the Home of Love.

weird that i haven't mentioned anything about the Ammas (Nepali for "mothers"). most Mondays and Fridays Ben and I go out to Phrem Ghar - "the Home of Love" for elderly women and help around the house or just hang out with Jyoti, the director, and her family. i've had so many great times out at this house. wow, priceless.

--me and Jyoti and her youngest daughter--

Jyoti and Shiva have 3 daughters. their oldest is named Mary, the next is Pratiksha, which is Nepali for "waiting" because they were waiting to have a boy, their youngest daughter is Prasumsa, which means "praise." kind of like, "ok, God we're just going to praise you and trust that you know best."

this is the day we were knocking squash off the vine from the second story balcony with a pole. one of the squash accidentally hit a passerby on the shoulder. oops.


this is also the day that Brent from the WMF office in America was visiting. it was a crazy day. Jyoti and her husband, Shiva, were entertaining about 12 different suprise guests at once. but that's the sweet thing about Phrem Ghar - the table is always open, neighbors, friends, family are always stopping by for tea or even to stay the night. I think we had three rounds of chai that day. and i remember the Dhal Bhat (rice & lentils) was extra special and spicy.










here are some of the Ammas doing their thing on the roof. they grow their own vegetables. and preparing vegetables Nepali style for the evening Dhal Bhat is actually crazy-complicated: cutting, peeling, drying, soaking, frying, pickeling. it's intense work. note: the lady second from the right is weaving a mat from backyard-straw by hand.

here i am grinding cloves for the pumpkin pie
with Jyoti's sweet spice/grain stone grinder thing that she received as a wedding present.
hmm, in America we get blenders and bread machines
and here they get two pieces of stone.
i keep saying i'm going to get a stone-grinder-thing when
i get back to the states -- but then, i don't even have a bed
or a table or a pan or a fork
or an address...

we've been baking a lot recently at Phrem Ghar. Jyoti has an oven which is about unheard of in Nepal. and she asked us, since we were from a land that uses ovens to teach her how to bake. so, this is our pumpkin pie, pre-pumpkin-pie. it's actually a squash from the garden, but squash pie doesn't sound nearly as delicious. it was a hilarious experience we had about 5 different recipes we were looking at, using whatever ingredients we had that were similar to the very American recipes. anyways - the pie was amazing. wow, i really love cooking - i mean i thought i liked it - but i actually love it. it was such a treat for all the Ammas. and it was so perfect with a warm cup of spicy, Nepali tea.

and this is Genni Maya Amma.
oh, Genni Maya. wow, i wish you could meet her. she is 81 years old and came to stay in Prem Ghar in March after seven years of living in a hut made of plastic and rubbish and surviving from handouts and begging. she is paralyzed in her legs and cannot walk. she's taught me so much about loving people. at first i was honestly intimidated by her, maybe afraid because i didn't know how to love her. i didn't know how i could communicate with her. but now i feel so intimately connected with her - in this completely unintellectual way. oh, if you only knew what it means to me to see her smile, to hear her laugh. wow. we've been through a lot together. i've massaged her feet and back with mustard oil when she was sick. we've bathed her many times outside under the sunshine. Ben and I are always cleaning, scrubbing, disinfecting her room. and then once as a suprise we filled her room with this really soft, feminine insence called "smile." she gave up smoking once because of me. but then the next week she held my camera hostage to blackmail me to get her some smokes. yesterday when we were leaving she started crying. she wanted us to take her with us. she says that everytime we leave but yesterday she was crying as she said it - it just about killed me - i just about couldn't walk away, but we had to, you know, and it doesn't make sense even that she would want to leave, that she want to go back to the streets. and it doesn't make sense that Jyoti should go on loving her and caring for her when she doesn't want it... i don't know. i guess loving people doesn't always make sense. it's about being faithful. it's about loving them with grace and speaking truth into their lives. and oh, i pray that Genni Maya does come to accept that she is lovable and that God loves her so acutely and so perfectly just as she is, even as i process what that means as well.

crazy ironic.

so i was walking by a bookstore last week and a National Geographic caught my eye. it was a travel-edition and on the cover was the phrase: "the best little city in America: Austin, Texas." being in Nepal i was freaking out showing everyone, who mainly didn't care because they didn't spend five incredible years of their lives in that town. so i bought the magazine. and in this same magazine there was an article that rated 94 various World Heritage sites from best to worst. they had a panel of environmental, cultural, historical, tourism, blah, blah, blah experts who all contributed to the reviews. number one on the list were the fjords in Norway - yeah sure, they look spectacular. and then i keep flipping the pages, the reviews are getting worse and worse. and i couldn't believe it of all the places around the world -- Kathmandu Valley came in dead last on this particular list. man, i had to laugh because i was sitting in Kathmandu reading the article. and well, the things they said about it were definitely true - polluted, crowded, politically chaotic, and obviously poverty stricken.

wow, i just love how life doesn't make sense like that. i mean i started this journey in Austin - "the best little city in America!" and now i'm here in the town that came in last place!! and you wouldn't believe it - i've been overwhelmed this past week with all these jewels i've been finding nestled in the crooked streets of Kathmandu. like my new favorite little Japanese-coffee-shop-diner with the best little grilled sandwiches and fancy green tea. they even serve coffee that was grown here in Nepal - who knew!! it feels like Portland, Oregon, but you're eating Japanese food and the people are speaking Nepali and delicate French-cafe-music is coming through the speakers - oh, i just love it. and then there's this little Spaghetti Bar in this one alley - i've never seen anything like it - there are only about 15 bar stools, everyone sits at the counter and you watch the guys toss the spaghetti - it's so cozy. the tentalating Italian spices and sauces lure me, before i've even turned the corner. then there's this one pedestrian bridge... oh, man, i have to start a whole new post to tell you about the bridge...

but mainly i just wanted to share the irony; the absurdity of life and lists and ratings and Western standards.

vegetable lights.

before i mention the bridge i want to tell you about the vegetable market. the other day Ben and I were walking home from the bus stop. and well, we were later than usual and the sun has been setting earlier - and i just never thought about what that means for the street vendors. i assumed they went home if they weren't in a lit area or there were no street lights. But to my suprise and aesthetic delight, they don't close shop, they light a candle and place the candle in the middle of their blanket, layered with vegetables and spices. as we were walking down the street - i was overwhelmed with the urban romance, the beauty of the candlelight lining the sidewalks at dusk.

so, here's a photo and sure it's not quality because i don't know much about shutter speed or perspective. it's the idea behind the photo that is beautiful to me. so, each candle represents a different vendor. and well, the tragic implication of this idea is that the people have to keep working around the clock. this whole idea sheds light onto the life of the poor and how they never really get "a break" and even if they do work all day they still struggle to make ends meet. but i guess the beauty of it is, that they did light the candles and that maybe they sit a little closer on the sidewalk because of the cold. and well, if they had remained in the village they may never have had new neighbors to get to know and their children would have never had the opportunity to go to the government schools in the city. and maybe the energy of the streets inspires them, they know that they are not alone.

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so, there's this pedestrian bridge in a busy part of town. and i was crossing it the other day as pedestrians do and looked out and i had to stop in my tracks to take in the view in front of me - its scenery and its implications. there is this pristine little lake with a white temple on an island in the middle of the "holy" water. the lake takes up about a city block and is completely fenced off, which means it is not littered with trash and the surrounding greenery is in fact decently maintained. and well, the view from this bridge is so incredible mainly because of the contrast between the solemnity of the lake and the chaos of the streets around it, the stillness of the water and the noise of the passing traffic. at first i thought it was ridiculous to fence off one of the few green areas of town. but now i see that it has to be this way, not just to keep the people out or the trash out, but because the one can have no meaning without the other.

beauty in this sense is diversity in unity. it's unified because the lake makes up a complete city block, it "fits" within the system, yet it is so unique, so different than its surroundings. the view reconciles the city and the pastoral, the quiet and the chaos, creating this deep, easily over-lookable dynamic beauty. i am always looking for meaningful wholes in the world around me. wholeness means diversity - there is something so graceful about these ideas/experiences/works of art that always draw me. kind of like the life of Jesus - he was a king but he came to serve, he was God but he always refered to himself as "the Son of man." God's very identity as a triune God is complete diversity of parts in unity; existing, working in harmony.

so, yes, beauty is all around us. take that National Geographic. i submit that there is no where in the world that we should not visit because the facilities may have been run down. i think there is always something new and beautiful to experience and learn.

oh, right and if this topic interests you, please read this article from the Cry by Joel Klepac, titled, "Beauty and Redemption: Arti in Community Among the Poor." - super brilliant and inspiring! -- www.wordmadeflesh.org/learn/issues3.html

yes please.

woke up this morning to the most incredible himalayan sunrise.
!we got to be tourists this weekend -- in Nargarkot!
it's this beautiful little forest village slash ghost town.
on the edge of the most spectacularly surreal view
of the massive wall of earth known as the Himalayas.

clouds below, earth above, backwards upside down
loud friendly russians, the town without a sound
a nice vibe, a short hike, eating fruits and whey
meander down a secret path, turn and run away


conversation, nature, adventure, swinging from the village vines with the local kids, and lots of Nepali tea

more photos...

times, they are a changin'

"look, it's Buwaa in the tree," Brooke exclaimed after community prayer a couple weeks ago.

so we all looked out the 3rd story window and yes, Buwaa was in the tree picking off the leaves off one of the 2 trees in the backyard of the children's home. Buwaa is the grandfather of the family here; he's the cutest little man, hardly says a word. he's really just visiting, but he's been here as long as i have, so i don't know... basically he's running out of things to do. we think he's bored obviously. but i always say it's the thought that counts, so, yeah, thanks Buwaa for your help around the house.



i've been hearing from friends in North America about treasured autumn sights and smells, the changing leaves, the beautiful colors...

well, sometimes the seasons just change and you don't even know when the change started and sometimes little men crawl up in the trees early in the morning and pick off each promising piece one by one and throw them to the ground and sweep them up with a broom and put them out with the trash. and then you know - ok, things are changing and maybe it makes it easier to move on because there was no romance in the farewell and maybe it is easier because you had to laugh because it's hilarious and well, that tree was your only chance of upclose natural beauty. and maybe you're tired of looking for beauty in such accute, abstract contexts.


so, Buwaa, i admire your creative use of time.
and, Kathmandu, thank you for challenging me in my pursuit of beauty.