For Hindus, Varanasi (Benares) is the holiest place on earth, and the chosen home of the Hindu god Shiva. Those who die in Varanasi are guaranteed Moksha, or liberation from the cycle of death an rebirth, no matter what they may have done in their lifetimes. Thousands come daily to bathe in the sacred waters of the Ganges (Mother Ganga). For many devout Hindus, a visit to Benares is roughly akin to the Muslim Haj to Mecca. Around the city, dead bodies are a common sight, delivered to the roaring funeral pyres with the traditional chant, "Ram Nam Satyi Hai."
The Buddha came to Sarnath, on the outskirts of Benares, 2500 years ago to preach his first sermon after attaining allightenment under the Bodyi tree. He delivered his sermon in what was a thriving North Indian trading town on the banks of the Ganges. Benares is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, an imensely intense and enchanting maze of narrow alleyways filled with cows and small shops emptying out at the numerous Ghats spread along the river. Its sights and sounds and smells never cease to amaze.
I am back in India.
What a wild place.
My third time, but it always feels like the first.
Sitting in the back of a cycle rickshaw, the old man in rags peddling the last few kilometers through the dense early morning fog towards the Nepali-Indo border post. It feels like the most desolate place in the world in this early morning chill. Figures appear like ghosts out of the thick white soup, cloaked in homespun cloth, heads down, shielding from the cold. A hazy orange globe rising over the derelect border crossing marking the dawn of a new day, a new adventure, a new experience. Faces get browner and leaner, the stares more intense, it seems, at ever step I take. The usual border grime is omnipresent; why border towns in most of the world attract filth and scum I do not know, but this place is no exception. I walk on.
It hits like a hammer, the intensity of the stares, makes me suddenly bashful, forgetting this is the norm now. There are people, swarming, everywhere, everywhere you look, surounding everything you see, a great swelling mass of humanity at every glance. This place defies every Western notion of existence at every step, every move, everything is alive, laid bare for you to observe, no cloaks, no mirrors, just life. Stifling, overwhelming, beautiful, fascinating.
02 December 2007
28 November 2007
Steve McCurry
"If given a chance to turn back, I would not take it. Therefore, the decision to go ahead is my own responsibility, to be adopted with a whole heart."
Last night at the Pilgrim's Bookshop in Thamel (which is amazing in its own right, possibly the best in South Asia) I stumbled upon a magnificent photo book, that kept my gaze and mind captivated until the store was closing, and I was ushered out into the hazy Kathmandu evening, in a daze. Many of you have seen Steve McCurry's famous Afghan Girl photo from National Geographic, which is a magnificent indicator of how wonderful his entire collection is.
If you have a moment, and are entertained by beautiful photos (with an emphasis on his India gallery), check out http://www.stevenmccurry.com/ or better yet, check out his book, South Southeast, which is the entire collection of his photos from India, Afghanistan, Burma, and Thailand. This man is a genius, and his India journal is almost as brilliant as his shots. Hope you enjoy that as much as I did.
I recieved got a quick touch up on some old "ink" last nite from my friend Mohan, over at Mohan's Tattoo Inn. He does brilliant work (he studied in Korea for years, and is "famous" here in Nepal), uses all sterilized equipment with new needles, autoclaves, gloves, etc., and is a really nice guy to boot. My tattoo talley is up to 3, and though they are addictive, I have promised myself no more (at least in the near future). Check out Mohan if you have an extra minute...
http://www.mohanstattooinn.com/
Heres a shot of Mohan putting the traditional Yapese dolphins on my back about a month ago..I had been waiting to get these for awhile living in the Pacific, but glad I waited to have someone of his caliber do the work, as his lines came out beautifully. Thank you Mohan!~
Last night at the Pilgrim's Bookshop in Thamel (which is amazing in its own right, possibly the best in South Asia) I stumbled upon a magnificent photo book, that kept my gaze and mind captivated until the store was closing, and I was ushered out into the hazy Kathmandu evening, in a daze. Many of you have seen Steve McCurry's famous Afghan Girl photo from National Geographic, which is a magnificent indicator of how wonderful his entire collection is.
If you have a moment, and are entertained by beautiful photos (with an emphasis on his India gallery), check out http://www.stevenmccurry.com/ or better yet, check out his book, South Southeast, which is the entire collection of his photos from India, Afghanistan, Burma, and Thailand. This man is a genius, and his India journal is almost as brilliant as his shots. Hope you enjoy that as much as I did.
I recieved got a quick touch up on some old "ink" last nite from my friend Mohan, over at Mohan's Tattoo Inn. He does brilliant work (he studied in Korea for years, and is "famous" here in Nepal), uses all sterilized equipment with new needles, autoclaves, gloves, etc., and is a really nice guy to boot. My tattoo talley is up to 3, and though they are addictive, I have promised myself no more (at least in the near future). Check out Mohan if you have an extra minute...
http://www.mohanstattooinn.com/
Heres a shot of Mohan putting the traditional Yapese dolphins on my back about a month ago..I had been waiting to get these for awhile living in the Pacific, but glad I waited to have someone of his caliber do the work, as his lines came out beautifully. Thank you Mohan!~
27 November 2007
Better Pics Uploaded!
I was finally able to locate the ellusive "high speed internet cafe" here in the rusticly dial up
laden capital city of Nepal, and thus, was able to put some better quality pics on my Picassa site, so browse away, peoples!
http://picasaweb.google.com/JeffreyHDow/Nepal
India visa has been arranged (after many hours of lines, repeated inquiries, and a near scare of being denied), various ailments under the control of dodgy Indian antibiotics,
and the urge to get out of Kathmandu growing daily as a result of the now week-long garbage strike, which has left huge stinking rotting piles of refuse on all corners. Does add a bit of character, but this city is not lacking in character to begin with. Back to the Indian visa topic.
Just a quick thought on this-the common western mentality seems to be that we are entitled to visas to "3rd world" countries, (possibly a vestige of the colonial mindset to enter as we please). People show up in line wearing their trashy traveling gear, speaking to the embassy employees like they are low class, and expect to get their visa, no worries. It was actually gratifying in some senses to see many of these startled travelers denied for their entry visas, walking away in shock. COME ON PEOPLE! Wear shoes to your visa interview! Maybe in 50 years, when the economic balances have been completely reversed, will people of the west come to their senses and treat people of developing countries with the respect and dignity that they deserve. To the reverse situation, seeing the preperation and care given by citizens of a country like Nepal in the slim hope of obtaining a visa to go to a country like America is amazing. I have spent a few days at the American embassy here in Kathmandu doing school research at the American Center, and the emotions that you can see attached, the hopes, despair, elations, everything was on plain display, and was quite moving. The consuler officers at the Embassy have a very difficult job, one that I do not envy.
I will be heading down to the birthplace of Sakyumani Buddha, Lumbini, on the southern border of Nepal, tomorrow for a few days of wandering and relfection, gathering my thoughts and sensibility before plunging headlong into the maddness of India. Varanasi will be my first destination upon crossing the border in a few day, which from all accounts is one of the most intensly overwhelming places in the world. Heres the Wiki link if you feel the urge to read up on the holiest city in Hinduism:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Varanasi
Should be plenty of pictures to come in the near future.
Namaste.
laden capital city of Nepal, and thus, was able to put some better quality pics on my Picassa site, so browse away, peoples!
http://picasaweb.google.com/JeffreyHDow/Nepal
India visa has been arranged (after many hours of lines, repeated inquiries, and a near scare of being denied), various ailments under the control of dodgy Indian antibiotics,
and the urge to get out of Kathmandu growing daily as a result of the now week-long garbage strike, which has left huge stinking rotting piles of refuse on all corners. Does add a bit of character, but this city is not lacking in character to begin with. Back to the Indian visa topic.
Just a quick thought on this-the common western mentality seems to be that we are entitled to visas to "3rd world" countries, (possibly a vestige of the colonial mindset to enter as we please). People show up in line wearing their trashy traveling gear, speaking to the embassy employees like they are low class, and expect to get their visa, no worries. It was actually gratifying in some senses to see many of these startled travelers denied for their entry visas, walking away in shock. COME ON PEOPLE! Wear shoes to your visa interview! Maybe in 50 years, when the economic balances have been completely reversed, will people of the west come to their senses and treat people of developing countries with the respect and dignity that they deserve. To the reverse situation, seeing the preperation and care given by citizens of a country like Nepal in the slim hope of obtaining a visa to go to a country like America is amazing. I have spent a few days at the American embassy here in Kathmandu doing school research at the American Center, and the emotions that you can see attached, the hopes, despair, elations, everything was on plain display, and was quite moving. The consuler officers at the Embassy have a very difficult job, one that I do not envy.
I will be heading down to the birthplace of Sakyumani Buddha, Lumbini, on the southern border of Nepal, tomorrow for a few days of wandering and relfection, gathering my thoughts and sensibility before plunging headlong into the maddness of India. Varanasi will be my first destination upon crossing the border in a few day, which from all accounts is one of the most intensly overwhelming places in the world. Heres the Wiki link if you feel the urge to read up on the holiest city in Hinduism:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Varanasi
Should be plenty of pictures to come in the near future.
Namaste.
21 November 2007
19 November 2007
Annapurna Trekking
Just completed the Around Annapurna trek, a 180km stroll around the Annapurna range of Nepal. An amazing experience, which, despite a nasty cold and a sore knee, I hope to do again one day. Some clippings from my daily journal, and some select pics from the hike...
11.1 Bagarchap, Manang District
The path follows the steep canyonsides north, meandering across foot bridges ands the stream remnants of powerful mountain waterfalls. There are so many waterfalls cutting jagged conyons that one grows numb to their thundering beauty. Brightly colored pony trains pass on the narrow trail, kicking up clouds of fine dust, their bells clanging in arrival and departure. After many hours, the path rises steeply, steadily, and I find myself in a fine rhythm, feeling my breath strongly, focused foward, legs burning. The stone chortons marking the newly Tibetan villages welcome me to my resting place for the evening. The night carries with it the first real chill that i have felt in a long time.
11.2 Chame, Manang District
Enormous hawks soaring on thermals, I am looking at them eye level. Bundles of maize and dried rice stalks stacked in ancient sheds, hidden behind crumbling stone walls, meandering through medevil villages. Crooked legged porters hauling huge wicker baskets laden down for the villages northward, the only trucks in these parts, walking the same paths that people have walked for thousands of years, these ancient trading routes, stones worn smooth underfoot. Drinking milk tea with new friends, the hulk of Manasulu, one of the tallest peaks in the world, as a quaint backdrop. A few words with a Sherpa guide over yet another cup of milk tea, eating dinner in this tiny smoke filled low roofed local meeting house, the lights went out in the village, and we all sat in silence around the wood burning stove for a long minute. Departing with a friendly namaste, a Sanskrit word for greeting and parting, that means, "I salute you."
"the meeting and parting of living things is as when clouds having come together drift apart again, or as when the leaves are parted from the trees. There is nothing we may call our own in a union that is but a dream."
William Blake
11.3 Pisang Village, Manang
Stumbling like a drunkard through this ancient fortress village. What surrounds me does not seem real. Towering white massifs, high dry plains, colorful pony caravans, a band of youths, only boys, carving an impossible road out of the cliffside, using only hand tools and a wagon with mishapen wooden wheels. Prayer flags fluttering furiously in the cool wind, coming from a long way, just as I.
I've felt a certain magic in the air this entire day. A high pine grove, wind whistling through the pine needles, my mind clear, nothing but surrounding bliss for company.
The landscape is hallucinatory.
11.11 Thorong Pedi Base Camp, Manang
Sitting in the partylike atmosphere of the solar heated dining room here in Thorong Pedi, literally, the foot of the pass, the 5460m pass that we will be climbing tomorrow, the highest in the world. Listening to such a variety of accents, a true global gathering, everyone buzzing with nervous energy. My knee hurts, but this was expected after injuring it 4 days ago. With no option other than backtracking (the only airstrip in Manang not operating until december), I have to cross this huge pass and tackle what will be an even harder decent, 1600meters down to the ancient village of Mukthinath. I look foward to the challenge.
the beauty of the mountains continues to amaze me, leaving me breathless, not a hard feet at 4600meters (about 14000ft). the brown stone cliffs framing a deep blue sky, the blinding whiteness of the tall peaks in the midday sun. the path cutting a ribbon up the glacier carved valleys, all the images, though ephemeral, make a lasting impression, I hope. We will set off in the dark tomorrow to not get stuck on the high pass in the heavy afternoon squalls.
11.14 Dana, Mustang district
The last golden rays of sunshine reflect off the high peaks rising above the near verdant, terraced hills. Water comes in irregular spurts from the village water tap onto the cold stones. My knee throbs, badly aches, 16 days now of daily workouts carrying my 40lb pack amidst the highest peaks in the world. We crossed the high pass in brilliant sunshine, deep snows reflecting, the altitude leaving me and my friend gasping for air, legs and minds pumping, arriving spent, yet emboldened in Mukthinath. Tibetan carpet sellers lining the dirt streets, local wine toasted by candlelight.
the snows on the peaks have taken an orange glow-a quick glance would mistake water for fire-and like that, it is gone, only shadows, as all moments.
"the absurdity of a life that may well end before one understands it does not relieve one of the duty to live it through as bravely and as generously as possible"
P. Mattheisson
11.1 Bagarchap, Manang District
The path follows the steep canyonsides north, meandering across foot bridges ands the stream remnants of powerful mountain waterfalls. There are so many waterfalls cutting jagged conyons that one grows numb to their thundering beauty. Brightly colored pony trains pass on the narrow trail, kicking up clouds of fine dust, their bells clanging in arrival and departure. After many hours, the path rises steeply, steadily, and I find myself in a fine rhythm, feeling my breath strongly, focused foward, legs burning. The stone chortons marking the newly Tibetan villages welcome me to my resting place for the evening. The night carries with it the first real chill that i have felt in a long time.
11.2 Chame, Manang District
Enormous hawks soaring on thermals, I am looking at them eye level. Bundles of maize and dried rice stalks stacked in ancient sheds, hidden behind crumbling stone walls, meandering through medevil villages. Crooked legged porters hauling huge wicker baskets laden down for the villages northward, the only trucks in these parts, walking the same paths that people have walked for thousands of years, these ancient trading routes, stones worn smooth underfoot. Drinking milk tea with new friends, the hulk of Manasulu, one of the tallest peaks in the world, as a quaint backdrop. A few words with a Sherpa guide over yet another cup of milk tea, eating dinner in this tiny smoke filled low roofed local meeting house, the lights went out in the village, and we all sat in silence around the wood burning stove for a long minute. Departing with a friendly namaste, a Sanskrit word for greeting and parting, that means, "I salute you."
"the meeting and parting of living things is as when clouds having come together drift apart again, or as when the leaves are parted from the trees. There is nothing we may call our own in a union that is but a dream."
William Blake
11.3 Pisang Village, Manang
Stumbling like a drunkard through this ancient fortress village. What surrounds me does not seem real. Towering white massifs, high dry plains, colorful pony caravans, a band of youths, only boys, carving an impossible road out of the cliffside, using only hand tools and a wagon with mishapen wooden wheels. Prayer flags fluttering furiously in the cool wind, coming from a long way, just as I.
I've felt a certain magic in the air this entire day. A high pine grove, wind whistling through the pine needles, my mind clear, nothing but surrounding bliss for company.
The landscape is hallucinatory.
11.11 Thorong Pedi Base Camp, Manang
Sitting in the partylike atmosphere of the solar heated dining room here in Thorong Pedi, literally, the foot of the pass, the 5460m pass that we will be climbing tomorrow, the highest in the world. Listening to such a variety of accents, a true global gathering, everyone buzzing with nervous energy. My knee hurts, but this was expected after injuring it 4 days ago. With no option other than backtracking (the only airstrip in Manang not operating until december), I have to cross this huge pass and tackle what will be an even harder decent, 1600meters down to the ancient village of Mukthinath. I look foward to the challenge.
the beauty of the mountains continues to amaze me, leaving me breathless, not a hard feet at 4600meters (about 14000ft). the brown stone cliffs framing a deep blue sky, the blinding whiteness of the tall peaks in the midday sun. the path cutting a ribbon up the glacier carved valleys, all the images, though ephemeral, make a lasting impression, I hope. We will set off in the dark tomorrow to not get stuck on the high pass in the heavy afternoon squalls.
11.14 Dana, Mustang district
The last golden rays of sunshine reflect off the high peaks rising above the near verdant, terraced hills. Water comes in irregular spurts from the village water tap onto the cold stones. My knee throbs, badly aches, 16 days now of daily workouts carrying my 40lb pack amidst the highest peaks in the world. We crossed the high pass in brilliant sunshine, deep snows reflecting, the altitude leaving me and my friend gasping for air, legs and minds pumping, arriving spent, yet emboldened in Mukthinath. Tibetan carpet sellers lining the dirt streets, local wine toasted by candlelight.
the snows on the peaks have taken an orange glow-a quick glance would mistake water for fire-and like that, it is gone, only shadows, as all moments.
"the absurdity of a life that may well end before one understands it does not relieve one of the duty to live it through as bravely and as generously as possible"
P. Mattheisson
24 October 2007
Sankhu
n
A quick day trip to Sankhu, on the outer rim of the Kathmandu Valley, and an ancient trading post to Tibet. Now, just a crumbling Newari village, choked with dust, but with some very nice locals who led me around and explained their ancient city with much enthusiasm...some pics attached.....
I have been heavily engrossed in Sogyal Rimpoche's classic, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. While not wanting to shave my head and become a monk, I do have a great desire both to explore Tibetan Buddhism as a philosophy and and to gain a better understand of the people who I walk amongst in this country. The teachings are beautiful, and the culture, with all of its art and ancient insights into the nature of the mind (which I have been exploring for some time on my own) is very captivating. Being amongst so many who dedicate their lives to studying the mind is very unique in this day in age. I will be partaking in a 10 day course when I return to Kathmandu, mid-November, to increase my own insight.
Namaste.
A quick day trip to Sankhu, on the outer rim of the Kathmandu Valley, and an ancient trading post to Tibet. Now, just a crumbling Newari village, choked with dust, but with some very nice locals who led me around and explained their ancient city with much enthusiasm...some pics attached.....
I have been heavily engrossed in Sogyal Rimpoche's classic, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. While not wanting to shave my head and become a monk, I do have a great desire both to explore Tibetan Buddhism as a philosophy and and to gain a better understand of the people who I walk amongst in this country. The teachings are beautiful, and the culture, with all of its art and ancient insights into the nature of the mind (which I have been exploring for some time on my own) is very captivating. Being amongst so many who dedicate their lives to studying the mind is very unique in this day in age. I will be partaking in a 10 day course when I return to Kathmandu, mid-November, to increase my own insight.
Namaste.
22 October 2007
Kopan
The way to the monestary les me through places I never thought existed in the kathmandu Valley. Open fields and mountain vistas with broken rusting Tata trucks, roofs of thatch, naked children screaming. A butcher's shop, his wares, bloodied and swarming, spread out for all to admire. Tiny hobit holed hovel houses, infested with filthy inhabitants lined the dusty, rock strewn path, that maybe once was paved, maybe it wasnt. Tibetans and Nepalis living together side by side in astounding normalcy, in a region of the world where people die every day for their beliefs. And finally, on top of the hill overlooking the ancient stupa and medevil valley below, Kopan Monestary, a place of such ornate simple beauty. The thakpa's (Tibetan murals) awed me with their unashamed ferocity, what beauty, what colors. The monks were debating and yelling and loudly clapping their hands in the yard. I thought it was anger, but there is no anger in this place, only passion, and beauty, and struggle.
what is born will die
what has been gathered will be dispersed
what has been accumulated will be exausted
what has been built up will collapse
and what has been high will be brought low
what is born will die
what has been gathered will be dispersed
what has been accumulated will be exausted
what has been built up will collapse
and what has been high will be brought low
20 October 2007
Boudhna
"Brown eyes observe us as we pass. Confronted with the pain of Asia, one cannot look and one cannot turn away. In India, human misery seems so pervasive that one takes in only stray details; a warped leg or a dead eye, a sick pariah dog eating withered grass, an ancient woan lifting her sari to mvoe her shrunken bowels by the road. Yet, there is hope in life. Shiva dances in spicy food; the angry bus horns; the chattering of the temple monkeys; the vermillion tikka dot on the woman's forehead. The people smile-that is the greatest miracle of all." Peter Matthaison
I keep averting my own eyes from those of the young beggar with sad eyes and outstretched hand, looking down, ashamed for a reason I cannot explain, trying to put these thoughts and feelings down into my journal, glancing up, to see her still there, hand still outstretched, eyes still forlorn. Trying to decipher how this place makes me feel; how the extremeness in front of my eyes, dying lepers, cows lying in piles of festering trash, wide-eyed camera toting western tourists decked out in the latest North Face gear, spiritual pilgims draped in maroon robes, brown merchants with shiny white teeth trying to sell me things I have no need for, an entire spectrum of humanity packed into this space. I am in Boudhna, Kathmandu, a Tibetan enclave centered around the largest Buddhist stupa in the world, meandering into unpaved alleyways, countless doors and windows. A living relic of an ancient culture that has been wiped out in its homeland by an oppressive government; a living relic of the ancient trade and pilgrimage routes that have come through these very streets for thousands of years. Tibetan culture is deep and uneffected here, and swarms of saffron-cloaked monks circumnavigate the massive stupa in front of me. I sit in the relative comfort and sanctity of a small coffee shop, trying to deconstruct my own pilgrimage.
This place has such a strange sense of magic to it. It feels so exotic that your sense of exotic vanishes and the abnormal becomes commonplace. You become numb to the strange beauty, stopping long enough to exchange a smile with a stranger, and continue on your path. This place could overwhelm with its simple beauty, its strange beauty, if one was not numb to its effects. I feel a wonderful sense of peace here.
I am a pilgrim, on the start of my own long and strange journey, or maybe just on another leg of an even longer and stranger one. Regardless, I am in a place that is wonderful, a place that I will cherish. The monks horns ring in the background, the butterlamps are being lit by the old Tibetan ladies, and night falls on the stupa as I write.
I do need to buy a bunch a warm clothes tomorrow, I am freezing here in my island garb, which has left me woefully unprepared for the late October nip in the Kathmandu air. I will stay here for a few days. I am in no rush, a wonderful luxury and freedom that comes with traveling as opposed to vacationing. The next stop will be the Annapurnas, and a three week trek into the heart of the Himalayas, (the alaya, or abode, of hima, snow) which promises to be wonderful. Its great to be back in this crazy little country.
Currently re-reading Peter Matthaison's absolute masterpiece, The Snow Leopard, detailing his journey with famed naturalist George Schaller to the mountains of eastern Nepal in the late 1970's. Highly recommend this for anyone interested in the area, his words are true poetry.
I keep averting my own eyes from those of the young beggar with sad eyes and outstretched hand, looking down, ashamed for a reason I cannot explain, trying to put these thoughts and feelings down into my journal, glancing up, to see her still there, hand still outstretched, eyes still forlorn. Trying to decipher how this place makes me feel; how the extremeness in front of my eyes, dying lepers, cows lying in piles of festering trash, wide-eyed camera toting western tourists decked out in the latest North Face gear, spiritual pilgims draped in maroon robes, brown merchants with shiny white teeth trying to sell me things I have no need for, an entire spectrum of humanity packed into this space. I am in Boudhna, Kathmandu, a Tibetan enclave centered around the largest Buddhist stupa in the world, meandering into unpaved alleyways, countless doors and windows. A living relic of an ancient culture that has been wiped out in its homeland by an oppressive government; a living relic of the ancient trade and pilgrimage routes that have come through these very streets for thousands of years. Tibetan culture is deep and uneffected here, and swarms of saffron-cloaked monks circumnavigate the massive stupa in front of me. I sit in the relative comfort and sanctity of a small coffee shop, trying to deconstruct my own pilgrimage.
This place has such a strange sense of magic to it. It feels so exotic that your sense of exotic vanishes and the abnormal becomes commonplace. You become numb to the strange beauty, stopping long enough to exchange a smile with a stranger, and continue on your path. This place could overwhelm with its simple beauty, its strange beauty, if one was not numb to its effects. I feel a wonderful sense of peace here.
I am a pilgrim, on the start of my own long and strange journey, or maybe just on another leg of an even longer and stranger one. Regardless, I am in a place that is wonderful, a place that I will cherish. The monks horns ring in the background, the butterlamps are being lit by the old Tibetan ladies, and night falls on the stupa as I write.
I do need to buy a bunch a warm clothes tomorrow, I am freezing here in my island garb, which has left me woefully unprepared for the late October nip in the Kathmandu air. I will stay here for a few days. I am in no rush, a wonderful luxury and freedom that comes with traveling as opposed to vacationing. The next stop will be the Annapurnas, and a three week trek into the heart of the Himalayas, (the alaya, or abode, of hima, snow) which promises to be wonderful. Its great to be back in this crazy little country.
Currently re-reading Peter Matthaison's absolute masterpiece, The Snow Leopard, detailing his journey with famed naturalist George Schaller to the mountains of eastern Nepal in the late 1970's. Highly recommend this for anyone interested in the area, his words are true poetry.
12 October 2007
As I get ready, prepare to leave this island home, it dawns on me again. The impermanence and transience of all things. Nothing will remain as it is; this is the natural way of the world. Putting all of what remains of my worldly possessions into my old green backpack, condensing my material life into this tiny bit of space, what a freeing emotion. The moment brings a smile to my face; so many memories began in this same place, in the same nervous excitedness that pumps in my chest; my personal legend written as a nomad's life, free to explore, free to experience, free to revel in the impermanence of this existance. One thing is for sure. I will miss this place, it is a special space, a certain moment in time that will always give me strength and comfort. Time for the next.
A few photos from my village's going away party yesterday, which was very special.
More new/old pics to be found at my Picassa site.... http://picasaweb.google.com/JeffreyHDow
"a journey, one hopes, will become its own justification, will assume patterns, reveal its possibilities-reveal, even, its layers of meaning-as one goes along, trusting to chance, to instinct, to hunch. When you start off you do not necessarily know where you are going or why."
-Shiva Naupaul
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DHUS1CZS36Q a great 10 minute India travelogue
09 October 2007
Ramblings on Poverty Alleviation
"Nations are mythical creatures, gaseous, and sometimes poisonous. But they start to solidify when diverse people have moments where aspirations collide."
----Binyavango Wainaina
In the next 1-2 years (or so), I hope to gain perspective on the unwieldy and daunting topic of 3rd world poverty, from a combination of travel experiences, work experiences, and a thorough attempt to abandon my "1st world" perspecetives on what conditions are necessary for "prosperity." In pondering a future in the field of international development, new ideas developed and explored will serve a dual and valuable purpose; to make me more worldly and in touch with humanity (a personal goal) and increase my understanding an effectiveness in any future endeavors in the field. Living for two years in the Peace Corps has certainly been humbling, but there is still a long way to go on this path....
Looking at the future, my eyes and my mind keep veering off to a vast land which has captivated my imaginations as of late...a place where humanity began eons ago, a place that forms the common bond between all of us on this planet....Africa.
A place of most of the development debacles of the last 50 years, place of crushing poverty and breathtaking corruption, of dispair, and, increasingly, of promise. One of the current bright spots, Rwanda, a place racked my genocide only 13 years ago, is highlighted in Nicholas Kristoff's blog to a much better degree than I could ever hope to undertake...(www.nytimes.com/ontheroad)...a very interesting take on matters, if you have a minute.
However, for every bright spot in Africa, there is also much trouble. At a recent Harvard commencement speech, Bill Gates summed things up pointingly..."We (he and Paul Allen) had just assumed that if millions of children were dying and could be saved, the world would make it a priority to discover and deliver the medicines to save them....but it did not."
Where is this priority? This assumption stretches to the suffering and plight of billions of people, children and their parents, in this world, in the year 2007. Where is the priority, where is the concern, where is the simple dissemination of information? Why are we more concerned with celebrity gossip and sports cars? These things are hard for me to understand. Have we been so callosed by the debacle that is Iraq that we have no more room for dispair?
Let's look, for instance, at the Democratic Republic of Congo (https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/cg.html).
This is a land the size of Western Europe, with only 300 miles of paved roads, no electricity outside of the capital city of Kinshasa, a place where the deadliest war in the world since WW2 has raged for over a decade, with more than 5 million people killed and countless displaced. Most Americans could not locate this country on a world map. Why the indifference? When people begin to care, major things can happen. Where is the DRC's George Clooney? I did notice press lately (worthy press, I might add) on the conflict that has been renewed in the east of the country, detailing a recent spate of killings. However, those killed were a group of mountain gorillas. Where is the press detailing the human suffering? People need to be informed to begin to care. And people need to care to enact any kind of change. We need to remember that we are all born with the same heart, the same lungs, eyes, ears. Yet some struggle even for the most basic level of survival. A great program that has been getting a lot of press lately, which is a worthy capitalist model, if you have a minute..... (www.joinred.com)
Whats the answer? Many people believe they have it. I don't. I do know that handouts do not work in achieving anything lasting; they serve a purpose, but they do not provide any means for progress, merely survival and stagnation. True development and poverty alleviation means giving those, so motivated, the means to help themselves. A bright spot in this field is the area of Microcredit, which has been getting a lot of attention since Muhammad Yunus & Grameen Bank
were awarded the Nobel Prize last year. (www.grameen-info.org) Empowering the rural poor has a lot of potential for a grass root and widespread lifting of living conditions for those so inclined to participate. This is what I will be exploring in the months to come in southern India.
----Binyavango Wainaina
In the next 1-2 years (or so), I hope to gain perspective on the unwieldy and daunting topic of 3rd world poverty, from a combination of travel experiences, work experiences, and a thorough attempt to abandon my "1st world" perspecetives on what conditions are necessary for "prosperity." In pondering a future in the field of international development, new ideas developed and explored will serve a dual and valuable purpose; to make me more worldly and in touch with humanity (a personal goal) and increase my understanding an effectiveness in any future endeavors in the field. Living for two years in the Peace Corps has certainly been humbling, but there is still a long way to go on this path....
Looking at the future, my eyes and my mind keep veering off to a vast land which has captivated my imaginations as of late...a place where humanity began eons ago, a place that forms the common bond between all of us on this planet....Africa.
A place of most of the development debacles of the last 50 years, place of crushing poverty and breathtaking corruption, of dispair, and, increasingly, of promise. One of the current bright spots, Rwanda, a place racked my genocide only 13 years ago, is highlighted in Nicholas Kristoff's blog to a much better degree than I could ever hope to undertake...(www.nytimes.com/ontheroad)...a very interesting take on matters, if you have a minute.
However, for every bright spot in Africa, there is also much trouble. At a recent Harvard commencement speech, Bill Gates summed things up pointingly..."We (he and Paul Allen) had just assumed that if millions of children were dying and could be saved, the world would make it a priority to discover and deliver the medicines to save them....but it did not."
Where is this priority? This assumption stretches to the suffering and plight of billions of people, children and their parents, in this world, in the year 2007. Where is the priority, where is the concern, where is the simple dissemination of information? Why are we more concerned with celebrity gossip and sports cars? These things are hard for me to understand. Have we been so callosed by the debacle that is Iraq that we have no more room for dispair?
Let's look, for instance, at the Democratic Republic of Congo (https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/cg.html).
This is a land the size of Western Europe, with only 300 miles of paved roads, no electricity outside of the capital city of Kinshasa, a place where the deadliest war in the world since WW2 has raged for over a decade, with more than 5 million people killed and countless displaced. Most Americans could not locate this country on a world map. Why the indifference? When people begin to care, major things can happen. Where is the DRC's George Clooney? I did notice press lately (worthy press, I might add) on the conflict that has been renewed in the east of the country, detailing a recent spate of killings. However, those killed were a group of mountain gorillas. Where is the press detailing the human suffering? People need to be informed to begin to care. And people need to care to enact any kind of change. We need to remember that we are all born with the same heart, the same lungs, eyes, ears. Yet some struggle even for the most basic level of survival. A great program that has been getting a lot of press lately, which is a worthy capitalist model, if you have a minute..... (www.joinred.com)
Whats the answer? Many people believe they have it. I don't. I do know that handouts do not work in achieving anything lasting; they serve a purpose, but they do not provide any means for progress, merely survival and stagnation. True development and poverty alleviation means giving those, so motivated, the means to help themselves. A bright spot in this field is the area of Microcredit, which has been getting a lot of attention since Muhammad Yunus & Grameen Bank
were awarded the Nobel Prize last year. (www.grameen-info.org) Empowering the rural poor has a lot of potential for a grass root and widespread lifting of living conditions for those so inclined to participate. This is what I will be exploring in the months to come in southern India.
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