tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5868118352477636262024-03-13T06:24:53.261-07:00Tadashi Tsuchida PhotographyThe Blog Companion to tadashifinephoto.comUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-65802612430336270592009-05-09T22:15:00.001-07:002009-05-09T23:22:47.848-07:00A Visit to the Hillary Schools<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkcjQKRXI/AAAAAAAAAok/2nNevrQ0EEo/s1600-h/20090418-_MG_4894.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkcjQKRXI/AAAAAAAAAok/2nNevrQ0EEo/s400/20090418-_MG_4894.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334061250329068914" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The Nepal Himalaya<br /><br /></span></div>[A quick note:<span style=""> </span>The capitalized word, “Sherpa” does not mean “porter,” but is the name of an entire group of people who originally migrated from Tibet about five-hundred years ago.<span style=""> </span>Literally, “Sherpa” means “Easterner.”<span style=""> </span>Khumbu is the name of the region of Himalayan Nepal where the Sherpas live.<span style=""> </span>Khumbu is also inhabited by other ethnic groups.]<br /><br /><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkczqhRQI/AAAAAAAAAos/tTlK2R3pmQA/s1600-h/20090419-_MG_4954.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkczqhRQI/AAAAAAAAAos/tTlK2R3pmQA/s400/20090419-_MG_4954.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334061254734595330" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Bursting with Joy</span><br /><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">In 1963 Sir Edmund Hillary and the famous Sherpa, Tenzing Norgay became the first mountaineers to verifiably reach the summit of Mount Everest.<span style=""> </span>This was Sir Edmund Hillary’s most famous accomplishment, but not his most important – nor perhaps his most difficult.<span style=""> </span>Certainly it was not climbing Everest that brought him virtual demigod status among the Nepalese.<span style=""> </span>Rather, it was his lifelong dedication to helping the Sherpa people in Nepal to improve their lives in ways that they themselves requested.</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><br /></b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlLNsjfJI/AAAAAAAAApc/BHI3QSQfr0o/s1600-h/20090422-_MG_5248.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlLNsjfJI/AAAAAAAAApc/BHI3QSQfr0o/s400/20090422-_MG_5248.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334062051996433554" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">A used oxygen bottle is a school bell in Namche Bazaar</span><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">In a famous conversation, Hillary asked the Sherpas what he could do for them to repay them for their friendship and invaluable assistance with his various expeditions.<span style=""> </span>Their reply was that, while there was little that they envied about Westerners, they did very much wish their children to be educated.<span style=""> </span>As one Sherpa put it, the children “have eyes, but still they are blind.”<span style=""> </span>Or, as Hillary’s assistant, James F. Fisher, writes in his book, “The Sherpas realized early on that although they had never needed special institutions to learn how to become Sherpas – the traditional avenues of socialization and enculturation were enough for that – they needed modern schools if they were to have hopes of dealing with the outside world in anything but a subordinate, submissive way.”<span style=""> </span>For context, it is important to understand that this conversation occurred at a time when the Sherpa’s income from trade with Tibet had recently been cut off by the Chinese closing the border, but new business opportunities were being created by the influx of Western tourists that were beginning to visit Khumbu.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkdG6EE4I/AAAAAAAAAo8/ovcH9bm4drc/s1600-h/20090420-_MG_5036.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkdG6EE4I/AAAAAAAAAo8/ovcH9bm4drc/s400/20090420-_MG_5036.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334061259900064642" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">New day rising over Namche Bazaar</span><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">I decided to visit Khumbu to see for myself the effects of Hillary’s work.<span style=""> </span>For my flight to Lukla, I arrived bright and early at 5:15 a.m.<span style=""> </span>Just in time to hurry up and wait for my 6:15 flight that was delayed due to weather in the mountains.<span style=""> </span>However, I was fortunate that the flight was not cancelled, and by 10:00 we were cleared to go.<span style=""> </span>The flight to Lukla is quite beautiful, but the approach to the airfield can be a bit hair-raising – actually, it is quite fun if you like flying and have faith in statistical safety.<span style=""> </span>The airfield is a famously difficult one to land at, and only open to STOL (Short Takeoff and Landing) planes.<span style=""> </span>Not only is the airfield short, at high altitude, and surrounded by mountains (and hence, tricky winds), but the runway is not level.<span style=""> </span>Rather, pilots must land uphill.<span style=""> </span>At least this means that takeoffs are downhill, which is helpful in the thin air.<span style=""> </span>There are not too many flights that I’ve been on where the landing has received applause from the passengers, but our pilot and co-pilot certainly earned theirs.<span style=""> </span>(If you’re interested in seeing what the landing approach is like, go to www.youtube.com and search for “Lukla Landing,” there are a number videos posted)</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZjcFvMIeI/AAAAAAAAAnM/FR68G4RgLHs/s1600-h/20090416-_MG_4317.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZjcFvMIeI/AAAAAAAAAnM/FR68G4RgLHs/s400/20090416-_MG_4317.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334060142894522850" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Takeoff from Lukla - It's all downhill from here!<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style=""> </span>My base for day hikes to the Hillary Schools was the town of Namche Bazaar.<span style=""> </span>While someone in good shape and acclimatized to the altitude could walk from Lukla up to Namche in one long day, I was grateful for the excuse that acclimatization gave me to take two days for the journey.<span style=""> </span>I found the second day, which ends with a 2 ½ hour, steep uphill grind, strenuous enough all by itself.<span style=""> </span>It also gave me an appreciation for the hard work that the people in this region do.<span style=""> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlp2YLwTI/AAAAAAAAAqE/cyFaEv7PRnI/s1600-h/20090424-_MG_5632.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlp2YLwTI/AAAAAAAAAqE/cyFaEv7PRnI/s400/20090424-_MG_5632.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334062578312921394" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Porter and Prayer Carvings</span><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">We tend to hear stories about Sherpas carrying massive loads on their backs as they effortlessly run up mountainsides.<span style=""> </span>While the loads they carry verge on the superhuman, they are in fact quite human.<span style=""> </span>They pant, sweat and need to rest frequently.<span style=""> </span>All goods arrive in Khumbu this way, so there is steep price increase on everything that you buy.<span style=""> </span>For instance, a bottle of water that would cost $0.18 US Dollars in Kathmandu will cost you $1.18 in Namche Bazaar.<span style=""> </span>I understand that the further you go from Lukla, the higher the prices go, which makes a lot of sense – I sure wouldn’t carry bottles of water up mountains for free.<span style=""> </span>Refilling your water bottle at the tap and using water purifier tablets saves money, and does not flood Khumbu with discarded plastic bottles.</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style=""><br /></b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZjccfnOwI/AAAAAAAAAnc/qEojpvYx8uQ/s1600-h/20090416-_MG_4375.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZjccfnOwI/AAAAAAAAAnc/qEojpvYx8uQ/s400/20090416-_MG_4375.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334060149003205378" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Luxury items on their way to Namche Bazaar</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">Namche Bazaar is the main hub from which the trek to Everest Base Camp begins.<span style=""> </span>From high vantage points near town, Mount Everest is visible in the distance, but reaching its base takes about five days of hard walking and acclimatization.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, I did not have time to do any real trekking, as my time was short, and I was there to visit schools.<span style=""> </span>Perhaps this was as well.<span style=""> </span>Due to the strenuous walking needed to reach each school, and a persistent cold, I was only able to visit two of the three schools that I had intended, but was very fortunate in the quality of the interviews that I got.<span style=""> </span>I was also extremely lucky to be able to interview the doctor at Khunde Hospital (also built by Hillary and co.), and I provide his story here as an excellent example of what the Hillary Schools, and scholarships through The Hillary Foundation/Himalayan Trust have made possible for the Sherpas.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZj7IQTt_I/AAAAAAAAAn8/p6JBGD8Cc5Q/s1600-h/20090417-_MG_4536.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZj7IQTt_I/AAAAAAAAAn8/p6JBGD8Cc5Q/s400/20090417-_MG_4536.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334060676146247666" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">One of the many bridges between Lukla and Namche</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">Dr. Kami Temba Sherpa is a soft-spoken, intelligent man in his early fifties whose entire life has been shaped by Sir Edmund Hillary’s work.<span style=""> </span>When Hillary constructed a school in his village of Thame, Kami was six years old.<span style=""> </span>Though his siblings were all too old to start school, Kami was the perfect age, and so he was the only one who got an education.<span style=""> </span>He was a bright, motivated student who loved learning, and was consistently at the top of the class.<span style=""> </span>He recalls that Sir Edmund Hillary used to visit the school twice a year, and Kami was greatly impressed by hearing Hillary’s Sherpa guide speak excellent English.<span style=""> </span>He was determined that he too would learn English, and so he studied hard.<span style=""> </span>His studies payed off, and as he progressed, he realized how poor the guide’s English had really been.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkcvdslRI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Y_QnOdmNWj8/s1600-h/20090418-_MG_4876.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkcvdslRI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Y_QnOdmNWj8/s400/20090418-_MG_4876.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334061253607068946" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Ama Dablam from the trail to Khumjung</span><br /></div> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">To continue past 4<sup>th</sup> grade, Kami had to attend middle school outside his village at the famous Hillary school in Khumjung.<span style=""> </span>Walking from Thame to Khumjung and back takes about four hours roundtrip.<span style=""> </span>So, for his first year at Khumjung, Kami and his best friend rented a small room near the school.<span style=""> </span>Soon they found that with all of the necessary tasks of cooking their own meals, gathering their own firewood, and fetching water (water was a problem in Khumjung at that time) took so much time and energy that they decided it was better to just live at home and walk for four hours a day – at least dinner would be ready for when they arrived.<span style=""> </span>Day after day they made this journey until, at last, they completed 7<sup>th</sup> grade at Khumjung.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZjcBRoZiI/AAAAAAAAAnU/VPlxS8PlGc8/s1600-h/20090416-_MG_4335.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZjcBRoZiI/AAAAAAAAAnU/VPlxS8PlGc8/s400/20090416-_MG_4335.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334060141696804386" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Women's Work, Nepal</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">Each year Hillary’s foundation made two scholarships available for students to pursue a high school education, which at that time was not available locally (Now it is possible to complete high school<span style=""> </span>in Khumjung).<span style=""> </span>Both Kami and his friend were awarded these scholarships and were able to continue their education in Kathmandu.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, none of their other friends were able to continue to high school, because without assistance it was financially impossible.<span style=""> </span>After completing his high school education, Kami returned to his village and served for a short time as a teacher at the primary school that he had attended as a boy.<span style=""> </span>Soon, however, Kami made the acquaintance of the doctor at Khunde hospital, and was asked if he would be interested in training to become a health worker in Thame.<span style=""> </span>He accepted the offer, and after some months of training in Khunde, returned to his village.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlLWlQLmI/AAAAAAAAApk/OK1NidXgtbU/s1600-h/20090423-_MG_5449.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlLWlQLmI/AAAAAAAAApk/OK1NidXgtbU/s400/20090423-_MG_5449.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334062054381727330" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Porters quarry and carry stones for a construction project</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">After a little more time of serving as both a teacher and a health worker in Thame, Kami accepted an offer to become an assistant at the Khunde Hospital. <span style=""> </span>After holding this position for about twelve years, he was asked if he would be interested in training to become a doctor.<span style=""> </span>So, once again the Himalayan Trust paid for Kami to go to school.<span style=""> </span>He attended medical school at the University of the South Pacific in Fiji.<span style=""> </span>After five and a half years of study in Fiji, and several years of internship, residency and work in Kathmandu and elsewhere in Nepal, Dr. Kami returned Khunde Hospital, where he has served as a doctor for the past seven years.<span style=""> </span>Now, Kami’s son has finished medical school and has decided to spend a couple of years in Khunde working alongside his father.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlKmjUK3I/AAAAAAAAApM/YTnDTp5pgek/s1600-h/20090420-_MG_5124.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlKmjUK3I/AAAAAAAAApM/YTnDTp5pgek/s400/20090420-_MG_5124.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334062041488698226" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Women approach a mani wall on the trail from Khunde</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">Not only did Hillary’s efforts have a positive effect on Kami’s life, but the hospital Hillary built in Khunde has had huge ramifications for the lives of the Sherpas and the other ethnic groups in the region.<span style=""> </span>Previous to Hillary’s construction of the Khunde Hospital, there were huge incidences of thyroid deficiency diseases such as cretinism and goiter among the Sherpas, due to a lack of iodine in their diet.<span style=""> </span>Now, thanks to Iodine pills and injections administered in the schools by Khunde Hospital, these problems have nearly been eliminated in Khumbu.<span style=""> </span>The population rate in Khumu has also decreased due to the availability of family planning.<span style=""> </span>Having smaller families with fewer mouths to feed has lead to an increase in living standard and better health among the Sherpas.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlKv89I_I/AAAAAAAAApE/ldQpMT3rAPY/s1600-h/20090420-_MG_5066.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlKv89I_I/AAAAAAAAApE/ldQpMT3rAPY/s400/20090420-_MG_5066.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334062044012159986" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Tibetan Buddhism is the cornerstone of the Sherpa culture</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">There is much debate over the effect that introducing modern education has on a culture.<span style=""> </span>There is always the risk that education will make children feel that their culture, their parents and their lives are backwards.<span style=""> </span>However, I think that it is hard not to see Hillary’s work with the schools as a great success.<span style=""> </span>In fact, the Hillary Schools may have helped the Sherpas to maintain their sense of cultural identity.<span style=""> </span>In many countries, the businesses that serve and profit from tourists are mainly owned by foreigners, while the local people are low-paid workers in these establishments.<span style=""> </span>Because they had access to education, the Sherpas have been able to use tourism to their own advantage.<span style=""> </span>The Sherpas are the ones who own most of the trekking agencies, outfitters, restaurants and guest houses – they even manufacture their own line of outdoor apparel.<span style=""> </span>This financial success has allowed them to put more money into building monasteries and afford to send their children to study at them.<span style=""> </span>Tibetan Buddhism is the cornerstone of Sherpa culture, and where it had once been in decline with fewer and fewer monks staying in the monasteries, there is now a resurgence.<span style=""> </span><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlK4ZfGqI/AAAAAAAAApU/9fDy0IVxQgE/s1600-h/20090420-_MG_5189.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZlK4ZfGqI/AAAAAAAAApU/9fDy0IVxQgE/s400/20090420-_MG_5189.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334062046279309986" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);" class="MsoNormal"><b style="">Prayer Wheels, Khumjung</b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">The Sherpa language is taught to the young children in school, alongside Nepali and English.<span style=""> </span>And, of course, financial success and the help of The Himalayan Trust, have allowed Sherpa parents to send their children to the best available schools, whether in Khumbu or elsewhere in Nepal, and to insure that their children have every opportunity for their own success.<span style=""> </span>While nothing is ever simple or some concessions, compromises and tradeoffs, from what I’ve seen, it seems that the Hillary Schools have allowed the Sherpas the ability to successfully adapt to, and profit from, new circumstances, while maintaining their pride and their cultural identity.</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkc5Ur2AI/AAAAAAAAAo0/T011DTcIQxc/s1600-h/20090419-_MG_4960.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZkc5Ur2AI/AAAAAAAAAo0/T011DTcIQxc/s400/20090419-_MG_4960.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334061256253626370" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">School Boy, Namche Bazaar</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b style="">[In learning about the Sherpas, I have been greatly aided by James F. Fisher’s book, “Sherpas: Reflections on Change in Himalayan Nepal.”<span style=""> </span>It is available from The University of California Press.<span style=""> </span>James F. Fisher was Hillary’s school-building assistant in the 1960’s, and is Professor ofAnthropology at Carleton College.]</b></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZj7lv0E8I/AAAAAAAAAoU/06337tuCzII/s1600-h/20090418-_MG_4817.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SgZj7lv0E8I/AAAAAAAAAoU/06337tuCzII/s400/20090418-_MG_4817.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334060684063019970" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Khumbu</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-35924435862211366032009-04-10T10:50:00.000-07:002009-04-20T22:55:49.880-07:00Timeout in Thailand<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">I had promised Katrina a little beach time before the end of our travels, so before she went home we took a break from our project and spent a little time just relaxing somewhere nice. So, this is what we were doing in Ko Samui while Bangkok spiraled into riots and chaos. Decadent, huh?<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HNu2V5DI/AAAAAAAAAmk/GIaMF2pVnJ4/s1600-h/20090405-_MG_3393.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HNu2V5DI/AAAAAAAAAmk/GIaMF2pVnJ4/s400/20090405-_MG_3393.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323121954559222834" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Thai Dancer</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HNY1_pzI/AAAAAAAAAmc/p21WRTSRgr8/s1600-h/20090401-_MG_3213.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HNY1_pzI/AAAAAAAAAmc/p21WRTSRgr8/s400/20090401-_MG_3213.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323121948652185394" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Fisherwomen - Ko Samui<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HNICbvYI/AAAAAAAAAmU/_9nHQzVkS9Y/s1600-h/20090401-_MG_3211.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HNICbvYI/AAAAAAAAAmU/_9nHQzVkS9Y/s400/20090401-_MG_3211.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323121944140955010" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Fisherwoman</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HMuIUSsI/AAAAAAAAAmE/aTHILWDJX6A/s1600-h/20090401-_MG_3106.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-HMuIUSsI/AAAAAAAAAmE/aTHILWDJX6A/s400/20090401-_MG_3106.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323121937186310850" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Postcard</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">I'm now in the Himalayan region of Nepal doing research on the schools that Sir Edmund Hillary helped to build for the Sherpa people. More on that later...<br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-15129695461921862242009-04-03T01:23:00.001-07:002009-04-12T05:07:06.719-07:00Major Dil Bahadur Gurung<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-ALFUFmUI/AAAAAAAAAlE/s-bCzE-thRI/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2403.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-ALFUFmUI/AAAAAAAAAlE/s-bCzE-thRI/s400/20090322-_MG_2403.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323114212468562242" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Major Dil Bahadur Gurung</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">When the Major was a boy there was no school in his village. Getting to the nearest school from his home in Galem, Nepal would have meant a 2-hour walk down a dangerous foot path clinging to the side of a mountain, followed by a 2 1/2 hour uphill journey back. <span style=""> </span>During the monsoon this narrow, exposed path is particularly treacherous, and there is always the danger of a rockslide (which are often started by monkeys higher up on the mountain). <span style=""> </span>Not surprisingly, the children in Galem did not go to school. Not only was the nearest school too far away and too dangerous to get to, but the children were needed to help on the farm. So, the children's lives consisted of rising at the crack of dawn, feeding the animals and then going out with baskets slung on their back to collect heavy loads of firewood and feed for the animals.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc85fJNn8II/AAAAAAAAAjk/nstePVW09lA/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2502.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc85fJNn8II/AAAAAAAAAjk/nstePVW09lA/s400/20090322-_MG_2502.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318532892159635586" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:100%;">The recently widened(!) path to Galem</span><br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal">Major Dil Bahadur Gurung would never have had a chance to go to school if it hadn't been for a very lucky break. In 1954, his cousin, who served as a Gurkha in the British Army, offered to take the boy with him to his posts around the world. <span style=""> </span>And so Dilbahadur went to school for the first time at the age of 14.<span style=""> </span>He went for three years, going to school in Hong Kong and Malaysia. He recalls this time as being difficult on the one hand, as he was trying to learn from teachers speaking a different language, but this was also a very happy time that was full of surprises and new experiences. Then, in 1957 Dilbahadur joined the British Gurkhas himself.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc80eT0OWwI/AAAAAAAAAiM/nJNJA1442y8/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2317.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc80eT0OWwI/AAAAAAAAAiM/nJNJA1442y8/s400/20090322-_MG_2317.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318527380267883266" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Namaste! A kindergarten student and her teacher<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc80eskrhbI/AAAAAAAAAiU/LeW49JMw6co/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2336.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc80eskrhbI/AAAAAAAAAiU/LeW49JMw6co/s400/20090322-_MG_2336.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318527386913572274" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">A little girl in Galem has opportunities her grandmother could not have imagined<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal">Becoming a Gurkha <span style=""> </span>is no small feat. The Gurkhas are an elite force, and each year thousands of young Nepali men vie for a handful of positions. Only the best of the best are selected, and they are paid well, receiving about ten times the salary of a soldier in Nepal’s military. Not only did Dil Bahadur become a Gurkha, but he rose progressively through the ranks: Private, Lance Corporal, Corporal, Sergeant, Sergeant Major, Lieutenant, Captain, and finally, Major.<span style=""> All </span>with only three years of schooling before joining the military. During his career, the Major served in Hong Kong, Singapore and Brunnei. He raised five children and put them all through school, including a son who earned a degree in law, and a daughter who finished a bachelor’s degree.<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc8ySuzrpsI/AAAAAAAAAhc/0-thCLFN0ts/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2168.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc8ySuzrpsI/AAAAAAAAAhc/0-thCLFN0ts/s400/20090322-_MG_2168.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318524982331680450" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Wearing her finest, Galem</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-Aj8a_gGI/AAAAAAAAAlU/Jzx-XZHUfRc/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2439.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-Aj8a_gGI/AAAAAAAAAlU/Jzx-XZHUfRc/s400/20090322-_MG_2439.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323114639578333282" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Villager with Tika</span><br /></div></div><p class="MsoNormal">Meanwhile, however, little had changed in Galem.<span style=""> </span>In 1958, the government finally built a primary school in Galem. It was a single-room hut and the first class had 15 boys; later, girls were allowed to attend.<span style=""> Nonetheless, </span>continuing school past the primary level was still such a hardship that the children had few options beyond joining the military or growing up to be farmers like their parents.<span style=""> </span>Moreover, by the time the Major retired in 1986, the school was leaking badly and unable to accommodate enough children.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc80dgF49GI/AAAAAAAAAh8/jTh-TapVyEc/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2274.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc80dgF49GI/AAAAAAAAAh8/jTh-TapVyEc/s400/20090322-_MG_2274.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318527366383334498" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The Major in front of the school he helped build</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc8yTFRO-TI/AAAAAAAAAhs/gPyOMG9vCcc/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2282.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc8yTFRO-TI/AAAAAAAAAhs/gPyOMG9vCcc/s400/20090322-_MG_2282.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318524988361210162" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >The Major and his "troops"</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Though he now spent most of his time in the city of Pokhara, Major Dil Bahadur dedicated himself<br />to improving life for the people in his village. As education was not an option when he was a child, the Major decided that educating the children of the village should be the first order of business.<br />Major Gurung was able to enlist the help of the Gurkhas; he received a grant from the Gurkha foundation, and raised funds from his many colleagues and friends.<span style=""> </span>A pair of Italian doctors also donated heavily to construct the modern, multi-room school that stands in Galem today. With more rooms, the school is now able to accommodate students through grade 8. However, the problem has remained that to continue their schooling to grade 10 (the grade that a student needs to complete to apply for most decent jobs) the students must still make the grueling 4½ hour round trip to the nearest upper secondary school. To continue to grade 11 and 12 (called “college” or “plus one” and “plus two” in Nepal), they have to go even further away.<span style=""> </span>The Major is currently working with the Nepali government to get them to fund grades 9 & 10 in Gallum.<span style=""> </span>As the outlook for that is not so good (they don't even fund grade 8 in Galem!), the Major has already begun raising private funds to pay the teachers’ salaries, and two new rooms two house these grades are already under construction.<span style=""><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeA_xTP1ZHI/AAAAAAAAAms/X9AyDDhSsUQ/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2304.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeA_xTP1ZHI/AAAAAAAAAms/X9AyDDhSsUQ/s400/20090322-_MG_2304.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323324875764753522" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeBANx90wgI/AAAAAAAAAm0/HBfsVgc5ozE/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2307.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeBANx90wgI/AAAAAAAAAm0/HBfsVgc5ozE/s400/20090322-_MG_2307.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323325365047050754" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >Taking a break from exams, Galem</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Other improvements that the Major has facilitated for the school include a library, kindergarten with a kitchen, toilets for the boys and girls, and sports facilities.<span style=""> </span>He has also brought clean water to Galem, enabled the town to improve the path to the village, and recently helped the town to acquire a motherhood health clinic.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc85e5Akv6I/AAAAAAAAAjE/S7TwU6nK0vI/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2428.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc85e5Akv6I/AAAAAAAAAjE/S7TwU6nK0vI/s400/20090322-_MG_2428.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318532887809933218" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Motherhood Clinic, Galem</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeBAOWxjObI/AAAAAAAAAnE/gLLvsWYSodE/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2475.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeBAOWxjObI/AAAAAAAAAnE/gLLvsWYSodE/s400/20090322-_MG_2475.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323325374927681970" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">New classrooms being built to accomodate the addition of 9th & 10th grades</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">It was my great pleasure to be able to accompany the Major on a visit to Galem along with a group of NGO representatives and reporters.<span style=""> </span>For a man who has every right to be proud, the Major is a surprisingly modest man who treats everyone with great respect.<span style=""> </span>The village itself is a breath of fresh air from those that lie on the well worn tourist track.<span style=""> </span>The people of Galem put on quite a welcoming ceremony for us; greeting us at the edge of town, festooning us with flowers and silk scarves, and performing music and dance for us.<span style=""> </span>Such ceremonies are not always sincere, but it was clear that the people of Galem were not just being polite, or just performing for us; They were polite because they <span style="font-style: italic;">are</span> polite, and they were enjoying themselves fully, singing, dancing and laughing even when the delegation was occupied inside with presentations. We were just an excuse to have a party, and as we started the long walk back to our vehicles, we could hear the music and singing fading into the distance.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc85ezQzyqI/AAAAAAAAAjM/T3Ls2OTlJvA/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2445.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc85ezQzyqI/AAAAAAAAAjM/T3Ls2OTlJvA/s400/20090322-_MG_2445.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318532886267415202" border="0" /></a></p> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Villagers celebrating while the delegation retires inside<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-AkGHEP-I/AAAAAAAAAls/0x5HpJtJdWQ/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2462.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-AkGHEP-I/AAAAAAAAAls/0x5HpJtJdWQ/s400/20090322-_MG_2462.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323114642179112930" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The party continues as the delegation departs</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Helping a student in Galem is not hard to do, nor is it expensive. The Major has set up a scholarship program for the best and most needy students. $100 will support a student for one year, and can make the difference between staying in school or dropping out.<br /><br />If you would like to donate, you can make out a check to:<br /><br />Shree Sheetala Nimna Madhyamik Vidhyalaya (that's the name of the school!) and make a note on the check that this is for a scholarship<br /><br />And, send it to:<br /><br />Major Dil Bahadur Gurung 'MVO' (ret.)<br />Chairman<br />Ganeshmansing Road<br />Block No. 418<br />Bagale Tole - 8<br />Pokhara, Nepal<br /><br />I doubt that this donation will be tax deductible in the U.S., but I'm positive that it will be money well spent.<br /><br />For more information, you can contact Major Dil Bahadur by email: galemdanda@yahoo.com<br /></span><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-AK9b0egI/AAAAAAAAAk8/UF79l4eJPbs/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2377.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-AK9b0egI/AAAAAAAAAk8/UF79l4eJPbs/s400/20090322-_MG_2377.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323114210353510914" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> Bright eyes and a bright future<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc82NNmd54I/AAAAAAAAAis/HFEfF6CDQUA/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2371.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc82NNmd54I/AAAAAAAAAis/HFEfF6CDQUA/s400/20090322-_MG_2371.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318529285565048706" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Woman with Bindi<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc82MwRYnuI/AAAAAAAAAik/HheGftm5Ozw/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2368.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc82MwRYnuI/AAAAAAAAAik/HheGftm5Ozw/s400/20090322-_MG_2368.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318529277691993826" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Take my picture, too!<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc8yS4MyLhI/AAAAAAAAAhk/Et0g9_Rg4Ok/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2214.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc8yS4MyLhI/AAAAAAAAAhk/Et0g9_Rg4Ok/s400/20090322-_MG_2214.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318524984852885010" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">A moustache-proud fellow</span> </div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-AK0wicJI/AAAAAAAAAk0/hKCekucwq4c/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2374.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sd-AK0wicJI/AAAAAAAAAk0/hKCekucwq4c/s400/20090322-_MG_2374.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323114208024490130" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Gentleman of Galem<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeBAOOtq7rI/AAAAAAAAAm8/1hJooRfiGAI/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2239.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SeBAOOtq7rI/AAAAAAAAAm8/1hJooRfiGAI/s400/20090322-_MG_2239.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323325372763926194" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Dressed for celebration<br /><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc82NdUilLI/AAAAAAAAAi0/_DSbjRUvfJg/s1600-h/20090322-_MG_2418.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sc82NdUilLI/AAAAAAAAAi0/_DSbjRUvfJg/s400/20090322-_MG_2418.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318529289784825010" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Terraced fields, Galem</span></div><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-41373070162014405122009-03-31T09:35:00.000-07:002009-04-01T08:23:56.128-07:00Rain at Last!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SdJIsGdyw6I/AAAAAAAAAkM/RVlLNDbIdz8/s1600-h/20090329-_MG_3077.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SdJIsGdyw6I/AAAAAAAAAkM/RVlLNDbIdz8/s400/20090329-_MG_3077.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319394032364995490" border="0" /></a><br />Every year the dry season brings problems to Nepal, but this year has been exceptional. Depending on who you ask, there has been no rain in Kathmandu for 4 to 6 months. Of course this causes problems with crops and means that fewer wells have water. With terrible pollution from decrepit vehicles and slash-and-burn agriculture, lack of rainfall also results in a thick layer of pollution hanging in the air throughout the Kathmandu valley. As you might imagine, respiratory infections are common here.<br /><br />Furthermore, all of Nepal's electricity comes from hydroelectric power, so the dry season also brings a shortage of electricity. The situation is so bad this year that electricity is only available for a few hours each day. To make matters worse, these precious "white-ins," as I call them, often occur after midnight. There is no real schedule to all of this, so everyone (including businesses that rely on electricity) has to play a guessing game. Ironically, it is Nepal's cities that receive the fewest hours of electricity each day. For instance, Kathmandu only had about 4 hours of electricity while we were awake; there was often another 4 hours while we slept.<br /><br />Sadly, there is more to Nepal's electricity problem than just a lack of water. I am told that many hydro-electric plants are out of commission due to poor maintenance. Furthermore, during the recent Maoist revolution, insurgents destroyed power plants. Now that they are the ruling party, the Maoists are suffering from their own sabotage; they refuse to fix the problem, as they blame the previous party for not fixing it earlier. Lastly, part of Nepal's limited electricity is being supplied to India, as a method of repaying past debts.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SdJIsmBmzbI/AAAAAAAAAkU/rR1U6kJICtU/s1600-h/20090329-_MG_3082.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SdJIsmBmzbI/AAAAAAAAAkU/rR1U6kJICtU/s400/20090329-_MG_3082.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319394040836705714" border="0" /></a><br />For all of these reasons, people have been hoping and praying for rain, and you can imagine their joy when the first rain in six months finally came! Katrina and I were lucky enough to be in Patan's Durbar Square on our way to dinner when the lightning started. I hurried back to the guesthouse to grab my camera gear, and poor Katrina was left holding a box of take-away momo's while her obsessive husband ran around hoping to catch lightning flashes with long exposures.<br /><br />The rain finally came down in force and we had to take shelter by squeezing against the palace wall with a number of other people. Then the hail came. Fortunately, this was not the baseball-sized hail that had caused fatalities last year, but it came in buckets! During a brief respite in the storm, Katrina and I high-tailed it for the shelter of a restaurant. We dined by candlelight (both romantic and a necessity!) while the skies opened up again and hail came down so fiercely that the restaurant's courtyard started to look like an ice skating rink.<br /><br />After the rain stopped again, we quickly paid our bill (needless to say, I tipped our poor waiter rather heavily) and headed for the guesthouse. In the square, people were celebrating the coming of rain, and kids were excitedly splashing around and throwing fist-fulls of hail. The streets were now ankle-deep rivers of rushing ice water, but we were able to edge our way down the narrow raised sidewalks, and arrived at the hotel with miraculously dry feet. To top it all off, there was electricity waiting for us! (Talk about a trifecta.)<br /><br />That was our last night in Nepal, and we are now in Thailand, where last night it rained for the first time in months -- just call me "Rain Maker!"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-60841181867820384192009-03-13T06:00:00.000-07:002009-03-24T05:37:20.562-07:00A Restaurant for Vultures?<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjIvgB5o6I/AAAAAAAAAhE/5AcQdbIoTzc/s1600-h/20090315-_MG_1511.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjIvgB5o6I/AAAAAAAAAhE/5AcQdbIoTzc/s400/20090315-_MG_1511.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316720078488183714" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Bob's "glamor" shot<br /></span></div>It's not easy being an ugly, bald scavenger. Vultures have an image problem that is difficult to overcome. Unfortunately, this negative image is working against them at a time when several species of Asian vultures are at great risk of going extinct. In the past fifteen years or so, the population of the <i>Gyps </i>vultures (<i>white-back, slender-billed </i>and <i>long-billed</i>) has dropped at a frightening rate in India, Nepal and Pakistan. An estimated 99.8% of the population has vanished during this time; that means that for every 500 <i>Gyps</i> vultures alive 15 years ago, there is now only one.<span style=""> </span><p></p> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjFBViVI5I/AAAAAAAAAgs/gkNEfX8DsMU/s1600-h/20090318-_MG_1611.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjFBViVI5I/AAAAAAAAAgs/gkNEfX8DsMU/s400/20090318-_MG_1611.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316715986862547858" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Kevin rules the roost at Maya Devi<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal">The problem has been traced back to the anti-inflammatory drug, <i>Diclofenac</i>, which is used as a painkiller for both livestock and people. Because it can get a sick animal up and working quickly, farmers regard <i>Diclofenac </i>as a miracle drug. Unfortunately, this "miracle drug" is lethal to <i>Gyps</i> vultures. When an animal dies shortly after treatment with <i>Diclofenac, </i>the vultures that feed on the carcass will also die. Since vultures feed in large groups, one carcass containing <i style="">Diclofenac</i> will result in the death of scores of vultures.<span style=""> </span>The dwindling number of vultures in Asia means that carcasses are being left to rot, increasing the risk of spread of disease.<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpbFZ8Go4I/AAAAAAAAAfU/b0rBSyk6Ye8/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_1038.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpbFZ8Go4I/AAAAAAAAAfU/b0rBSyk6Ye8/s400/20090310-_MG_1038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312658858857374594" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Bob in his element over Pokhara, Nepal</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal">Fortunately, there are some reasons for hope. <i>Meloxicam </i>is a drug that can be used instead of <i>Diclofenac </i>and does not harm vultures (or other birds that it has been tested on). The problem, however, is that <i>Meloxicam </i>is slightly more expensive and is more difficult to administer than <i>Diclofenac</i>. Moreover, <i>Meloxicam</i> doesn't work as quickly or as well as the drug it is replacing. This makes it difficult to convince poor farmers with little education that the long-term benefits of preserving vultures are worthwhile.<span style=""> </span>It’s especially difficult convincing the farmers about the problem because they don’t <i style="">see</i> any vultures; they often say, "Save the vultures? What vultures?"<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpaBbMGhzI/AAAAAAAAAek/b0_DzrESS9o/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0238.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpaBbMGhzI/AAAAAAAAAek/b0_DzrESS9o/s400/20090307-_MG_0238.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312657690961807154" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Thermal Surfing<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"> <i>Diclofenac </i>has been banned for veterinary use in countries including Nepal, India and Pakistan, and there has been an effort to buy up and remove the remaining stock of the drug. However, it is still legal for human use and thus is available in pharmacies. Since prescriptions are not needed to buy drugs in many countries in Asia, a farmer can still easily acquire <i>Diclofenac </i>to use on his animals.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjFCOy9wtI/AAAAAAAAAg0/hcVoxKeVXlk/s1600-h/20090312-_MG_1109.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjFCOy9wtI/AAAAAAAAAg0/hcVoxKeVXlk/s400/20090312-_MG_1109.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316716002233139922" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Kiran helps out with the vultures before school<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal">One of the methods of encouraging farmers not to use <i style="">Diclofenac</i> has been through the creation of "vulture restaurants." Under this scheme, sick livestock are purchased from farmers, which are then treated humanely (<i style="">Meloxicam</i> is administered, if needed) and the animals are allowed to live out their days in a field. When they die, they are taken to the vulture restaurant where they provide a safe meal for the vultures.<br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpaAsOzvTI/AAAAAAAAAec/D0RYmY7fc_8/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0056.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpaAsOzvTI/AAAAAAAAAec/D0RYmY7fc_8/s400/20090307-_MG_0056.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312657678356692274" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Kevin and Anita - <span style="font-style: italic;">Is she really going out with him?</span></span><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Although I know something about birds of prey and spend quite a bit of my time photographing them, I was unaware that vultures were critically endangered in Asia. <span style=""> </span>I learned about the situation from Scott Mason, who, in addition to being the inventor of parahawking (the hybrid sport combining paragliding and falconry), also runs Himalayan Raptor Rescue, a conservation scheme initiated by the charity Himalayan Nature. <span style=""> </span>In order to raise awareness of the critical situation faced by vultures, Scott provides lectures to tour groups, and gives them a chance to spend time getting to know his two vultures, Bob and Kevin. Few people get a chance to experience vultures in such an up-close and personal way.<span style=""> </span>Participants consistently comment on how charming, amusing, and almost dog-like the vultures are; they often and leave with a new appreciation for these much maligned animals.</div></div><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjFCR1PZUI/AAAAAAAAAg8/BMgqPLT9Ny4/s1600-h/20090315-_MG_4293.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/ScjFCR1PZUI/AAAAAAAAAg8/BMgqPLT9Ny4/s400/20090315-_MG_4293.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316716003047990594" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-family:georgia;" >Another tourist falls for Kevin's charms</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Donations to Himalayan Raptor Rescue go directly to the rescue and rehabilitation of birds of prey, as well as toward starting a vulture restaurant in Pokhara, Nepal.<span style=""> </span>If you are interested in learning more, making a donation, or perhaps, becoming a vulture <i style="">restaraunteur</i>, you can find more information on <a href="http://www.parahawking.com/">www.parahawking.com</a>.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpbFhRojfI/AAAAAAAAAfc/_WBA5pQHP58/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_1072.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpbFhRojfI/AAAAAAAAAfc/_WBA5pQHP58/s400/20090310-_MG_1072.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312658860826725874" border="0" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Hey, this vulture restaurant has a take out window!</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-31263497200145097902009-03-13T05:50:00.001-07:002009-03-21T09:48:29.062-07:00Parahawking!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQi-rZ4I/AAAAAAAAAdk/EdVkvEJ6TVE/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0160.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQi-rZ4I/AAAAAAAAAdk/EdVkvEJ6TVE/s400/20090307-_MG_0160.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312654652216141698" border="0" /></a>Imagine floating in a paraglider in Nepal with the distinctive point of Macchapucchare behind you. Could it possibly get any better than that?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXRAvUC-I/AAAAAAAAAeE/E8ylOuXM7MY/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0245.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXRAvUC-I/AAAAAAAAAeE/E8ylOuXM7MY/s400/20090307-_MG_0245.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312654660204760034" border="0" /></a>Yes it can! Scott Mason has done just that by combining his two passions: falconry and paragliding. Scott uses rescue birds to find the thermals that make for excellent paragliding.<br /><br />Birds wind up in Scott's care because they have been injured, they fell out of the nest, their nest was cut down, or they were kept as pets. When possible, the birds are returned to the wild. Those that are too badly injured or too tame to be set free, are still cared for, exercised daily and kept in Scott's ever-expanding group of aviaries. The ones that cannot be returned to the wild, but are capable of training, get a new job: Parahawking!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpYYZdNFzI/AAAAAAAAAeM/qT2trz0GE8w/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0246.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpYYZdNFzI/AAAAAAAAAeM/qT2trz0GE8w/s400/20090307-_MG_0246.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312655886610405170" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Bob, an Egyptian Vulture, has been called in for mid-air refueling.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpYljtzRDI/AAAAAAAAAeU/IXvmQuYu70Q/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0237.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpYljtzRDI/AAAAAAAAAeU/IXvmQuYu70Q/s400/20090307-_MG_0237.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312656112702669874" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">And he's off again, locating thermals to keep our paraglider aloft... and to earn more snacks!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpcZs197LI/AAAAAAAAAfk/cKg6yFMTLRY/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_0886.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpcZs197LI/AAAAAAAAAfk/cKg6yFMTLRY/s400/20090310-_MG_0886.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312660307040922802" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Both vultures race in for a snack from Katrina's hand - looks like Kevin won that round! Better luck next time, Bob.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpcaH8pHeI/AAAAAAAAAf8/ADv31w8uq18/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_1083.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpcaH8pHeI/AAAAAAAAAf8/ADv31w8uq18/s400/20090310-_MG_1083.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312660314316676578" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Fish Farms, Pokhara<br /></span></div>Of course, the views from the air are nothing short of stunning...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQ_-XHPI/AAAAAAAAAds/qfOM1viAG2M/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0215.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQ_-XHPI/AAAAAAAAAds/qfOM1viAG2M/s400/20090307-_MG_0215.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312654659999440114" border="0" /></a><br />... but, to be able to live the ancient dream of soaring, literally, <span style="font-style: italic;">with </span>the birds, is unbeatable!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQ5t07NI/AAAAAAAAAd8/fasWw2CShJ8/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_1023.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQ5t07NI/AAAAAAAAAd8/fasWw2CShJ8/s400/20090310-_MG_1023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312654658319477970" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">The end of a </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">very</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"> good day!</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpgAfip3xI/AAAAAAAAAgM/xHNG3bLx2pk/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_1084.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpgAfip3xI/AAAAAAAAAgM/xHNG3bLx2pk/s400/20090310-_MG_1084.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312664272020037394" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Approaching the landing field. Run water buffalo, run!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpgAZHQGEI/AAAAAAAAAgU/5fFrxaF69QA/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_1094.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpgAZHQGEI/AAAAAAAAAgU/5fFrxaF69QA/s400/20090310-_MG_1094.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312664270294489154" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">After we land safely, local kids earn extra income packing up our gliders.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQ24KMnI/AAAAAAAAAd0/pun45z76Wy0/s1600-h/20090307-_MG_0104.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpXQ24KMnI/AAAAAAAAAd0/pun45z76Wy0/s400/20090307-_MG_0104.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312654657557508722" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Woo-hoo!</span><br /></div>And here's the guy who kept me alive: Brad Sander, who set the world record for altitude in a paraglider - over 25,000 feet! But everyone who was at last week's costume party just knows him as Bond. James Bond.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpcaGPmGTI/AAAAAAAAAfs/dSBS68hjIy4/s1600-h/20090310-_MG_0889.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbpcaGPmGTI/AAAAAAAAAfs/dSBS68hjIy4/s400/20090310-_MG_0889.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312660313859299634" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Just hangin' with our pals</span><br /><br />To learn more about parahawking and raptor conservation, visit Scott Mason's website: <a href="http://www.parahawking.com/">www.parahawking.com</a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">For some amazing pictures, see Katrina Keating's parahawking blogs on her site<br /><a href="http://www.katrinakphotography.blogspot.com/">www.katrinakphotography.blogspot.com</a><br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-42518710562835378942009-03-11T18:46:00.000-07:002009-03-15T00:04:23.624-07:00Patan, Nepal<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy4hIP-xI/AAAAAAAAAb8/2G1dnkNAdkM/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9535.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy4hIP-xI/AAAAAAAAAb8/2G1dnkNAdkM/s400/20090304-_MG_9535.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122075774712594" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Durbar Square</span><br /></div>Patan is only about 2 Kilometers from Kathmandu, but it is a world apart. I'm sad to say that K-K-K-K-K-K-Kathmandu is not what one envisions when listening to Bob Seger's song. I'm told that it was a paradise, but that was 30+ years ago. These days, Kathmandu is a noisy, dirty, polluted and rather charmless sprawl that nobody is too fond of.<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />By contrast, Patan is more relaxed, less touristy and has preserved many of its amazing buildings, thanks in part to UNESCO support. Happily, we skipped Kathmandu and went straight to Patan from the airport.<br /><br />We stayed in a beautifully restored, traditional Newari house (not pictured here). A great place run by lovely people - the same family that has owned the building for over 200 years! The only drawback is that the ceilings are about 5'8" tall (oh, my back!) and the doorways are much lower (oh, my head!).<br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhvncaqnxI/AAAAAAAAAbs/2kDYjr_VqB4/s1600-h/20090303-_MG_9281.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhvncaqnxI/AAAAAAAAAbs/2kDYjr_VqB4/s400/20090303-_MG_9281.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312118483917119250" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhtmpqY5SI/AAAAAAAAAa0/ztcwEEtuh_A/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_9043.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhtmpqY5SI/AAAAAAAAAa0/ztcwEEtuh_A/s400/20090302-_MG_9043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312116271269602594" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Pigeons of Patan</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy4fLrocI/AAAAAAAAAb0/ZylA8Q_V6vU/s1600-h/20090303-_MG_9433.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy4fLrocI/AAAAAAAAAb0/ZylA8Q_V6vU/s400/20090303-_MG_9433.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122075252236738" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">You talkin' to me?<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00T1B3lI/AAAAAAAAAdU/R6jm2R4WkuE/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9850.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00T1B3lI/AAAAAAAAAdU/R6jm2R4WkuE/s400/20090304-_MG_9850.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312124202508213842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz-6xdXgI/AAAAAAAAAck/hbTrhw3P8MY/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9658.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz-6xdXgI/AAAAAAAAAck/hbTrhw3P8MY/s400/20090304-_MG_9658.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312123285249285634" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Gentlemen of Patan<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00TtSqnI/AAAAAAAAAdM/4FdOew4iTgs/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9845.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00TtSqnI/AAAAAAAAAdM/4FdOew4iTgs/s400/20090304-_MG_9845.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312124202475760242" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Street sweeper and trainee<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00CfOOpI/AAAAAAAAAdE/KozePh3Otmk/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9807.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00CfOOpI/AAAAAAAAAdE/KozePh3Otmk/s400/20090304-_MG_9807.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312124197853346450" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Girl and Prayer Wheel, Golden Temple<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh0AXaCYmI/AAAAAAAAAc8/qSwqMwNe4Ts/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9806.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh0AXaCYmI/AAAAAAAAAc8/qSwqMwNe4Ts/s400/20090304-_MG_9806.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312123310115545698" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Monkey Statue and Chain, Golden Temple<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy5NUJ3XI/AAAAAAAAAcM/ysvMzyCkLvU/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9570.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy5NUJ3XI/AAAAAAAAAcM/ysvMzyCkLvU/s400/20090304-_MG_9570.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122087635803506" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">The origins of ayurvedic massage?<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz_vjV8pI/AAAAAAAAAc0/nYDGsv_RoKY/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9781.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz_vjV8pI/AAAAAAAAAc0/nYDGsv_RoKY/s400/20090304-_MG_9781.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312123299417158290" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">During the dry season people must carry water from the well</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz_EngaLI/AAAAAAAAAcs/hdkZy90IUwY/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9680.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz_EngaLI/AAAAAAAAAcs/hdkZy90IUwY/s400/20090304-_MG_9680.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312123287891896498" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Patan Palace Courtyard<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz-jc5GlI/AAAAAAAAAcc/fu2J5ojzh70/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9644.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhz-jc5GlI/AAAAAAAAAcc/fu2J5ojzh70/s400/20090304-_MG_9644.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312123278989007442" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Dogs: Sacred and Otherwise<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy5YA23tI/AAAAAAAAAcU/hQ4XXrbDF3o/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9598.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy5YA23tI/AAAAAAAAAcU/hQ4XXrbDF3o/s400/20090304-_MG_9598.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122090507656914" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Durbar Square "Skyline"<br /></span></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy41BhniI/AAAAAAAAAcE/uuo3bhsZGvs/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9617.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhy41BhniI/AAAAAAAAAcE/uuo3bhsZGvs/s400/20090304-_MG_9617.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312122081115217442" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Colorful Rituals of Nepal:</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhvmtHnoxI/AAAAAAAAAbc/GaAxvH1Zd-E/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_9201.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhvmtHnoxI/AAAAAAAAAbc/GaAxvH1Zd-E/s400/20090302-_MG_9201.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312118471220765458" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhvmRXQtVI/AAAAAAAAAbU/h7bhofkSkmw/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_9137.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhvmRXQtVI/AAAAAAAAAbU/h7bhofkSkmw/s400/20090302-_MG_9137.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312118463770178898" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhtnSqrciI/AAAAAAAAAbE/xWzPxMr13zk/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_9077.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhtnSqrciI/AAAAAAAAAbE/xWzPxMr13zk/s400/20090302-_MG_9077.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312116282276672034" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Novice and Monk, Golden Temple<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Usually, photographs are not allowed of this ritual. For some reason the monk took a shine to me and gave me permission. He also sprinkled holy water on me and gave me a flower which is meant to bring good fortune. My "guide," an entertaining itinerant man named Vishnu, was very surprised at all of this and kept telling me how lucky I was.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Examples of Newari Architecture:</span><br /></div><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhtm4QLJyI/AAAAAAAAAa8/om-N2Emr6zs/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_9050.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhtm4QLJyI/AAAAAAAAAa8/om-N2Emr6zs/s400/20090302-_MG_9050.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312116275186181922" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhvl6fjKMI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fiNIGCRFjVQ/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_9113.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhvl6fjKMI/AAAAAAAAAbM/fiNIGCRFjVQ/s400/20090302-_MG_9113.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312118457630927042" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhtmJMbjHI/AAAAAAAAAas/ckr2d5j1rd8/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_9026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SbhtmJMbjHI/AAAAAAAAAas/ckr2d5j1rd8/s400/20090302-_MG_9026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312116262554012786" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhtl06Uk_I/AAAAAAAAAak/y8-et0xRbec/s1600-h/20090302-_MG_8977.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbhtl06Uk_I/AAAAAAAAAak/y8-et0xRbec/s400/20090302-_MG_8977.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312116257109349362" border="0" /></a><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00rjrEaI/AAAAAAAAAdc/qDsfsLxEf0k/s1600-h/20090304-_MG_9879.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sbh00rjrEaI/AAAAAAAAAdc/qDsfsLxEf0k/s400/20090304-_MG_9879.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312124208877867426" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Time to say <span style="font-style: italic;">namaste</span></span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-54535850712578793532009-03-09T19:46:00.000-07:002009-03-10T20:43:25.084-07:00More Pictures from Rajasthan<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4BbAX3WJI/AAAAAAAAAYc/Hyy9zRjhdaM/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8496.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4BbAX3WJI/AAAAAAAAAYc/Hyy9zRjhdaM/s400/20090225-_MG_8496.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309182574184585362" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Posing with a Hookah</span><br /></div><br />Despite having some very negative experiences in Rajasthan, it is a fascinating part of the world, and we did meet many wonderful people. Here are some more pictures of our time there.<br /><br />Note: Unfortunately, due to a really bad internet connection, I cannot see what pictures these are (I uploaded them last week). I titled the few that I could see. Still, I shouldn't complain; having <span style="font-style: italic;">both</span> electricity and internet at the same time in Nepal takes an alignment of the planets!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Cl3L7FyI/AAAAAAAAAZE/oI3IqtE8R3Y/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8197.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Cl3L7FyI/AAAAAAAAAZE/oI3IqtE8R3Y/s400/20090224-_MG_8197.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309183860208768802" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4ClgSdkMI/AAAAAAAAAY8/dlo-0H6U5Ag/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8091.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4ClgSdkMI/AAAAAAAAAY8/dlo-0H6U5Ag/s400/20090224-_MG_8091.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309183854062178498" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4ClhIf-HI/AAAAAAAAAY0/PJ6GZycxRbk/s1600-h/20090220-_MG_7230.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4ClhIf-HI/AAAAAAAAAY0/PJ6GZycxRbk/s400/20090220-_MG_7230.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309183854288828530" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4ClS9hbmI/AAAAAAAAAYs/x4ZPQlijQdc/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8613.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4ClS9hbmI/AAAAAAAAAYs/x4ZPQlijQdc/s400/20090225-_MG_8613.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309183850484690530" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4BbYkmP8I/AAAAAAAAAYk/wPICU-Eqb6c/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8657.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4BbYkmP8I/AAAAAAAAAYk/wPICU-Eqb6c/s400/20090225-_MG_8657.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309182580680441794" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Ba7mgvaI/AAAAAAAAAYU/AS8ZZawMeUo/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8427.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Ba7mgvaI/AAAAAAAAAYU/AS8ZZawMeUo/s400/20090225-_MG_8427.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309182572903841186" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Chai Break<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4BaAkJ5wI/AAAAAAAAAYE/TWsw1gEkLME/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8311.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4BaAkJ5wI/AAAAAAAAAYE/TWsw1gEkLME/s400/20090224-_MG_8311.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309182557056263938" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Old man in the market, Jodhpur</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3wkPrBI/AAAAAAAAAX8/Cwm72qLlTzc/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8246.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3wkPrBI/AAAAAAAAAX8/Cwm72qLlTzc/s400/20090224-_MG_8246.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309180869134494738" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Hayride in Rajasthan<br /><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3SlIvQI/AAAAAAAAAX0/2TTIGjMwEt4/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8237.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3SlIvQI/AAAAAAAAAX0/2TTIGjMwEt4/s400/20090224-_MG_8237.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309180861085170946" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3YF0WMI/AAAAAAAAAXs/KjAzce1ZHCU/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7997.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3YF0WMI/AAAAAAAAAXs/KjAzce1ZHCU/s400/20090223-_MG_7997.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309180862564423874" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3Ls1-8I/AAAAAAAAAXk/DLjK6G7P7VQ/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7904-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_3Ls1-8I/AAAAAAAAAXk/DLjK6G7P7VQ/s400/20090223-_MG_7904-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309180859238448066" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_2xtHKxI/AAAAAAAAAXc/K1kU5ZoHSlE/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7897.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3_2xtHKxI/AAAAAAAAAXc/K1kU5ZoHSlE/s400/20090223-_MG_7897.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309180852260252434" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-f2hNAlI/AAAAAAAAAXU/qPXYmbT4abo/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7892.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-f2hNAlI/AAAAAAAAAXU/qPXYmbT4abo/s400/20090223-_MG_7892.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309179358903861842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-fqvLY6I/AAAAAAAAAXM/1cFjqRgJCJM/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7874.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-fqvLY6I/AAAAAAAAAXM/1cFjqRgJCJM/s400/20090223-_MG_7874.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309179355741250466" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-fWvzZFI/AAAAAAAAAXE/jn6y2u3fcvo/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7827.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-fWvzZFI/AAAAAAAAAXE/jn6y2u3fcvo/s400/20090223-_MG_7827.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309179350375162962" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">A clever ox-powered irrigation system, seen all over in the countryside</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-fMNmpoI/AAAAAAAAAW8/HJ2nEGUod54/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7823.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa3-fMNmpoI/AAAAAAAAAW8/HJ2nEGUod54/s400/20090223-_MG_7823.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309179347547367042" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"><br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38q6mz_QI/AAAAAAAAAWs/MONxN4_WV7U/s1600-h/20090222-_MG_7750.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38q6mz_QI/AAAAAAAAAWs/MONxN4_WV7U/s400/20090222-_MG_7750.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309177349956435202" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">A meeting of the minds<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38qfmoAyI/AAAAAAAAAWk/BA7vtT1xicw/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7717.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38qfmoAyI/AAAAAAAAAWk/BA7vtT1xicw/s400/20090221-_MG_7717.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309177342707893026" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Basket weaver, Udaipur<br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38qNmX57I/AAAAAAAAAWc/PqAH0eBCQ5M/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7706.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38qNmX57I/AAAAAAAAAWc/PqAH0eBCQ5M/s400/20090221-_MG_7706.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309177337874999218" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38pcHEwLI/AAAAAAAAAWU/wGNjIoZr8GU/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7693.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38pcHEwLI/AAAAAAAAAWU/wGNjIoZr8GU/s400/20090221-_MG_7693.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309177324590383282" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">OMG! I love shopping!<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38o5MqbJI/AAAAAAAAAWM/8Y7ypK4kCdk/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7662.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa38o5MqbJI/AAAAAAAAAWM/8Y7ypK4kCdk/s400/20090221-_MG_7662.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309177315218582674" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Woman in Market, Udaipur<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37FQmhO1I/AAAAAAAAAWE/dp7LkdSx_CU/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7648.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37FQmhO1I/AAAAAAAAAWE/dp7LkdSx_CU/s400/20090221-_MG_7648.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309175603514129234" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Musician in a wedding procession<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37FNQtmeI/AAAAAAAAAV8/0E_Zt095CiM/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7489.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37FNQtmeI/AAAAAAAAAV8/0E_Zt095CiM/s400/20090221-_MG_7489.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309175602617358818" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Musician performing traditional music of Rajasthan<br /></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37FIfFgqI/AAAAAAAAAV0/lRRuQ2z_utc/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7454.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37FIfFgqI/AAAAAAAAAV0/lRRuQ2z_utc/s400/20090221-_MG_7454.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309175601335468706" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Acrobats Performing outside of Udaipur</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37ErAR10I/AAAAAAAAAVs/ZobCDCEXP0M/s1600-h/20090220-_MG_7313.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa37ErAR10I/AAAAAAAAAVs/ZobCDCEXP0M/s400/20090220-_MG_7313.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309175593421625154" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-82102978231841493372009-03-03T20:27:00.001-08:002009-03-05T04:55:46.525-08:00On Leaving Rajasthan<span style="font-weight: bold;">Parental Warning</span>: This entry is <span style="font-style: italic;">unpleasant </span>and contains<span style="font-style: italic;"> foul, graphic language.</span> It might also be construed as <span style="font-style: italic;">culturally insensitive</span> - I hope not.<br /><br />Katrina and I are now in Patan, Nepal, and we're loving it. As fascinating and incredibly photogenic as Rajasthan is, we decided to cut our visit short and move on to Nepal ahead of schedule. One of the reasons that we left Rajasthan was that we realized we would have to stay much longer than we had intended in order to get decent material for our book, leaving us less time to do research elsewhere.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4FcJt8MCI/AAAAAAAAAaM/8gFdopWJi18/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8739.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4FcJt8MCI/AAAAAAAAAaM/8gFdopWJi18/s400/20090225-_MG_8739.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309186991919476770" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Purdah Screen</span><br /></div><br />Unfortunately, the other reason we left early is because the incredible number of utterly obnoxious perverts. This may sound funny, but it is not. First of all, as a guy who reads Dan Savage's column, you have to go pretty far for me to call you a pervert. However, sexual harassment and intimidation of women is where I draw the line.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EYVGekKI/AAAAAAAAAZs/Un9UWwl-288/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8091.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EYVGekKI/AAAAAAAAAZs/Un9UWwl-288/s400/20090224-_MG_8091.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309185826744078498" border="0" /></a><br />We have had problems with sexual harassment directed toward Katrina (and other foreign women) in smaller doses in other parts of India - including the non-Buddhist parts of Ladakh's capital, Leh, and even in friendly, outgoing Kerala. Even these lower levels were already a solid nine on the bullshit-o-meter, and much more than we've experienced in any other country (including our own). However, Rajasthan has turned the perversion and harassment of women up to 11, and frankly, for all its splendor and history, and despite the wonderful people that we did meet there, we are glad to be gone.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Fb7BGwAI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/sjDqNAVrUW4/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8632.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Fb7BGwAI/AAAAAAAAAZ8/sjDqNAVrUW4/s400/20090225-_MG_8632.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309186987973328898" border="0" /></a><br />It has amazed me how in the regions of India mentioned above, there is a stark difference between when I walk around town alone, and when I am with Katrina. In fact, it is a bit pathetic.<br /><br />When I am on my own, I feel a little like a minor celebrity. A lot of people want to talk to me, or take their picture with me, and I am often shown great hospitality. When I walk through the same areas with Katrina, it is another experience entirely. Let me try to describe it this way...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Fb_x66eI/AAAAAAAAAaE/kfaD72vyP8w/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8750.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4Fb_x66eI/AAAAAAAAAaE/kfaD72vyP8w/s400/20090225-_MG_8750.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309186989251815906" border="0" /></a><br />Fellas, I know you've done this before, but imagine that you are married to a famous porn-star. Sounds fun, huh? Now imagine trying to go for a walk anywhere that there are groups of young men (i.e. just about anywhere but a nunnery). This is going to happen every time you go into public. Get the picture? But, hey, <span style="font-style: italic;">you're </span>the one who married a porn-star, what did you expect?!? Well, go for a walk with any light-skinned woman in Rajasthan, and the experience is not much different. Even when I was with Katrina, as soon as I would look another direction, the stares and gestures and lewd noises would begin. As walking side-by-side in India is usually not possible, Katrina would often walk in front of me, so that I could keep an eye on her.<br /><br />It's pathetic that it should come to that. It's even more pathetic that it was only so effective, even with Katrina dressing culturally sensitively (that is, she has only forearms showing). When we talked to our Indian friend who lives part time in Bangalore, she told us she had meant to warn us about sexual harassment of light-skinned women in Rajasthan.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EXyOTMYI/AAAAAAAAAZc/5KkQUtI0lH0/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7662.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EXyOTMYI/AAAAAAAAAZc/5KkQUtI0lH0/s400/20090221-_MG_7662.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309185817381646722" border="0" /></a><br />The worst offenders were the young men in brightly colored shirts. I call them the pea-cocks. Whenever I was looking elsewhere, they would leeeeer at Katrina, trying to intimidate her by staring at her for long periods of time. One time, when Katrina was crouching down to take a picture of a museum display, I noticed a pea-cock standing next to her, taking a picture of her with his cell phone. I stepped in his way and confronted him and he got nervous and swore he wasn't doing anything. After Katrina & I walked away, pea-cock's friend gave him a good whack.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EX7PXE4I/AAAAAAAAAZk/Iq0fmDBgVak/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7778.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EX7PXE4I/AAAAAAAAAZk/Iq0fmDBgVak/s400/20090223-_MG_7778.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309185819802014594" border="0" /></a><br />Finally, we made up our minds to leave, and got on a bus to Delhi to catch a flight to Nepal. This turned out to be our worst experience in Rajasthan. The bus left Jodhpur at 6 PM and arrived at the airport in Delhi around 7 AM. We were the only foreigners on the bus, and while most of the people on the bus were good, friendly people, Katrina was harassed <span style="font-style: italic;">twice </span>during the ride. While I was sleeping, a man sitting nearby turned around and would not stop staring at Katrina. When I woke up Katrina told me about this, but the man had already left the bus. I was incensed and told her to wake me up if something like that happened again.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EYmWKTaI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/4PIJDNDN_4U/s1600-h/20090225-_MG_8488.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EYmWKTaI/AAAAAAAAAZ0/4PIJDNDN_4U/s400/20090225-_MG_8488.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309185831373262242" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Schoolgirls by Satee Memorial, Jodhpur<br /><br /></span></div>Sure enough, Katrina woke me up later in the ride and told me that the man across the aisle from us was masturbating. While I was staring at him in disbelief, trying to find another explanation for what I was seeing, the asshole continued and started singing in Hindi. Everyone around us was sleeping. In the seat just behind the man there were two small girls sleeping. I confronted the man and he stopped, but he just kept smiling and pretended not to be able to understand what I was saying. I persisted, and eventually he wiped the smile off his face and stared straight ahead. However, he was far from apologetic or embarrassed. I was reluctant to leave Katrina alone, but I decided to talk to the conductor on the bus. He was a gruff, but friendly fellow and I thought he might be sympathetic.<br /><br />Unfortunately, I had to try to communicate with him via pantomime to explain to him what was happening - you can imagine how funny that looked. I was shocked when he told me, "wait ten minutes." I said, "What?!? What do you mean wait ten minutes," and tried again to convey what was happening. Fortunately, a young bespectacled man sitting next to the conductor asked me with some shock, "Do you mean <span style="font-style: italic;">masturbating</span>?" When I said yes, he told the conductor, who became stern and swung into action, scolding the man and making him move away from Katrina.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EXpcuQCI/AAAAAAAAAZU/8LDR3hukjnc/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7415.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sa4EXpcuQCI/AAAAAAAAAZU/8LDR3hukjnc/s400/20090221-_MG_7415.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309185815026221090" border="0" /></a><br />This was a crucial moment in my mind. When the conductor told me to wait ten minutes, I thought that he had understood and was not willing to intervene. Apparently, he had thought my pantomime meant that I had to use the bathroom - that would have been the craziest pantomime for pee-break ever! If the man sitting next to him had not understood and translated, imagine the impression of Rajasthan that I would have been left with.<br /><br />After the conductor forced the man to move away, I got up and thanked both the conductor & my interpreter. The young man said, "Not all people are like this, only some." I told him that I understand this. However, I didn't tell him what I was thinking... "Yes, but so many are". And, unfortunately, they ruin it. Katrina will not be coming back, and I'm not sure that I would, even if I were alone. Sure, I would be treated like an honored guest. Sure, <span style="font-style: italic;">most</span> men in Rajasthan aren't creeps. However, it would be hard to tell which were which, and that would ruin it.<br /><br />Afterword: India is not homogeneous. India is changing. Rajasthan is changing, too. The images of the purdah screen and the satee memorial are not meant to imply that either tradition continues in modern Rajasthan. However, they do illustrate the historical place of women in Rajasthan. They can also be interpreted as a symbol of how much change has already occurred.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-36630454774870315992009-02-27T08:18:00.000-08:002009-02-27T10:03:38.417-08:00First Impressions of Rajasthan<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sagm8On33II/AAAAAAAAAVc/HpKwTnNou78/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7910.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sagm8On33II/AAAAAAAAAVc/HpKwTnNou78/s400/20090223-_MG_7910.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307534977015471234" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Saris on parade<br /></span></div><br />Katrina and I have been in Rajasthan for roughly seven days.<span style=""> </span>Usually, a week is long enough for me to get at least a basic sense of a place, but Rajasthan is a bit more difficult – at least for me.<p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SagbV4AhlXI/AAAAAAAAAT0/lpDIUTDEwIY/s1600-h/20090220-_MG_7181.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SagbV4AhlXI/AAAAAAAAAT0/lpDIUTDEwIY/s400/20090220-_MG_7181.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307522223481918834" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Looking for the china shop, Udaipur</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Different states in India seem almost like different countries to me, and coming from Kerala, Rajasthan is quite a change.<span style=""> </span>Kerala is far South, Rajasthan is North.<span style=""> </span>Kerala is comprised of steamy, tropical coast and cool, lush mountains.<span style=""> </span>Rajasthan is Desert – the land of camels, colorful turbans, amazing mustaches, and nose-rings the size of padlocks.</p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SageY98XohI/AAAAAAAAAU8/BZAStXmO09Y/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8342.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SageY98XohI/AAAAAAAAAU8/BZAStXmO09Y/s400/20090224-_MG_8342.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307525575149593106" border="0" /></a><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Veiled beauty<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">People in Kerala are more outgoing, whereas in Rajasthan, people seem more aloof.<span style=""> </span>I don’t want to make it sound like people in Rajasthan are unfriendly, rather, it seems harder to crack the surface of the cultural barrier.<span style=""> </span>Once a crack forms, however, the goodwill can come as a flash flood.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SageXyOuJBI/AAAAAAAAAUc/wAC7vBIdLRQ/s1600-h/20090221-_MG_7543.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SageXyOuJBI/AAAAAAAAAUc/wAC7vBIdLRQ/s400/20090221-_MG_7543.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307525554825470994" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">One place I see this is in making portraits.<span style=""> </span>Once I talk to a person and take their picture, all of the people nearby become animated and want me to take pictures of not only them, but of all of their friends too.<span style=""> </span>For a photographer, it seems this should be a great thing, but I often wind up taking pictures more for them than for me.<span style=""> </span>I find myself weighing whether it is worth taking a photo of one particularly appealing person, knowing that a photo-frenzy will ensue.<span style=""> </span>However, the best example of a sudden rush of goodwill happened on our first evening in Jodhpur.<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SagXJzHRYeI/AAAAAAAAAS8/eWQwpozUqdw/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8370.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SagXJzHRYeI/AAAAAAAAAS8/eWQwpozUqdw/s400/20090224-_MG_8370.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307517617963098594" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Jodhpur, near Sardar Market</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">We were photographing in the bazaar surrounding Jodhpur’s clock tower, when Katrina struck up a little friendship with three young women from a nearby village in the big city on a shopping expedition with their parents.<span style=""> </span>As Katrina and I walked around the market, we kept bumping into the family -- so often that it became a bit comical.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SageY4SMgrI/AAAAAAAAAU0/ZvItUnPSxAg/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8339.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SageY4SMgrI/AAAAAAAAAU0/ZvItUnPSxAg/s400/20090224-_MG_8339.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307525573630526130" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Father and Daughters, Jodhpur</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">At one point, Katrina saw the family at stall selling cheap jewelry, so she went over to buy a bracelet there.<span style=""> </span>The market woman started the haggling with a ridiculously inflated price, and the girls helped Katrina to find a reasonable (at least for a tourist) price.<span style=""> </span>All this with no common language other than a calculator and hand gestures.<span style=""> </span>As Katrina negotiated, a bit of a crowd gathered around.<span style=""> </span>Finally, a price was agreed upon, Katrina handed over a bill, and the woman tried to under-change her.<span style=""> </span>Katrina firmly, but coolly, told the woman to keep handing over the rest, and won the respect of the crowd with her market savvy; even one of the other shopkeepers commented to me, “Your wife is very intelligent.”<span style=""> </span>After Katrina’s new friend helped her put the bracelet on, Katrina bought a second bracelet and gave it to her new friend.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sagi1VlKYMI/AAAAAAAAAVE/arw5eo-CKYQ/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8375.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sagi1VlKYMI/AAAAAAAAAVE/arw5eo-CKYQ/s400/20090224-_MG_8375.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307530460577554626" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Three daughters</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">When Katrina started putting the bracelet on her friend’s wrist, the surface cracked.<span style=""> </span>The whole group that had been observing Katrina suddenly became very animated and pressed in, smiling and talking excitedly.<span style=""> </span>The girl was overwhelmed and hardly knew how to react – neither did she know what to say, as she didn’t speak English.<span style=""> </span>Finally, she led Katrina away by the hand, as she and her two sisters, all balancing heavy bags of goods on their head, walked back to the bus stop.<span style=""> </span>After saying goodbyes, the family boarded the bus.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sagi1RowvLI/AAAAAAAAAVM/9W0OwFywW0k/s1600-h/20090224-_MG_8385.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/Sagi1RowvLI/AAAAAAAAAVM/9W0OwFywW0k/s400/20090224-_MG_8385.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307530459518909618" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Heading Home</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Katrina’s new friend took a window seat so that she could wave goodbye some more, and Katrina took a photo of her doing so.<span style=""> </span>The bus sat for a few minutes, so Katrina went over to show her new friend the photo and the girl insisted that I take a picture of her leaning out of a bus window with her hand on Katrina’s shoulder.<span style=""> </span>When the bus finally pulled away, the girl waved at us all the way down the block.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I think this little event is one that will be long remembered for a long time – on both sides.<span style=""> </span>And it all stemmed a little good will and a 40-cent token of friendship.<span style=""> </span>That is the kind of event that makes all of the hassles and discomforts of travel well worthwhile to me.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SagbWp1xWMI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aW2TIK6UeG4/s1600-h/20090223-_MG_7791.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SagbWp1xWMI/AAAAAAAAAUM/aW2TIK6UeG4/s400/20090223-_MG_7791.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307522236858587330" border="0" /></a></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">A forced smile, Rajasthan<br /></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-78062824721115716992009-02-26T21:11:00.000-08:002009-02-27T05:15:31.373-08:00Today is Better Than Two Tomorrows<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SafXeVfQsYI/AAAAAAAAAS0/973fL0NOQt0/s1600-h/Movie+Poster.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SafXeVfQsYI/AAAAAAAAAS0/973fL0NOQt0/s400/Movie+Poster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307447602043728258" border="0" /></a><br />During our first visit to Laos, Katrina and I had the pleasure of meeting Anna Rogers, an Irish documentary film maker who was working on a documentary about two young novice monks.<br /><br />In addition to being a talented filmmaker, Anna is an absolute blast to hang out with. A particularly memorable evening from our trip was the night she brought us to her friend's wild (and <span style="font-style: italic;">very</span> non-traditional) Laotian party, complete with blaring house music and drag queens... but I digress.<br /><br />The point is that Anna's film, <span style="font-style: italic;">Today is Better Than Two Tomorrows</span>, has finally been released. It was selected for the Jameson Dublin Film Festival, and played to a sell-out crowd. As the movie's website notes, Anna filmed this movie herself over a period of years (it was well under way when we met her in 2005) with no crew or translator - truly an impressive achievement, and a labor of love! I cannot wait to see the finished product.<br /><br />Just before we left home, Anna contacted me to ask if she could use some of my images from Laos to promote her movie. I am pleased to say that she chose to use my image of a novice walking with an umbrella for the movie's poster.<br /><br />Besides being the work of our friend, I am eager to see this film as the theme of the movie is very much in the spirit of the book that Katrina and I are working on.<br /><br />To find out more about <span style="font-style: italic;">Today is Better Than Two Tomorrows</span>, see the movie's <a href="http://www.todayisbetterthantwotomorrows.com/">website</a>, or visit movie's <a href="http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=46408672130">Facebook page</a>.<br /><br />P.S. Anna, you better come through with those posters or I'll tell all the details about that party!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-1289906404514616772009-02-22T08:47:00.000-08:002009-02-26T01:24:56.527-08:00Munnar Hill Station, Kerala<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZa_5qWY7I/AAAAAAAAASs/-XEW8DWoYk8/s1600-h/20090217-_MG_7036.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZa_5qWY7I/AAAAAAAAASs/-XEW8DWoYk8/s400/20090217-_MG_7036.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307029264759415730" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Tea Plantation near Munnar, Kerala<br /><br /></span></div>After spending time in the steamy lowlands of Kerala, the cool mountain air of the hill station of Munnar was a refreshing change. In the Late 1800's the British (or rather their subjects) laboriously cleared the mountains here of their thick native forests and replaced them with...well, tea.<p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZLedkni4I/AAAAAAAAARk/4XUQMAAjB4g/s1600-h/20090216-_MG_6666.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZLedkni4I/AAAAAAAAARk/4XUQMAAjB4g/s400/20090216-_MG_6666.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307012197609081730" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Plantation Worker</span><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal">A LOT of tea.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZLeXNizAI/AAAAAAAAARs/5U35xlNY5h4/s1600-h/20090217-_MG_6756.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZLeXNizAI/AAAAAAAAARs/5U35xlNY5h4/s400/20090217-_MG_6756.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307012195901688834" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">...and not a drop to drink</span><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Actually, the largest tea plantation in the world. Almost all of the land here is now owned by the Indian mega-corporation, Tata. Since the tea trees are kept at bush size by constant harvesting of new leaves and a jolly good trim every five years, the mountains have the look of an enormous manicured English garden. And this garden goes on and on. Up one mountain and down the next, with occasional company towns for the workers.</p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMifEaFcI/AAAAAAAAASM/UC6PHmgjrTM/s1600-h/20090217-_MG_6970.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMifEaFcI/AAAAAAAAASM/UC6PHmgjrTM/s400/20090217-_MG_6970.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307013366241957314" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">The hills are alive... All that's missing is the Van Trapp family<br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal">The upside of Tata's property monopoly is that development here has been curbed, as there is virtually no land for sale - and the land that <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> for sale is extremely expensive.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZLehs1LYI/AAAAAAAAAR0/KEz_CMsarkE/s1600-h/20090217-_MG_6762.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZLehs1LYI/AAAAAAAAAR0/KEz_CMsarkE/s400/20090217-_MG_6762.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307012198717271426" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">The hunter has become the hunted!</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"> In the colonial days, the tea harvesters earned one or two rupees for a day. Just enough to keep them alive. Now, however, the tea workers are compensated remarkably well. We were told that the workers now earn quite a comfortable wage (as much or more than a tour agency employee we met in Kollam). Additionally, the workers have unions and eight hours per day, six days a week. They are provided free housing, medical benefits and a couple weeks paid vacation; they also receive two blankets a year.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMiN2Y9II/AAAAAAAAASE/OTAcUwSAIYU/s1600-h/20090217-_MG_6811.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMiN2Y9II/AAAAAAAAASE/OTAcUwSAIYU/s400/20090217-_MG_6811.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307013361619760258" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Woman at a Plantation Village</span><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMipbSv8I/AAAAAAAAASU/W-GcMAN5kjs/s1600-h/20090217-_MG_6986.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMipbSv8I/AAAAAAAAASU/W-GcMAN5kjs/s400/20090217-_MG_6986.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307013369022300098" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Plantation Workers on Lunch Break</span><br /><br /></div><p class="MsoNormal">One of the great pleasures of our trip to Munnar was meeting Mr. Joseph Iype and his charming wife Thankachi. Joseph is 79 and has lived in Munnar all of his life; Thankachi is 69 grew up elsewhere in Kerala. Now that Joseph is "retired" he runs a tourist information center and has started running Zina Cottages Guest House by renting out his extra rooms.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMjeEAxzI/AAAAAAAAASk/-C8j2xfFO_A/s1600-h/20090218-_MG_7098.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SaZMjeEAxzI/AAAAAAAAASk/-C8j2xfFO_A/s400/20090218-_MG_7098.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307013383151732530" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">Thankachi Joseph and Joseph Iype holding a photo of their daughter</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Joseph and Thankachi have been married for 54 years. As Thankachi herself says, she was married too young, just before her 15th birthday. For most women this would have meant the end of her education and the beginning of a life solely devoted to raising children. However, As Thankachi told us, "Joseph was too good of a husband, too good of a father, and too good of a friend." Joseph insisted that his wife be his intellectual equal, and paid for Thankachi to attend the best school possible, even though the school was in a different state. Thankachi would spend two weeks at school and then Joseph would take her home and help her with her studies for two weeks. During exam time, Joseph would go to her school to help her study. Eventually, Thankachi received a Bachelor's degree in English.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Together, they raised a son and a daughter. Though it was not easy economically, both were sent to the best schools, and both have become very successful. They are also extremely proud of their grandchildren, all of whom are University educated. One of their grandsons is an engineer, and at the time of our visit was in California receiving special training for his work.</p><p class="MsoNormal">So where did this family tradition of high education begin? Joseph's father was a supervisor of one of the tea plantations and earned a meager 3 rupees per day. Nonetheless, he made sure that all 10(!) of his children were well educated. Truly an inspiring family.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-34337384048848460862009-02-13T04:45:00.000-08:002009-02-14T01:11:45.522-08:00Kerala, India<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwThc7WsI/AAAAAAAAAO8/srH5CYjnBpQ/s1600-h/20090209-_MG_5062.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwThc7WsI/AAAAAAAAAO8/srH5CYjnBpQ/s400/20090209-_MG_5062.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302267616998152898" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Man in the Kollam Bazaar</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>We have spent the past week-and-a-half in Kerala, near the far southern tip of India on the Arabian sea. Kerala has a centuries-long history as a spice trading center, having done trade with the Romans, Chinese, Arabs, Dutch and Portugese. Good luck trying to haggle with these people!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZqJPZnuLI/AAAAAAAAAQc/yuUcgQbaVr4/s1600-h/20090209-_MG_5021.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZqJPZnuLI/AAAAAAAAAQc/yuUcgQbaVr4/s400/20090209-_MG_5021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302542318260697266" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Cigarette Break in the Spice Bazaar</span><br /><br /></span></div>One of the visual icons here is the Chinese fishing net. The basic design of these nets was learned from Chinese traders hundreds of years ago, but the nets are still in use all over Kerala.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZqI5lc8II/AAAAAAAAAQU/MHYiYwmsa8w/s1600-h/20090206-_MG_4543.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 141px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZqI5lc8II/AAAAAAAAAQU/MHYiYwmsa8w/s400/20090206-_MG_4543.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302542312404742274" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Chinese Fishing Net, Fort Cochin</span><br /></span></div><br />Kerala is a friendly, laid-back state. It is also home to a successful, freely-elected communist government, which seems to be doing a very good job of taking care of its citizens. Things are not all roses, but we are told that unemployment is low, there is good support for poorer citizens, and even menial laborers earn a far better living than they do in other states.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwTxkDH_I/AAAAAAAAAPM/45Y0iRZzmHo/s1600-h/20090209-_MG_5033.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwTxkDH_I/AAAAAAAAAPM/45Y0iRZzmHo/s400/20090209-_MG_5033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302267621322989554" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Porter Unloading Bags of Rice</span><br /><br /></span></div>Literacy and education in Kerala are the best in India, and as a whole, the children seem genuinely happy. While there are not many jobs here, many Keralans find good jobs abroad and bring money back home.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZtVOMY_xI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/6JDpgJkx1wU/s1600-h/20090212-_MG_6367.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZtVOMY_xI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/6JDpgJkx1wU/s400/20090212-_MG_6367.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302545822630084370" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Running along the Waterway</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVw79oqJMI/AAAAAAAAAP0/517Y6qv6VAQ/s1600-h/20090210-_MG_5377.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVw79oqJMI/AAAAAAAAAP0/517Y6qv6VAQ/s400/20090210-_MG_5377.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302268311758316738" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Still Smiling</span><br /><br /></div>Many people attribute the outstanding level of education here to the foundations laid by Portugese missionaries hundreds of years ago. I believe that much of Kerala's current educational success is due to the fact that, unlike much of India, Kerala strictly enforces India's anti-child-labor laws. You do not see children begging here, because for the purpose of this law even begging is considered work.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVx6YnV0RI/AAAAAAAAAP8/lo3MKvoII7s/s1600-h/20090210-_MG_5403.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVx6YnV0RI/AAAAAAAAAP8/lo3MKvoII7s/s400/20090210-_MG_5403.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302269384152437010" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Lunch Time</span><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-24100261516366107772009-02-12T23:47:00.000-08:002009-02-14T01:19:33.288-08:00More Pictures From Kerala<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwTlu8vjI/AAAAAAAAAO0/1v13cPS8lMs/s1600-h/20090205-_MG_4206.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwTlu8vjI/AAAAAAAAAO0/1v13cPS8lMs/s400/20090205-_MG_4206.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302267618147483186" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Hindu Boy in Fort Cochin</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwTXYOBEI/AAAAAAAAAOs/-lsi69n2kOA/s1600-h/20090205-_MG_4226.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwTXYOBEI/AAAAAAAAAOs/-lsi69n2kOA/s400/20090205-_MG_4226.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302267614294049858" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Old Man Feeding Leftovers to the Cows</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZaMic7x2rI/AAAAAAAAARU/A35_W2Ae3dU/s1600-h/20090211-_MG_5884.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZaMic7x2rI/AAAAAAAAARU/A35_W2Ae3dU/s400/20090211-_MG_5884.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302580134785702578" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Beautiful Village Girl</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVw7TB0DEI/AAAAAAAAAPc/5nrYPvJVUV0/s1600-h/20090209-_MG_5065.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVw7TB0DEI/AAAAAAAAAPc/5nrYPvJVUV0/s400/20090209-_MG_5065.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302268300321098818" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">One-eyed Beggar in Kollam</span><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZ9T2PH4_I/AAAAAAAAARE/CCs_7Da7TPA/s1600-h/20090210-_MG_5209.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZ9T2PH4_I/AAAAAAAAARE/CCs_7Da7TPA/s400/20090210-_MG_5209.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302563391205270514" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Match Factory</span><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></span> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZ9UNZ_OnI/AAAAAAAAARM/DH9da-ErDDs/s1600-h/20090210-_MG_5133.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZZ9UNZ_OnI/AAAAAAAAARM/DH9da-ErDDs/s400/20090210-_MG_5133.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302563397424855666" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Match Maker</span></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVw7o8HiBI/AAAAAAAAAPk/RtfkMXFZNF8/s1600-h/20090210-_MG_5172.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVw7o8HiBI/AAAAAAAAAPk/RtfkMXFZNF8/s400/20090210-_MG_5172.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302268306202789906" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Packaging Matches</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVx7OXLiSI/AAAAAAAAAQE/MCLUjMBNAE8/s1600-h/20090211-_MG_5700.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVx7OXLiSI/AAAAAAAAAQE/MCLUjMBNAE8/s400/20090211-_MG_5700.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302269398580168994" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Laborer Removing Bricks</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwT4E-jpI/AAAAAAAAAPE/1wB-y_K8viA/s1600-h/20090206-_MG_4470.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SZVwT4E-jpI/AAAAAAAAAPE/1wB-y_K8viA/s400/20090206-_MG_4470.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302267623071714962" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">A Cute Kid</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-2799470547482853942009-01-27T04:01:00.000-08:002009-01-27T04:33:39.335-08:00Pictures from Hoi An, Vietnam<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74GX52TfI/AAAAAAAAANs/q25F-1T9n8E/s1600-h/20090117-_MG_1845.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74GX52TfI/AAAAAAAAANs/q25F-1T9n8E/s400/20090117-_MG_1845.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943000213835250" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">A Traditional Hoi An Welcome</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74G7gUM4I/AAAAAAAAAN8/oTHgpsHfUXg/s1600-h/20090119-_MG_2272.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74G7gUM4I/AAAAAAAAAN8/oTHgpsHfUXg/s400/20090119-_MG_2272.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943009770419074" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Traveling Restaurant</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74HF6YLXI/AAAAAAAAAOM/hbTZqgfilAU/s1600-h/20090118-_MG_1922.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74HF6YLXI/AAAAAAAAAOM/hbTZqgfilAU/s400/20090118-_MG_1922.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943012564086130" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Bicycle and Temple Wall</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74GzV1YFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/_scTSrC5p-c/s1600-h/20090119-_MG_2258.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74GzV1YFI/AAAAAAAAAOE/_scTSrC5p-c/s400/20090119-_MG_2258.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943007578972242" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Superstar!!!</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74fbJ2sFI/AAAAAAAAAOU/7F9ACXI7Z_4/s1600-h/20090118-_MG_2039.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74fbJ2sFI/AAAAAAAAAOU/7F9ACXI7Z_4/s400/20090118-_MG_2039.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943430583005266" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Cyclo Drivers at Work<br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74Gs83IyI/AAAAAAAAAN0/oCDY15HeTTQ/s1600-h/20090117-_MG_1906.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74Gs83IyI/AAAAAAAAAN0/oCDY15HeTTQ/s400/20090117-_MG_1906.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943005863617314" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Dapper Gentleman of Hoi An</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74fa6RR_I/AAAAAAAAAOk/yiR86fOKv6M/s1600-h/20090117-_MG_1881.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74fa6RR_I/AAAAAAAAAOk/yiR86fOKv6M/s400/20090117-_MG_1881.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943430517639154" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">New Year's Day Offerings</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">(I hope the ancestors like that stuff!)</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74fZML6uI/AAAAAAAAAOc/oqvJNJobZJc/s1600-h/20090119-_MG_2380.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 224px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX74fZML6uI/AAAAAAAAAOc/oqvJNJobZJc/s400/20090119-_MG_2380.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295943430055914210" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">End of the Day</span><br /></div> </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-15106316572409070832009-01-27T03:14:00.000-08:002009-01-27T04:47:48.251-08:00Laotian Culture, Education and the Monastic System<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX70i81QkKI/AAAAAAAAANk/Oxx7UCPa2ug/s1600-h/20090124-_MG_3130.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX70i81QkKI/AAAAAAAAANk/Oxx7UCPa2ug/s400/20090124-_MG_3130.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295939093116522658" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Temple Relics<br /><br /></span></div>The monastic system plays a variety of roles in Laotian society.<span style=""> </span>In addition to the obvious religious role, a temple serves as something akin to an orphanage, rehabilitation center and soup kitchen.<span style=""> </span>Additionally, monasteries provide Laotians an opportunity for education that they would not otherwise have.<span style=""> </span><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Most Laotians live in small villages where only a primary, and perhaps secondary education is available.<span style=""> </span>Unless a child lives in a large town, getting a high school education means relocating.<span style=""> </span>This would not be economically feasible for most families unless the child enters a monastery.<span style=""> </span>In fact, when asked, almost all the novices that I spoke to said that they entered the monastery to get an education.<span style=""> </span>It should be noted, however, that this was not necessarily their sole reason for becoming a novice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uGnNPukI/AAAAAAAAANE/jPqcZoj6x-k/s1600-h/20090124-_MG_3033.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uGnNPukI/AAAAAAAAANE/jPqcZoj6x-k/s400/20090124-_MG_3033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295932009205447234" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Temple Doors</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">It seems that the “monk schools” that the novices attend give them a well rounded education.<span style=""> </span>They not only study Buddhist dharma, but also the usual highschool topics: math, physics, geography, chemistry, languages and such.<span style=""> </span>I was quite surprised to find that the teachers at monk school are not necessarily monks themselves.<span style=""> </span>In fact one novice told me that none of his teachers were monks, even the teacher for his Buddhist dharma class.<span style=""> </span>However, the novice was quick to point out that this teacher had been a monk and that his knowledge of Buddhism was extensive.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately, it is difficult (though not impossible) for monks to go to university in the town of Luang Prabang.<span style=""> </span>The only university in Luang Prabang is private (read costly) and is some distance away from most of the monasteries.<span style=""> </span>With a lack of income, and all their other duties to attend to, it is very trying for monks to attend this university.<span style=""> </span>In the capital city of Vientienne, things are much less difficult, as there is a “Monk University.”<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, it is not easy to join a monastery in Vientienne as space in the monasteries is limited.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uGw6ib6I/AAAAAAAAANc/akLN5UBk1n0/s1600-h/20090122-_MG_2764.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uGw6ib6I/AAAAAAAAANc/akLN5UBk1n0/s400/20090122-_MG_2764.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295932011811336098" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Sunset on the Mekong, Luang Prabang</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The monasteries also provide a range of social services.<span style=""> </span>It is common for children to become novices because their families cannot afford to keep them.<span style=""> </span>Adults may enter the monastery to help them to deal with alcoholism.<span style=""> </span>The destitute, homeless or insane can eat the food left over after the monks have their meals. <span style=""> </span>In fact, when collecting alms monks give any excess rice to poor children along the route, and often save the treats they receive for later distribution.<span style=""> </span>A Temple also serve as the social hub of a village, as most villagers visit the temple just about every day.<span style=""> </span>An American we met who is now a monk in Laos told us that the temple is also the place where locals meet and exchange gossip.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uGUxQorI/AAAAAAAAAM8/F4gE6vbwGnU/s1600-h/20090124-_MG_3176.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uGUxQorI/AAAAAAAAAM8/F4gE6vbwGnU/s400/20090124-_MG_3176.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295932004256228018" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">A Bevy of Buddhas</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Before visiting Laos, I had assumed that most novices would become monks, and they would remain monks for the rest of their lives.<span style=""> </span>The truth is that almost every boy will enter the monastery at some point in their life, but this can be for a matter of several years, months, or even weeks.<span style=""> </span>This time spent as a novice is considered an important part of becoming a man.<span style=""> </span>During the time he spends in the monastery, a novice lives by strict rules and receives training in the ways of Buddhism.<span style=""> </span>A novice I spoke with said that he had seen many young men transformed from bad boys into good citizens by their time in the monastery.<span style=""> </span>It is not too surprising that the ten rules that novices must live by are interpreted differently by different monasteries (for example, “thou shalt not kill” may or may not apply to mosquitoes).<span style=""> </span>However, I was very surprised to find out that breaking the rules can result in the police coming and arresting the monk!<span style=""> </span>It goes without saying that he will also be forced to leave the monastery.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uG8eTJoI/AAAAAAAAANU/vL6xUQqftlA/s1600-h/20090124-_MG_2914.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SX7uG8eTJoI/AAAAAAAAANU/vL6xUQqftlA/s400/20090124-_MG_2914.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295932014914119298" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Bamboo Bridge</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">While monasteries are the only chance that most boys have for a high school education, the sad corollary to this is that there is no such opportunity for girls.<span style=""> </span>Girls may enter a nunnery, but I am told that they only enter for a very short time, and there is not a “nun school” for them.<span style=""> </span>This certainly explains reports that at each higher level of education the ratio of men to women becomes more and more disproportionate.<span style=""> </span>It also helps to explain why the literacy rate in Laos is only about fifty percent.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-32650585909193183192009-01-14T18:50:00.001-08:002009-01-14T19:54:36.191-08:00Meanwhile in Cambodia (more or less)...<div><div><div><div><div>Last night we went to our friend's friend's brother's wedding party. The only other "barang" at the party was a German tourist who agreed that the party was like a Khmer version of Octoberfest. So, this seems like a good morning to sit and post some pictures.<br /><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291351468609249618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6oIDwyIVI/AAAAAAAAAKc/M9as5pZBnRA/s400/20090107+-+Monk+in+Bangkok+Airport.jpg" border="0" /> The Bangkok Airport looks as clean and modern as any I've seen. Amazingly, it shows no signs of having been the site of the recent protests. I don't know, but I've been told that after ousting the prime minister, the protesters stuck around and cleaned up the airport. Such a polite coup! </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291351994906174930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6omsXv5dI/AAAAAAAAAKk/aYZvgWEyTjc/s400/20090112-+Locals+by+Angkor+Wat.jpg" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291357924920547922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6t_3ZWWlI/AAAAAAAAALE/zGAjZugihLw/s400/20090113-+Children+and+Buddha+Statue.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div>I've said it before, but I love the fact that the ruins of Angkor are still alive with human activity. Angkor Wat is an especially popular hangout for local people. Archaeologically, it would be better if everyone stayed away, but much would be lost if they did.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291353849953699874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6qSq9iyCI/AAAAAAAAAK0/QxS9Cy5lcw8/s400/20090112-+Apsara+-+Angkor+Wat.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291353843013599874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6qSRG5QoI/AAAAAAAAAKs/4cOBPoz3aOU/s400/20090113-+Apsara+Dancer+-+Angkor+Wat.jpg" border="0" /> <div>One of the main themes of Khmer temple carvings are the Apsara Dancers. This art form was nearly extinguished by the Khmer Rouge. Fortunately, it has been revived by some of the survivors of that era. It is fortunate that the temples contain so many carvings of Apsaras, because these images preserved forgotten dance postures.</div><div> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291356401754644322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6snNKTH2I/AAAAAAAAAK8/g52aLWma4zY/s400/20090113-+Peacock+Dancer.jpg" border="0" />This is a woman wearing a "Flying Peacock" costume. Notice the handles with which the dancer can move the wings. The wings are very cleverly designed so that they can be moved into a variety of postures and are not limited to simple flapping motions. I had not previously seen this costume, but it is definitely my favorite now.</div><div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291357934761614674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6uAcDpHVI/AAAAAAAAALM/1PjB1QXYJQg/s400/20090114-+Welder.jpg" border="0" /> This man was welding metal large metal shelves in a shop that we walked past.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291358775394201426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6uxXqEb1I/AAAAAAAAALU/NeIJ4rVCfk4/s400/20090110-+Dahlin+%26+Leak.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291358780880959970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SW6uxsGNueI/AAAAAAAAALc/f1-JcdvWApc/s400/20090110-+Sophath+%26+Dahlin.jpg" border="0" /> <div><div>We have been fortunate to make many friends in our visits to Cambodia. Our great friend Sophath and his wife Dahlin now have a lovely baby named Leak (pronounced Leah) who is one month old. Currently Dahlin and Leak are staying several hours drive from Siem Reap at Dahlin's parents' house. They are a lovely family, and are great cooks! Sophath works as a manager of a beautiful boutique guest house in Siem Reap, and being apart from his wife and child is very difficult for him. He misses his family so much that he says the sound of his daughter crying on the phone is sweet like music. This Monday Sophath will fulfill his life-long dream of starting to go to university. Sophath is also the King of Karaoke. Last night at the wedding party, we wondered where he had got to, then we saw he was on the stage entertaining the crowd!</div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-29967066694544796042008-06-30T19:19:00.000-07:002008-12-12T20:10:12.731-08:00The Hoi An Fish Market<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGmUWroPYQI/AAAAAAAAAHM/z_owqMoiUvs/s1600-h/20080623-20080623-_MG_1645_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGmUWroPYQI/AAAAAAAAAHM/z_owqMoiUvs/s400/20080623-20080623-_MG_1645_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217864760674967810" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal">Hoi An is coastal town in Central Vietnam.<span style=""> </span>It is about 30km south of Danang and is famous for its abundance of tailor shops, its beautiful French architecture, and its excellent cuisine.<span style=""> </span>However, my favorite thing about Hoi An is the morning fish market.<span style=""> </span>The fish market is smelly, crowded, and packed with aggressive, pointy-elbowed (ouch!) old women selling and buying fish. </p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnKVI4bADI/AAAAAAAAAH0/vBLfHIcBjLQ/s1600-h/20080622-20080622-_MG_1354_DxO_RAW-2-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnKVI4bADI/AAAAAAAAAH0/vBLfHIcBjLQ/s400/20080622-20080622-_MG_1354_DxO_RAW-2-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217924107795628082" border="0" /></a><br />To attend the market, you must get up very early.<span style=""> </span>By the time the sun is coming up, the market is already in full swing.<span style=""> </span>Later in the day, the market miraculously transforms itself into a tourist hell – something like a miniature, low-budget version of San Francisco's Fisherman’s Wharf.<span style=""> </span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnPo2niIvI/AAAAAAAAAIM/SBhGBZaQ8ts/s1600-h/20080621-20080621-_MG_0765_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnPo2niIvI/AAAAAAAAAIM/SBhGBZaQ8ts/s400/20080621-20080621-_MG_0765_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217929944048476914" border="0" /></a><br />Tourist hell is a narrow gauntlet that must be run, while on both sides shop owners are coming at you saying, “You buy something.”<span style=""> </span>Sometimes this is phrased as a question.<span style=""> </span>More often, it sounds like a direct order!<span style=""> </span>Having gone to the fish market in the early morning, and later returning only hours later to find tourist hell, I actually thought I had become disoriented and was on a different street!<br /><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnKUxeQlxI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Tzbx8urHvWI/s1600-h/20080622-20080622-_MG_1340_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnKUxeQlxI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Tzbx8urHvWI/s400/20080622-20080622-_MG_1340_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217924101511878418" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">In case you need to escape from a new-found parasitic twin at the market, there are always lots of water taxi’s standing by.<span style=""> </span>You won’t need to find them, they <i style="">will</i> find you.<span style=""> </span>My escape was facilitated by the woman in the lower left of the picture above (notice the betel nut smile!), but when I was dropped off, the woman in the track suit wanted payment too.<span style=""> </span>Um, no!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnM9W9zMwI/AAAAAAAAAIE/XIt0EdE0QWQ/s1600-h/20080622-20080622-_MG_1347_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnM9W9zMwI/AAAAAAAAAIE/XIt0EdE0QWQ/s400/20080622-20080622-_MG_1347_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217926997794304770" border="0" /></a></p> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnKUxeQlxI/AAAAAAAAAHk/Tzbx8urHvWI/s1600-h/20080622-20080622-_MG_1340_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"> </a><p class="MsoNormal">So what is the appeal?<span style=""> </span>The market is full of life: the good, the bad and the ugly.<span style=""> </span>It is full of sights, sounds, smells and activity.<span style=""> </span>One morning there was even a fight between some of the women over who got to buy a basket of fish.<span style=""> </span>The women were yelling and grabbing the basket and the fish, while another woman was cracking up at the absurdity of it all.<span style=""> </span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnKU8QshBI/AAAAAAAAAHc/RATyYiMVLKg/s1600-h/20080623-20080623-_MG_1625_DxO_RAW-2-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnKU8QshBI/AAAAAAAAAHc/RATyYiMVLKg/s400/20080623-20080623-_MG_1625_DxO_RAW-2-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217924104407778322" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal">What I like best is that the fish market is not there for the tourists (that happens later), it is all locals doing business and making a living.<span style=""> </span>I find it much more interesting than the more easily found experience that I call, "Fisherman’s Wharfs around the world."</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnM9fRWt7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/-I5KwqotdGU/s1600-h/20080622-20080622-_MG_1164_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGnM9fRWt7I/AAAAAAAAAH8/-I5KwqotdGU/s400/20080622-20080622-_MG_1164_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5217927000023807922" border="0" /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-64776869545375673442008-06-24T07:27:00.000-07:002008-12-12T20:10:15.128-08:00Far North Vietnam<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFjFJ_HDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/vZDyTMSRv2Q/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9940_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFjFJ_HDI/AAAAAAAAAG0/vZDyTMSRv2Q/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9940_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455943709367346" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Flower H'mong Woman<br /><br /></span></div>Katrina has just posted on <a href="http://katrinakphotography.blogspot.com/">her blog</a> regarding our trip to the far north of Vietnam. This region is near the China border and is not visited by many tourists. This makes visiting far more exciting and rewarding. Being a curious novelty to the people that you are visiting makes it much easier to make portraits, and allows for the possibility of cultural exchange.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDF327-I/AAAAAAAAAF8/W-3FvmeA9nE/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9694_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDF327-I/AAAAAAAAAF8/W-3FvmeA9nE/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9694_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455394145955810" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Rice Vendor<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDdTKEMI/AAAAAAAAAGU/XoJe338Qlqs/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9775_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDdTKEMI/AAAAAAAAAGU/XoJe338Qlqs/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9775_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455400434471106" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Flower H'mong Woman and Child<br /><br /></span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDSCdu9I/AAAAAAAAAGc/MjjBcjbneYI/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9809_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDSCdu9I/AAAAAAAAAGc/MjjBcjbneYI/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9809_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455397411666898" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Market Woman<br /><br /></span></div> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDBFnC2I/AAAAAAAAAGE/eolRvz3Jtng/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9706_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDBFnC2I/AAAAAAAAAGE/eolRvz3Jtng/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9706_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455392861457250" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Flower H'mong Woman<br /></span></div><br />While we were photographing in the market, I spotted the old woman, pictured above, curiously watching us. While she is Flower H'mong, I tried a few words we had learned from our Black H'mong friends. It seems that their languages are quite similar, and she was delighted to have her picture taken. When she saw her picture on the back of the camera, she was completely tickled. This is a far cry from the many people in touristed areas who now ask you to take their picture and then demand money. Homie don't play that.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDNxue3I/AAAAAAAAAGM/ypItwSMbhoU/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9738_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFDNxue3I/AAAAAAAAAGM/ypItwSMbhoU/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9738_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455396267719538" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"></span><br /></div> Another thing that I love about this region are the ponies that the people here use to transport their goods. I am also enamored of the woven bridles and wooden saddles that adorn them.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFiwBPDZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VTCUr5Ck0Ls/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9888_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFiwBPDZI/AAAAAAAAAGs/VTCUr5Ck0Ls/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9888_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455938035518866" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Outskirts of a Flower H'mong Village<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFjM55rvI/AAAAAAAAAG8/VNs5LAVZUYc/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9944_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFjM55rvI/AAAAAAAAAG8/VNs5LAVZUYc/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9944_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455945789386482" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Village Boy<br /><br /></span> </div> <div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFjXB0ruI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3N9rpWzLplU/s1600-h/20080615-20080615-_MG_9955_DxO_RAW-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SGEFjXB0ruI/AAAAAAAAAHE/3N9rpWzLplU/s400/20080615-20080615-_MG_9955_DxO_RAW-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5215455948506967778" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">... with Dress Shirt and Bone Amulet</span></div><br />Several years ago we visited a remote market in this region. From the looks of astonishment we received, we might as well have been landing in a spaceship, rather than creaking into the market in a Toyota minivan. We had a fascinating visit while it lasted, but it was not long before some police appeared and told us that we had to leave. If only my phrasebook had a translation from, "We mean no harm to your planet."<br /></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-90255125304629393612008-06-15T21:58:00.000-07:002008-12-12T20:10:16.588-08:00A Trip to Lau Chai VillageLau Chai is one of the Black H’mong villages that is near Sapa.<span style=""> </span>It is also the home of most of our H’mong friends.<span style=""> </span>Lau Chai is reached by either a long 2-hour walk, or a short motorbike ride followed by a ½ hour walk.<span style=""> </span>One of the many changes since our first visit to the area five years ago is that the road from Sapa to Lau Chai is now paved.<span style=""> </span>Previously this was a dirt road (really, a mud road), with sections that were submerged by runoff and strewn with fist-sized rocks.<span style=""> </span>While the small road that descends into the village itself is still unpaved, even it has been improved and is no longer as treacherous. <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0OGVTb1I/AAAAAAAAAFE/eNTMfXmrNmE/s1600-h/20080612-_MG_9277.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0OGVTb1I/AAAAAAAAAFE/eNTMfXmrNmE/s400/20080612-_MG_9277.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212340666806529874" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Lau Chai Village from the Road</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">On Thursday Katrina and I visited Lau Chai with Gom to help her family plant their rice.<span style=""> </span>It was also the first time that we met Gom’s new little sister.<span style=""> </span>Gom says that her sister’s eyes are so large that they sometimes scare her!<span style=""> </span>Gom’s mother, Yang, is 39 years old and this is her 5<sup>th</sup> child.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0OixKjAI/AAAAAAAAAFM/W3PQMXh_zT8/s1600-h/20080612-_MG_9283.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0OixKjAI/AAAAAAAAAFM/W3PQMXh_zT8/s400/20080612-_MG_9283.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212340674439580674" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Carrying Rice Shoots for Replanting</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">After stopping briefly at Gom’s house, it was time to go planting.<span style=""> </span>The planting party consisted of Gom, her mother, her cousin, her brother-in-law, Katrina and myself.<span style=""> </span>The family’s rice fields are located high above the village itself.<span style=""> </span>As it had been raining all day, the steep dirt path was very slippery.<span style=""> </span>I thought that I had learned how to walk as a child, but watching how easily the H’mong negotiate these trails make it clear how much more I have to learn!<span style=""> </span>Here, Yang is helping Katrina through a particularly slippery patch.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0O5IEn8I/AAAAAAAAAFU/gVkZrsS9lsE/s1600-h/20080612-_MG_9364.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0O5IEn8I/AAAAAAAAAFU/gVkZrsS9lsE/s400/20080612-_MG_9364.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212340680441241538" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="">Climbing toward the rice fields also provided great views of the village below.<span style=""> </span>We passed a number of other groups of villagers that were tending to their fields, or bringing firewood back from high on the trail.<span style=""> </span>Gom says that to get firewood, her family has to walk up this trail for 25 kilometers!<span style=""> </span>For small fires, they use bamboo, which is locally available.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0PDK5nyI/AAAAAAAAAFc/dQB9UMCJ7s8/s1600-h/20080612-_MG_9410.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0PDK5nyI/AAAAAAAAAFc/dQB9UMCJ7s8/s400/20080612-_MG_9410.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212340683137457954" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">When Gom, Katrina and I reached the fields where we would be planting, we saw the other three family members coming down from much higher on the path.<span style=""> </span>They had gone up ahead of us slow, clumsy foreigners to carry down big bunches of rice shoots that we would be planting.<span style=""> </span>The rice shoots look something like green onions.<span style=""> </span>The idea is to replant them in small bunches so that they have room to grow.<span style=""> </span>This sounds easy, but we managed to make it look hard.<span style=""> </span>Unfortunately, I have no pictures of the rice planting, as I was too busy trying to keep my rows straight, my bunches the correct size, and my rice from falling over in the mud.<span style=""> </span>After a while it started to rain again.<span style=""> </span>Fortunately, the family had come prepared with plastic rain ponchos.<span style=""> </span>Katrina and I kept working in the rain, while Gom stood under an umbrella pointing our our mistakes like a straw boss.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0PCOAjHI/AAAAAAAAAFk/LnLiHmgCdjk/s1600-h/20080612-_MG_9402.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX0PCOAjHI/AAAAAAAAAFk/LnLiHmgCdjk/s400/20080612-_MG_9402.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212340682882059378" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">After we had done enough planting for the day, we descended the path and headed back to Gom’s house.<span style=""> </span>Her father had slaughtered a small pig and was preparing a feast for the whole family.<span style=""> </span>It was a great honor for him to make such a big and expensive meal for us.<span style=""> </span>Even though I was just recovering from stomach problems, I felt compelled to eat a lot and to try everything that was offered to me.<span style=""> </span>In the country, nothing goes to waste.<span style=""> </span>Just about every part of the pig is made into food.<span style=""> </span>Even the intestines of the pig were cleaned and prepared as food.<span style=""> </span>My least favorite part was the liver, which I quickly washed down with a swig of rice wine.<span style=""> </span>The scariest part was a gelatinous delicacy made from pig’s blood mixed with milk and “other things.”<span style=""> </span>Gom told me that all men must eat this, or they are not really men.<span style=""> </span>Wanting to show my appreciation for the meal, and not wanting to have my license to carry a Y-chromosome revoked, I took a quick spoonful and ate it before I could think too much… Actually, it wasn’t that bad.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX47kmPHQI/AAAAAAAAAFs/SJV1uJVZsDA/s1600-h/20080612-_MG_9430.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX47kmPHQI/AAAAAAAAAFs/SJV1uJVZsDA/s400/20080612-_MG_9430.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212345846071237890" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was a privilege to be guests of honor at this lavish meal, and it was wonderful to meet Gom’s extended family.<span style=""> </span>I especially enjoyed meeting her 95-year-old grandfather (bottom right in the picture above), with whom I drank many toasts, though neither of us could understand what the other was saying.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX47xKf2WI/AAAAAAAAAF0/UP11fRN-vpY/s1600-h/20080612-_MG_9374.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SFX47xKf2WI/AAAAAAAAAF0/UP11fRN-vpY/s400/20080612-_MG_9374.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212345849444555106" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style=""><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_4" spid="_x0000_i1026" type="#_x0000_t75" style="'width:180pt;height:120pt;"> <v:imagedata src="file:///C:\DOCUME~1\KATRIN~1\LOCALS~1\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image017.jpg" title="20080612-_MG_9352"> </v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Watching the Rain</span><br /><!--[endif]--></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-32553394782962210682008-06-11T02:01:00.000-07:002008-12-12T20:10:19.514-08:00It’s a Nice Day for a H’mong WeddingKatrina and I have a history of exciting first days in Sapa.<span style=""> </span>This is our 4<sup>th</sup> visit to this former French hill station.<span style=""> </span>At over 5000 ft. of elevation, Sapa is a lush, cool getaway from the heat and humidity of Vietnam’s major cities.<span style=""> </span>It is surrounded by the terraced rice fields and small villages of many ethnic minority tribes, including the Black H’mong and Red Zao.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-bY7GDjxI/AAAAAAAAADU/9OYh3DbaQO8/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_1503.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-bY7GDjxI/AAAAAAAAADU/9OYh3DbaQO8/s400/20080609-_MG_1503.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210554146373209874" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Sapa from the hills - Photo by Katrina Keating</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />We first came to Sapa in June 2003, and quickly fell in love with the place.<span style=""> </span>The minority tribe girls walk to Sapa to sell their homemade bracelets, embroidered blankets, and other beautiful goods.<span style=""> </span>Due to what turned out to be a <i style="">fortunate</i> motorbike accident on our first trip, we wound up not being able to leave Sapa for about two weeks, and could not stray too far from our hotel’s lobby.<span style=""> </span>As a result, we got to know a group of Black H’mong girls, which has been an honor and a blessing.<span style=""> </span>They are a whip smart and funny bunch of kids who, even when they are giving you the hard-sell, are transparently good natured and fun-loving.<span style=""> </span>As soon as we got on the bus to leave Sapa in 2003, we asked each other, “When do we come back?”<span style=""> </span>The answer was, “Next year.” </div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-gdNmjfVI/AAAAAAAAAEU/NXFm5GKbyeg/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_1375.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-gdNmjfVI/AAAAAAAAAEU/NXFm5GKbyeg/s400/20080609-_MG_1375.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210559717618974034" border="0" /></a><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Black H'mong Girls - Photo by Katrina Keating</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sapa is reached from Hanoi via an overnight 10-hour train ride followed by a one-hour bus ride.<span style=""> </span>On this year’s visit, we got off the bus, checked into our small hotel, and went to have breakfast on the patio of our friend Nam’s restaurant.<span style=""> </span>It took us half an hour to order, because we kept seeing our H’mong friends and catching up on their lives.<span style=""> </span>We had previously heard that one of the girls, Ker, had gotten married.<span style=""> </span>To our surprise, our friend La told us that Ker was having her wedding reception that day. <span style=""> </span>La asked us if we would like to walk there with her.<span style=""> </span>Excited, we answered, “Of course! When are you leaving?”<span style=""> </span>La told us that she was leaving in half an hour.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-azJaruOI/AAAAAAAAADM/61dmqGXo7qo/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_1196.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-azJaruOI/AAAAAAAAADM/61dmqGXo7qo/s400/20080609-_MG_1196.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210553497382795490" border="0" /></a><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Catching up with friends in Sapa - Photo by Katrina Keating</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">We hastily ordered and ate breakfast, and hit the road with a couple of the girls.<span style=""> </span>We hired motorbikes to take us a small part of the way, and then walked up and then down a steep, muddy path for about two hours to reach the village.<span style=""> </span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-hwrJPv2I/AAAAAAAAAEk/IhaVGwEbNMc/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_8883.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-hwrJPv2I/AAAAAAAAAEk/IhaVGwEbNMc/s400/20080609-_MG_8883.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210561151478251362" border="0" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">On the road to the wedding - Photo by Tadashi Tsuchida</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">The wedding was packed with Black H’mong and, surprisingly, about a dozen tourist friends of the H’mong girls.<span style=""> </span>It was not long before we learned the H’mong marriage drinking game.<span style=""> </span>This is played with a cup made from a segment of bamboo, which is filled with the local rice-wine moonshine.<span style=""> </span>The person in possession of the cup finds a victim and grabs their elbow.<span style=""> </span>The victim must now watch as the one who grabbed them finishes the cup.<span style=""> </span>The cup is then refilled from an iron teapot or reused water bottle, and the victim takes possession of the cup.<span style=""> </span>It is now up to him or her to find a new victim.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-fRTVb8VI/AAAAAAAAAEE/GNrazVFolYA/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_1340.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-fRTVb8VI/AAAAAAAAAEE/GNrazVFolYA/s400/20080609-_MG_1340.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210558413487731026" border="0" /></a><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Trying to escape from the drinking game - Photo by Katrina Keating</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">In this manner, everyone at the party is soon drunk.<span style=""> </span>However, this is just the beginning of the drinking.<span style=""> </span>Soon it is time to go inside to eat… and drink!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-jIlOZF4I/AAAAAAAAAE0/CyRp17GkujQ/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_1276.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-jIlOZF4I/AAAAAAAAAE0/CyRp17GkujQ/s400/20080609-_MG_1276.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210562661717710722" border="0" /></a><span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">No escape from the drinking game - Photo by Katrina Keating</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">H’mong houses are large wooden structures with a high ceiling, dirt floors, and no windows. <span style=""> </span>For the party, this house was filled with low benches and tables around which we all crowded.<span style=""> </span>In the dark, I was able to stick to eating mostly just rice and boiled potatoes.<span style=""> </span>However, a hospitable grandmother would occasionally come by and put a piece of mystery meat in our dishes.<span style=""> </span>In the dark interior of the house, it was all but impossible to see what had been added to our meal.<span style=""> </span>I tried to eat around these offerings and then quickly throw them under the table to the eagerly waiting puppies.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-je96jiYI/AAAAAAAAAE8/jCY_4a9TrUg/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_9137.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-je96jiYI/AAAAAAAAAE8/jCY_4a9TrUg/s400/20080609-_MG_9137.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210563046302517634" border="0" /></a><p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The bride and groom - Photo by Tadashi Tsuchida</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">After the meal, we moved to another large room where the new husband and best man(?)<span style=""> </span>Repeatedly prostrated themselves on the floor over and over (for at least an hour), while being largely ignored by the drinking revelers.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-el3VwKbI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vtV1uRfhUTA/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_9105.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-el3VwKbI/AAAAAAAAAD8/vtV1uRfhUTA/s400/20080609-_MG_9105.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210557667238488498" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Endless prostrations - Photo by Tadashi Tsuchida</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">At last it was time to go, and our drunken crew staggered back up and then down the muddy mountainside.<span style=""> </span>We then turned onto the street, and walked back into the town of Sapa – a fantastic start to our ten-day stay in Sapa.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-iHKWsTtI/AAAAAAAAAEs/OvvUAW0lRts/s1600-h/20080609-_MG_1395.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SE-iHKWsTtI/AAAAAAAAAEs/OvvUAW0lRts/s400/20080609-_MG_1395.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5210561537813270226" border="0" /></a></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p style="text-align: center;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Staggering Home - Photo by Katrina Keating</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Eating at such occasions is a risk that I feel is usually a worthwhile one.<span style=""> </span>Usually, one even gets away with it.<span style=""> </span>This time, I have not emerged unscathed.<span style=""> </span>None-the-less, it was a worthwhile sacrifice to participate in a fascinating tradition of another culture.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-45832325410762745962008-05-04T12:18:00.000-07:002008-12-12T20:10:20.203-08:00Huevos Avocetos<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SB4Mmp653HI/AAAAAAAAADE/ngGsBWy-tZs/s1600-h/Nesting+Avocets++-7749.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SB4Mmp653HI/AAAAAAAAADE/ngGsBWy-tZs/s400/Nesting+Avocets++-7749.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196604878259608690" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">American Avocet Defending Nest</span><br /><br /></span></div>Lately, I've been spending time studying the goings on at a seasonal pond near my home. This pond is just a short distance away from the Oakland Coliseum (close enough to listen in on Oakland A's games), but harbors a great deal of bird life. American Avocets, Black & White Stilts, Dunlins, Killdeer, Red-wing Blackbirds, Canada Geese, Cinnamon Teals, Northern Pintails, Mallards and a variety of gulls are all common here. Cameo appearances are made by Caspian Terns, Great Egrets, Snowy Egrets, Red-tailed and Red-shouldered Hawks, as well as a variety of shorebirds.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SB4MWJ653FI/AAAAAAAAAC0/VuXuFP45hWU/s1600-h/Nesting+Avocets++-6796.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SB4MWJ653FI/AAAAAAAAAC0/VuXuFP45hWU/s400/Nesting+Avocets++-6796.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196604594791767122" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">American Avocet at Nest</span><br /><br /></div>Lately, I've been keeping an eye on the nest of a pair of American Avocets. These birds take turns sitting on a clutch of about four eggs. The bird not on the nest is usually feeding nearby, and will rush over to defend the nest from other birds. I have read that Avocets will physically attack Marsh Hawks and Ravens that come near their nest. This does not surprise me, as I discovered this nest when one of the Avocets spread its wings, stretched itself to its full 18" height and advanced on me. The only greater act of bravery I've been witness to was a 3.5-ounce kildeer that chased my Subaru as my wife drove in reverse away from its nest in the middle of a gravel road. Call me a coward, but if Godzilla was approaching my house, it would not occur to me that I should stand in his way, yell and wave my arms above my head, and then chase him when he retreated!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SB4Mb5653GI/AAAAAAAAAC8/4DxGXSgKMBI/s1600-h/Nesting+Avocets++-7935.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SB4Mb5653GI/AAAAAAAAAC8/4DxGXSgKMBI/s400/Nesting+Avocets++-7935.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196604693576014946" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Huevos Avocetos!<br /><br /></span></div>The incubating time for the eggs of American Avocets is between 22 and 29 days. I am hoping to see the chicks when they hatch. However, Avocet chicks are ready to leave the nest within 24 hours of hatching, so this will require a bit of luck and persistence. Stay tuned.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-38360818925054924132008-04-22T17:01:00.001-07:002008-12-12T20:10:21.246-08:00Cormorant Nesting Season at Lake Merritt<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192224677337619474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SA581Z653BI/AAAAAAAAACU/VxVAOgIaqZU/s400/Cormorrant+-+-7158.jpg" border="0" /> The double-crested cormorants have begun their nesting season at Lake Merritt in Oakland, California. The cormorants nest in several trees that are on small islands near the edge of the lake. <br /><br /><p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SA581p653CI/AAAAAAAAACc/1klQqYl0Df8/s1600-h/Cormorrant+-+-7313.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192224681632586786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SA581p653CI/AAAAAAAAACc/1klQqYl0Df8/s400/Cormorrant+-+-7313.jpg" border="0" /></a>The male cormorants are busy finding nesting materials and trying to attract mates. Each time a male finds a good nest-building twig, the event is celebrated by a showy victory lap around the colony's nesting trees before presenting the twig to its mate, or potential mate.</p><p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SA582Z653EI/AAAAAAAAACs/jASEHoiriOw/s1600-h/Cormorrant+-+-7323.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192224694517488706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SA582Z653EI/AAAAAAAAACs/jASEHoiriOw/s400/Cormorrant+-+-7323.jpg" border="0" /></a>During this season, breeding-age cormorants' of both sexes sport large, greyish plumes above their eyes. These plumes give them the "double-crested" part of their name, and also give them the appearance of being shaggy-eyebrowed old men. Obviously, different species have very different ideas about what is sexy.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192224690222521394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SA582J653DI/AAAAAAAAACk/IIb0GL7YhG0/s400/Cormorrant+-+-7311.jpg" border="0" /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-9276265771399033572008-04-14T16:04:00.000-07:002008-12-12T20:10:23.689-08:00Manzanar - National Historic Site<div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;"></span><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SAPjW8FlWuI/AAAAAAAAABU/NLZg7O8UORs/s1600-h/Manzanar+Star+Trails.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189241178887117538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SAPjW8FlWuI/AAAAAAAAABU/NLZg7O8UORs/s400/Manzanar+Star+Trails.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;">Manzanar Monument and Star Trails</span><br /><br /><div align="left">One of my favorite roadtrips to take is a run down Interstate 395 along the Eastern Sierra. Mono Lake, Galen Rowell's Mountain Light Gallery in Bishop, Death Valley and the former Manzanar Internment Camp (now a National Historic Site administered by the National Park Service) are all requisite stops. As a Japanese-American whose father spent several years of his childhood in the Poston internment camp, the Manzanar site has special meaning to me. In the days before the Park Service took it over, sleeping overnight at Manzanar near the monument was a ritual for me that had personal meaning.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189267618705791778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SAP7Z8FlWyI/AAAAAAAAAB0/465WA3jKhVo/s400/Sun+and+Tree+-+Manzanar-1235.jpg" border="0" /> <span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;">Dirt and Sun</span><br /><br /><div align="left">Manzanar is, on the one hand, a melancholy and barren place, but it is also set in a beautiful location - at least if you are not forced to live there through the dust, the heat and the cold in a tar paper shack. Those nights spent photographing star trails and sleeping alone by the monument always made me feel close to my father. I will never fully understand what it was like for him growing up behind barbed wire in the desert, but my Manzanar ritual was at least a way of connecting to the past, and to family history.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189275362531826514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SAQCcsFlW1I/AAAAAAAAACM/uzzAiNy3RO4/s400/Manzanar+Guard+Tower-1239.jpg" border="0" /> <div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;">Reconstructed Guard Tower</span></div><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><div align="left"><br />As a child, I visited Poston a few times with my father, and while there wasn't too much to see, there used to be much more than there is now. When I was about 11 years old, I visited Poston with my father one the last time. I was shocked to see that Poston was little more than an antique generator shed slowly rotting and rusting in the middle of endless farm land. My father said that it was perhaps for the best, but I still fought back tears at the sense of loss. All of that history seemed to have disappeared forever. The idea that nobody remembered the injustice and hardships that were suffered by thousands of people, including my family, was intolerable. No one knew. No one cared. It seemed to be one final injustice.</div></div><div align="center"> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189268507764022066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SAP8NsFlWzI/AAAAAAAAAB8/hQJGzhbbvqc/s400/Child%27s+Grave+-+Manzanar-1350.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#cc0000;">Child's Grave - Manzanar Graveyard</span></p>There is even less left of Poston today, although a historical marker has at least been placed to inform those who stop about the history of the area. All of this makes me appreciate the efforts of the National Park Service to preserve Manzanar. They have restored or rebuilt several of the buildings, and have created a top-notch interpretive center in one of them. The staff members at the interpretive center have an impressive knowledge about the history of the site, and they do a great job of answering questions asked by visitors.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189264938646199058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SAP498FlWxI/AAAAAAAAABs/ZkoX2ePAdJU/s400/Manzanar+Interpretive+Center+-+Interior+-1172.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#cc0000;">Manzanar Interpretive Center</span></span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#cc0000;"></span><p align="left"></span>The fact that at least one of the Japanese-American internment camps is being preserved is meaningful to people whose family members were stripped of their rights; who lost their homes, posessions and businesses; and who experienced this dark period of American history from inside of a barbed-wire enclosure. Their lives and their struggles have not been forgotten. </p><p align="left"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189261889219418882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/SAP2McFlWwI/AAAAAAAAABk/TFoGAXWTioI/s400/Manzanar+Marker+and+Mount+Williamson+-.jpg" border="0" /><br />If you are interested in visiting or learning more about Manzanar, you can visit the official National Park Service site: <a href="http://www.nps.gov/manz/">http://www.nps.gov/manz/</a><br /></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-586811835247763626.post-63609767327919570342008-04-09T20:27:00.001-07:002008-12-12T20:10:25.490-08:00The Versatile 500mm Lens<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2JWbHJJbI/AAAAAAAAAA0/h0rmU9vz4mQ/s1600-h/-5191.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2JWbHJJbI/AAAAAAAAAA0/h0rmU9vz4mQ/s400/-5191.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187453364128523698" border="0" /></a><br />I knew that a 500mm lens would be great for photographing birds and other wildlife, but after owning one for only a couple of weeks, I've been surprised just how many new types of photographs I've been making. Part of this comes from often carrying just the one big lens, and being forced to see everything its way. Part of it is the incredible image quality the lens delivers, and part is the lovely quality of the out of focus portions of the image or "bokeh."<br /><br />To my surprise, I've found that this big, heavy lens, which cannot focus closer than about 14 feet without extension tubes, is excellent for shooting flowers and foliage. The narrow depth of field is wonderful for isolating subjects, and by pointing the lens at a cluster of flowers and turning the focusing ring, an assortment of possible photographs appear as different elements move in and out of focus. I've also become fond of shooting through foreground foliage with this lens to create a beautiful, soft surrounding for small subjects.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2Lj7HJJcI/AAAAAAAAAA8/9b7S-Hnanp4/s1600-h/-6575.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2Lj7HJJcI/AAAAAAAAAA8/9b7S-Hnanp4/s400/-6575.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187455795080013250" border="0" /></a><br />Working with just one extreme focal length is limiting in some ways, but it can have its advantages. Last week while I was photographing birds, I saw the beginnings of a beautiful sunset behind me. If I had another lens with me, I would have probably made a less original image than I did. Since this lens takes in about 4 degrees or less of the surroundings, the best possibility that I saw was to silhouette a small portion of a distant tree against the colorful sky. I didn't think too much about this image at the time, since I was trying to keep an eye on the activity of the birds, but when reviewing the night's images, I found that this image really jumped out at me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2NQbHJJdI/AAAAAAAAABE/imW2ALKMKC4/s1600-h/-5756.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2NQbHJJdI/AAAAAAAAABE/imW2ALKMKC4/s400/-5756.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187457659095819730" border="0" /></a><br />While I sometimes carry a second lens with me, such as a 24-105mm zoom, I have realized that even the one long lens offers me plenty of options, as long as I keep my eyes for compositions that take in a very narrow viewing angle. I can't say that I would ever want to use one focal length exclusively, but I have come to enjoy the challenge, and do not fret when I leave the house with only the one lens. I miss some shots that I would like to make, but I also make other images that I wouldn't have otherwise.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2Ss7HJJeI/AAAAAAAAABM/STohrV_UNNM/s1600-h/Trees+and+Setting+Sun+-5304.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_DiQE-dL3yAg/R_2Ss7HJJeI/AAAAAAAAABM/STohrV_UNNM/s400/Trees+and+Setting+Sun+-5304.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187463646280230370" border="0" /></a><br />As a side note, I've found that a big wildlife lens, camera and tripod carried "half-nelson" over your shoulders is quite a conversation starter on the trail. After hiking past a couple, I overheard the woman say, "I thought he had bagpipes!" Only an hour earlier, a woman walking toward me stopped and said, "Oh! I thought you were carrying a dog!" I see all this as another perk. I meet a lot of people, it amuses passersby, and in turn, they keep me amused.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0