Meg Noble Peterson

Author of Madam, Have You Ever Really Been Happy? An Intimate Journey through Africa and Asia

Author: Meg Noble Peterson Page 13 of 30

FOR PETE’S SAKE…A CELEBRATION OF PETE SEEGER’S LIFE AND WORK

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On April 26, 2014

In Uncategorized

And what a gala affair it was, organized and hosted by the inimitable Pushkara (Sally Ashford) and her daughter, Wendy Ashford. You can imagine the musicians it drew from Seattle, Port Townsend, and over the mountains far away. They brought their instruments and played the folk music that Pete, who died last January at the age of 94,  promoted, along with his original songs that have become part of America’s folk legacy…from Turn, Turn, Turn, to  Where Have All The Flowers Gone to If I Had A Hammer.

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The inimitable Pushkara

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Pushkara and her family were active in the peace movement in the Northwest from the time of Woody Guthrie (Goin’ down the Road Feelin’ Bad and This Land Is Your Land, to name a few of his hit songs), when Pete was just a young man. She recorded numerous interviews in her charming Gypsy Wagon, from people who played a part in Pete’s long life. The colorful wagon was built as a symbol of peace and harmony, and resides next to her lovely home overlooking the cliffs above Puget Sound. I was one of those lucky people who got to hear Pushkar’s tales and added a few of my own from knowing Pete.

You can imagine my surprise when I walked into my husband’s office one day in 1971 to see a tall, lanky man sitting there, gesticulating adamantly. It was Pete Seeger, trying to convince us to manufacture steel drums, which were becoming all the rage in the schools as well as at pop concerts. We were the makers of Oscar Schmidt Autoharps and had often consulted with Pete’s half brother, Mike Seeger. We were heavily into folk music, rock (i.e. John Sebastian and The Lovin’ Spoonful) and music education. My husband shuddered at the thought of tuning those very  loud Caribbean instruments and said it would be impossible to add this to his already overflowing compliment of folk instruments, including dulcimers, and a full range of Orff percussion. Pete was charming, but determined. He didn’t want to give up. The next time I saw him I was on 8th Avenue just coming out of a phone booth (anybody remember phone booths?) and he grabbed my arm and said, “Oh, Meg, I’ve just returned from Russia and do you know that those people love the steel drum. I even saw some musicians playing them in the snow.” Now I ask you…what are  your chances of bumping into  Pete Seeger on 8th Avenue on a cold winter day? His enthusiasm was, as always, infectious, and left me smiling and shaking my head at the sheer energy of the man.

Another story I related was my chance meeting with Pete’s mother at an AAUW meeting in Miami in 1959. I had just had my fourth child and was eager to speak to adults after tending four children 24/7. I sat down next to a lovely white-haired lady and somehow we started talking about camping and hiking, something we both enjoyed. She said that she and her husband had wanted to show their children the country and live a simple life while researching the music of various parts of America. He was a Harvard-educated musicologist. She a concert violinist. I listened with awe as she described this experiment in bare bones living. They were precursors of the people who live in RV’s and move from place to place. Each child had a fork, spoon, knife, cup, and plate, and was responsible for caring for them and their few possessions. They communed with the outdoors and loved nature and music. “We wanted our children to live close to nature and appreciate its beauty,” she said. “You may know of one of my sons. He’s a folk singer. Pete Seeger.” It was such a modest, offhand remark. If only she had lived to see the impact this son had had on the America she so loved. What surprised me after we had been talking for an hour is that she thanked me profusely for listening to her. “Most young people would not be interested in the stories of an old lady,” she said. I told her that I was fascinated and only hoped my life would be as eventful and useful as hers as I grew older.

Here is a smattering of the many musicians who came to the Deer Lagoon Grange in Langley on March 30th to honor Pete.

STARBUCKS…LIGHTEN UP

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On April 7, 2014

In India

Or put some more half and half in your cup and add a little honey. You’re big. You’re rich. You’re powerful.  Come on, fellas, you can afford to leave the little guys alone.

Last December I came upon one of the pettiest acts in my long experience watching the legal shenanigans of super powerful corporations. In fact, it was almost laughable in its absurdity. Daughter Cary and I were staying in Suja, in Himachal Pradesh, India, where the TCV (Tibetan Children’s Village) is located, and had occasion to visit Bir, a small Tibetan refugee community located across the field, where a friend runs a clinic. The town consisted of one main street and a few outlying farms. It was also known as one of the premier sites in the world for paragliding. Being a lover of espresso, I remembered a small coffee shop humorously named BUCKSTARS. I looked up and down the street and finally found it. But the sign only read COFFEE SHOP.

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It was a hole in the wall with an espresso maker, but nobody to make it. I went next door to ask for help. The vendor there went to another store and then across the street, where a clean-cut young man came running and offered to help. He told me he was a former monk from Sikkim and here to help the family that owned the shop. He also was a well-known sand mandala artist. We ended up talking for the rest of the afternoon and, after visiting his studio, I bought one of the lovely mandalas.

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“Where is Buckstars?” I asked “It’s been here for years.” He looked embarrassed, shrugged his shoulders, and wobbled his head from side to side as people so often do in India. “Starbucks came to Mumbai in 2012. They sent us a letter this year from a lawyer and asked us to change the name. Then a lawyer called me and asked how many stores we had in the area. I asked if he had ever been to Bir. No answer. I told him we were a very small town. He asked, again, how many stores we had in the area. He wasn’t listening to me at all and did not understand that we were no threat to Starbucks.”

“If we get twenty customers a day during paragliding, we are lucky. Usually we get two or three. I spend most of my day creating my mandalas.”

Jhangchup then motioned me to sit down and made an espresso that put STARBUCKS to shame.

“Why did you change the name? That must have been a pain,” I said.

“Not really. I found it quite humorous that such a huge company with millions of customers worldwide would take the time to write a long legal letter as well as call me. ” He showed me the letter and a couple of points stood out. I quote:

It appears that you are aware of our client STARBUCKS and that you have infact derived the trademark BUCKSTARS for your cafe by reversing the order of the words STAR and BUCKS and are using the same alongside with ‘S’ in a green concentric circle. Such adoption and use dilutes our client’s common law and statutory rights in their well known name and registered trademarks.

Our client would appreciate if you would amend/change the name of your cafe by not using the word BUCKS either alone or with STAR as part of your name/trademark. Our client is willing to offer a reasonable transition period and pay reasonable costs, etc., etc. and trust that the matter can be resolved amicably.

“What a lot of trouble they went to….If only STARBUCKS had a sense of humor!”

 

Heading for Bir through the back fields
Not exactly a metropolis!
The back side of the monastery
Mountain vistas
Typical scene on the main drag
Too many flags and trees to get the landing
A beautiful sight way up there….

HEY GUYS, I’M BACK! IT’S SPRING IN THE NORTHWEST AND WE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE WINTER….

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On March 27, 2014

In Nepal

…at least not from the point of view of this transplanted Yankee, unless you call fog winter. I have to admit, however, that I envied all you happy skiers and shovelers your winter wonderland. But not my theater buddy, Paul Sharar, who wasn’t even shoveling when he fell on the black ice and broke his hip. He was just leaning over to pick up the New York Times. That’s what happens when you’re an intellectual elitist! Strong guy, though. He’s already back in action. But, then, he’s from Iowa and has those strong corn-bones (sorry about that, Paul). Perhaps next year, when I’m more settled, I’ll become better acquainted with this part of the world and can head for the hills of Snoqualmie or Stevens Pass, or do some cross-country skiing close by, at Granite Falls. I’ll get the beauty without the heavy lifting!

I have a lot of catching up to do since my return from Asia in January. I stopped by New Jersey to see family and friends, and catch a few New York shows. Was hard to say goodbye to my symphony of 55 years and some of my opera and theater pals.

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Terri, Bev, Phyllis, and M.P: the quadruple threat!

There’s a lot of adjusting to do when you pull up your roots after 56 years and immerse yourself in a whole new environment. For someone who gets lost going around the corner, this has been quite a challenge. But, as the old saying goes, “Change keeps you young.” It’s also the only thing you can really count on…right? Every time I take the Mukilteo ferry to the “other side” (sounds dire, doesn’t it?) I find that going 60 mph after winding around these country roads is traumatic and requires a total change of gears, figuratively speaking. There’s where all the big “box” stores are, but since I’m not a shopper, I mostly go to Seattle for cultural events, like opera and symphony. Theater you can get here on Whidbey in abundance, as well as superb music and more activities than one human being can absorb in a lifetime.

Many evenings at sunset I walk on the beach, reached by a series of stairs leading to the Sound below First Street, and watch the tide come in. I’ve never been an ocean person, so I’m loving the newness of it all.

Every day about ten emails arrive from Drew’s List, published by Drew Kampion, a beloved character around town. It’s exclusively for Whidbey Island folks. Drew sends out daily email blasts with everything from housing to entertainment,  art shows to health, music of all kinds to classes promoting every form of exercise imaginable, and lost pets to help wanted. There are gardens and farms in abundance and a population that really cares for its fellow humans. My daughter, Cary, is launching a program in all the schools so the students can grow, harvest, and eat their fresh vegetables in the cafeteria. She is volunteering until funding can be found, so if you’re interested in supporting her good work, you know where to reach me!  And there’s a movie theater where you get the best art films for $5.00 (if you’re old like me), and popcorn for a dollar a large bag regardless of age. Who could ask for anything more? I’ve never seen so much talent per square mile in my life, nor so many energetic, “Go-to” people. Hedgebrook Writer’s Colony for women writers is close by, but that, in itself, is too long a tale for today.

As you know from past blogs, I’m not a stranger to these parts. For years I’ve climbed every summer in the Olympic and Cascade mountains close by, and reveled in the fresh air, beauty, and peacefulness of the great Northwest. And now I’m surrounded by nature every day—a dream come true.  Below are some photos I took in early February…. P1040830 P1040828

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Puget Sound and the Cascade Range from Langley

…and here are a couple of shots I took today from my front deck. Flowering cherry and plum trees line the streets and paths where I walk down the hill to the post office for the mail. Yes, indeed, spring is finally here. P1040895

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There’s very little Lyme disease here on Whidbey Island, but I never pet the deer!

One of the many celebrations here on the island over the past two months has been Losar, the Tibetan New Year. There is a sizable sangha of practicing Buddhists in the community and here are a few photos from this recent celebration organized by the Kilung Foundation.

Daughter Cary, one of the hostesses
Kilung Rinpoche in a pensive moment
Come on, folks…let’s dance!
Graceful Zangmo
You’re never too young to dance!
…or too old!

As I said in my last blog eons ago, I will bring you up to date on my trip to India, Bhutan, and Nepal during the year. Here I’ve started with Nepal, with a slightly different twist. No big tourist spots, just a relaxed visit to the Buddhist holy site, Boudhanath, in a non-polluted part of Kathmandu. It’s a favorite of mine. I really need a video to do justice to the traffic in Nepal, but I had enough trouble limiting my photos and placing them in order without trying to upload video files. I was verging on computer-rage before it was over!

I really fell in love with the Shechen Guest House and its staff, and was glad I could stay there for two weeks to recuperate from my nasty fall in Bhutan. In the meantime  Cary went off to explore Himalayan caves in the Yolmo. Maybe I’ll get to do a trek in Mustang next year. Hope springs eternal!

I met all kinds of people in my three weeks in Nepal, and, while at the Ti-Se Guest House before going to Bhutan, spent quite a bit of time with two members of the Duggar family from Tontitown, Arkansas. I had  not heard of them or seen their reality show on the TLC learning channel  (don’t get me started on reality shows!). They gained fame as religious evangelists with 19 children, all of whom have been home-schooled and play a musical instrument. As a musician I really dig that! The father, Jim Bob, was here with his daughter, Jill, and a camera crew, sussing out a pen pal who turned out to be a possible suitor. The young man had been in Nepal for several year and was deep into missionary work. I asked, when I left, if they, too, were going to try to convert the Buddhists, and Jim Bob retorted, wryly, “First we have to convert you, Meg.”

I’m afraid I was rather difficult for them to figure out…a liberal minister’s daughter with a gay son and the belief that everyone is entitled to his or her beliefs, be they pantheism, agnosticism, Buddhism, or any other ism you can mention.  These were nice people, but we disagreed drastically. I didn’t push my points. I never do where religion is concerned. I did shock them a bit after they talked about the “choice” of homosexuality, and the need to reverse it. That’s a rallying cry for homophobes. I simply said, “Jim Bob, I wonder if Jesus would have said ‘suffer the little children to come unto me, except for the faggots.'” Shocking, to be sure, and he took it graciously, but it did take him aback. I always thought of Jesus as inclusive. Thus endeth the lesson for today.

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A UNIQUE MAN: A UNIQUE NGO

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On December 9, 2013

In Nepal

There’s a great deal of talk these days about the overbearing, albeit well-meaning, NGO that sweeps into a country, defines its needs, and prescribes a solution–usually what’s best for the country from the point of view of the West. A solution from the top down. In contrast, I’ve just discovered one that works from the bottom up…a real grass roots endeavor with plans and programs initiated by three Nepalese villages and administered by a Nepalese staff. I hardly dare interject the work done by its founder, Dr. Richard Keidan, an oncologist from Detroit, MI, who has not one, but two NGO’s to his credit. He was adamant that I understand that the initial ideas and planning come directly from the Nepalese people. I’ll let you fill in the blanks by going to his website:  www.Detroit2Nepal.org

I had the privilege of meeting Dr. Keidan this week and he gave me an overview of  the public health needs in the vast majority of small towns and villages in Nepal, and the woeful lack of hospitals and qualified doctors to treat anything but minor ailments. But this hasn’t dampened his enthusiasm; it has only heightened his desire to help.

Richard’s love affair with Nepal began in the ’80’s as a trekker, and really flourished after he met Namgyal Sherpa, the sirdar (lead guide) on the Kangchenjunga trip he took in 2009. The following summer Namgyal took him to his home area of Khotang and he observed the compromised state of public health, health care, and education in the villages. This is when D2N was born! Namgyal, himself, had been instrumental in starting educational projects and working with underprivileged children in his village.  He introduced D2N to the traditions in the area and was on the ground floor of its organization. Tragically, Namgyal was killed on one of his many descents from the summit of Mt. Everest last May, a tremendous loss to the people of Khotang and to the NGO he helped to inspire.

Richard spends a total of three months a year in Khotang, which he reaches by a one-hour plane ride, followed by three days of hiking to reach the first of three villages. He spoke glowingly of standing on a hillside on his last visit, looking down at the houses, each with a new cement outhouse (a sustainable toilet with septic system),  its metal roof sparkling in the sun. “Can you imagine how great that makes you feel” he said, “to see what these people have done for themselves in such a short time?” This was the Dipsung toilet project, planned and executed by the Nepalese, themselves. They realized that until they had a safe sanitation system they would never have clean water, and most of their diseases stemmed from this pervasive problem. You can read on the website about the many other  health and educational initiatives planned and carried out by the villagers and supported and funded by the dedicated work of this unique, caring man, Richard Keidan. Here is a case where there is no overhead and every dollar given by individuals or organizations goes directly to the projects that improve the health and well-being of Nepalese families. And an added advantage of this kind of community endeavor is the jobs it creates for the many people involved in the planning and executing of each project.

BUILDING BRIDGES WITH PHOTOGRAPHY: EXPLORING AND PROMOTING CULTURAL DIVERSITY IN BHUTAN

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On December 3, 2013

In Bhutan

“The world in which you were born is just one model of reality. Other cultures are not failed attempts at being you; they are unique manifestations of the human spirit.” These words were written by one of my favorite cultural anthropologists, Wade Davis, whom I often quote in my presentations.

As I saw on my visit to Bhutan, it’s a small country, but comprises a mosaic of distinct communities as well as 19 active languages. I’ve been fortunate to converse over the last few days with one of the guests here in Shechen, Markus Wild (www.markuswild.ch), who is a Swiss photographer and teacher of visual arts, and, since 2005 has planned and conducted Participatory Photo Documentation under the Leveraging Cultural Diversity (LCD) Project, in Bhutan, implemented by Hevetas Swiss intercooperation and a grant from the European Union.

This amazing program has been documented in a splendid book about the life and culture in four remote communities of Bhutan: The Kengpas of Nganglatrong; The Sharchops of Kengkhar; The Rais of Lumbay; and The Lhops of Lotokuchu. Marcus has introduced digital photography to his students, ranging in age from those in elementary school, ages 9-12, to adults who take advantage of his teaching by going to school early in the morning before they head for the fields, or after work in the evening. This is made possible by a program called NFE, non-formal education. All of this work is done in conjunction with the Bhutanese government’s Department of Culture and Local Governance.

One of the techniques that thrilled me was an assignment for each youngster to go home and photograph items and activities that have been going on in their family for years…then to photograph the changes and what is being done differently today. There are pictures of grandmothers weaving, beautiful handmade baskets, and men farming or plowing the fields with wooden tools and oxen. There are men cutting bamboo and preparing large banana leaves for repairing or making new roofs on their simple, but very serviceable homes. There are young people playing traditional games with darts (kuru), butter being churned in ancient urns, handcrafts explored, native plants examined, and wild creatures photographed in their native habitat. And there are changes in the dress and activities of young people, their music, their love of singing, and their art. Traditions are respected and lauded, even as changes are coming to the country, and family rituals become works of art to be accepted and treasured .

Markus said that the students, once quiet and shy, blossomed as they experimented with this new technology and saw the artistic fruits of their labors. This and much more were the results of an imaginative and  innovative program. I urge you to go online and read more about it.

Another point that Markus makes is that because modern media is now reaching remote places in Bhutan through mobile phones, the internet, computers, DVD’s, and TV, it is important to help the young generation learn how to deal with these media in a constructive way. Being trained to work with digital photography actively, the students not only learn how to see and observe in a more careful and sensible way, but also how to express their own views and ideas. They become active, creative participants, instead of being only naive consumers.

Most of the photographs in the beautiful book I referred to, BHUTAN’S CULTURAL DIVERSITY by Kunzang Dorji and Markus Wild, were done by students and have been on display not only in their home villages, but also in the capital, Thimpu, and at venues in Sweden and Switzerland.

I received a call from Cary, today, high in the mountains by the Melamchi River, next to a deep river gorge. Isn’t modern technology wonderful? The telephone, I mean. She climbed up the eastern side after spending two days meditating near Neyding, and is now going up the western side to upper Melamchi. She’s cold, but happy!

TRUE LIFE ADVENTURE–HORRIFIC, ENTHRALLING, UNBELIEVABLE….

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On November 30, 2013

In Nepal

This is the antidote to sitting around, waiting for a knee to heal. I’m sorely challenged by prolonged inactivity, as many of you may know, but have found excitement and inspiration in several amazing stories I’ve been carrying around waiting to read. Now’s the time and let me share two of the books with you.  The Unsung Hero; Tom Crean, Antarctic Survivor by Michael Smith. I saw a one-man show at the Irish Repertory Theater in New York City a few years ago about this intrepid Irishman, who was a key figure in both Scott and Shackelton’s polar expeditions in the early 20th century. I was held captive throughout this story of immense strength, dedication, and uncanny endurance.

Now I’m involved in another daring adventure by Ian Baker, The Heart of the World, A Journey To Tibet’s Lost Paradise. It’s an exploration into the heart of Tibetan Buddhism as well as a journey to find what James Hilton wrote in Lost Horizon…the Shangri La hidden deep within the Himalayas. But this is not a fantasy. This is a search for the much-rumored waterfall in the Tsangpo Gorge in Tibet, which has mystified and eluded explorers for hundreds of years. This story dovetails with several other books I’m reading about Tibetan Buddhism as it relates to other philosophies and great religions of the world. It is also especially relevant since the author began his odyssey in the caves of the Yolmo,  where daughter Cary is trekking. I’ve been in touch with her, and she finds this area rugged and beautiful, but won’t be able to go to her highest destination in Guru Rinpoche’s cave because of the extreme weather. I can’t wait to hear more about it!

I walked to the Boudhanath Stupa today and was not run down by a motorcycle. I bargained for fruit, immersed myself in Saturday crowds (this is the only day of the week that school is out), burned incense, and lit butter lamps for loved ones. I’m looking at this time alone as my special retreat, away from the phone, TV, family, work, and computer, except for those times when the power allows me half-an-hour on the internet. I’m paying $10/night for my room and another ten for marvelous vegetarian meals served in a charming garden full of exotic trees and flowers. Wonderful as it is, I would  not have chosen this over a trek, but I shall make the most of it. I’m even catching up on The New Yorker magazine!

THE BEST LAID PLANS….

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On November 27, 2013

In Bhutan, Nepal

In telling of my exciting trip to Bhutan, I decided not to spoil the trip by relating an unfortunate episode at the Punakha Dzong two days before I left. All the challenging obstacles of the week had been surmounted and I was gleefully walking down a dark corridor with a groups of monks familiar with the lay of the land. Suddenly, they moved over to avoid a tall stone threshold, but I was not quick enough and took a dive head first onto the stones, injuring my right knee–that same poor knee that had suffered from the train accident near Udipi, India, two years ago. I did a dramatic flip, but this time my Guardian Angel was napping and I suffered a soft tissue injury, which made it impossible to go trekking. Yes, it could have been much worse…I could have knocked myself out or torn a meniscus or broken my patella. So maybe my Angel was just giving me a severe warning. I’m thankful for small blessings.

Needless to say, we tried to find a hospital, but nothing was available, except for a small clinic in the country, with no orthopedic doctor and a broken X-ray machine. But I did get a freezer pack to help me out until we returned to  Thimpu the next day and went to the emergency room.

Nothing was broken, but I did consult an orthopedic surgeon at the well-known CIWEC clinic in Kathmandu when I returned, and was told to wear a leg brace, do a minimum of walking, and for God’s sake, don’t go trekking. You can imagine my disappointment!

Daughter Cary arrived last Thursday and we mulled over alternatives. The upshot is that she left alone, yesterday (with a guide and porters, of course), for a two-week trek  in the Yolmo region of the Helambu-Gosinkunde area of Langtang, starting at Melamchi and climbing to Dhukpa, the site of Guru Rinpoche’s cave. She can decide as she goes along just how many places to visit and how long to stay in each one. She will have a ball, for this is a very sacred area for Buddhists, with meditation caves used by such revered monks as the legendary Milarepa. She will also do some reconnoitering around the area for a possible return for the two of us next year. We never give up!

In the meantime, I’m enjoying the varied clientele here at the Shechen Guest House in Boudha…a melange of world travelers, trekkers, and NGO workers. It is NOT dull and I’ll keep you posted. Oh, yes, tomorrow is Thanksgiving back home. A happy day to you all. I shall think of you devouring your turkey as I sit and eat my vegetarian meal laced with a warm ginger lemon honey tea here at the Rabsel Garden Cafe.

SUNSHINE, BLESSED SUNSHINE…WHO COULD ASK FOR ANYTHING MORE?

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On November 26, 2013

In Bhutan

Three weeks of gorgeous, sunny weather, warm during the day and crisp at night, is heaven to a recent Whidbey Island transplant, used to fog and mist until midday. So all the exigencies of the past weeks can be forgiven as I view the imposing Himalayan mountains, the white clouds, and the endless sun.

As I’ve said before, I’m not a tour person, but that is the only way to see exotic Bhutan, which I reveled in for seven days. Just flying into the tiny airport was an unexpected thrill, with passengers squealing as the wings of the plane seemed to graze the mountaintops and valleys in their circuitous path toward the runway. I was lucky to sit on the left side of the plane, which afforded clear views of such majestic peaks as Makalu, Everest, and Lhotse…sights that never cease to excite me.

I have vivid memories of six very full days in this peaceful country, visiting major temples and dzongs (fortresses), walking the strenuous trail to the Cheri Gompa, as well as the Tiger’s Nest at 10,000 ft., which hangs onto a 900 ft. precipice, with 750 stairs on the final approach. And it was awesome to stand on the Dochula Pass viewing the northern mountains of the Tibetan Himalaya, called the Jigme Singye Wangchuck, from the 108 chortens built in memory of fallen soldiers during a war  between Bhutan and Tibet. We climbed up through these colorful monuments and got an amazing panoramic view from the Druk Wangyal Temple on top. This was reached by an elegant stone staircase. The last time I climbed as many stone stairs as I did in Bhutan was on the Inca Trail in 2003!

The small Kingdom of Bhutan (650-700,000 population) has  never been invaded or occupied by another country and they take pride in their independence and cultural purity. They need to do a lot of work building their infrastructure, and are getting help from the United Nations and several western countries,  who are interested in helping to preserve the Bhutanese culture.  Things are changing radically, however, as the West introduces new forms of building and more sophisticated business models, and the highly educated young people are seeking to go beyond farming and traditional art into new careers and enterprises. This, of course, is happening throughout Asia.

Like all tourists, I have hundreds of pictures, but no way to put them on my blog until I return home in January. So please be patient with me and I’ll make a slideshow at that time. Words really can’t begin to describe the beauty of the ancient buildings, the farms, or the countryside. So I won’t try. I did enjoy several pujas, which were quite different from the ones I attended in Tibet, Sikkim, Dharamsala, and Ladakh. The chanting seemed more rapid-fire and there were more instruments accompanying the traditional drums and long, deep horns. I enjoyed an oboe-like horn, a recorder, and a type of lyrical wooden flute. People were milling about, doing prostrations with their young children, which was lovely to watch. The antiphonal singing reverberated magically through the stone buildings. I so wished I had brought my tape recorder!

Election day has come and gone in Nepal to the relief of most of the people with whom I’ve talked. The Maoists are on the way out and it looks as if the country is bouncing back from a very dreary, unproductive time, tantamount to civil war. Jimmy Carter and his team were here to monitor the election and felt satisfied with the outcome. Was quite a day! Everything was closed and no cars or motorbikes were allowed. I loved it. I could walk around without endangering my life. I will say that as I strolled around both Bhutan and Kathmandu I found my biggest challenge, aside from broken pavement and potholes, was not to forget that cars and bicycles and motorcycles were coming toward me in the “wrong” direction. The Brits set the driving pattern and vulnerable Westerners have to be on their toes. Even so, I never get used to walking around the narrow streets and alleys, wondering if I should just continue or jump out of the way. It’s like a game of chicken, and most of the time I’m the “chicken!”

The electricity is about to turn go off for the next three hours, so I’ll close. This is a common occurrence in Asia. Will try to get back on this afternoon.

AIRPORT SECURITY–AN EVER-CHANGING ADVENTURE!

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On November 10, 2013

In Adventures en route

Picture two days without sleep; three international flights; miles of exploring terminal byways in search of gates that seem hemispheres apart (the beauty of new, enlarged facilities); and long lines at every immigration checkpoint . Regardless of whether you have a connecting flight and haven’t stepped out of the terminal, you still must go through security at every stop, and herein lies the tale. Fortunately, a passenger doesn’t need to remove his or her shoes as in the U.S., but since my last visit to Heathrow, the security has been stepped up with a meticulous perusal of every inch of luggage. Usually my backpack goes sailing through the Xray, but this time a jolly Brit proceeded to take it apart, piece by piece, even putting the contents of my first aid kit into a plastic bag and blowing air on it to see if fragments of explosives appeared. He was a very likable fellow, shrugged and said, “It’s the rules…but don’t worry, I won’t take your peanut butter sandwich.” Gee, thanks!

It took no time to dismantle a bag that I had packed like a fine-fitting jigsaw puzzle, and I couldn’t imagine how I would put it back together before flight time. “You can do it, Ducky,” said my new friend. Chargers, cameras, New Yorkers, almonds, walnuts, headlamps, cosmetics…how could anyone get so much in one bag? But I was better off than those with lingerie and personal hygiene articles strewn over the counters. Never mind that, in my haste to get on the elevator after hearing a “last call” from my about-to-depart flight, I left my brand new fleece jacket on the counter never to be seen again…by me.

India was even more radical, with female operatives examining every inch of my body. It was the first time I had been asked to remove my money belt and take out credit cards, cash, and travelers checks. I put my sense of humor on hold and stared straight ahead. Even though the Indira Gandhi Airport has had a thorough face lift, and the space between gates so lengthened that you yearn for a pair of roller skates, it is still  not a place where I care to linger.

Of course, there are wonderful pluses to travel that outweigh the inconveniences. You meet the  nicest people! In Heathrow, just after recovering from my security adventure, a flight attendant, surmising that I was hopelessly lost, guided me to the correct train to the flight he happened, also, to be on, and even found two empty seats after take-off, so I could curl up in relative comfort. Then, upon arriving in Nepal and boarding a bus to take us to the terminal, two men jumped up to give me a seat, something I haven’t experienced since Prague, ten years ago. At breakfast in my guest house here in Boudhanath, I’ve met  a group of Bhutanese young people, and a most delightful German scientist/doctor who works with an NGO to help preserve the culture of the families in the Kathmandu Valley.

I feel as if I’ve come home. I walk kora in the busy square of the giant stupa, and return to the Shechen Guest House to renew old acquaintances and enjoy the best food in town. I’ve even attended a large Puja being held at the Shechen Monastery. And tomorrow I fly to Bhutan. See you in a week….

ASIA, HERE I COME!

By

On November 5, 2013

In Uncategorized

The day has arrived, and I’m off to Nepal, stopping first in London, then Delhi, then Kathmandu. It will be two days before I come up for air! Packing is difficult not only because of security restrictions (put all your batteries in the checked bag and heaven help you if the nasal spray in your backpack exceeds 2 oz.), but because Heathrow Airport is notorious for eating luggage. So that means an extra carry-on for “can’t live without” items. I’ve been burned once too often. But here’s the way I look at it…all these calculations keep your brain agile without having to pay for a class in geriatric mental gymnastics.

I shall be updating you after I return from Bhutan, my first stop on a two-month trip. I will be staying, while in Kathmandu, at the Shechen Guest House in Boudhanath, a charming Buddhist enclave, where I stayed last year. Upon my return, I will be joined by my eldest daughter, Cary, with whom I’ll trek for two weeks in the Yolmo area of Nepal.

I couldn’t resist one more photo of the glorious view from my balcony on a brilliant Fall day just as the leaves were fading and Mt. Baker poked its head up to say, “See, I’m still here, fog or no fog.”

P1020893

One word about Langley before I leave. I was very touched by a traditional ceremony, begun by my daughter in 1996 as a way to honor loved ones past and present. The cemetery is a cherished local spot, which is cared for by volunteers and has become a place of great peace and tranquility over the years. All Soul’s Eve, as it is named, takes place from 5 to 8 PM every November 1st, rain or shine.  It’s a lot of work to set out 200 luminaries, and prepare another 150 bags with votives for those who come to honor their loved ones. But the results are worth it. There is a silent stream of residents, some taking one and others taking several votives and placing them on graves, under trees, and on various stone structures.  This year was especially beautiful and clear and it was with regret that we couldn’t let the candles burn all night. Thank you, Cary, and your volunteers for a memorable experience. (Hope you don’t mind, Mom, but your behind the scenes webmaster daughter is here with a link to the front page of the South Whidbey Record featuring the event, published after you left for Kathmandu…. click HERE to see Meg front and center!)

We line the roads with luminaries made by volunteers
The last vestiges of Fall….
The first few lights appear.
Residents place individual votives on loved one’s graves
As the darkness falls,
the cemetery fills with light.

Last week I kidded about Elizabeth George living on this somewhat misty, rainy island, and who should I meet at All Soul’s Eve but the author, herself, fresh from having her latest Lynley mystery, Just One Evil Act, published. Needless to say I was thrilled! I mentioned taking it on my trip and she said, “It’s 700 pages.” I said, “Wow! Why so long?” She answered, “Because it took that long to tell a good story.” Good answer. I won’t miss this one!

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