The morning came all too quickly. I had waited up the night before for the other volunteers to come back so I could say goodbye and give them my contact information. They had been having a great time at the cafe, smoking more shisha, eating more food and getting to know each other better. (See, Simon will be living near the girls come next semester of uni, so it was meant to be that they all volunteered at the same time! I can't believe how very small the world can be.) They returned late, around 1030PM (which if we were at home, would actually be considered getting home early), and I laughed while listening to their adventure. Then it was bedtime. I watched an episode of 30 rock to help me fall asleep, and soon it was 530AM and the monks were chanting and I was awake.
I packed up the last of my belongings, throwing my outlet adapter into my suitcase with my power cords, and zipped the monstrous thing up. Somehow, and I am completely puzzled by this, it seems to weigh MORE than when I left home. No more books, no toys and crafts for the kids, but somehow it is heavier. I didn't buy that much candy, did I? (I think I'll be leaving most of my clothes behind when my trip is done, along with the ratty pillow I brought. I am still considering the sheet from my bed. I mean, I can always get another, right?) I wheeled the suitcase to the steps, lifted it up (maybe I'm just weaker from no gym and from being sick) and was halfway down before one of the staff rushed over to help. They always want to help with everything!
I thanked him (no use in arguing) then went upstairs to make sure my backpack had everything and was ready to go. Then I sat down, watched a bit more 30 Rock (can you tell my go to when I am anxious/nervous/sad/sick?) and waited. I hoped that the taxi would be late, but no, he was early! Not very early, only a couple minutes, but that is what makes him great. I guess. I had hoped the bus was leaving a little later in the day so that I could say goodbye to my monklets after their prayers. Instead, the rest of the staff who were up came down to see me off.
I was able to give my head chef friend his t-shirt, thanking him for some of the best food I have ever eaten, and for the wonderful conversation about what makes a good western movie. I left the other t-shirt and thank you note for Sonam, and pins with Canada flags for everyone else. Then Lama Lekshey came and presented me with a red scarf, meant as a gift to signify honor, and a wall hanging. When I saw him approach I started crying, something I hadn't yet done in front of anyone. I tried to laugh at myself, but could only thank them all for being so good to me, for taking care of me when I was sick and letting me be part of their lives. If only they knew how much they changed me.
See, I learned from them a great deal. Yes, I was able to watch their habits, the way they are aware and grateful for everything they have. The monklets say prayers of thanks at the beginning and end of every meal. They are different depending on the type of meal, how heavy it is, and what they are eating. They are so aware of all they have, even tho compared to our Western lifestyle they have so little.
The children were excited when I opened packages of crayons, of those little pre cut cards for art, not just for the contents, but because they loved the plastic envelopes they came in. Each boy wanted a water bottle different than their friends, and would race over to claim a soda bottle if one of us happened to be drinking pop. When I would open a pack of stickers, they wanted the plastic wrapping which they would store their drawings in. The markers were taken out of the package and put in a pencil case, then the package was used to store gum or candies or whatever they wanted to keep as theirs.
So many letters I received thanked me for teaching, for the drawing paper, for the sweeties. The little nun asked me specifically for my address, and I wrote it out and explained how to write it on an envelope if she wanted to write to me. I plan on sending her something. She is so quiet and sweet and being the only girl at the school, sometimes feels like I did. No sisters only brothers. Of course, she has 65 brothers, compared to my 3). She loves to read and I want to send her some books to help. Early level books suited for her. Maybe Robert Munsch Paper Bag Princess, or Where the Wild Things Are. Things that she might like that won't be too hard for her to read.
I also want to send all the monks comic books. They kept asking me to find comic books. I wonder if I can order from Amazon. I think India now has an Amazon site. I'll be looking in to it when I get home and start earning money again. Also, of course, fun stickers and maybe travel games. Stuff I couldn't find easily in Pokhara (although because of being sick I only had a couple days to search).
But back to the goodbyes.
Lama Lekshey and his assistant climbed into the back seat of the taxi with my luggage (the damn thing didn't fit in the tiny trunk), and came with me to the bus park. The taxi driver had the information from Krishna for my departure, and found the proper bus and bought my ticket. I am sad Krishna didn't get to come and say goodbye as well, but last I heard from him his daughter had chicken pox and it might have been a bad case. So it is understandable that he wasn't there.
The bus park itself is a large dirt and gravel lot, with 20+ buses lined up in rows waiting for their departure. One either side of the lot are small kiosks with people selling food and drinks. There are also vendors just walking around hawking pastries and water. Delicious but I had some snacks in my backpack and didn't want to risk getting sick on the bus.
The Lama walked me to my bus, a giant yellow one with cushion-y seats and windows that slid open, and told me that I got a window seat. Then he asked if I needed anything, which I didn't and I thanked him again. He reached out and held my hands and smiled, his smile is so very sincere and giving and peaceful as well. He thanked me, then he and his assistant moved to leave the bus. His gesture, one of gentleness and affection, brought me to tears again. I am glad I was the only one on the bus at the time.
It quickly filled up, and this time NO SEATMATE! I was fortunate to travel the whole way with no one sitting beside me, which I appreciated. I allowed me time to think about the things I have learned.
Gratitude- not just for what people give me, but for all I have, including my very life.
Acceptance- Karma isn't really getting payback for doing good things, but is just what your life is meant to be. Maybe you are meant to have one leg, or have a genius brain, or to struggle or to succeed. It isn't that karma is good or bad, karma just is. These boys have accepted their life. They will grow to be monks, living in other monasteries, giving up much of what we take for granted. They won't have romantic relationships, they won't be famous or rich or even successful by Western standards. Yet they will be successful at living their life. Accepting their karma.
Strength- I realized how strong I can be. I can get through anything, if I really try. When I was sick, I realized this the most. I thought I just couldn't do it anymore, and was ready to come home. Luckily my mother and brother told me to wait until I was better, and then, if I wanted, they would still bring me home. I got better, and although I still wanted to come home, I still wanted to stay as well. So I did. And a motto of mine was reinforced. What motto you ask?
"When you think you can't go any further, you still have one mile left". It was something I learned from an old Girls' Camp leader, Sister Grover. She was amazing, and that piece of advice (given on a hike thru Fundy National Park that I just wanted to END), has always stuck with me. I say it to myself on the treadmill, I say it when I work and am tired, but never have I needed to hold on to it, to really understand it, until I got sick half way around the world and without my mom.
I also learned that I even if you don't think kids are listening, some of them are. So it is important to keep trying so that they, even if it is just one, get the benefit of the lesson. So keep trying.
I miss my monklets so much, but part of accepting what is happening is knowing I had to move on. I made a commitment to Koseli. I also was so comfortable in my peaceful, monastery home. Maybe too comfortable. Part of this trip is to push myself. To get out of my comfort zone and show myself I am more than just a lazy girl who is sick all the time.
I experienced what it is like to be a real minority. When I was 18, I worked at PRUDE Inc, a Saint John multicultural organization that focuses on the plight of black Saint Johners. I was a minority there, and thought I understood. But being in the minority, not speaking the language and being in a completely foreign place is very different, and very difficult. I hope to be helpful to people at home who might be in this same situation.
And most of all, I realized that even though I am in the minority, even if I don't speak the language, I am still quite personable. People still seem to like me. Fancy that. I know I have the gift of gab, but I always thought people were sort of humouring me. Before I left, so many of my friends reached out and I felt like they truly liked me, for me. Here, many of the monklets connected with me, and their letters make me think they may truly miss me. And you only miss the people you care about.
So that is it. Good bye Part 2. I just really miss my little monklets.
Still to come is my account of my horseback tour, the trip from Pokhara to Kathmandu, how crazy KTM is, my first hostel/guesthouse, and my day getting lost and finding Patan Durbar. There I went to the Patan Museum. By the time I get them all written, I'll prolly be starting my week at Koseli!
Only 20 days left until I come home!
Namaste, friends.
I packed up the last of my belongings, throwing my outlet adapter into my suitcase with my power cords, and zipped the monstrous thing up. Somehow, and I am completely puzzled by this, it seems to weigh MORE than when I left home. No more books, no toys and crafts for the kids, but somehow it is heavier. I didn't buy that much candy, did I? (I think I'll be leaving most of my clothes behind when my trip is done, along with the ratty pillow I brought. I am still considering the sheet from my bed. I mean, I can always get another, right?) I wheeled the suitcase to the steps, lifted it up (maybe I'm just weaker from no gym and from being sick) and was halfway down before one of the staff rushed over to help. They always want to help with everything!
I thanked him (no use in arguing) then went upstairs to make sure my backpack had everything and was ready to go. Then I sat down, watched a bit more 30 Rock (can you tell my go to when I am anxious/nervous/sad/sick?) and waited. I hoped that the taxi would be late, but no, he was early! Not very early, only a couple minutes, but that is what makes him great. I guess. I had hoped the bus was leaving a little later in the day so that I could say goodbye to my monklets after their prayers. Instead, the rest of the staff who were up came down to see me off.
I was able to give my head chef friend his t-shirt, thanking him for some of the best food I have ever eaten, and for the wonderful conversation about what makes a good western movie. I left the other t-shirt and thank you note for Sonam, and pins with Canada flags for everyone else. Then Lama Lekshey came and presented me with a red scarf, meant as a gift to signify honor, and a wall hanging. When I saw him approach I started crying, something I hadn't yet done in front of anyone. I tried to laugh at myself, but could only thank them all for being so good to me, for taking care of me when I was sick and letting me be part of their lives. If only they knew how much they changed me.
See, I learned from them a great deal. Yes, I was able to watch their habits, the way they are aware and grateful for everything they have. The monklets say prayers of thanks at the beginning and end of every meal. They are different depending on the type of meal, how heavy it is, and what they are eating. They are so aware of all they have, even tho compared to our Western lifestyle they have so little.
The children were excited when I opened packages of crayons, of those little pre cut cards for art, not just for the contents, but because they loved the plastic envelopes they came in. Each boy wanted a water bottle different than their friends, and would race over to claim a soda bottle if one of us happened to be drinking pop. When I would open a pack of stickers, they wanted the plastic wrapping which they would store their drawings in. The markers were taken out of the package and put in a pencil case, then the package was used to store gum or candies or whatever they wanted to keep as theirs.
So many letters I received thanked me for teaching, for the drawing paper, for the sweeties. The little nun asked me specifically for my address, and I wrote it out and explained how to write it on an envelope if she wanted to write to me. I plan on sending her something. She is so quiet and sweet and being the only girl at the school, sometimes feels like I did. No sisters only brothers. Of course, she has 65 brothers, compared to my 3). She loves to read and I want to send her some books to help. Early level books suited for her. Maybe Robert Munsch Paper Bag Princess, or Where the Wild Things Are. Things that she might like that won't be too hard for her to read.
I also want to send all the monks comic books. They kept asking me to find comic books. I wonder if I can order from Amazon. I think India now has an Amazon site. I'll be looking in to it when I get home and start earning money again. Also, of course, fun stickers and maybe travel games. Stuff I couldn't find easily in Pokhara (although because of being sick I only had a couple days to search).
But back to the goodbyes.
Lama Lekshey and his assistant climbed into the back seat of the taxi with my luggage (the damn thing didn't fit in the tiny trunk), and came with me to the bus park. The taxi driver had the information from Krishna for my departure, and found the proper bus and bought my ticket. I am sad Krishna didn't get to come and say goodbye as well, but last I heard from him his daughter had chicken pox and it might have been a bad case. So it is understandable that he wasn't there.
The bus park itself is a large dirt and gravel lot, with 20+ buses lined up in rows waiting for their departure. One either side of the lot are small kiosks with people selling food and drinks. There are also vendors just walking around hawking pastries and water. Delicious but I had some snacks in my backpack and didn't want to risk getting sick on the bus.
The Lama walked me to my bus, a giant yellow one with cushion-y seats and windows that slid open, and told me that I got a window seat. Then he asked if I needed anything, which I didn't and I thanked him again. He reached out and held my hands and smiled, his smile is so very sincere and giving and peaceful as well. He thanked me, then he and his assistant moved to leave the bus. His gesture, one of gentleness and affection, brought me to tears again. I am glad I was the only one on the bus at the time.
It quickly filled up, and this time NO SEATMATE! I was fortunate to travel the whole way with no one sitting beside me, which I appreciated. I allowed me time to think about the things I have learned.
Gratitude- not just for what people give me, but for all I have, including my very life.
Acceptance- Karma isn't really getting payback for doing good things, but is just what your life is meant to be. Maybe you are meant to have one leg, or have a genius brain, or to struggle or to succeed. It isn't that karma is good or bad, karma just is. These boys have accepted their life. They will grow to be monks, living in other monasteries, giving up much of what we take for granted. They won't have romantic relationships, they won't be famous or rich or even successful by Western standards. Yet they will be successful at living their life. Accepting their karma.
Strength- I realized how strong I can be. I can get through anything, if I really try. When I was sick, I realized this the most. I thought I just couldn't do it anymore, and was ready to come home. Luckily my mother and brother told me to wait until I was better, and then, if I wanted, they would still bring me home. I got better, and although I still wanted to come home, I still wanted to stay as well. So I did. And a motto of mine was reinforced. What motto you ask?
"When you think you can't go any further, you still have one mile left". It was something I learned from an old Girls' Camp leader, Sister Grover. She was amazing, and that piece of advice (given on a hike thru Fundy National Park that I just wanted to END), has always stuck with me. I say it to myself on the treadmill, I say it when I work and am tired, but never have I needed to hold on to it, to really understand it, until I got sick half way around the world and without my mom.
I also learned that I even if you don't think kids are listening, some of them are. So it is important to keep trying so that they, even if it is just one, get the benefit of the lesson. So keep trying.
I miss my monklets so much, but part of accepting what is happening is knowing I had to move on. I made a commitment to Koseli. I also was so comfortable in my peaceful, monastery home. Maybe too comfortable. Part of this trip is to push myself. To get out of my comfort zone and show myself I am more than just a lazy girl who is sick all the time.
I experienced what it is like to be a real minority. When I was 18, I worked at PRUDE Inc, a Saint John multicultural organization that focuses on the plight of black Saint Johners. I was a minority there, and thought I understood. But being in the minority, not speaking the language and being in a completely foreign place is very different, and very difficult. I hope to be helpful to people at home who might be in this same situation.
And most of all, I realized that even though I am in the minority, even if I don't speak the language, I am still quite personable. People still seem to like me. Fancy that. I know I have the gift of gab, but I always thought people were sort of humouring me. Before I left, so many of my friends reached out and I felt like they truly liked me, for me. Here, many of the monklets connected with me, and their letters make me think they may truly miss me. And you only miss the people you care about.
So that is it. Good bye Part 2. I just really miss my little monklets.
Still to come is my account of my horseback tour, the trip from Pokhara to Kathmandu, how crazy KTM is, my first hostel/guesthouse, and my day getting lost and finding Patan Durbar. There I went to the Patan Museum. By the time I get them all written, I'll prolly be starting my week at Koseli!
Only 20 days left until I come home!
Namaste, friends.
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