engaging

On Monday afternoon, Mike took us up the hill and around the corner and then sent us out to various spots on the hillside in our research groups. Tim, Steve, Lulu, and I couldn't find a way up to our loosely assigned spot, so we ended up wandering up a dried up river bed/ road (wondering all the while what they do when the river runs) and eventually found a nice, partly shaded spot from which to observe and sketch the natural surroundings. It was just a perfect spot, and I will never stop marveling at the terracing covering the hillsides. Farmers long, long ago, far before anything like modern farm equipment existed, molded their steep, unfarmable land into wide, perfect staircases, creating one flat surface after another on which to plant rice, millet, maize, and other crops. When it rains or when the mountain snow melts, water filters through from one level to the next and on through each terrace, all the way down the mountainside to the bottom of the valley, which is also covered in fields. Would you believe I had fun drawing all this?
When we were done with time to spare, Tim, Steve, and I hiked up the road further till we saw a young man leading an ox out to graze. We did our best to strike up a conversation with him, and it turned out he spoke a little bit of English, so between that and our "ali ali" Nepali, we managed to make a friend. His name is Krishna and he seemed to be a few years older than we. We weren't sure if the small children standing by were his. He brought us over near his house to where two cows and two goats stood in one large stall and the two oxen in the other. We didn't actually go into his house, but we could see it from where we stood, and it looked very nice, with an open front and stucco walls inside. We said goodbye after asking him about a few different trees in his yard (one of which, of course, was a banana tree!), and decided afterward that we'd do our best to go back and see him again when we come back after our trek.


Tuesday night, Amelia, Austin, Steve, and I went to the Bluebell restaurant across the street for dinner. What followed was one of the coolest experiences to date. We walked past a girl doing homework, through a narrow hallway past the small kitchen where the mom and son stood, to one  of two tables overlooking the lake in the back. When the woman came out to take our order, we all sheepishly asked if she would make breakfast at that hour (we'd hadn't been able to get breakfast at the guest house the night before), and she agreed with a laugh, so we all ordered either eggs and hash browns (which, here, means deliciously spiced potatoes) or the most heavenly cinnamon french toast imaginable. Shortly thereafter she came out again with a chair for our bags and to apologize that the power went out and her daughter brought out a candle. Then the youngest daughter appeared along with the family cat. This little girl was so adorable, and we had a long conversation with her in Nepali. We agreed that it was much easier to use Nepali with non-judgmental children who don't care what you accidentally call them.
The food, as I implied, was absolutely delicious and as soon as it got dark we saw fireflies everywhere around us. The coffee chocolate banana shakes we ordered couldn't be made because of the power outage, but we had already decided to come back. The family was unbelievably sweet, and we all gave them more money than the cost of our meal had required. They were incredibly grateful for the service it seemed, and it we made sure to spread the word and give them more business.
Last night when we had a much too big cake for Theo's birthday, Austin and I brought two pieces of cake over to the restaurant, explaining that we had extra and that we'd be coming back in two weeks. She was very happy and gave me a hug and then offered us tea, which we had to decline with a "pherri betaulaa" (see you again.


There's a little more catching up to do, but it will have to wait until we get back, at which point I'll copy everything over from my journal. Jumla, here we come!