What to do when a monk falls asleep on your shoulder and other cultural musings

While on a bus from Kathmandu to Pohkara today, a young Nepali Buddhist monk sat next to me. He and his fellow monks had come to one of the main monasteries in Kathmandu, Swayambhunath, for training and were now headed back to their home monastery in the mountains. Our driver was actually quite good and cautious, so without the normal sounds of horns and screeching brakes to keep one awake (driving here is really a bit tame compared to India, but that’s probably a good thing), one by one the passengers slowly fell asleep as the sun rose higher and the bus temperature rose with it. The monk next to me drifted off, and as the bus turned on every sharp right mountain curve, he would lean over closer and closer to me in his sleep until finally he rested on my shoulder, still sleeping. What to do? In Nepal, men and women do not touch in public. Women can hug women and men can hold hands, but inter-gender contact is rare and frowned upon as it is seen as being sexual. If this were any other man, I would have just moved him off of me, but since he was a monk I wasn’t quite sure what the unspoken cultural rules were. I didn’t want to embarrass him by waking him up, but I also wasn’t sure if it was right to leave his head on my shoulder. Unable to decide, the eight-hour journey continued on, with the monk swaying away from me on each left-handed curve and then back to rest on my shoulder with each right-handed curve. Nepal is a land of hills and mountains (“a little bit up, a little bit down, Nepali flat,” they say), so the road was constantly curving. Every once in a while the monk shook himself awake and sat up, but then a few minutes later he was asleep and falling over again. I guess if it didn’t bother him it shouldn’t bother me . . .

Travelling in Nepal and India has given me a greater appreciation for just how complex human cultures are. By that I mean that there are so many intricate, rich, and unspoken patterns in every society that are quite foreign, and often baffling, to the outsider. Children from those societies grow up surrounded by these norms, whether it be that when you share a drinking vessel, your lips should never touch it (even amongst couples), or that tucking in your sari a certain way means you are from a particular region of India. And I haven’t even mentioned much bigger issues such as trying to understand gender roles or the thousands of Hindu gods! Even if I lived here for years and years, I wonder if I could ever truly understand it all. I discussed these thoughts with a Nepali friend, Narayan, in Bhaktapur yesterday, but I’m not sure that my ideas were communicated quite right. He told me that if I dyed my hair black and wore Nepali clothes, I would fit it quite well as a very pale Nepali woman! In any case, I am continually fascinated by what I can learn just by watching people and talking. It also is interesting to reflect on how many and which unspoken cultural norms we have at home that must seem crazy to visitors to the US.

I will leave my musings here, as we have just arrived in Pokhara and it is time to explore the town. Anne and I leave tomorrow for a six-day trek in the Himalayas. It is part of the Annapurna circuit, a loop called Ghorapani (Poon Hill) to Ghandruk. We are going with a Nepali guide named Dipak, who seems to be filled with more calm and happiness than I thought possible. We’re gearing up for spectacular views, meeting mountain villagers, and eating lots of dal bhat (stewed lentils and rice, a Nepalese staple). Should be great!

Never Ending Peace And Love (NEPAL),*

Julie

*Acronym courtesy of Narayan.  He has many of them, some even more amusing.

 

The Kindness of Strangers

Anne and I have just returned to Cochin after a two-day side trip to the hill station of Munnar. The bus ride to Munnar was four and half hours, almost entirely uphill on a bus with the loudest brakes I have ever heard (cheers for earplugs), but it was well worth the journey as the countryside around Munnar was a fantastic, peaceful land of mountains and endless green tea fields. On our first day there we took another bus up even higher to hike around a place called Top Station where you are surrounded by shadowy mountain peaks and can see into the neighboring state of Tamil Nadu. We returned to our hotel room at the end of the day to relax and journal when I realized with a sinking feeling in my stomach that my prescription sunglasses were no longer in my bag. I wear my sunglasses all the time and since we are mostly traveling in the tropics, they are quite an essential thing to have along. I knew that I had last taken them off on the bus back from Top Station, so I decided to retrace my steps even though I already had little hope for finding them . . .

I headed out of the hotel and to the line of rickshaws outside (“rickshaw, madam? rickshaw, madam?”) and asked a man there to take me to the restaurant we had eaten dinner at. Along the way I managed to convey to him that I had lost my sun spectacles. After checking the restaurant and not finding them, I asked the driver to wait one more minute and I went to the nearby food stand see if I could find the rickshaw driver who had taken us back to our hotel earlier. There are over a hundred rickshaws in tiny Munnar alone, so this was definitely a long shot. At that point, my current rickshaw driver got quite into the search and started asking me all sorts of questions about the rickshaw I was in earlier: what did the driver look like? what was his name? what was he wearing? what did the dashboard of the rickshaw look like? how was the steering wheel shaped? what design were the seats? were there any decals or decorations in the windshield? These are not things that I typically take note of, especially at night, but he was so kind and earnest that I tried my best to answer. He then had me get back in and started zooming around the streets, asking other drivers if they knew where to find the rickshaw, and peering into everyone we passed. We didn’t have luck and eventually headed back to the hotel, at which point he offered to meet me at nine in the morning the next day to search some more. I politely declined (if they were in that man’s rickshaw from earlier, they probably would have flown out by now anyway), but gave him my first name and hotel in case he did somehow run into them the next day. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I walked away, it was a fascinating glimpse into the culture of rickshaw drivers and the man had just been incredibly nice and helpful.

Early the next morning I headed out to the station where we had caught the bus to Top Station the day before. A law of nature in India: when you don’t want a rickshaw, they are always around, and when you do need one, you can never find it. After waiting a few minutes a white “tourist vehicle” car pulled up across the street, so I decided to ask this driver for a ride. After telling me I should take a rickshaw and me explaining to him that there weren’t any, he told me he could take me to the bus station. I asked the customary question, “how much?” and he shook his head and said it would be free. Rather shocked, I got in and he did indeed take me to the bus station for free, and we had a lovely conversation along the way. He even offered to wait for me and take me back after I checked for my sunglasses at the station.

At the station I managed explain what had happened to the bus crew there and they told me that the bus I was on yesterday would be back again at 2:30pm. So Anne and I returned there that afternoon and sure enough, the same white and blue bus roared up, chock full of people, Hindi music blaring, with flowers strung in the windshield and Jesus picture surrounded by blinking Christmas lights hanging over the dashboard (we were told that 40% of the people in this area of Kerala are Christian). After working my way to the front of the bus, I approached the ticket man and pointed to my glasses and told him I had left a pair on the bus yesterday. He nodded and got on the bus, and reached into a brown box above a seat. And there, low and behold, were my sunglasses in their case, just as I had left them. I was so happy and surprised that I wanted to hug him, but that’s a taboo here, so I rather awkwardly attempted the namaste bow and thanked him again with what must have been a ridiculously large smile on my face. Sunglasses aside, I was amazed by all of the interactions that had led me to this point.

Before we started our travels three months ago, we were discussing nitty logistics such as where to hide our passports and how to avoid having our bags stolen. Anne had said that though it may seem naive, she hoped that we could rely on the goodness of people around the world. From Japan to India, this philosophy has so far really proven true. As creatures of habit, I think we naturally tend to fear and distrust what is different or unfamiliar to us, but one thing that our travels have shown us is how similar and kind – how human – people really are the world over. This point might also seem basic and naive in a world with so many social challenges and so much need, but it is one that I think would make a big difference if more people realized it.

Still Smiling,

Julie

a time after the farm

so today marks an interesting day as i can stay up late and not have to worry about being at the farm in the morn. it also marks a time when i need to crack down and realize i am leaving madison so soon. which makes me think about this amazing city and all the great things going on here at the moment. sure i don’t mind escaping the winter, but i will miss all the great people that have stumbled into my life lately and, of course, those that have been around all along. the co-op is great. my jobs have been great. the atmosphere of the city in the crisp late-november air is great. and life is pretty damn good.

as i ponder packing and think of the times to come, i can barely handle it. so many amazing sights and hikes and friends and farms ahead! the three of us are so lucky to have the connections we have and the lives we do!

i’m excited for these last weeks and all the warm family and friends that will be a part of it. it will make me excited to return in june.

with a tinge of nostalgia, anne