We part ways with heavy hearts

(last night's sunset)

Song: In a beautiful place out in the country (Boards of Canada)

Sad! Our last night at the farm. We all really love it here, and as every signatory in the guest book can attest to from the years the Adikari's have had their open home/farm, this place feels like a home you never want to leave. And for that reason we have repeatedly extended our stay form 3 nights to over a week. Tonight I was the bad guy, because folks were talking about staying another night (again, 5th night in a row) and I said "No, let's just get on with it!" I'm probably the biggest wuss of the group when it comes to long-distance biking, but I've been mentally preparing for the long haul and I just want to start already. (Do I sound defensive?)

Really, though, this place rules. If anyone wants to volunteer on a farm and get to know Nepali people, I'd definitely recommend it here. My cohorts only went to one farm before I arrived, and on that farm they didn't even have to work (that farm was a big machine with day laborers, albeit an organic one). This place is the real deal, and I think everyone wanted to stay because, for the first time on the whole trip, it's the all-around most pleasant, beautiful, stress-free, friendly, warm, communal, open and loving environment we've found. Plus, there are tigers! Today's breaking news over morning tea was that last night a small tiger killed two goats down the road, and the store by the school house got robbed for 6000 rupees by some punk kids! And I thought all Nepali's were so sweet! The Adikari's are appalled at kids these days. (FYI, 6k rupees is about $80, but that's a lot of dough around here.)

The Adikari House is also a focal point of the region's farming community, as it's the "Pulping Center" and growers and harvesters from all over the mountain bring their coffee beans here for weighing and processing. (Surya sells all the beans on behalf of the whole mountain to Everest Coffee, who brings them to market in Japan.) Throughout the day farmers drop off their daily harvest, or sometimes it's their children passing through on their way to school (which is just up the road). It's been really nice to become part of the community instead of passers-through, as many neighbors and people in the neighborhood see us every day, and we all interface with them regularly. The kids jump on and hang all over us like family, too. Yesterday , Cara got a makeover by the girls next door. Today, we washed our clothes and hair with Bimela, the neighbor's 11-year old daughter. Today, after tuning up my bike, I took a ride down the street (with a 4-year old on sitting on my back rack). Not to mention the 11 guests who are currently staying here at the house with a common interest and widespread origins -- our great web of purpose is expanded and fortified.

Tomorrow at 9am, with our 4 bikes and 20 bags, we will board the decorated bus that comes down our road once a day, so we don't kill ourselves getting off this mountain. (Yesterday my crazy friends took a bike ride a short ways down the mountain, without luggage -- I passed without hesitation -- and all 3 fell off and suffered minor injuries due to the untamed terrain.) I have a feeling we will be riding on top of the bus, which is exciting! I've heard nothing but Fun! (On a safety note, and I know this sounds terrible, but in the event of an accident, like falling off a cliff, which is always a concern when riding these mountain-traversing third-world buses, at least we can jump off instead of tumbling down trapped like sardines.) Our morning descent will only be a short trip, 30 minutes to the bottom, and it'll be slow-going. Also, if you're reading this, I made it OK!, (as I'm typing all this stuff from the least 8 days offline, posted from the safety somewhere in wild beautiful Nepal.) Next stop, after maybe 3 days of biking, is Royal Chitwan National Park! (where all the postcards of huge Bengali tigers and doing it originate.) As we say maybe a hundred times a day and night, Namaste!

Or for a good old fashioned good night: Subayatri!

Things I love about farm life in Nepal (in no particular order):

/ > Hands. All I can say is hands. Magic hands do it all - harvesting juicy red coffee beans one by one, pulling coffee tree branches down low to get high-up beans, removing thousands of fermenting rinds off of harder-to-peel beans, scooping wet slimy beans into buckets, carrying buckets down to the water source, scooping water out of the well, washing each half bucket of beans ten times and stirring them clean (of course, with your hands), spreading a sea of coffee beans out to dry, and piling mounds of them up for safe keeping again at night, climbing trees, weeding gardens, washing dishes, pots, cups, sweeping the dirt ground, washing buckets out for their next use (and they have many), scrubbing and rinsing clothes, getting peas and lentils out of their pods, squeezing hundreds of lemons, peeling oranges, feeding the orange rinds to the momma goat, milking the buffalo, picking radishes. Washing your hands. If you're Nepali, eating your food (without utensils.) Today Chris came back from a day trip to Pokhara with a rake for Surya. Can this possibly change everything? (I doubt it.)

/ > Carrying stuff on your back (or head). There's no fancy machines or conveyor belts or trucks or tractors or elevators or pulleys moving things up and down the hills. There are women and Americans loading up buckets and jugs and carrying them in baskets on our backs, held up by a rope with a headband on the front to secure with your forehead.

/ > Tea time (twice a day).

/ > Nap time (if I need it or have time to kill.)

/ > There's only ONE farm tool in this whole place that uses electricity: the de-pulper. I'm not sure if that's the name or just what I imagined it was called. It takes the rind off the coffee beans. That's the one thing I'm glad we have, or de-pulping would take a looong time. There's aren't even hand-crank devices. Weeding is done with a curved blade. A man comes down the street plucking his single string on the cotton weaving device he carries that looks like a musical instrument, advertising his service -- spinning cotton. The day before we got here they got a rice cooker. Besides light bulbs not much else requires electricity. That's especially good because there isn't electricity for 1/2 the day anyhow. When we need to charge our cameras and computers Surya just unplugs his flat screen and wi-fi router... just kidding.

(foreground: a pile of whole coffee; midground: the coffee de-pulping machine)

/ > Star-gazing, at least for a little while every night. And sunsets -- a great time to take a walk.

/ > Spiders and their webs. In Pokhara, while we were waiting for our Thanksgiving tempura to be served, we were standing up in our shoe-less booth to watch the spiders weaving their webs in the paper lamp above the table. Each of the four tassels hanging from the corners formed a curved-in spine for a big web, each with a nail-sized spider sitting in the middle. Our waiter asked if we enjoyed watching the spiders "making their home". Yes, we did very much. And I especially enjoy that the spiders are at home, in just about every room in Nepal that I've been in, going about their lives, living together with their mountain people. They come in all sizes, and I wouldn't dream of killing them or disturbing their homes (unless they're blocking a nice cluster of juicy red coffee beans during harvest.)

My bedfellow

/ > The bee box in our bedroom above the buffalo. Midday, while we're out doing our chores, hundreds of bees are flying in and out of their bee home in our window. There's another one right in front of 'the library', or shared bookshelf in the hallway in front of everyone else's rooms. I'm not worried at all about them, and I doubt they think much of me.

/ > Cows in the street. Just munching away, or drinking from a puddle by one of the watering holes. Some have hilarious voices, like the baby calf who sounds half frog, and crack me up.

/ > School children everywhere, especially around 3PM. The other day I was carrying baskets with my head and I passed by a couple dozen of them. Some boys say "Hello!" like little parrots and others laugh at my uncharacteristic role of a white boy with french braids and two flowers in his hair doing the women's work, and when you make eye contact with the girls they press their hands together saying "Namaste", then turn away giggling like, well, school girls.

The baby goats. I already wrote about them, but they're just like Kids! (bu dum bom ba!) So playful, excitedly scrambling and hopping around with all four legs at once, loving to jump on each other and you! If you bend down, they'll jump on your back. Or your lap. And eat your hair. At three weeks old they still only drink from Maa, but they seize those nipples with ferocity (to get the milk flowing again) and the boy is already trying to mount the girl one. Supposedly he's been doing it since 10 days old! They're a riot. Today while we were peeling beans they were jumping on everyones backs so Ama put a backet over them with a rock on top. They just went to sleep. And Bonnie had one in her arms, and with his legs all folded like origami he fell right asleep, out cold! Ama thought he was dead, and was sticking her finger in its mouth to see if he'd suckle. Nope! So funny! Kids!

/ > Dal Bhat (translated Lentils & Rice). Usually accompanied by a vegetable curry (right now it's the seasonal potatoes and cauliflower,) and another season vegetable (like stewed greens or a little chutney and pickle). It's our two meals a day, and the two meals of pretty much every Nepali person. Ama changes it up just a little every day. Yesterday Ama made Roti, flat bread. The night before, pigeon peas in the curry! Today, Chris brought us each a samosa from Pokhara! Today's stewed greens tasted more delicious than ever, as she let me watch her cook them, and I could taste the garden tomatoes I never knew were in there, and the onion, and mustard oil.

(Dhal bhat)

/ > Listening to my iPod before bed while writing in my journal, listening to an Out Hud song named "Dear Mr. Bush, There are Over 100 Words for Shit and Only 1 for Music. Fuck you, Out Hud". It's two beautiful worlds coming together, East and West. Is my real home back East, or back West? I feel at home here too. I love missing all the things I love about life in NY. Like ice cream and soy milk, tacos, avocados, and un-chicken patties. And my whole entire family. And my darling friends and special lady. And my precious spoiled and handsome turtle! And the Holidays. We were talking about making ginger bread houses today and I got a warm tingle in my heart. I've never been without the Holidays before! Twinkle lights, christmas specials, egg nog, decorations, the family tree chop, bloody marys and horseradish dip! It's so wonderful to miss it all, because the emotion is all positive, I can appreciate it unadulterated, and it will be even sweeter next time!

Wow, midnight already! And I'm getting up to watch the sun rise over the southern ridge of the Annapuras this morning! Baaaaaaaaah!

Baboo still going strong.

Yesterday I was a little out of it, my appetite small and my body (and especially my back) fatigued from the last couple days of pushing it (the bikes up the mountain, and from Day 1 of farm labor.) Surya and Ama were a both a bit concerned about me, but sometimes you just need a day to recuperate, and they understood. I took a nap mid-afternoon and spent numerous parts of the day lying on my back. Today I felt 100% again and had a blast. Even washing the beans was fun. This chore involves carrying buckets of slimy, semi-fermented beans Nepali-style on our backs to the well (on foot, down and up a hill, using baskets supported by your head) to be washed. I was dreading doing this again, as my first day I had tired back and legs. It's brilliant that the chores rotate from day to day, keeping things interesting and giving your body a break. But I definitely do like the hard work, and pushing myself. Like with the biking, it's a beautiful thing to find peace in potentially grueling work, by just accepting it, letting-go of any negative thoughts, and thinking nice things.

After washing the beans and tea time, all of us 'guests' took a walk to hang out by the big tree on the hill. We hung out and climbed the tree for a long while, while the light changed form daytime to dusk, then came home for dinner. After our meal a ghost seized us! It came out from the dark bushes a screaming, lunging specter covered in straw, with a gas mask and gargantuan radish penis. In a creepy voice it asked for food and he also said "give me pen", a joke as all the kids in these parts ask you for a pen (because it's easy to say). I found out later that the ghost was none other than our friend Gary, acting out an elaborate idea thought up by the women juicing lemons this afternoon. Ama had been feeling sick for the last few days and was walking with Gary down the road when a man felt her pulse and told her that she'd be well off making a food offering. Whether of not the show did the trick, it was hilarious, so moving, in-fact, that Cara peed herself! LOL.

One more day here at Surya Presad Adikari House will make five, and then we are bound for Royal Chitwan. It's gonna be a lot of biking from here on out, with a week or two in-between to enjoy the sights of Agra, Rajasthan, and who knows where else our Indian friends will take us on our Jeep journey to Goa. Funny, though, with all the biking we're still looking at another whole month in Nepal before we even set foot in crazy India.

I can't believe how fast time is going-by. Happy December, everyone!