My Mom Plays the Diggery Doo

... or a story about the things you once knew.

I was walking down Pearl Street, the local downtown / open air shopping center / general hang out area for all sorts and ran across a very talented street musician playing a diggery doo, steel drums with each hand, and cymbals with his foot. And all of a sudden I was struck by the memory of my mom playing the diggery doo in my childhood living room. It was not something I'd even thought of in years, a memory so dusty that it was surprising when the words came out of my mouth. "My mom plays the diggery doo." I think it was also rather surprising to my friends. Not something you expect to hear on a warm summer evening on Pearl Street.

What is even more surprising about this dusty memory is that it's my mom. She was raised as a pretty proper Southern Belle. I'd say she still remains a recovering Southern Belle. Then, sometime in the early seventies while living in Australia, she learned how to play a real Aborigini Diggery Doo. Go Mom!

Farewell Boob Tube

Today I got rid of my television. And no, I am not going to put a "Kill Your Television" bumber sticker on my car.

Before y'all get too excited, just let me mention that I can watch certain TV shows over the internet and movies on the 'puter. So it's not like I've completely left the TV generation.

One of the after-effects from my 3 month vacation was that I place even more value on my free time. I came back with all these things I want to do. Changes I wanted to make. But once I got back, and especially went back to work, I felt like I had no time. Then I thought about how much time I would unintentionally spend in front of the boob tube. You know how it goes. You sit down to have dinner, flip on the black box of mostly mindless entertainment, and before you know it you've lost an hour. Sure, maybe you learned that you can float a sunken sailboat with ping pong balls from the Mythbusters. But really. I decided I'd rather be do other things. Like writing this blog. Reading. Playing music. Running. So I got rid of the distraction. It was too easy to turn on.

Coming back to life-as-I-used-know-it after a 3 month absence has been harder than I expected. I really didn't expect to have a hard time re-adjusting to being home. After all, it's home. Some people I know who have spent time away nod their heads and tell me it will get better. And just in case you were wondering, that's not really all that comforting. But dis-comfort is good. I need to be the change I want to see in the world. So watch out world. Here we go! A boob-tubeless life is just the beginning.

@ Home

I'm home in the Rockies. And yes, they are still beautiful, even after the Himalayas.

It is a shock. First, the time change combined with the 30 hour plane/airport adventure threw my system for quite the loop. Nepal is 12 hours ahead of Colorado and it really is on the other side of the world. Second, it is so clean and open. The streets are wide and you don't have to watch were you step to avoid something nasty. My neighborhood street would be turned into a 5 lane thoroughfare in Nepal. Third, the culture. I haven't seen a fast food chain in 3 months. Or parking lots filled with shiny colored cars. Or this much stuff! And don't even get me started on what it's like to be back @work. But you can probably tell I'm in work brain already - I made a list of the shocking things!

Don't worry faithful blog readers. The blog is not over. I still plan on finishing the blog about the Annapurna Circuit. And I'll keep you all up to date on my adventures @home. So keep reading and I'll keep "saying".

Boodha, Boodha, Boodha

The micro-bus conductors call out the destinations of the buses as the drive by the "bus stops". The call for the bus to Boudhanath always ends with Boodha, Boodha, Boodha. Three times.

Let me introduce you to one of my favorite places. Boudhanath. To me, this place is magical. Not only for the incredibly sacred stupa that dominates the region and many monasteries, but also because of the people.

My days in Boudha began and ended walking around the stupa. I would get up at 5 am every morning to circum-ambulate (always clockwise and always an odd number of times) the great stupa. Sometimes I would go with my friend Pasang who insisted on 15 times around the stupa. This took about an hour. Other times I would go by myself and only do 3 times around the stupa. This took about 15 minutes. If you're paying attention you might have realized that Pasang made me walk rather quickly.

I spent the full moon in Boudha. The full moon is a sacred day and the Tibetans feel that your religious prostrations have extra strength on this day. The day after the full moon was Boudha Jyanti - Buddha's birthday - to the Nepalis. So it was two wild and crazy religious days filled with lots of people lighting butter lamps, circum-ambulating, and prostrasting in the stupa area.

In an aside - I've found 3 different days that are Buddha's birthday. In India it is April 8. For the Nepalis it is May 21. For the Tibetans, it is June 19. Pick your day! Or celebrate them all.

Boudhanath is home to a large Tibetan refugee population. The Tibetans are amazingly welcoming. My friends spent their days off showing me around and introducing me to Tibetan culture ... from anything to making momos to meeting Rinpoches. They invited me into their homes, fed me countless numbers of times, and spent some of the best hours of my trip with me. Thank you so much Nyindha, Pasang, Dolma, and Pasang.

Rooftop Playgrounds

In Kathmandu the roof is the place to be. In the morning women do all their washing on the roofs and when they have the laundry hanging on the clothes lines (also on the roof) the rooftops look covered in clothes-flags for as far as you can see. In the afternoon, after school, the kids play on the rooftops. I've watched boys play soccer and wrestle, girls skip rope and play sort of a red rover game, and watched them both watch each other. Fathers come up to the roof in the evenings to smoke and watch the sunset. It's life played out on the tops of houses.

Kathmandu is a crowded city and the roof is the backyard of these neighborhoods. They are nicely decorated with blooming flowers in pots. The roof where I'm staying has a nice table for eating meals, writing, and watching all the other rooftop activities. I've spent hours on this roof, with new friends like Reshma, and it is definitely the place to be.

Micro-buses

There are several ways to get around Kathmandu - taxi, buses, and ... the best ... micro-buses. Micro-buses are little minivans that have been converted into small buses with 5 benches. They can hold around 20 people including the "conductor". Personal space issues are not acceptible on micro-buses - you might have to sit in someone's lap - and being short is definitely a benefit. Not a lot of leg room on micro-buses.

They are one of the more efficient ways of getting through Kathmandu's traffic. And cheap! You can get from one side of the city to the other for about 20 rupees (that's about 30 cents).

The conductor takes the money and tells the driver when to stop and go. He hangs out of the micro-bus sliding door and looks for people waiting for the bus. Two bangs on the roof means go. One bang on the roof means stop. He also helps navigate the traffic and makes sure the micro-bus isn't going to run into anything (at least on the sliding door side of the bus).

I've been getting adventurous with the micro-buses. I get a lot of interesting looks as it is not often to see a bedishee (foreigner) on a micro-bus. Last week I took a micro-bus from Jawalahkel to Ratna Park, changed to another micro-bus to go to Boddhanath. And made the return trip. I was on the final leg of the return journey, congratulating myself, when the bus turned down a street I didn't know. Hold on. When we got to the last stop I figured out I'd gotten on the micro-bus to Lagankhel instead of Jawalahkel. Oops. Luckily, in addition to sounding a lot alike, they are pretty close together and you can walk (or take another micro-bus) between the two. That's what I get for congratulating myself early.

This is Ratna Park, which is a large park close to the center of Kathmandu, with a bunch of micro-buses and a larger local bus.

Curd

The best curd (aka yogurt) apparently comes from Bhaktapur. It comes in a unglazed clay pot with a film of wax paper on top from a little grocery on the road. The clay pot is considered disposable. When you're done with it, you chuck it and it eventually dissolves back into the mud. Bhaktapur is an artisans town in the Kathmandu Valley where they also make the pots.

Curd is given to people for luck on special occassions - like Hindi weddings. It's is also a good snack and can come as a side to the Nepali national dish dahl baht. It's pretty sweet and tastes really good with ripe mangos. The mangos are Indian mangos and taste a little different from the ones that come from Mexico. But it's still yummy nonetheless!