October 29

9:50 AM

The last ten days have been experienced in a way that I think is what people mean exactly when they call a period of time a whirlwind.

The day after "goat day" the elder boys informed us that they were going into Lagankhel to buy winter shoes and that we were most welcomed to join. We did so (not only did an outing with the boys sound fun but we discovered an Australian restaurant in Lagankhel that sold the beloved meat pies of Hamish's home and, knowing how comforting a bowl of gumbo or some red beans and rice [ clarification: with sausage] would be, we wanted to help Hamish indulge) and on the walk to the buses, I told Saroj that we might break off to visit Patan, a collection of some of Nepal's most beautiful and historic temples and stupas. Saroj told me it was only a 5 minute walk and then, "Okay, no problem." A phrase almost all Nepali's say that seems to embody a Nepalese personality in the phrase itself and is said in a way that I wish everyone could hear the accent used as they read these words. It is just too perfect and Chanel and I gather much joy from repeating it.

Upon arriving in Lagankel, a major bus stop filled with 30-40 large buses and plenty o'street vendors, we began to walk and Saroj told me, "First Patan, then shoes." Either there was a miscommunication in which Saroj thought I was asking him to take us to Patan or they decided to come along. My thought that it was probably the first made me feel badly. That I ended up dragging these kiddos to this string of sights and museums that I was sure would bore them. But when I told them that we weren't going into the museums and that Chanel and Hamish and I would do it later, they said they wanted to. A pleasant surprise! Also nice because Nepal natives as well as foreigners from the SAARC countries get in for free! Yay for the kids! The museum of Patan was very informative and has some pieces/relics to make me really feel I was playing in the abandoned playground of a once roaring and sacred people. Perfectly full of belittlement and awe.

Afterwards, we had lunch with the kids. (We decided on this rather than venturing to The Red Dingo for meat pies.) As we were exiting our lunch venue, Saroj, after much confusion and crossing a long bridge between languages, asked us to accompany the one girl and two smaller boys that had come along on their bus ride home. He walked us to the congregation of buses and ensured we got on the right bus and we all had a proper seat. Very sweet, given that we more than could have done it ourselves. Little Manip fell asleep in my lap and arms on the bus ride home. It brought about a most tender happiness in both Chanel and I.

The next day, Chanellie Bellie and I left the orphanage for a three day adventure. That day we ventured to Boudhanath, a symbole, icon, and stunning stupa of Nepal. A giant white dome full of Buddhist symbology and graced with the eyes of Buddha. The eyes of Buddha are also an icon of Nepal. The brochure given at the entrance tells you it is "one of the largest and most significant Buddhist monuments in the world...It is a protective, purifactory and wish-granting stupa." So Chanel and I made the clockwise walk around the stupa, walking amongst monks and observing their rituals. We enjoyed lunch (yummy, yummy tofu pad thai), bought a few souvenirs, and before leaving, walked onto and up into the stupa.

We made it to the front and with the eyes of Buddha staring back into mine, I clasped my hand around Chanel's. I told Chanel that if we were to make wishes, this is one of the best places in the world to do so. We gave a few moments of silence. I counted to three and holding hands, we each wished our own. It was a moment that overcame and overwhelmed me as I tried to back away from it.

That night we were invited to another volunteer's house, whose host family was gone on vacation for Dashain. And with a group made up of Americans, Germans, an Englishman, and Tunisians, we all sat on the pavement and talked about the Nepal we've each experience. We slept there and in the morning set out for Swayambunath.

Now,  Swayambunath might sound like it could be any other temple, beautiful and ancient as time. And parts of it were. But, forgive me Buddhists everywhere, the temple was what I cared for the least. The carved stone equipments of worship did not sway me like the day before in Boudhanath because Swayambunath has a little nickname. One that changes everything. The Monkey Temple.

I wouldn't say that I have an obsession with monkeys. That seems too intense and irrational. I simple love them and want to be their friend and want one of my own to treat like my small human friend and want to cuddle and watch television and get really excited when they're near and sometimes see them when they're not there. T'is all. Nothing to be judged. So don't. 

We arrive and I am ecstatic. Utterly filled with joy of a small child that has arrived unknowingly at their own surprise party. I am squealing and bouncing up those stairs, littered with a lot of things but, clearly most notably, with loads and loads of monkeys. Baby monkeys. Momma monkeys. Alpha monkeys. The monkey gangs were all there! Life was so happy! And then the mood changed. I looked over to see a man with two children and a bag. In this bag was many, many crackers. I realized at the moment that I was a flawed human being and lacked the foresight that would make me a better human. Better like this brilliant man. Why had I not thought of it! I would love to feed the monkeys crackers! I want to! I will! I must feed the  monkeys! I turned to Chanel and told her that I could be Peter with this flute and all his rats, if only I had the crackers! Despair. But in this despair, I found the courage to break the Nepalese/English/stranger divide and I grabbed my wallet, thrusted a 5 Rupee bill to the man and asked to buy some crackers. He said, "No, no, no." and opened his bag to my hand. I took a few and again, "No, no." He grabbed as much as his two hands could fit and placed them in my open and very much receiving hands. I once again offered him my money, he smiled with a final, "No."

Victory! All the child-like happiness returned. Feeling sly, like I had cleverly gotten exactly what I wanted out of life, I bounced my way from monkey to monkey. I just can't, couldn't possiblly explain how happy those little monkeys made me.

The rest of the day was spent in Thamel, lounging at our favorite restaurant there, OR2K. We read and explored. We took the bus ride to the Kalanki hostel where we were to sleep. We took the bus with a duck on board. And shortly after settling into our beds, a fellow volunteer staying at the hostel poked his head into our room to tell us that he had bought a goat and, politely, to not let anyone sacrifice it. It seemed such a ridiculous notion and truthfully was just as ridiculous as it seemed. The guy, who was leaving in a few days, bought a dang goat. We ended up eating dinner with the goat at our feet. We also had a good time during the night decided which goat noises were the goat and which were volunteers mimicking the goat. 

The following day, which makes this, October 23, we spent some time in Thamel. And in the afternoon headed back towards the orphanage but stopped off in Lagankhel, to meet up with Hamish and get some glorious meat pies. And they were quite glorious.

October 24 was referred to as"THE holy day". Nepal's holy day is Saturday (much like Sunday in the US). But this was supposedly the big one and it was on a Wednesday. It was a filled day! We woke up early for tika- now, we had gotten the blessing of tika (mixture of yogurt/water, rice and red powder placed on the forehead) before but in addition to this being the holy day, it was the tika day. Where your tika is not a mere dot but rather covers the forehead- left to right, top to bottom.

Mother, Father and Ananda (Mother and Father's son visiting from Australia) gave the volunteers and all of the children their blessings and their tika. Chanel and I have begun to create the most southern accents we can and we have taken to calling tika our "teeker". "Awe shoot! I done knocked off some of my teeker. Now its just a'swimming in may daal bhat like some gater on the bayou!"

We also got the okay on this day to cook the kids some s'getti for breakfast. So the previous day we had bought the noddles, sauce, and veggies. It is so outside of the kids' normal diet that I think we all were half expecting them to hate it. And some did. Well one. Mohan. "Sister! Sister! I no like sauce." He would then smile and stick his tongue out at us, as he files in line to get another plate of it.

The way tika works is that the younger are blessed by their elders. They are given tika, given money, and as a final act, the crown of their head is touched by the blesser. This is all done seated. After breakfast, we each got a chance to give all the children tika.

And then, with all this teeker flying about and the sudden influx of cash, it is a dashain festival tradition to "play card". Gamble. We switched between a game called 17, which is Black Jack but with the number 17 and another game where card are shuffled, someone cuts the deck and whichever card is then on top..the hand out the cards until that card number is found again and that person wins. Though not good reinforcement for the kids, it was fun :) Nice bonding times. Just us and the kids. With all the adults gone for the day, I got the chance to make popcorn for snack for the kids. Happy day.