The chaos that is school...and the kids that make it!

Day 1, I was handed some chalk, a text book and 37 wild students and asked to teach them English for 45 minutes.

My days have changed very little since then, and while I wonder if the kids are learning anything some days, I feel a whole lot more comfortable with the chaos.

My school day starts at 10am with an assembly outside. Sagar (one of the cool boys in my main English class), grabs a drum out of the staff room and smacks it to death for a good 5 minutes. The kids all line up, do a bunch of stretches to the drum beat and then sing their national anthem. Their voices are a funny mix of tuneless noise and chipmunk sounds as they sing with such pride and passion, their hand on their heart.

The day is split into 7, 45 minute periods. As there are no electric bells, the start and end of each period is announced by a metal lid being smacked with a hammer. The gong reverberates all around the school grounds (and probably halfway round the neighbourhood too!) 

My 37 wild students have become my favourite class now. They are 11-12 year olds who are easily distracted, hypo and yet still keen to learn (sometimes). I've got kids who yell out answers at the top of their lungs, desperately trying to outcompete the others. I have a bunch of girls who sit down the back and shyly smile at me, hoping for some attention. One girl gave me a bright pink rose yesterday and she was over the moon that afternoon when she saw I wore it in my hair for the rest of the day. 

There is the class monitor who patrols the room like an army general, just waiting for someone to step out of line so he can inflict his punishment on them. There are a few shy, quiet kids who understand very little English and are being left behind in the system. Often these kids are taunted by their classmates and the only way they know how to respond is physically. While I have fewer fights to break up these days, there's always at least three fights every class! And then there is Sagar who I can always rely on when I need a volunteer.

The kids have mostly learned their English by rote and repetition. So there are plenty of things they can say but they don't comprehend the meaning. I've spent the last 3 lessons trying to teach them the difference between 'how much' and 'how many' and when to use each phrase. Think about it...what would you do??? I raided the teachers resource cabinet, pinched a bunch of dice, sticks and pens and got the kids to buy them off each other. 'How many pens do you want to buy?' 'How much will it cost?' I hope something will stick!

My class of 5-6 year olds is much smaller, only 16 or so, but just as much work. These kids speak only a smattering of English but have become so cute, it doesn't really matter. On my first day, one girl slapped another so I made her stand in the corner facing the wall. She kept turning around and I kept turning her back and mimed facing the wall. Somehow, she got hold of her pencil and must have thought I meant for her to practice writing her alphabet on the wall... She got to F before I noticed!!!

I've been revising the days of the week with them and was stoked at how well they could say the day names and write them. So I made up some cards, mixed the days up...and realised they weren't reading. They have the days all memorised perfectly...right down to the spelling, but most kids can't read. They're smart though and I think with a bit more time, they will learn to read.

I was going to leave the 7 cards with the days of the week in the class. Until 7 kids grabbed one each and fights broke out...again! I felt awful but I had to collect the cards up and take them away before someone lost an eye! I realise now if I ever want to leave anything behind, there has to be enough for one each.

My most challenging class has 50 kids, aged 10-11! It's impossible to teach them as a class when there are at least 4 fights or arguments happening at one time. So I've taken the position of writing the exercise on the board, sitting down with groups of about 3 at a time, going through it with them and moving onto the next group. I ignore the fights, even when there are tears, as talking, yelling and moving kids to corners hasn't worked! (There are no corners left with 50 kids anyway!)

All the kids I teach are totally stoked when I draw a star on their work, and almost beside themselves when 2 stars come out. I'm almost ashamed to say that I've bribed kids with 3 stars if they sit down and do their work...but it works! Much like the cards I nearly left behind in my young class, the kids are craving attention, praise and something tangible from me (no matter how small). It's fabulous to see their faces light up and I reckon I get more of a buzz knowing how little it really takes to make someone else's day.

What I find most amusing is the kids that cause me the most grief in class, regardless of age, are the ones that come up to me after class to say, "thank you miss! Bye miss! See you tomorrow!" They are also the ones who want to hold my hand, carry my books and escort me back to the safety of the staff room! It's hard to stay mad with them when they turn into such angels afterwards. I suspect the chaos they provide me in class is more that they don't fully understand the lesson so they do their own thing. As well as kids being kids and seeing how far they can push the boundaries with a new teacher!

It's been years since I was at school and I have no idea if my experience here is normal in other countries and schools today or not. Regardless, I take my hat off to the teachers who turn up day after day, somehow control their classes, teach the kids and retain their sanity! 

Watch this space for loads more antics to come

Home stay living in Pokhara

It's 730pm. I'm lounging in a plastic deck chair in the semi-darkness, my feet resting on the balcony railing. Crickets and grasshoppers play a constant, tuneless melody. Voices and laughter carry across the fields from nearby homes. Occasionally a dog barks, a cow bellows or a motorbike revs up. Otherwise, it is peaceful.

From my second story vantage point, stars sparkle through breaks in the partially cloudy sky. Some nights, lightening flashes and lights up the charcoal skies. The land gently slopes away and 2 or 3 story houses surround a large-ish vegetable garden. Tall trees block out most of the buildings beyond. But none are tall enough to block out the mountains that surround Pokhara. 

The mountains are high enough and close enough that it feels like they hold Pokhara in a gentle embrace. The World Peace Pagoda and several temples sit atop the higher peaks while a few homes are dotted around lower levels.

From where I sit, the noise and chaos of Kathmandu is a world away. Even the hustle and bustle of Pokhara seems distant. As it gets darker, lights flicker on. Although there is a power cut right now, many homes still have solar power to run a few lights. 

We have already eaten our staple diet of dhal baht (lentil soup and rice). Ambika (my host ama - mother) is a fab cook and makes an otherwise plain dish mithacha (tasty). Krishna (my host bua -father) has just arrived home from work. Their 3 daughters have finished their homework and are quietly playing and talking inside.

Ambika and Krishna have been so welcoming, insisting that this is our home and we are part of the family for the duration of our stay. And it's more than a few simple words. To me, it does feel like home, especially since I can raid the teapot at any time (the equivalent of the fridge back home)!

A narrow, grassy path is the access way for many houses and leads to the front door of our home. 4 bedrooms are downstairs, while a flight of stairs leads up to the balcony which is the central hub here. The main inside living area has a small lounge (which doubles as a bedroom) and a kitchen.

I share a bedroom with another volunteer, Victoria, and our room also opens onto the balcony. And...we are lucky enough to have an ensuite (complete with western style toilet and a washing machine! Both luxuries here:)). 

And while we are a brisk 30 minute walk from the lakeside, tourist area and other volunteers, I think I'm lucky to be in such a peaceful place where I can relax and feel 'at home'.

8.5 hours to travel 198km...

It only took 8.5 hours to travel 198km...mainly thanks to the 25km traffic jam we sat in for 3 hours!

The road from Kathmandu to Pokhara is usually only wide enough for two vehicles, so when trucks and buses overheated on the steep hills, it meant a long wait, a lot of patience and courtesy from drivers was in order. Too often, our driver turned off the engine, and at one point, I listened to 3 songs before we started up again! The road was full of potholes and so even if there was no traffic, the journey was going to be a long one!

A continual line of trucks, cars, bikes and buses snaked across the edge of the cliffs. Trucks laden with gas tanks, food and live buffalo puffed up the steep hills. Local buses heaved with people. Some so full, people were squashed up against the windows, their luggage all around them and small children sitting on their knees. We were in a tourist bus and so had the luxury of one person to a seat. However, there was no air-con so all the windows were wide open to get some fresh, humid air circulating around the otherwise stuffy bus. 

The warm, damp air in the trees was still much fresher than in Kathmandu. Cloud draped across the hills and spilled down into the valleys below.

We had only one near head on collision...that I saw! A truck and motorbike were passing another truck going uphill! Our driver slammed on the brakes and we all sat in stunned silence, collectively holding our breathes as the truck swerved to avoid us and lazily puffed on by. I started to watch the road and where we were going at one point, but decided my blood pressure would be through the roof by the time I reached Pokhara so stopped. I figure we must have had several other near misses as the bus lurched to a stop and swerved, the suspension creaking and groaning plenty more times!

On one side of the road, the cliff climbed vertical,  towering over us. On the other side, land dropped away to the river far below. The river started out as a narrow gorge, much like the landscaped through NZs Waihi Gorge. It became a braided river in places, again similar to NZs South Island rivers...except the water was a murky brown instead of a glacial, icy blue colour.

The river suddenly widened to become about a 50 metre wide fast-flowing Mass. Water bubbled over invisible rocks and eddies twirled, trying to flow back against the current. Long swing bridges spanned the vast chasms allowing people to cross the river and access shops for supplies. The alternative looked to be a long walk for several days...or taking a chance at swimming.

We came across little villages and towns every 10 minutes of so. All were full of tiny shops selling the same chips, soft drinks, cigarettes, snacks and alcohol. It made me wonder how they all survived, and how they got the products there in the first place! 

Probably the scariest construction I have seen yet was a tin shack built over the edge of a cliff. The shack itself wasn't the problem. It was the rickety, haphazardly-placed bamboo poles stretching down into the jungle growth below to support the shack that had my heart pounding.

Haystacks grew out of the ground in front of homes to provide feed for cows and goats. The animals were usually tied up under their own shelter. Very rarely, one was roaming free providing yet another obstacle for buses, trucks and bikes to negotiate.

We eventually left the river and followed a windy route through the valleys and into the heart of the mountain range. Traffic thinned but our pace remained slow.

Snow capped mountains poking through the clouds

A break in the clouds gave us a glimpse of snow covered mountain peaks towering high above the other mountains. They seemed unnaturally high compared to anything I have seen before. For the first time, I had a shot of fear laced with adrenalin and I wondered if I really would survive the trek to Mt Everest base camp in October.

As we reached the outskirts of Pokhara, a raft of emotions washed over me. Relief as it was the end of the bus ride from hell. Anticipation of what my home stay and host family would be like. Excitement to see the beautiful lakes and mountains Pokhara is renowned for. Curiosity to find out what school held for me the next day. And fatigue! Believe it or not, even after sitting down for 8.5 hours, I slept like a log for 12 hours that night!

What happens when you talk to random strangers...

I was picked up by a young Nepalese girl dressed in a beautiful red and blue sari on my first morning alone in Kathmandu. 

 

I was standing on a busy roundabout, looking at my self-drawn copy of a Lonely Planet map, trying to make sense of the 6 roads around me, hunting for non-existent road signs and looking every part the hopelessly lost tourist, when she asked where I wanted to go. I showed her my crumpled piece of paper and I embarked on a day I will never forget.

Chameli was only 19 and had lived in Kathmandu all her life. She strode along the streets, effortlessly dodging vehicles, people and dogs and scolding anyone who got in her way. I stumbled along behind, desperately trying to keep up with her and listen to her constant chatter and insights into city life.

Kathmandu is really humid and hot, about 24 degrees but the humidity is at 90%+ so I was sweating profusely within 10 minutes (ewww!)

And busy! Oh my goodness, after living on a tiny island of 5000 where there are 4 trucks, 2 vans and about 100 motorbikes, Kathmandu seems absolutely mad. Buses, motorbikes, push bikes, people, dogs, cows, cats, monkeys and tuktuks compete for every last bit of space. Everyone pushes and no one seems to take the time to sit back, relax and watch the world go by.

Chameli had obviously guided people around before based on her knowledge of the city and where all the touristy sights were. She led me down narrow alleyways to see partially hidden stupas, explained why hundreds of coins were nailed to some old boards (to pray for healing for toothache), and knew all the shortcuts to get from A to B quickest.

Coins nailed to a board to pray for good teeth and fix bad teeth

The river...

When she pointed out a huge building sitting atop a high hill and asked if I wanted to see the monkey temple, I didn't even have to think twice. That is, until I saw the 365 steep stairs we had to ascend! The climb started out easy enough, especially as  we stopped after about 15 stairs to watch a bunch of monkeys playing and eating. 

Can't get up the stairs on these!!!

Some monkeys were chasing each other, some were resting on statues of Buddha, others were begging for food from people, and older monkeys groomed their young babies. They were intriguing to watch, and I could have sat and watched them for hours. 

But then our climb began in earnest. I imagined I was Sir Ed Hillary making his ascent up Mt Everest. Easy does it, one step at a time, keep going, imagine the view from the top and the elation of finally making it...OK, so maybe that was a bit of an overkill but it was my first day in Nepal and I was having such a great time.

Swayambutha - monkey temple

I was there!

Hundreds more shrines

I was greeted at the top by a towering golden spire sitting atop a set of eyes and a bulbous white dome. Prayer wheels darkened from the touch of thousands of people circled the dome. Alcoves hiding images of gods were covered with metal mesh gates. Blackened cups held the remnants of candles. Monkeys and pigeons played in tiny pools of water. And grey concrete statues and pillars, brightened by flowers and dyes covered the flat area around the stupa.

Prayer wheels

I turned around to look back down the stairs and was met by an amazing view of Kathmandu. The city stretched out in every direction. Steep, green mountains framed the pale buildings of the city. And clouds hung around the tops of the mountains, shrouding them from view.

We wandered around the stupa and down the other side of the hill. Here hundreds of Buddhist prayer flags adorned the trees, stretching hundreds of metres across small valleys and flapping gently in the light breeze. Many more monkeys played and rested on this side where the bush was more dense and the temperature slightly cooler.

Prayer flags make for beautiful views

We headed back towards the city centre and arrived in Durbar Square. There are actually 3 connecting squares that make up this tourist hub. Temples of all sizes filled the squares, bells rang out noisily and a constant stream of people moved around. Very few vehicles are allowed in the square so the atmosphere appeared more peaceful compared to the raucousness of the city outside.

We sat on the steps of one temple, watching the world go by and having a rest from the heat of the midday sun. Women in brightly coloured saris mingled with vendors selling fresh produce. Tour guides tried to convince camera-wielding tourists to hire them. And beggars moved slowly from person to person, trying to convince someone to give up some money.

In the afternoon, Chameli took me back to her home where I met her mum, aunty and little brother and sister. Their home was a room probably 4 metres by 3 metres. We had to walk up a narrow, cramped flight of stairs that I had to duck to get around. There were other rooms above and below where other families lived. 

A small double bed was along one side where mum, Chameli and her little sister slept. Her dad and brother sleep on the floor. A small bench held a gas cooker, a few bits of cutlery and some food. Clothes and other items were hung on the wall or kept under the bed. And a shared toilet was downstairs for (I assume) everyone in the building to use. 

Chameli made me a cup of milky tea (delicious and sweet) and we sat on the bed for a few hours while she taught me some Nepali. It was a real eye opener to me how poor the family was, and yet how welcoming and friendly they were. We laughed...or rather, they laughed at me trying to pronounce different words. But I came away knowing about 20 new Nepali words and having had a fantastic time.

While I would really struggle to live in these type of conditions permanently, my experience really reinforced to me how important people are - having good friends and being a good friend to others. 

Stupas and temples are everywhere

One day here (and 2 months on Naifaru) also made me think about life in NZ. We have so much. Most people are not struggling to simply survive each day (I know some people are). We are so lucky to have been born into a life of plenty, to have the world at our fingertips and to have so many opportunities compared to many others in the world. 

Make the most of every opportunity you have, get out and explore your surroundings and talk to random strangers...you never know how your day might turn out!

Anyone for chicken?

Arriving in Kathmandu: city lights, tall people and potholes

My apologies that there are no photos on my Nepal posts yet! Internet speeds are pretty slow and I haven't yet been able to upload any photos. As soon as I can, I will! In the meantime, I have tried to be as descriptive as possible in my posts so you can imagine the sights, hear the sounds and go into sensory overload like I have! Happy reading! M

As I flew into Kathmandu late at night, all I could see was sparkling lights marking out the city. In a way, it looked the same as any other large city in the world with orange and white pinpricks of light tracing road lines and marking homes. But there were subtle differences... 

The landscape wasn't completely covered in lights. Patches of darkness were dotted about everywhere. I imagined them to be small hills or valleys where it was impossible to build. Or perhaps there were homes in the darkness, but without power. The lights dimmed and flickered often, whether it was power surges or trees moving in the breeze blocking the lights from my view, I'm not sure. And some lights were much higher than others. It gave me the distinct impression the landscape had some pretty steep hills in places. I could only imagine how steep the mountains in the black background were and was curious to see how close to reality my imagination really is!

The airport arrival procedures were so simple. Hand over your passport, arrival documents, photo and cash for your visa and you're in. It took me all of 5 minutes and made me wonder why I even considered trying to get a visa before I left NZ!

As soon as I stepped out of the airport, I was greeted by several men asking me if I wanted a taxi, a hotel or help with my bags. Unlike some countries where I've found this practice to be intimidating and a little scary, I didn't feel unsafe or hassled here at all. As soon as I told them someone was waiting for me, the guys kindly pointed me in the direction of the waiting drivers and turned back to the arrivals gates to hunt out the next passenger. 

I feel really tall again! It's such a novelty for me to be able to see over most people's heads (when I stand 163cm at full stretch!) The biggest problem my height caused me this time was fitting into the tiny Suzuki vanette taxi that took me to my hotel. My head was just skimming the roof of the van and I hit the roof on numerous occasions as we flew around corners and over potholes.

The ride to my hotel was another experience in itself. While you drive on the left here, this seems to be just an indication. If a driver wants to overtake a slower vehicle, go around a corner or drive through an intersection, they just do it! The first vehicle at an intersection seems to have right-of-way. Motorbikes overtake on the inside. Pedestrians walk across the street, seemingly oblivious to the vehicles bearing down on them. I sometimes wondered if the drivers have a sixth sense to know where other vehicles and pedestrians are going! 

There are a few main roads that are reasonably straight and even, but most roads are narrow, windy and full of potholes. My driver seemed intent on driving down as many empty side streets as fast as possible and only braking when a particularly large pothole (or open drain) appeared. I spent the 15 minute journey bouncing around on the back seat, trying not to knock my head too much and wondering if I would ever be able to find my way around the myriad of tiny streets in the city.

I was greeted warmly at the Katmandu Peace Guest House by Raj and shown to my room. It's a bit of a change from my room (suite!) at the Maldivian resort the last few nights, but it's warm, clean and comfortable and I feel quite safe. 

I'm so looking forward to morning, to see what the city is like in daylight and beginning the next part of my amazing adventure!

Reflections of my life on Naifaru

Does anyone remember The Sunscreen Song? It's pretty old!  It starts:

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99 

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be  it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience…I will dispense this advice now"

So in the same spirit as the original version...here is my sunscreen song...

1. I need very few things around me to be comfortable and content. People are so much more important

2. Talk to people. Even if you don't speak the language, there are ways to communicate. (And a smile goes a long way!)

3. Learn the local language. It helps with making friends, being accepted into a community and finding out what is going on around the place

4. Keep going, even when you're tired or hungry or grumpy

5. Get involved in everything that comes up. You never know if an opportunity will be the only one

6. Wander around aimlessly and explore hidden streets. The are all sorts of interesting people, random shops and cute animals hiding in unexpected places

7. Be aware of all your actions and make sure you do what you say you're going to

8. Find exciting and interesting and new ways to expand people's minds

9. Don't judge other cultures against your own

10. Do what the locals do

11. Turn off the TV

12. Try the local food...exactly the way the locals do. Even if it means trying something you have never thought of as 'food', eating with your hands, dealing with a constant onslaught of flies and having mealtimes at completely different times

13. Politics are everywhere. Find ways to get your work done anyway

14. Be flexible with your time, with your priorities and with your expectations

15. Be patient with others. Not everyone has had the same training or experiences as me. Likewise, I need others to be patient with me too

16. Take loads of photos (and sort them as you go!)

17. Give your camera to someone else for a day (who you trust). You'd be amazed at some of the cool pics that come back

18. Respect others beliefs. You don't need to agree with them, just remember everyone is entitled to their own personal beliefs

19. Sleep when you can. All-nighters watching for nesting turtles take their tole

20. Take time out at least once a week to reflect on what you've done and learned

21. Keep a diary - or better yet a blog (chrysalismegan.blogspot.com)! It's fun, an easy way to keep in touch with loads of people and fab to look back on and see how your experiences shape your mind and actions in the future

22. Take cooking lessons and learn to cook the local cuisine

23. Relax in your own way

24. When you muck up, find a way to fix it, decide what to do next time and keep going

25. Don't take yourself too seriously

26. Try something new everyday...like climbing a coconut tree without a ladder, playing football on a coral pitch or sleeping under the stars

27. If your actions are not giving you the results you want, do something different (anything different!) and see what happens

28. Wear sunscreen! Your face and body will love you for it in the years to come

29. Adapt to the local ways of doing things

30. Back up your photos and work to multiple places/ devices often

31. Have fun! And find new ways to have fun (like playing a game of tackle rugby on a deserted island sandpit at 2 am!)

 

Bye Naifaru and all my wonderful friends there.  I will miss you but you will always have a special place in my heart. xxx