E-Kantipur

SEP 03 -

As a teacher in the UK, my holidays are very special to me. Time to re-energise, time to refresh, but also a time to take teenagers to Kathmandu. Many years ago, I visited Nepal for the first time and fell in love with its landscapes, cultures, traditions...and above all its people. My calling was a simple one, I decided—to share my experiences with others and while trying to make a small difference along the way, if possible. Ever since then, I’ve been bringing small groups of lucky students to visit this fascinating country in their Easter or summer holidays.

Arriving in Kathmandu is always an event in itself. The kids have wide-open eyes, despite the 30 hours or so it has taken to get here, and their long-held appetite is whet with their first glimpses of what makes the city so exceptional: cows, monkeys, sadhus and all. The questions come in thick and fast: “Who owns the cows?”, “Why is there so much litter?”, “Why are they staring at us?” Months of preparation are undertaken back home: discussing issues like poverty, how to navigate the traffic and how to dress without causing offence or attracting unwanted attention. The latter advice is normally forgotten by breakfast the following morning, as we discover that our female pupils have chosen to dress to impress as only they know how. I try to explain as

delicately as possible that a mini-skirt and strappy top is probably not the most appropriate outfit to go and visit Kumari Chowk. In the end, I resort to my less subtle approach: “Go and change, I want to see less skin!”

One of our first tastes of Nepal is a visit to Pashupatinath. Here, the kids are given an opportunity to experience one of the only certainties we have—that our lives will come to an end. At first, they are shocked to see the burning ghats; to see mourning so public. But we encourage our students to show empathy and compassion. I still shudder at tourists who point their large lenses at the deceased and their grieving families, but this does provide an opportunity to teach the group about what is and isn’t acceptable: from every bad decision there is something to learn. Invariably, our attention turns to the site’s

sadhus. They have adopted a far less aggressive manner over the years and learned how to ‘work the camera’ for extra rupees. The kids take great delight in having their picture taken with

them, and whilst it may appear as a distortion of the holy practices of these devotees, it allows us to engage in meaningful conversation about the

relevance of their ancient culture in the

region today.

Kathmandu must be meted out in small doses, at first. The younger members of the group enjoy the haven of Thamel, stocking up against their better judgment on Pringles, Haribo and the ever-ubiquitous Coke. I’m always amazed at the initial lack of ambition when it comes to trying new food. It can be difficult to get some of the fussier kids to try daal bhaat, and when I tell them most Nepalese eat this meal twice a day—and enjoy it—they glare at me in total disbelief. We take the groups to tourist restaurants to begin with, but as they become more comfortable, orders of momos, thukpa, daal and rice become more common.

Things have changed in Kathmandu since I first began leading these tours. These days, you can access your Facebook profile whilst having a latte in Thamel or check your email from your hotel’s garden. I try to battle this by instituting a no cellphone rule. They must surrender themselves to the experience, minus the minute-by-minute distractions technology offers. And the results are astounding! Suddenly, they look around when they walk; they see Newari

architecture, Buddha’s eyes and the warmth of local smiles, they begin to talk about complex issues, they engage with each other—even if they still run to update their Facebook statuses before lights out.

Each group that travels here organises a

project to help make a small difference at a local school. This year, 26 students took over the Shubhakamana Academy, in Taudha, to deliver English lessons for a week. We were also pleased to open our first School Hall, built with the support of previous groups we’ve brought to Nepal. This year we have also begun a foundation that will help support families with school fees for their children. Our students, aged between 16 and 19, make great teachers. They use teaching methods that are somewhat alien to the children and the school’s staff, but are welcomed with open arms and excitement each morning. After the school day has drawn to a close, the group gets together to reflect on their experiences and the lessons they are going to take home.

It is during these discussions that deep transformations take place: moments of clarity appear and life takes on a slower and more intentional pace. Nepal is a beautiful facilitator for this; I often tell students that it is okay to show their emotional side—so often we build walls to protect us from others as we feel they might ridicule or hurt us. What my students undergo in Nepal is so much than a travel experience, more worthwhile than a volunteering stint and much more enjoyable than mere tourism. The experience allows them to reframe their lives. Some make small changes, some change direction and others transform completely. One of my former students, Colin Cooper, who has been writing for The Kathmandu Post for the past few months, has returned to Nepal several times since and will likely continue to do so.

Other lessons are harder to learn. I recall a few years ago taking a group to a river in Chitwan to wash elephants—they were so excited. But as we arrived, a tragedy was unfolding. A local man had fallen off an elephant into the river and had not surfaced. A hot debate ensued between guides and mahouts about whether they should continue to wash elephants with the tourists, or empty the river. I removed our group from the area and explained what had happened, and we were reminded of just how fragile life can be. It provided perspective, too—we tourists allow our desires to drive us far beyond what is reasonable or safe, because we feel we have a right to.

We do not. Now, we leave the elephant-washing to the mahouts.

I suppose you might call our travel adventures a pilgrimage of sorts—there’s definitely a

spiritual dimension to what we do and I am proud to say that the true spirit of human kindness shines on each of our days in Nepal. But any success is a credit to the country, its people, and the power of change it can inspire.

Jeremy’s tour company website is www.impacttravel.co.uk

 

Posted on: 2011-09-03 09:10

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