Buses in Nepal are always something of an adventure. With the exception of large cities like Kathmandu and Pokhara, most buses travel from town to town, instead of within the town. There are usually 1-2 official stops in each town/village. The buses are either large, and quite akin to a yellow schoolbus with individual seats, or microbuses, which are like large vans with 3-4 rows in back.
Some buses run on schedule - long distance buses are pretty much it though - and leave at a certain time. These double as local buses, picking up people who want to go just a few kilometers down the road as well as those travelling long distances. Keep in mind though that it takes at least 3 times as long to get anywhere here as at home, as the road are so windy and twisty. A long distance bus will go for 4-5 hours and have covered about 200km in that time.
I mentioned above that there are a few official stops in each village, but a bus can be hailed just like a cab, at any point along the road. It's the same with getting off; if you let the conductor know where you would like the bus to stop, it will! This results in constant stops and starts, but you get used to it.
While the long distance buses do leave at a specific time, there is no guarantee of how fast they will be. While traveling from Gorkha to Lumbini one day, it took 90 minutes to get past my school, a distance that is usually covered in about 15 minutes. We sat in Laxmi for about an hour, with a crowd of people around the bus. None of the 6 of our group on board could figure out what was going on, but eventually we got moving again. At this point itinerary changes like this are so commonplace that the only thing that frustrated me was that I could see my house, and could have slept for an extra hour!
Now that the weather is warm, the buses are extremely hot. Long distances require at least 2 bottles of water, and result in copious amounts of sweating. It doesn't help that the bus is always crammed as full as possible, so there's lots of body heat! The heat and distance combined break long trips into legs, with much needed rest stops along the way. Shade!! It's allright when the bus is moving and you can get the window open (note the combination of the two, one or the other doesn't make a difference). It's when the bus is sitting in the sun that it really becomes an oven.
Some buses don't have a set time to depart, they just fill with people going in the right direction and go. This is the case with local buses, those that go stretches of about 25km in each direction. (this takes just under an hour) It's amazing how many people can fit into a bus; often every seat is full, and there are large bags of fruit and veg, 12.5L canisters of gas and a goat or two in the center aisle. Plus people, they fill the aisle as well, cram into the doorway, and even hang outside it. These buses don't tend to depart until the driver and conductor feel they have enough people. It means that when I climb onto an almost empty bus I know it's going to be a while before I get to my destination, because the bus won't leave until it's full.
It's impressive though, how an empty seat is always immediately filled (with at least one person!), and people filter to the back of the bus to make space. There's never of problem of lots of space in back but a crush of people in front. No available space is left open. I've sat with next to mothers with 2 children on their lap, been sat on by random people in the aisle, and so crammed together with other standing people I didn't need to do much holding on. The roofs are really low too. I hit my head if I don't remember to duck!
All buses tend to play Nepali music, and music videos in some of the larger ones, very loudly. Really, super loud. You can't hear an ipod on max when the music is going. Having listened to so much music during dancing practice for the Jubilee, I recognize some of the songs, and have a few favourites. I have no idea what the songs are about though!
The best part of riding the bus is the roof. All large packages, such as our backpacks, are tied to the top. When there is no more room inside, it also takes passengers. I've only ever seen Nepali men up there, never women, but we climb up there anyways. When its not too cold (so as long as the sun is still fairly high overhead) the top affords the best view of the valley. When its really hot out, its the perfect way to catch a breeze. Plus, now I can say that I've ridden up a mountain on top of a van while sitting on a pile of bananas!
My most memorable experience on the roof was coming back to Laxmii after a week touring trip. Coming from Abu Khaireni (about 45 mins) on the roof, we passed a ton of the kids from my school. Having finished teaching a week before, it was nice to see some of them one last time.
Buses here can be frustrating, as there is no way to know when the next bus will come along. It could be 30 seconds or 30 minutes, and there's no way to know other than to wait. The worst is waiting a long time, because you know that when the bus does arrive it will be absolutely packed. A packed bus, particularly a microbus, won't stop, leaving no option but to wait for the next one, however long that may be.
In addition to local buses there are tourist buses. These are usually air conditioned, have more leg room, and are several times the price of a local bus. However, having been here for so long, none of us would consider taking anything other than a local bus!
The distances involved in my life here - down to school, up to Gorkha - have meant lots of time on the bus. Although we walk to school every morning, and home in the afternoon, if Caitlin and I are going to Gorkha after school we get the bus directly there (and save ourselves 1.5 hrs walking). I'm on the bus at least 2-3 times per week, which increased to 3-4 by March, when the days were longer and we went to Gorkha more often.
Having spent so much time on the bus, by March we could get on and find that the conductor already knew where we wanted to go. As 2 of the only 8 white people within 50 kilometers, and the two that took the bus the most,we stood out quite a bit. Often we would here snatches of conversation that involved some combination of the words volunteer, UK, teaching, Biren Chowk and Laxmi Bazaar. At that point I knew we were really part of the community.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Spitting
Part of the everyday culture in Nepal is the practice of hawking and spitting. This occurs everywhere: out bus windows, out building windows (from any floor!), on the side of the road, and anywhere else you can imagine.
It's both adults and children, male and female, who do it. I've never been a fan of spitting, but I've grown accustomed to it. It's the hawking beforehand that I cringe away from. When I see/hear the younger kids doing it, it makes them much less cute.
At school the teachers, particularly the male ones, tend to spit off the walkway along the second floor, down into the courtyard where the children play. One time, a teacher came about an inch away from hitting of the kids in the face. The look of mortification on his face when he realized was priceless!
Of all the differences in culture between Canada and Nepal, the spitting has been on of, if not the, most difficult to adjust to. It's one of the very few things I won't miss!
It's both adults and children, male and female, who do it. I've never been a fan of spitting, but I've grown accustomed to it. It's the hawking beforehand that I cringe away from. When I see/hear the younger kids doing it, it makes them much less cute.
At school the teachers, particularly the male ones, tend to spit off the walkway along the second floor, down into the courtyard where the children play. One time, a teacher came about an inch away from hitting of the kids in the face. The look of mortification on his face when he realized was priceless!
Of all the differences in culture between Canada and Nepal, the spitting has been on of, if not the, most difficult to adjust to. It's one of the very few things I won't miss!
Monday, April 12, 2010
Picnic on the Mountain - March 8
On Monday the 8th there was a school holiday (don't remember why), so my house and the Gorkha house decided to go for a walk along the top of the ridge from the Durbar. In the end there were only five of us though, as Amy and Kirsten were invited to their headmaster's, and Ed didn't feel too well.
We began by going to visit Laxmi, a teacher at Hari and Magnus' school. She lives in a small village called Raniban, just outside Gorkha. While there she made us ghandruk, a dish of pickled spinach. Not being a fan of pickle, I wasn't took into the taste, but I did enjoy the spinach.
From there we headed up to the top of the ridge, a little ways east of the Durbar. That path up was through a wood, and it was like walked through a wood in Ontario, albeit with slightly different trees. The feeling of shade and solitude was the same, as was the sound of the birds. It wasn't too steep and, going at Nepali pace, an excellent pace, a pleasant walk up. It was hot though, and I was grateful for the breeze when we hit the top.
While we were walking, particularly on the way up to the ridge, we passed several small groups of children out collecting rhododendrons, Nepal's national flower. One group stopped and gave us each a flower. Caitlin saved hers and put it on the kitchen table, and we've had a rotation of flower centerpieces ever since.
From the ridge we could see into the valleys on both sides. A short way along we stopped for lunch and a relax at a small platform made from flat rocks. We hung out there for a leisurely lunch, and then headed a little further along before descending. The route down took us though some small groups of farms strung along a dirt road snaking through the tiered fields. This was my favourite part of the walk, as it was more rual that anywhere I've yet seen. And I though Laxmi was small!
The houses themselves were small, mostly with corrugated iron roofs (complete with stones on top to help the metal down), and some thatch roofs. They are set in small group, and often have animals living in part. They small size of the tiered fields means all farmwork is done with buffaloes and small plows. It also means that a family's fields are necesarily right next to the house, but could be a ways up the mountain.
It was extremely peaceful walking through the little clusters of houses. As with all of Nepal, there were people hanging around the buildings and road, as well as out in the fields. It was a wonderful way to spend a day off school.
We began by going to visit Laxmi, a teacher at Hari and Magnus' school. She lives in a small village called Raniban, just outside Gorkha. While there she made us ghandruk, a dish of pickled spinach. Not being a fan of pickle, I wasn't took into the taste, but I did enjoy the spinach.
From there we headed up to the top of the ridge, a little ways east of the Durbar. That path up was through a wood, and it was like walked through a wood in Ontario, albeit with slightly different trees. The feeling of shade and solitude was the same, as was the sound of the birds. It wasn't too steep and, going at Nepali pace, an excellent pace, a pleasant walk up. It was hot though, and I was grateful for the breeze when we hit the top.
While we were walking, particularly on the way up to the ridge, we passed several small groups of children out collecting rhododendrons, Nepal's national flower. One group stopped and gave us each a flower. Caitlin saved hers and put it on the kitchen table, and we've had a rotation of flower centerpieces ever since.
From the ridge we could see into the valleys on both sides. A short way along we stopped for lunch and a relax at a small platform made from flat rocks. We hung out there for a leisurely lunch, and then headed a little further along before descending. The route down took us though some small groups of farms strung along a dirt road snaking through the tiered fields. This was my favourite part of the walk, as it was more rual that anywhere I've yet seen. And I though Laxmi was small!
The houses themselves were small, mostly with corrugated iron roofs (complete with stones on top to help the metal down), and some thatch roofs. They are set in small group, and often have animals living in part. They small size of the tiered fields means all farmwork is done with buffaloes and small plows. It also means that a family's fields are necesarily right next to the house, but could be a ways up the mountain.
It was extremely peaceful walking through the little clusters of houses. As with all of Nepal, there were people hanging around the buildings and road, as well as out in the fields. It was a wonderful way to spend a day off school.
Kids Along the Road
Unlike in North America, Nepali children spend quite a lot of time outside. Outside of school hours, they can be found just about everywhere.
Some of the games played are just like those played by kids at home, like hopscotch and jump rope. Others are straight out of the early 20th century; a spinning top launched from a string, a rolling hoop controlled by a piece of bent wire, and marbles. Occasionally you will see a handheld gaming device, but not often at all, especially here in the country.
It's nice to see so many kids outside. Nepal doesn't have an obeisity problem, partly because the kids don't sit in front of the tv all the time. Partly also because everyone is much poorer.
There are often small children playing around one of the (yes there are two! how small village I've become) bus stops in Laxmi. One day one of the toddlers was given his first (slow!) ride on a motorcycle. An ear-to-ear grin and non-stop laughter means it probably won't be the last!
Walking to a from school, Caitlin and I often walk past some of the same groups of children on their way to school at Maha Laxmi. Most call out a greeting, either in English or Nepali. I've now perfected the motion of transferring my water bottle to being carried by my elbow and doing namaste without breaking stride!
The other, slightly less popular, salutation is 'good morning' delivered at any time of day. I've been told to have a good morning when it was 7 in the evening. Quite often the kids will do away with pleasantries altogether, and launch straight into questions. Mostly 'how are you?', 'where are you from?' and 'where are you going?' Once I answered where are you coming from as Gorkha, which brought out tons of laughter. Apparently that wasn't the answer they were looking for!
Sometims it's hard to know where the voices are coming from. It could be a balcony or roof, a parked vehicle, the side of the road, or 50ft up the mountain from the road, next to a goat. It's like the live version of Where's Waldo.
The kids in the cities, particularly in/near tourist areas, are less likely to call out friendly greetings, and more likely to ask you for something. Mostly money - 10 rupees, the price of a packet of biscuits- and chocolate or sweets. I say asking, but its really more of a demand, as please and thank-you are not commonly used in Nepali, and have been lost in translation. They are really quite unabashed about it, and will continue until you are several feet past.
There has been a difference in the children in Gorkha over the past few weeks. Tourist season is starting, so there have been an increasing number of foreigners in town. Clearly some have been giving in to the kids' demands, as they have grown ever-more insistent, even following you down the road. It was much nicer before!
Some of the games played are just like those played by kids at home, like hopscotch and jump rope. Others are straight out of the early 20th century; a spinning top launched from a string, a rolling hoop controlled by a piece of bent wire, and marbles. Occasionally you will see a handheld gaming device, but not often at all, especially here in the country.
It's nice to see so many kids outside. Nepal doesn't have an obeisity problem, partly because the kids don't sit in front of the tv all the time. Partly also because everyone is much poorer.
There are often small children playing around one of the (yes there are two! how small village I've become) bus stops in Laxmi. One day one of the toddlers was given his first (slow!) ride on a motorcycle. An ear-to-ear grin and non-stop laughter means it probably won't be the last!
Walking to a from school, Caitlin and I often walk past some of the same groups of children on their way to school at Maha Laxmi. Most call out a greeting, either in English or Nepali. I've now perfected the motion of transferring my water bottle to being carried by my elbow and doing namaste without breaking stride!
The other, slightly less popular, salutation is 'good morning' delivered at any time of day. I've been told to have a good morning when it was 7 in the evening. Quite often the kids will do away with pleasantries altogether, and launch straight into questions. Mostly 'how are you?', 'where are you from?' and 'where are you going?' Once I answered where are you coming from as Gorkha, which brought out tons of laughter. Apparently that wasn't the answer they were looking for!
Sometims it's hard to know where the voices are coming from. It could be a balcony or roof, a parked vehicle, the side of the road, or 50ft up the mountain from the road, next to a goat. It's like the live version of Where's Waldo.
The kids in the cities, particularly in/near tourist areas, are less likely to call out friendly greetings, and more likely to ask you for something. Mostly money - 10 rupees, the price of a packet of biscuits- and chocolate or sweets. I say asking, but its really more of a demand, as please and thank-you are not commonly used in Nepali, and have been lost in translation. They are really quite unabashed about it, and will continue until you are several feet past.
There has been a difference in the children in Gorkha over the past few weeks. Tourist season is starting, so there have been an increasing number of foreigners in town. Clearly some have been giving in to the kids' demands, as they have grown ever-more insistent, even following you down the road. It was much nicer before!
Teaching Update - Part 3
Snack, or 'casa' in Nepali, is made and served everyday by the school caretaker. It's always a curry, usually potato and cauliflower (which I've since found out is called govi curry), which is eaten mixed together with chura, or beaten rice. I'm not a fan of chura, although others seem to love it. It's too dry and chewy for my taste. I'm not so sure about the govi curry, but I love the chickpea curry, pea curry, and mostly, noodles.
All the teachers eat lunch together, and its the main social time of the day. Caitlin and I don't often know what is being said, but sometimes someone will translate some for us. And of course, we are always asked if the food is tasty, and if the tea is hot. Every day.
After lunch is another free period, and then it's on to Class 5, our last lesson of the day. W've had this class the least - there was a period near the Jubilee where I didn't teach them for 2 weeks! They're also a great class; at an age where they can sit queitly, but still love the games we play with them. There's a few kids that stand out, but not as many as in my two other classes.
At thyis point the school day is over for us (it's now 3:20), so we head either home or to Gorkha, unless there is something going on at school. There have been farewell ceremonies, prize giving, quiz competitions, and even a joke competition. It's quite a busy school!
All the teachers eat lunch together, and its the main social time of the day. Caitlin and I don't often know what is being said, but sometimes someone will translate some for us. And of course, we are always asked if the food is tasty, and if the tea is hot. Every day.
After lunch is another free period, and then it's on to Class 5, our last lesson of the day. W've had this class the least - there was a period near the Jubilee where I didn't teach them for 2 weeks! They're also a great class; at an age where they can sit queitly, but still love the games we play with them. There's a few kids that stand out, but not as many as in my two other classes.
At thyis point the school day is over for us (it's now 3:20), so we head either home or to Gorkha, unless there is something going on at school. There have been farewell ceremonies, prize giving, quiz competitions, and even a joke competition. It's quite a busy school!
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Teaching Update - part 2
The teaching part of the day begins after the break between periods 2 and 3.
When the bell rings it takes 2-3 minutes plus for everyone to get inside. The teachers don't start moving for at least that long. The first 5 or so minutes of the class is punctuated with repeated cries of "May I come, miss?". Over and over, because each kid says it individually. It's quite fun to see them go running for the classroom when they see me coming down the stairs, and they always look somewhat sheepish when they don't make it in time. The kids won't enter a room with a teacher in it without first asking permission, no matter what room it is. If you say no, they won't come in - I did that once to a kid who showed up 10 mins before class ended.
Period 3, in which I have class 3 and Caitlin has Class 4, is my favourite of the day. Every day when I walk into class I'm greeted with handfuls of red flowers. Sometimes they're even tied together with leaves to make a proper bouquet. By the time class is over my pocket is bulging with them. I've accidentally stained the inside cover of my textbook because I had nowhere else to carry them.
Class 3 is challenging, but a ton of fun. Everyone loves writing on the blackboard, so if I'm not careful there will be a full on stampede - I kid you not, kids crammed together to get as close as possible - when its time to fill in the answers. There are a few kids I need to pay particular attention to, like Munisa, who will fill in as many answers as she can instead of just one, and Ram, who gets so excited he runs out of patience and fills them in early. Overall theres lots of shouting a laughing, and its a ton of fun.
The kids are at the age of passing tons of notes in class, and the boys shot elastics at each other for a few weeks. Now they're on to paper airplanes, because I confiscated all the elastics. Kept my house in elastics too, we don't ever need to buy any!
Leaving the room is difficult, as the kids all want handshakes or high fives, and some like to hold onto my hand as long as possible. There's often quite the throng, and lots of yelling from the door of the room.
Immediatly after Class 3 comes Class 7, which is a nice change of pace. The classroom is much quieter, and everyone stays in their seats. They're just as much fun though, once you get to know them a little. We've been doing a lot of reading comprehension lately, and when someone puts an answer on the board, everyone tries to fix any grammar mistakes. It's fun to watch them discuss among themselves where the problems are. They love to hear us say 'no mistake', and ask it constantly. Caitlin thinks is because it sounds like 'namaste'!
The class has really come out of its shell over the past few weeks. At first they were hesitant to come to the board, and now about 1/3 love to do it, and compete with each other to get the right answer first.
There are over 60 kids in Class 7, the largest class Caitlin or I have - although Caitlin's Class 4's come pretty close! Everyone is so crammed in that you wouldn't think there are that many, but there definitely are. Marking their exams took forever! There are two rows of benches, one for girls and one for boys. The size of the class determines bench space per kid - in Class 7 there's 4 to a bench.
By this point it's 1pm, and we have another free period before lunch. It passes in the exact same manner as the first two periods. Caitlin and I are becoming masters at playing snake on her cell phone! And then its time to eat!
Teaching Update - Part 1
Now that school has been going on for over two months, it's time for an update. Our days at school follow a pretty similar pattern, so what you read here is pretty much how each of my days go.
Although school officially begins at 10am, Caitlin and I arrive around 9:45 for assembly. The kids line up by year, one row of boys and one of girls for each year, and do a mini-calisthetics program before singing the national anthem. I have no idea what they're singing, but I can repeat verbatim entire portions of the anthem.
There are 8 periods each day, each one 40 mins long. This is typical of Nepali government schools, all of whom run from 10-4 each day. The only difference is the exact times of each period, which varies slightly by school.
On the walk across the courtyard we are greeted by kids from almost every class. 'Good Morning', 'Namaste', handshakes and high fives fill the roughly 100m from the gates to the stairs, and then along the walkway to the staff room. Handshakes (the kids are obsessed with them, and equate a handshake with good) and high fives are almost exclusive to the younger classes, while all years say hello.
Unless a teacher is absent and a class needs to be covered, we have periods 1 and 2 free. We spend the time planning lessons, chatting, reading, playing random word games and staring out the window. Pretty much, we're bored. On nice days we take chairs out onto the walkway to enjoy the sunlight.
For the first six weeks or so there were about 10-12 student teachers. This meant there were always lots of people at the end of the walkway where the staff room is. It is quite a central location, teacher-wise, and there was a constant stream of people going by, an English teacher stopping to chat, or other teachers stopping to test our limited knowledge of Nepali. We're still getting better, but can still only handle the pleasantries.
Now that the student teachers have finished it is much quieter. The teachers are teaching the classes themselves now, and have much less free time. We've even found ourselves alone int the staff room!
Leading up to the Jubilee out headmaster, Mr. Ram Babu Shrestha (I love that name) was so busy he was almost never around. Now he's at school every day, so we see him quite a bit. He's a lovely man, and really makes an effort to ensure we are happy. Hopefully with his slightly less busy schedule we will be able to spend some time with him.
Although school officially begins at 10am, Caitlin and I arrive around 9:45 for assembly. The kids line up by year, one row of boys and one of girls for each year, and do a mini-calisthetics program before singing the national anthem. I have no idea what they're singing, but I can repeat verbatim entire portions of the anthem.
There are 8 periods each day, each one 40 mins long. This is typical of Nepali government schools, all of whom run from 10-4 each day. The only difference is the exact times of each period, which varies slightly by school.
On the walk across the courtyard we are greeted by kids from almost every class. 'Good Morning', 'Namaste', handshakes and high fives fill the roughly 100m from the gates to the stairs, and then along the walkway to the staff room. Handshakes (the kids are obsessed with them, and equate a handshake with good) and high fives are almost exclusive to the younger classes, while all years say hello.
Unless a teacher is absent and a class needs to be covered, we have periods 1 and 2 free. We spend the time planning lessons, chatting, reading, playing random word games and staring out the window. Pretty much, we're bored. On nice days we take chairs out onto the walkway to enjoy the sunlight.
For the first six weeks or so there were about 10-12 student teachers. This meant there were always lots of people at the end of the walkway where the staff room is. It is quite a central location, teacher-wise, and there was a constant stream of people going by, an English teacher stopping to chat, or other teachers stopping to test our limited knowledge of Nepali. We're still getting better, but can still only handle the pleasantries.
Now that the student teachers have finished it is much quieter. The teachers are teaching the classes themselves now, and have much less free time. We've even found ourselves alone int the staff room!
Leading up to the Jubilee out headmaster, Mr. Ram Babu Shrestha (I love that name) was so busy he was almost never around. Now he's at school every day, so we see him quite a bit. He's a lovely man, and really makes an effort to ensure we are happy. Hopefully with his slightly less busy schedule we will be able to spend some time with him.
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