The end

 I woke up this morning in my super soft, clean, Abu Dhabi bed and thought to myself; it's time. It's time that I finally write this final blog post. I mean, the 26th was over a week ago and I'm clearly procrastinating on when to write a blog post about it. It's mainly because I'm still recovering from the whole trip, being back in Abu Dhabi has been a lot tougher than I thought it would be and re-adjusting is taking a while. And, in a sense, when I finish writing this final blog post the whole adventure will officially be over... maybe I just don't want to let go. It's weird, I get these moments where I'm really sad to be out of Nepal, it's almost like I'm mourning something, but not a person or a place, it's more like a mourning a period of time that I know has come to an end and that I know I'll never have back. Yep.

Alright, so here goes. The morning of the 26th I woke up to my alarm clock which I'd set to 5:30 am. I took a shower for the last time in the dark, semi-dirty shower room which only had two types of water temperatures; ice cold and cold. That at least made me a bit happy to be going home to Abu Dhabi where the water is on permanent scorching hot because of the desert sun. After the shower I got myself ready and at 6:00 am the gong was gonged and I made my way downstairs to the Pooja room. I had asked the night before whether I could take some pictures of the monks during Pooja and maybe even a video of the chanting and the instruments to show to my parents, friends ect. and I don't know whether it was because they were still high on life from the momo feast but they said yes to me. So during the hour of Pooja I took some recordings knowing that I wouldn't be waking up to the sound of the chanting for a looong while. The night before, like the creeper I am, I also took a sneaky recording of the chanting that all my neighbor Yogi's do right around the time I go to sleep... falling asleep to silence will take getting used to

After Pooja I had my last breakfast at the monastery. We had rotis with left over sauce from the momos the night before. Monks gathered around to ask me how I was feeling, when I was leaving and what my plans were. It was a strange feeling of semi-excitement and semi-grief because I knew that I would be seeing my family very soon but at the same time I knew that I would be leaving this family behind.

At 8:00 am it was time for me to go to my final lesson with Tulku Jigme. Now, I had gotten gifts for all my students and I knew that I wanted to get him a gift too. So for the entire week prior to this I had been brain storming. Eventually I came to an idea; I would draw him. But then when I started drawing him (I took a sneaky picture one class "my family wants to know what you look like" muhahaha) and it just wasn't working, so I went back to the drawing board (omfg that sounded like a terrible pun, but I swear I did not plan that). And within a few minutes of thinking I had the perfect idea; I'd draw his grandfather. Why? Well here's the story...

Tulku Jigme and I

Tulku Jigme's grandfather was the 'top lama' of the monastery before him (although he later changed and became a yogi when he met his wife, he still was referred to as the top lama). When Tulku Jigme was 3 months old his mother traveled with him from Tibet to Nepal to go to the monastery so that his grandfather could name him. Upon his arrival his grandfather declared that Tulku Jigme was the reincarnation of a very learned lama (I forgot the name). At the same time, independently, the Dalai Lama made the same declaration! Because of this his grandfather offered to raise him at the monastery as a monk. The mother agreed and because of that Tulku Jigme was a monk from 3 months onwards!

When he told me this story I asked whether he missed his mother and father as a child and he replied to me that he didn't because his grandfather was like both of his parents at once. His grandfather died two years ago. A drawing of him would be the perfect gift. Great. So I had a plan. Now I just had to find a picture of him to draw...... this took a while. I asked tons of the older monks and eventually one of them brought me a massive picture of him which was actually part of the monk's shrine! It was the perfect picture, not a composed, serious picture of him but a picture where he was laughing and looked very relaxed. I was excited! I finished the drawing that same night. Then the next obstacle, I had to find a frame to put the picture in. Again after a long search around the monastery Ngodup finally came to my rescue and helped me out.

So the next morning I took my gift, the letter I wrote him and the fruits I bought for him and made my way for the last time to his house. Upon arrival I realized I forgot the little book I usually take notes in, oh well. Now here's the good part. Tulku Jigme is always composed. He's calm, peaceful and always has the composed look in his eyes. BUT when I showed him the picture there was a gasp. An. actual. gasp. A break in his aura of calmness. "you did this??" he exclaimed. I think I made him very, very happy.

The last lesson was great and afterwards I went up to my room to have a little cry and then finish the last of my packing. I then checked facebook on my iPod and found out about this competition that NYU was hosting called One Word One World. Basically you have to pick one word which you hope describes you and either make a video about with or take a picture with it. I had approximately 4 hours left at the monastery and decided I might as well do this. I asked some of the monks whether they wanted to help out and they were all super excited. I took one of the big pieces of paper I had left over and wrote "my name is Charlotte, I'm from Holland and I strive to be compassionate" on it whilst the monks were all gathering around and then we all posed in front of the prayer wheel for a picture. I uploaded it. And now, about 10 days later the finalists have been announced and I am one of them??? The monks would be so excited. You can vote for me here if you want *hint* *hint* https://www.facebook.com/hashtagnyu?sk=app_451684954848385&app_data=dlt-1

After all of that the monks and I just hung out waiting for 12 o'clock to come around because that was the time that I'd leave to go to Kathmandu. Akkal, the VIN driver who picked me up that first day at the airport was also the one who was picking me up from the monastery. I wrote letters for all of the yogis and the older monks and bought mangoes and pomegranates for them all so with the help of Aryan and Tharchin I delivered all of the gifts and returned all the books that they had lent me. Afterwards Aryan, Tharchin and I hung out in my room. My neighbor Tenzin came and joined us shortly and handed me something. A note. Not just any note, a note which I had helped him write a week earlier. Here's the story, a few days earlier he had come into my room with a pen and paper asking me to help him write something for a friend of him (which he cleverly called 'he') because he is not very good at writing English. I thought nothing of it, only that the letter was super sweet. Anyway. So a week later I open the note he hands me and realize it's the exact letter I wrote. That sneaky man!!! He had me writing my own goodbye letter! He added at the top of the page "to Sherlet" and at the end "love from the mad man Tenzin"... I died a small death, so typical him it was perfect...

Then something crazy happened. It all started very modestly with Tenzin taking out a white scarf called a Khada, which is traditional Buddhist blessing scarf, out of his pocket and putting it around my neck. I was so excited. The four of us then went downstairs with all my bags and the gong marking lunch time (aka 12 o'clock) was gonged. I sat by the prayer wheel taking it all in for the last time when all of a sudden monks started gathering around. One small monk took out another Khada and came up to me to put it around my neck. Another one? I thought you just got one when you left? I looked up and all of a sudden the sea of monks all pulled countless more out of their pockets. Oh. My. God. They lined up and all started putting them around my neck. I even got one (a very fancy one) from the illusive head master, who I only saw what 3 times because he's always meditating. I literally ended up with scarves up to my ears. The monks exclaiming "you are like a minister"... apparently when a Buddhist minister visits they get just as many scarves around their neck... it was so great

Then Akkal and his 4x4 arrived and I knew this was it, this was the end. The whole scarf fiasco was such a beautiful ending to my stay. We started putting my bags in the car and I hugged my last goodbyes and then I went to sit in the car. I was all ready to leave, holding myself together, doing so good not crying... but of course Akkal was fiddling with the CD player finding the Nepali folk songs I love. And whilst I was sitting there in the car with all the monks standing outside the window, saying goodbye and how they miss me and how they love me. I couldn't hold the tears in anymore, and then when one of the older ones came and told me "Zizi, don't forget seat belt" I cried. I cried, I cried, I cried. Akkal finally found the song and my beautiful, red-eyed, snotty crying face was the last the monks saw of me as Akkal drove out of the monastery. We waved and waved as I drove away and even as we crossed the bridge and I took one last look at the monastery in the distance I saw the monks on the balconies still waving goodbye.

If you zoom in reaaally closely you can see the monks
standing there, waving

This was the end of the journey. The end of my adventure. And I would miss it all so much. From the lessons with Tulku Jigme, to my crazy students, to the lunchtime conversations about football, to the dinner time conversations about Buddhism, the walks in the village, the attempts at chats with Ramsaran-ji, the crazy weekends in Thamel, the excited "Zizi!"'s when I returned, the drawings the little monks made me, their dancing and their endless games of football, Tenzin's never ending advice, waking up to the sound of Pooja and falling asleep to the chanting, and the food, oh the food... all of this, all of this is what I knew I would miss. And all of this is what I do miss. I knew all along that it was all impermanent, that it was going to end, but I can't help missing it when I lie here in my Abu Dhabi bed listening to the silence and the hum of the AC. Accepting that that period of time is over now will take a few more days or weeks but I know that it'll all be okay because I have so many more adventures ahead of me... plus having Maks here nestled by my side, and mom here to come and talk, and dad to watch Jane Austen movies with and my brothers to annoy all makes it a lot easier too. I am so thankful for it all.

Charlotte x

Singing, good-bye parties, footballs and momo making! The second last day...

It's over. I can't believe that it is all over. Sorry for the slight drama, but I just can't believe that this adventure has come to an end. It took me a few days to process it all... it's like all the exhaustion I should've felt the last two months is coming out all at once now that I'm finally allowing it to.

Rigzin serenading me...

The start of the end was the 25th of July. The day of the leaving party. I had planned that that day instead of classes we would have a 'party' instead because the next day at noon I would be leaving the monastery for good. Candies had been bought, games had been prepared and one of the older monks lent me his music speakers. I waited in the class and slowly the excited kids of class 1 started pouring in. We sat in a big circle and I read them the letter that I had written for them; laughs ensued at our inside jokes (oh snap, yes, we actually have inside jokes!!! I only realized this as I was writing the letters! Too good). I opened the bag of candies and packets of biscuits for them and as we were munching the food down three of my students declared that they wanted to sing songs for me. The first started, Rigzin, the boy with slight mental problems, he sang 'waving flag' (the world cup song) to me because we had had a conversation about that a week earlier. He sang so quietly and shyly in front of us all, but it was just such a lovely gesture, I'm so proud of him, these kids... Then a pair of boys, Yonten and Kedup, sang my favorite Hindi song to me. With the help of the monks (I kept on humming it in class) I discovered the name of the song; Tumhiho. How is this my favorite song? It is played absolutely everywhere. I walk in the village and it's playing out of the window of someone's house, I'm at a shop and it's playing on the radio, I'm sitting next to a group of kids and it's playing on their phone, I'm on the bus and it's playing on the cracking speakers. And because of this all now I will associate this song with Nepal for the rest of my life. I love that music can have that power. I mean, I listen to the song 'White Flag' by Dido and I'm 8, in the car with my Korean friend on the way to a theme park in Poland. I hear the song 'Left Outside Alone' by Anastacia and I'm 11 on holiday in England. I hear any song by Akon and I'm back to my 13 year old tween self at his concert in Dubai. And now this song will be added to the list. Yes, sometime in the future when I'm old and grey in my rocking chair I'll hear this cheesy Hindi song and for a moment I'll be 18 again at the monastery in Sundarijaal...

Showing off their party
tricks...

Party ticks 2.0

Cute monk selfie

After the adorable performances we finished the snacks and started playing music. The young monks went crazy. Dancing, singing and semi-kungfu fighting... They may wear the orange robes they're still just as rowdy and rough as any boys their age!!!! It was all fun and games but after a while I really had to calm them down (they may have had a slight sugar rush from all the candy, oops) and change the pace; we started playing games. They attempted to teach me some Nepali game but I had no clue what was going on; it was a blast none the less. And before I knew it the hour was over and it was time for them to leave. As they started leaving the class for the last time a few students came and gave me drawings and letters as goodbye gifts... I almost cried.

Then the older guys from class two came in. We all sat in a circle again and I read them their letter, again filled with inside jokes... They applauded me at the end, looking half-amused, half-sad. Then they declared that they also wanted to sing for me! And what song did they sing? You guessed it. Tumhiho. Double performance, was it my birthday??? It was such a lovely moment. After that I taught them one of my favorite games, "ninja", and they absolutely loved it. I failed miserably because I was way too busy talking and laughing to focus, but the monks totally rocked at the game! After a couple of games we decided to play something else; they took a piece of paper and ripped it into 8 pieces, wrote something on each piece and got a bottle. It was spin the bottle... monk style. Yep. Side note: no kissing involved. Basically when the bottle points to you you have to pick one of the pieces of paper which all have embarrassing tasks on them; sing, dance, say I love you, be a slave, do push-ups ect. It was hilarious. And the dancing, oh the dancing... But soon the end of that class came too. Everyone was saying their thanks and as they left one of the boys stayed behind and handed me a gift. A beautiful, heartfelt, hand-written letter and a bracelet. You guessed it... I could've cried again. 

11:00 am and time for the last class. At this point I was feeling a bit exhausted but after we opened yet another pack of the super sweet candies the sugar pushed me along. We did the circle thing where I read them the letter that I wrote to their class, they loved it. We played "ninja" as well, danced to music and then they also attempted to teach me some Nepali game... unsuccessfully. We talked some more and then at 11:40 am I ended my last class for the last time. It was time for me to bring the football downstairs for them... I had been telling them that I had a surprise but they had no clue what it would be. So at 12, the time we had planned that I would give the gift, they all went to the front of the Pooja room. I wrapped the ball in my mostquito net and a bag so that it would not be 100% obvious that it was a ball and walked down to the meeting spot. The monks excitedly gathered around... then the moment came... I revealed the gift; a brand new, bright orange, real puma football; they went absolutely crazy!!!!! Cheering, laughing, hugging me (woah!) and cheering again. Oh my, it was one of the best moments of my life. Just the fact that something as simple as a football can bring that much joy to them changed a little something inside me...

I had my final Dal Bhat lunch accompanied by a huge bag of aloo (spiced potatoes) which I shared with all the monks. I had bought it the day before when I went to get chowmein (a noodle dish) for the final time. I have had chowmein so many times in Nepal; at a restaurant in Kathmandu, at both of the hotels I've stayed at in Thamel, at a restaurant in Boudha... but the best chowmein I've had is sold at a super, super sketchy shop in Sundarijaal. So sketchy that the shop doesn't even have a name... AND it's only 25 rupees (compared to the 180 rupees at all the restaurants!!!) HELLO! I'll miss it way too much to be acceptable. I'll miss all the Nepali and Indian food actually. Oh dear god..... I am so glad for the cooking lessons Isuda gave!!! AND one of my roommates at NYUAD is Indian!!!! All will be fine. But yes, the food here will be one of the things I'll miss the most. The whole Nepali culture revolves around food. You know how in the west when you're standing around and you want to strike up a conversation or when there's an awkward silence... you usually talk about the weather. Here? Well here we talk about food. "Hey" "hi, nice to see you, how are you?" "good, good" *awkward silence* "......so what did you have for lunch?". Yep. Or when you go to their house and immediately they offer you food, and it's not just a biscuit or something, I mean real home cooked, good food that they are waiting to eat for lunch... ahh... No wonder I gained so much weight here. Yeah, did you know that here in Nepal it is seen as a good thing to have some meat on your bones? It's actually a compliment to be called fat. And oh my God it has been happening way too often at the monastery. A few days ago in class Kalsang goes "Zizi, I have a good news for you, you are fat now".......... ok. And when I was spinning the prayer wheel for the first time "Zizi, don't do too much exercise, you will become thin again!" Oh if only the west was like this... it would save a whole bunch of teenage girls from a whole bunch of tears.

The day before I had organized one final surprise. After advice from my neighbour Tenzin (I mean, who else gives me advice... seriously, what will I do without him?!) during my last Thukpa dinner. He said I could give a bit of money so that the cook could make a very, very nice dinner on my final night, that way I could give something to everyone, and nothing makes any of them happier than food (...unless it's a brand new football). I thought about it for 3.2 seconds and then agreed. We called over one of the older monks and discussed the money. It started with 2000 rupees... that would get us buffalo momos. Nope, gurl I'm too vegan for that. Then to 4000 rupees, which would get us cheese momos. Still a no. It's not the season for vegetables, so getting veg momos would be 6000 rupees. After another 3.2 seconds I ran to my room and got the money. So much for living cheaply these last few days... the truth is that after the money stealing my parents gave me the blessing to use the emergency debit card that they had left with me (and which I had forgotten about), so I was a rich bitch again (not really). So yes, I gave the money to the cook.

 By the next day (the 25th) at 4:00 pm it all started. I went down to the kitchen where 10 select monks were working with the cook. Chopping, steaming, boiling, mashing... momos! I helped out for the next 3 hours. I LEARNT HOW TO MAKE MOMOS. Okay, it started off terribly with the monks making fun of my efforts (we are on that level of friendship (oh snap), don't worry, it wasn't mean) but by the 57th one (and 1.5 hours later) I WAS A PRO. I can now make a momo in less than 30 seconds... I have a video.

Dinner time came around and the surprise on the faces of all the monks was worth all the money I had put in and more. The evening was followed by thousands of sincere "thank you"s for my efforts of the entire day; the parties, the ball, the momos, I totally spoilt them. It was worth all the money. They gave me so many momos that by the time I couldn't possibly fit another one in my stomach the plate still looked full. Such a memorable last supper. Oh the end was becoming so real... the next morning would be the last time I heard the Pooja, the last time I had rotis, the last time I'd wake up in Sundarijaal for a long while...

Charlotte x

"Zizi is Nepali"

Lunch, lunch, lunch

Remember how last time I left off with how I was at Ramsaran-ji’s house? Well a bunch of stuff that I definitely did not see coming happened from there on. After they woke up from their nap we ate mangos. This was followed by Gaiatri-ji showing me her collection of jewelry. And slowly but surely they started transforming me into a Nepali woman. It started of very casually, “take take” as they gave me a bunch of bangles (of course with my man hand wrists I broke two of them during the process of putting them on…). She went back to her jewelry stash and got me a really fancy big bangle with ‘diamonds’ on it for my other wrist. We had some more mango and then she went over to her hair accessories. She brought out a hair clip and ordered me to sit in front of her so she could do my hair. With a new hairdo and countless dhanyabaad’s (thank you’s) from me we carried on semi-talking.

Then Ramsaran-ji said something to her which I later found out meant something along the lines of “you forgot to give her a necklace” because before I knew it I was wearing one. They looked proudly at me and then had a moment of realization; I was missing a bindi. Gaiatri-ji went over to her enormous bindi stash, selected one of her finest and placed it on my forehead. “Rambro chaaaaa” followed from both of their mouth (Nepali for ‘good’) whilst their fingers wagged from side to side, which I first was confused about because thought it meant no, but now I realized that its different from the west and means ‘very good’.

Ramsaran brought me some tea, which I knew would be my last tea from their shop, so I savoured every last drop (and got a cute picture with it). Then it was time for Ramsaran to open his shop and Gaiatri-ji and I were left alone. I did her hair for a bit, she put bright red lipstick on me, painted my nails (leaving out the nails on the right hand because that hand is for eating) and then her face had the look of someone who had just come up with a genius evil plan. I didn’t know what was going on but within minutes I was fully aware of her plans; she brought out a traditional Nepali sari for me to wear. Closing the windows and undressing in front of her (this is Nepal) showing off my full white belly whilst she joked “I black tea, you milk tea”… too good.

I was wearing the skirt and the revealing top, hoping that there was another layer to come when yes she brought out a massively long, beaded piece of fabric. She wrapped it around me, folding, tucking and turning me around until finally it was on, another “rambro cha” and finger wag followed. She called out “RAMSARAN” but he was busy in the shop so she escorted me out of the house/room. I went into the shop and Ramsaran-ji’s face was a look of shock and awe (I think) and there were more “rambro cha”’s, followed by a cute photo shoot in front of the tea shop.

From the moment she put the bangles on my arm to when she showed me off to Ramsaran-ji, Gaiatri-ji had been saying “ama, chori” over and over… I now found out that it means “mother, daughter” in Nepali, so cute my heart could explode. I dressed back into my own clothes and was forced to stay back in the tea shop for another hour because the monsoon rains had started for the day. After the rain finally stopped I handed over my letter (their son will translate it for them when he’s visiting) and we had a long goodbye hug. I left the tea shop with Gaiatri-ji watching and waving. The first goodbye was officially over.

As I was walking through the village with my new jewelry, nail polish and bindi I was stopped multiple times by village women asking me “Marriage? Marriage?” It turns out that the necklace, bindi and bangles she gave me are ones worn only by married women, which is logical because she gave me her own. After a few more “marriage?” questions I arrived back to the monastery where I was greeted with excited screams “Zizi is Nepali!!!”

Charlotte x