man. He read a few verses from Psalms and promised to pray for us. As we left his house and walked toward home, we saw a rainbow in the distance, the first we had seen in Nepal since on the day we arrived. We're probably both a bit too cynical to see this as a sign from God, but at least temporarily, we put aside our cynicism and felt a moment of peace.

Ode to Ben

A few days after Heidi and I arrived in Nepal last August, we welcomed MCC Nepal's first Serving And Learning Together (SALT) participant, Ben Ippel (pause between first and last name). I'll admit that we were a bit nervous about meeting Ben. We realized that we would probably be spending a lot of time together, since the three of us were in unfamiliar territory and with the same organization. We knew Ben was young, only 20 years old, and you know how young people can be- needing lots of attention, thinking they have all of the answers, etc. Of course, these are unreliable stereotypes, but I was young not so long ago, and these stereotypes would have been a fairly accurate description of me at 20 years old. We had no reason to be nervous. I think we both realized we would get along well with Ben when he openly talked about his diarrhea during our first dinner together (in Nepal, it happens…a lot).

Over the past eleven months, we've had a lot of fun together. We traveled for three hours on top of a bus. We risked our lives paragliding and rafting. We've encountered elephants, monkeys and Sadhus. We've eaten hundreds of momos and our fair share of daal bhaat (although Ben ate much more than a fair share). We did spend a lot of time together. Ben is one of those rare people who are easy to be around. We spent hours hanging out on our balcony, eating ice cream and talking about life. Ben did his best to fit into Nepali life, despite being 6'4" and very white. His host family loved him, as did the children he worked with. It was not unusual for the three of us to be walking down the street and be stopped by someone from Ben's church or work. Everyone who met Ben became his friend.

Last night, we said our sad goodbyes at the airport. Ben is headed back to the U.S. to finish his degree. For Heidi and me, Nepal won't be quite the same without him around. In honor of Ben-ji, we wrote this heartfelt poem:

Ben in Nepal

Fairest of them all

He trekked & climbed

Nickeled & dimed

And won the hearts of us all

Ben is hot

And ate daal bhaat

With kids he played

But didn't get paid

He slept on a really short cot

La. Hunchha. Has.

You are one of us

Our dear saathi

You rode a haatti

La. Hunchha. Has.

Baby bear, don't go

Back to New Mexico

Kathmandu needs you

But not as much as we do

We love you so.

At the Boudha Stupa with our language teacher

Ben hanging out with Sadhus

At the peace pagoda in Pokhara

Traveling on top of a bus

Saying goodbye to Ben's family

Rafting on the Trisuli River

Orange life jackets, black helmets, yellow raft, white water.

Not much else was necessary on our little trip down the Trisuli River. Amos, myself, and 4 other friends ventured a few hours out of Kathmandu over the 4th of July weekend to the Royal Beach Camp along the river.

After a lovely thatched-roof-bungalow-banana-tree sort of welcome, we were off into the wilds of the Trisuli, accompanied by our very comical Nepali guide, Himal. The river was at times calm, allowing us to take in the gorgeous, green, rolling hills and wildlife (mostly wild children and goats), but began to pick up speed after a while. After stopping for a picnic lunch on the sun-baked river rocks, we forged ahead, into the great unknown. We bounced along happily, taking on the not-so-big rapids fairly well, gaining confidence...maybe a bit too much confidence. Before we knew it, we had flipped end over end, totally rocked by a rapid called "The Butterfly". (Embarrassing, I know.) After a bit of fear and trembling and bleary-eyed searching for survivors, we congregated (all surviving) and heaved ourselves back upon the raft. (If not for my tight-as-a-corset life jacket, I'm sure my heart would have lept from my chest into the river.) The last hour of the trip was pretty uneventful, for which I was grateful. Rafting is fun. Falling out of a raft involuntarily is, in my opinion, not fun.

The trip down the river lasted only a few hours. After returning to our Bungalow Heaven, we did nothing but sit, eat, drink, wade in the river and relive our life-threatening/adrenaline-producing experience for the rest of the quiet evening, exaggerating in all the right places, just to makes ourselves feel more brave. We spent just one night there, falling asleep to the sound of the rushing river and a gentle overnight rain. After a morning of food and ample relaxation, we hopped onto a bus and wound our way back to Kathmandu, leaving the Trisuli behind...until next time.








here we are! L to R clockwise: Eka, Jez, Paul, Amos, Ben