My blog is having an identity crisis!

I guess that the term "axis of evil" has become about as outdated as GWB's presidency. He has become a lame duck, and so has that term apparently. With Iraq, though still in the midst of war, but apparently also in the throes of "democratic" change, off the list, and North Korea getting downgraded from State Terrorists and Rogues to... well, what is that they are now? An unfriendly regime? At any rate, Iran is the only country left in the axis, so it isn't much of an axis anymore, is it? (Aren't we going to invade them soon anyhow?)

Not only that, but I don't even live in South Korea now. I don't know where I live. And furthermore, I don't know what I do. I'm not even sure that I have anything interesting to say.

It may be time to disappear. Re-design. Turn my brain back on. And then re-emerge.

So long, internets... until we meet again!

This week:

• Run-away Llama!
  
• Moose sighting!
• Goat Cheese Making!
• Rainy Scooter Riding!
• Sheep herding!
• Cow Corralling!
  
• Korean Speaking! (in vermont!)
  
• Finally! Fresh Local Food eating! (I grew it!)
  

Yup, it's been a pretty exciting week.

How I Spend My Days in Vermont:

The cool breeze that makes the silver leaves of our ancient cottonwood trees dance.

The succession of wildflowers in the pasture, from dandelions to buttercups and onward to vetch, clover (red and white), milkweed and chicory.

The storm clouds that roll in over the lake, casting a blue hue on the mountains beneath them. And the pure white light that finds an opening in the clouds making even the green grass look golden.

The smell of wet earth during yet another rain shower.

Each day that I'm here, our small mountains grow bigger in my mind. The beauty of the landscape and my gratitude for it is deepening its mark on my heart. I will appreciate it now while I'm here. And I will change as it changes. As we change each other.

This is my lesson in not taking things for granted.

On a lighter note...

Goat kids!

Today I watched one of our goats, Dandy, give birth. She was fast! She was amazing! She was sweet! And the kid is so freakin' cute...

And then I milked her and her mommy friend, Feta... goat cheese anyone?

Goats. Definitely the best part of my job.

So I realize that this is a "public forum"...

But If you don't like my writing, or find it depressing... Why do you bother to read?

I'm not really writing about political things right now. I'm writing about my feelings. It's how I feel. And as such, it's not really debatable. And if you don't agree with me, guess what? I don't really care about how you feel about my feelings. Unless I know you, in which case it's obviously different. If I was looking to improve myself, I wouldn't be whining away on this forum, I would be in therapy, which, of course, I'm not denying that I need.

So if you don't have something nice to say to me, keep it to yourself. Unless you want to identify yourself (notice my comment settings have changed).

Hey, I realize the comments that anonymous wrote and I deleted weren't actually that offensive. But since I've made this my little space on the internet, I get to decide if your opinion counts. And I've decided that it doesn't. Unless I know you.

Are you happy yet?

How 'bout now?

This is a question I've encountered a lot since my return from Korea. Am I happy? Well, if happiness is a relative state, I guess I can say the answer is yes. I am happy. Err... I am happier than when I was in Korea. Because there I was definitely unhappy. That seems so much easier to define.

Okay. So wait. Is happiness, in fact, a relative measure? Is it defined more or less in opposition to not-so-happy feelings? Is happiness the negative space (or should I say the positive space?) which surrounds sadness, angst, stress, anger... Because although I am not sad, angsty, stressed nor angry, neither am I happy. But I'm not unhappy.

It seems that happiness arrives in fleeting moments and often occurs only in retrospect. It's not that I don't enjoy many of the things I do, but do I recognize that joy in the moment? Or does it only occur to me as an afterthought? Or in contrast to some other experience or moment in time?

Or is happiness a feeling of contentment? The feeling that all is right with the world? Does it feel like the gods are smiling on you? Maybe like nothing can go wrong?

Does anyone in this country really feel happy? Really?

I have struggled with the concept of happiness for a long time. I don't always know how to recognize it when I have it. I often long for it, but when I think I have it, I feel uncomfortable- but not because I think it'll slip away too quickly. On the contrary, I feel bored with the contentment and long for a challenge, a struggle- something that will unsettle me.

And it's not as though I don't believe in my own happiness. I do. But I guess it's the fact that I believe in the happiness of everyone else-I am talking about on a global level- which motivates me to question my own right to contentment. I know, the Founding Fathers laid out our rights to the pursuit of happiness a couple of hundred years ago. But what if that pursuit impedes another's happiness? And what if, only by virtue of being An American, I am impeding the happiness of millions or billions just by pursuing my American version of happiness- even a modest one?

Hey this is not guilt I'm talking about. I'm talking about our responsibility. To each other. To challenge ourselves to think about our happiness and our contentment and wonder, "how does my happiness affect other people in my world?"

So in the context of "the greater happiness," I guess one could say that I'm making uncomfortably happy my goal. But I don't know if I'll ever be aware that I've reached that goal. And I'm not sure how I would define my state of happiness now, except to say that well, I'm not depressed...

My Poor Ma and Our Family

Today NSLS and I spent an awful lot of time together talking about the family. It was precipitated by a phone call we received from our mother, telling us of rather sad and unfortunate news. Our aunt had a brain tumor at the base of her skull, which was operable. She apparently came out of the surgery well... Although since that was all of the information we were given, we really have no idea what the prognosis is.

But it should be noted that all of us, RevDrMom, NSLS and I found out about the tumor post surgery. And that the primary form of notification was email. My mom is rather upset about how all this is happening, and I think (although she never says it) is feeling quite guilty. I really hate that all this technology that enables rapid-fire communication has become an excuse for us to not actually talk to each other.

It should also be noted that I, perhaps the most independent and free spirited of the bunch, also have the weakest ties with our family, especially the family of the extended nature. I haven't seen my grandmother since our grandfather's funeral in 2002. And that was also, perhaps, the last time I saw any of my uncles, cousins or the aunt who has recently fallen seriously ill. I don't call them. I don't write them (well, I write them, but it never gets mailed) and I honestly don't even think about them all that much. I have a pretty terrible relationship with my mom's older sister who I think, also happens to be my god mother. She seems to disapprove of not only everything about my mom's life, but also everything about mine. And I feel somewhat... ambivalent about the rest of our family.

I know that my mother gets blamed for this distance even though I am now an adult and could have, or not have, any relationship that I wanted to with aforementioned family members. But I just don't want to be involved in the drama. The blame, the guilt, the name-calling-- it's all enough for me to want to keep my distance. Let them talk about me behind my back. It doesn't hurt me.

So why, then, am I spending so much time thinking about this? Is it because my aunt is very sick? No, I don't think so. It's because I think that I understand one of their most fundamental points: That my mother, despite all of her awesomeness, has some pretty serious flaws when it comes to communicating with people she loves. It's not that she doesn't want to talk to people, but I think that maybe she is afraid to talk to people. I think that even though she opens up to all of us here in internet-land, she doesn't feel as safe making herself vulnerable to people in her family, including me, even though I love her and unconditionally support her.

So in my older brother (aka Eldest Son), her desire to give him the space she wishes her parents gave her, she has created too much room. All this is exacerbated by his feelings that none of us really care about or are interested in him. His extreme sensitivity about being disconnected from his immediate family, combined with my mother's extreme sensitivity for letting each of her children be their own person, has turned what used to be a kind of bad relationship into what is now a relationship on the brink. Admittedly, my own ambivalence towards my older brother probably doesn't help the situation.

But I also feel that tension between wishing my mom seemed more interested in my life, and also appreciating the space she has given me to explore my intellect, emotion and sense of adventure without being judgemental. But sometimes I wish the old-fashioned mom would kick in and say, "Hey! You're making a big mistake with your life!" or "Why don't you just get a regular job like everybody else?" Two phrases which I'm quite sure have never have never passed her lips. And I think that my older brother, although he would bitch and complain about it, wants that from our mother, too.

It's not that I actually believe that my mother doesn't care about our lives. I know that she would do anything she could to help me out. But I don't think her brothers and sister see that side of her. Too much judgement has been passed. They all, my mother included, spend so much time blaming each other for the lack of communication instead of just picking up the phone. I know that it is sometimes painful for my mother to talk with her family. But I kind of think that if she picked up the phone a little more often, it might get easier and there would be fewer reasons to play this 20 year old blame game.

And mom, grandma is now just a crotchety old lady. She's earned it. So maybe you don't deserve whatever she's saying to you, but she doesn't know what she's saying half the time anyhow. So talk to her while you still have the chance. And mom, you should be happy and proud that in the least, you have raised two daughters who like each other to live together as adults and won't be repeating the same silly mistakes your generation has made...

Our family no longer puts the "fun" in dysfunction, but we do a good job with "dys"ing part... Maybe we should work on that a little...

More on Nepal... In photos

Here's a little more on my trip to Nepal. There are probably a few more installments to come.

The first few pictures are from a jungle area in the Terai. Just days before I arrived, there was a huge general strike staged by the Madhesi people that went on for about 2 weeks. Their main issues were around autonomy and representation; they were protesting the rather Kathmandu-centric nature of the old Nepal Congress government, especially in terms of economic investment outside of the Kathmandu Valley. Their strike was felt all over Nepal as they were able to shut down the main trade route between India and the capital. Weeks after the strike was over, food prices were still pretty high (not just because of global inflation), and petrol was still so scarce that gas stations in Kathmandu were being guarded by the military and people would queue for a day or two fill up their tanks... Needless to say, this was an area that was swept by Maoists, and some of the more regional parties like the Madhesi Jana Adhikar Forum (MJF) during the elections.

When I was there, however, none of this was really evident and most people were reluctant to talk about (probably because the strikes are bad for tourism and most of the people I came into contact with make all of their money from tourists). And so I give you the tourist photos:

village houses near the entrance to Chitwan National Park.

That's me, "driving" the elephant on the last leg of our elephant safari in Royal Chitwan National Park.

endangered one horned white rhino, Royal Chitwan National Park
(dinosauric, ain't it?)

That's me giving the elephant a "bath."

Elephant Bath Time, Royal Chitwan National Park

Early morning canoe ride, Royal Chitwan National Park



Late afternoon elephant watering, Royal Chitwan National Park

A typical Tibetan monastery, Bodhnath, Nepal

Bodhnath
This is a Tibetan stupa just outside of Kathmandu. The day I went there, I remember feeling very at peace with the world. Even if you aren't a spiritual or religious person, you can't deny the energy of a place like this. Pilgrims swing prayer wheels and chant mantras as they walk around the stupa, all in the same direction. Masum and I tried to walk around in the opposite direction, but didn't make it very far before we, too, decided to go with the flow.

Lessons from Nepal

I've been thinking a lot, trying to figure out how I can synthesize everything I learned in Nepal into one piece of writing that makes sense if it is read all together. But the fact of the matter was, the way I was spending my days and the way I was spending my nights was so completely different, that I don't know that it makes sense to write about as one experience.

On the one hand, I had the experience that I've been writing about here. The heartache, the healing-- the emotional journey that I've been on for the last two years came to an end. In Nepal, I was able to wrap up such a messy relationship into a nice neat box for me to put in the corner of my heart and the corner of my mind, where it can collect dust. I'll store it in a place where I can take it out and look at it with curiosity and detachment when it suits me; a place that's far enough to remain unseen, but close enough to not be forgotten. Yes, Nepal gave me closure.

And then there was everything else in Nepal. The everything that made me fall in love with a country, a place and a time that was exciting, intellectually stimulating, spiritual, nurturing, fun... But how do you pluck a story or an experience out of thin air and get it right, make it meaningful without telling the entire story? How could I begin to write about the time Pratit took me to his grandfather's house in this little Gurung village in the foothills of the Annapurnas without explaining my relationship to Pratit, his mother, or how his family defies traditional family structure in Nepal, or about how his grandfather's life is ruled by ritual and routine (is there a difference?); I would have to write about what the house looked like, how the white capped mountains hovered so close I thought I could understand why people believe in god... I would have to write all of that for anyone to understand the feeling I got as we sat eating daal bhat inside his old mud and brick house under a single light bulb, our eyes stinging from the smokey cook-fire; We sat there eating and he, his grandfather (who kept giving us sly looks as he cooked dinner) was not eating, but praying, making an offering to the small shrine he had in the corner of the house next to his bed, next to the cook-fire, which was next to me. How can I write all that and still not tell the story?

And then there was Saobin, a young man from the Terai who worked at the hotel I was staying. My first day there, the owner of the hotel, Devendra, said to me: "Look how he walks. So slow. Like a rhino." We laughed. And I watched. Saobin did all of the work of the hotel. He cleaned the rooms, he ran errands, washed laundry, made tea, took care of the garden... Devendra did nothing. He played cards, talked, gave orders. I watched. Saobin was shy. He had a sweet smile and he twitched a lot. He worked hard. I took to calling him 'babu', which I guess means baby or child, but I wasn't making fun- I really felt motherly towards him. I noticed there was something wrong. The last day, I asked about it. I was told that he used to live in a village in the jungle. He was a hunter. One day as he was hunting, he came across some Nepalese soldiers. They accused him of being a Maoist. He had a gun. They beat him senseless. Now he has trouble communicating. And now by telling that story, I've cheated Saobin because I've left out the context. The details. The other players. It's not complete.

To tell my story in Nepal I have to tell the stories of at least 10 others. I have to tell the story of a country in the midst of change, a hopeful time not only for Nepali people, but for myself as well. Because in the end I guess I learned that we can be reborn through our struggles and that my story depends not on myself, but on who tells it. And that we should never be careless with that power.

Writings from Nepal... Bracing

Pokhara, March 23, 2008

Yesterday, Pratit asked me what I've learned from my time in Nepal. My smart ass answer was water conservation, but I wonder what it really was? That I can live without Masum? That I was crazy to believe in him? That he was too central to my existence in Korea? I don't know.

For long breaths, I feel over him, but occasionally as I breath in, I feel his memory taking a quick stab at my heart, making me feel confused, bitter, angry and sad... And then I exhale, and the thought, the memory and the feeling is gone. Sometimes I feel like holding my breath, holding that feeling. Holding the moment until I have to let it go.

Nepali Election Photos

Here's a link from the NY Times. The pictures are beautiful. The pictures are hopeful.

And two articles on the elections: one and two.

I wish I was there.

Writings from Nepal... Attachment

Pokhara, March 17, 2008

How easily a person clings; how easily a person breaks. I feel like if I start crying, it's never going to end. I've kept a fairly calm composure for almost a week- if I can keep it up, maybe I'll become hard and numb inside. I really don't want to feel anything right now. Except fullness. And that's not possible.

Loneliness must be the most fundamental part of being human- and our struggle against loneliness may be the only thing that ever really unites us in the end. At least, that's when it doesn't break us completely.

Oh how I miss Masum. How I miss the idea we created of our lives together. The injustice of it all breaks my heart. And he, too, breaks my heart.

Writings from Nepal...Healing

Pokhara, March 12, 2008

I left Masum three days ago. It seems like it has been months. Maybe I have only partially realized that Sunday was the final goodbye, or maybe I was prepared, but I'm shocked at how few tears I've cried. Maybe we've already had too many "final" goodbyes to believe that was really it... I feel lonely and am thankful that so far I've been able to surround myself with people. I guess after I say goodbye to Raju, Gom and Pratit, maybe everything will sink in.

I've though I'm sad and heartbroken, and feeling cheated, some part of me knows that it is time to move on. The relationship I had with Masum would have never worked in the real world. A world where we were married and had kids, jobs (that we got paid for), responsibilities. In this situation, it's hard to tell which world was real and which world was a fantasy. What a surreal life I've been living...

On Nepal... Kathmandu in Pictures

This is an awesome food stall near Durbar Square.

These old Newari temples and buildings are everywhere in Kathmandu. This is in Durbar Square, the former seat of the King's power, now UNESCO world heritage site. Most of the buildings here date back to before the 17th century.

This sadhu hangs around Durbar Square mostly for the benefit of the tourists (and himself). Foreigners take pictures of him and then he asks them for money. Or sometimes he blesses you (by smearing some red paste on your forehead) and then demands 200 rupees. All sadhus don't do that, but the ones who hang out in the tourist areas and charm snakes tend to be a bit snake-like themselves.

This old man was resting at the top of a temple- a popular place for locals to hang out during the day.

Honestly, I have no idea what she's selling. Medicine? Herbs?

Cute chubby little girl

This is a very small temple in Durbar Square. In Kathmandu, you can't turn around with seeing people praying, or making a puja (offering). There are temples everywhere and everyone seems to be religious, or at least superstitious. In Nepal, Hinduism seems to predominate, but there are a lot of Buddhists as well. It is often difficult to tell who is who because a lot of the temples and shrines seem to honor every Nepalese religious tradition. I started learning to distinguish between gods, whether I was looking at something was Hindu or Buddhist, Nepalese Buddhism or Tibetan, but it definitely takes some serious studying to get it all right.

Garland Vendors in Durbar Square

This is a political rally in Durbar Square. Throughout my month in Nepal, I saw people campaigning for the elections (mostly Moaists, but other parties were also visible). This, I think, was a business owners association. It was weird to see banners and billboards attached to such ancient buildings.

This only covers part of day one. Stayed tuned for more installments...

On Nepal... The Introduction

The beginning of my adventure in Nepal can best be described through pictures. I was with Masum and we were, for the most part, avoiding talking about anything too seriously-- namely us, his life at home and my return to America. We had sad moments and serious moments, and seriously sad moments, but we spent our time together around the Kathmandu Valley very much like we spent our time together in Korea: In Denial. So we ran off to this place and that; we visited friends and ate delicious food. We pretended like everything was fine. And then we said good bye. For good.

The good bye was, well, anticlimactic. I was to get on a bus to Chitwan, a national park in the Terai, and he was to get on an airplane back to Dhaka. I nearly missed my bus, so our goodbye was rushed- a quick kiss while throwing my bag on the top of the bus and rushing to find the last seat. As the bus pulled away I waved to him as he watched, and I remember thinking, "was that really it?" I was sad, but quickly distracted by a gaggle of Russian tourists who were complaining about their seats and demanding that an elderly Nepalese man sit in the worst, most uncomfortable seat on the back of the bus because they didn't want to. I was enraged at their back of the bus comments and started battling immediately, calling them out in front of the whole bus, but to no avail. The bus attendant acquiesced and I sat there fuming and boring holes into the back of the rude Russian's head with my evil eye for the entire 6 hour ride. Distraction was the first coping mechanism I had to deal with the end of me and Masum.

I think it's safe to say that I spent the rest of my time in Nepal examining not only my time spent in with Masum (in Korea and Nepal), but my life in general and wondering how I was going to move forward- emotionally, intellectually, professionally. How the hell was I going to move forward? I don't know that found any real answers, but I did find some comfort in a new friendship. My old friend Raju introduced me to Pratit, mostly I think because Pratit's English is so darn good. But what Raju didn't know is that Pratit and I have an awful lot in common and that Pratit's company, and then his friendship, provided for me a kind of intellectual and emotional cocoon that went a long way in helping my tired broken heart to heal. And for that accidental gift, I must thank Pratit.

So thus begins my little project 'On Nepal'. The first part of my journey is documented through pictures and the second is documented through writing. Maybe the electricity will stay on in Pokhara long enough for Pratit to send me some of the photos I took while I was with him, but until that time, you'll have to bear my clumsy words...