By tierneybb
Observing my surroundings as we eat delicious dhal by battery powered light I realize this is not a place where Blanche DuBois could thrive. Bare bulbs jut out from the walls, their wattage unshielded or dimmed, and this rechargeable light for load shedding hours is especially harsh, casting long shadows and distorting the most innocent objects. Kathmandu has a way of being similarly blunt and glaring to a point of distortion. Where poverty versus wealth is so clear a dichotomy, the standard of living itself becomes obscure. Everyone here has some variation of idiom about how nothing makes sense but ultimately it all works. The constant state of destruction and rebuilding that at first stood out so much has faded into the background and navigating the broken streets has become second nature in a short amount of time. White, unlabeled, TATA vans packed with people are actually a surprisingly effective public transport system, with teenage boys leaning out the open doors shouting the names of different routes. While many other students are feeling pangs of culture shock, homesickness, and often actual pains from the limited adaptability of their own digestive system, I have somehow managed to avoid all of these hazards of the first few weeks abroad (so far, now I've jinxed it).
As we drove from the orientation in Pharping outside the city to Boudhanath, the largely Tibetan enclave on the Northeast side of Kathmandu, I was shocked by the sheer destruction of the streets. Giant craters suitable to a lunar landscape pock mark the dirt road and require any vehicle to swerve from one side of the already narrow road to the other while still avoiding on-coming traffic. deep trenches to either side of the street reveal crews of workers transporting cement and gravel loads on their backs with the support strap across their forehead. (In case you have never attempted to carry anything this way it is incredibly uncomfortable and difficult unless it is something you are accustomed to, not unlike hiking in stilettos... while carrying weights.) The buildings on either side of the street have had their facades and entire front rooms shorn off, revealing the honeycomb of brightly painted interior walls. All of this, needless to say, is surrounded by the wealth of street littered garbage and cattle that are omnipresent in the city. Needless to say it is an intimidating sight, one that as we were driving by made it quite explicit that things are done differently here.
That being said, it's a shock that is surprisingly easy to get over. Like many of the other visual assaults that accost you as soon as you land in Kathmandu, it is easily forgotten. As you walk along the street itself to reach the shops, the upturned earth becomes little more than an inconvenience. In fact, unlike some of the giant traumatic construction projects holding up traffic in the US, it is evident from the workers pace and visible progress that this state of chaos is only temporary. By the end of the semester this will probably be little more than a memory paved over by a new, wider, faster road (although, rather than being completed the destruction/construction cycle will have just move elsewhere in the city). As narrated over the destruction by our academic co-ordinator; in the effort to modernize the city and make it more accessible, the city government has reclaimed the land around the existing roads. Although this land is said to have always technically been owned by the government, left unused it was often built upon as the locals expanded their houses and shops. When I tell my homestay family of my shock at seeing the street in such a state they laugh, I am not their first student and apparently each is as surprised as the last at this standard process of urban renewal.
The SIT program house is an oasis of perfection, shelter from the chaos. Not unlike the city itself, the program center conforms to neither "eastern" nor "western" concepts of house, nor center, nor classroom. Upon opening the green gate at the end of the alley (which embarrassingly required the help of a four year old Nepali girl who lives nearby on the first day, but she is now my best friend and demands regular arm-swings from all the students) you are lovingly accosted by the two program dogs, Tibetan terriers Lucky and TinTin. The grounds reflect the odd high alpine/tropics vegetation mix of Nepal in a large garden with sunny wooden deck tables dispersed on a footpath wrapping to a three story white building trimmed with blue. Above the door a traditional mask of a wrathfully deity is draped with a khata or blessing scarf, overlooking the shelves of shoes you are required to remove before entering the house. The lecture hall is brightly lit by large windows, and the low green tables surround a marble faux-hearth, with cushions for seats on the parquet wood floor. There is a wonderful never-ending supply of milk tea and hot water in thermoses at the back of the room. Most days involve at least four servings of tea in the hand thrown ceramic cup/bowls. Upstairs we're promised the warmth of the sun room will be welcome in winter, but for now I prefer the library and reading room, which is well stocked in large art books. classes will eventually run from 8:15 to three, with lunch served outside in the garden, but the first week often held us back late. With meetings to discuss our summer assignments and plans for the coming semester, we had just enough time to rush home before our 6:30/sunset curfew.
Aside from the program house I have found considerable solace in the innumerable hidden cafes around Kathmandu. Some require contortion through back "alleys" just wide enough to slip into, but open to a lush garden oasis with cool lassis and--of course--great tea. But my friends and I have really enjoyed doing our homework or just talking from the rooftop restaurants. Visible only as a cloud of bright umbrellas from the street, almost every flat roof is now a cafe offering great views of the hustle of the street below and the temple streaked cityscape. Although the majority of these spots cater to tourists with pseudo-western menus, I have found them to be nearly empty in the early afternoon with a talkative staff and still very cheap prices (I have yet to pay five dollars for anything. Anything. Even cabfare across town for three at rush hour was haggled down to 350Rs or $4). From perches such as these we can do our homework and look out on the giant stupa of Boudhananth, an impressive sight that takes up the space of almost a full city block, with the piercing omniscient eyes of the Buddha painted on the side of the golden top.