Nepal Arrival

Checking in here, early Saturday morning, December 14, 2012.  Reading some very sad news from back in the US that is bringing a somber feeling this morning.  As we drove through the understated chaos on the streets of Kathmandu today, I asked Navan if crime was a serious problem in Kathmandu, with the densely packed population of about 1 million and little police or military presence.  "Daniel my friend, our culture is built upon peace and compassion.  We have been taught by our families respect each other, regardless of background, social level and religion.  And besides, surviving day-to-day is hard enough- why make it more difficult with hate and violence?"  I'm not here for social commentary, but in the three days that I have been here, I have felt a backdrop of peace and calm in the midst of what appears to be complete disarray in Kathmandu.

The author should not need to apologize, but as seems to be the case when I travel to a place like Kathmandu, I come with the goal of keeping a detailed account of observations, sensations and experiences and sharing those in real-time with people that care to follow.  As is typically the case, the over-stimulation and sensual overload of a new place leaves me overwhelmed and exhausted by the end of each day and unable to do a reasonable job of organizing thoughts into text.  We've thrown this poor Colorado farm boy out into a big world!

In addition, the purpose of this journey is not only to explore a new place and culture, but to enter into an indigenous community and to whatever extent possible, take part in the daily life of the people, learn about their way of living, and to use my knowledge and experience to help them to improve their quality of living while maintaining the tradition and culture.  While we are here to provide help and teach the people of Kumari, it will surely be the case that we will be the ones receiving help and knowledge.  Later this morning, we will load up in a beat up old Land Rover, and my friend Jagat Lama will take us to his home and welcome us into his community.  I enter with an open mind, a warm spirit, and a compassionate heart.  I hope to return having had a glimpse into a new culture, having made new friends, having gained new knowledge and wisdom, and having shared my limited experience to ease the daily struggles of the people of Kumari.

So far, this adventure has been a test of endurance, starting with the drive from Tribhuvan airport to the Mountain Volunteer House (MVH), where I am staying in Kathmandu.  After exiting the airport through the crowd of insistent taxi drivers and meeting Jagat and Usha, Jagat negotiated with a taxi driver and we loaded into the small, 4-door, white, hatchback and progressed into the city on a roughly paved road joining hundreds of other cars, trucks and busses with any and all gaps being filled by motorcycle, bicycle, pedestrian, feral dog and bovine animal!  And the adventure promptly begins!  A seeming free-for-all commenced, with each occupier of the road moving ahead and looking for a gap to fill and making liberal use of the horn to establish their presence.  The 25 hours of airplane travel prior to arriving in Kathmandu was easy compared to this!  Arriving at the MVH, Usha promptly prepared a Nepali black tea and I dropped my backpack and collapsed into a patio chair in the warm sunshine.  Jagat left me to rest and the sisters, Tina and Usha (16 and 19), who care for the house, showed me to my dorm room and helped me to settle in.  Namaste.

With Jagat Lama

The sisters in the courtyard at the house

I napped for a couple of hours then took the opportunity to explore the surroundings.  The mostly residential section, with tightly packed, 2-3 story stone and masonry homes and narrow winding roads/alleys, is directly adjacent to a large shopping complex with small outdoor vendors selling vegetables, handicrafts, cheap novelty gifts, knives, nuts and herbs.  Being outside of the tourist area, I immediately caught the attention of nearly everyone that I passed, but was often greeted with a meeting of hands and "namaste".  Dana, all 6 ft 4 in of him plus a large backpack and suitcase, arrived later in the evening after 2-days of travel, including an 8-hour stint in Guangzhou, and looked as though he had walked/swam from Salt Lake City.  We spent the next day in recovery incubation, with the sisters being most hospitable.  Jagat and Carolyn joined us at the house in the afternoon to discuss the schedule for the trip and necessary supplies and provision that we would gather for Kumari.  After a delicious, home-cooked rice, Thai noodle stir-fry, and vegetable curry dinner generously prepared by Usha.  Dana, I and the sisters sat around the living room, Dana and I catching up on happenings back in Utah and amusing ourselves with the excited conversation that the sisters were having which would frequently shift into Nepali song and laughter.  The small dog, Jimi, sacked out at my feet and oblivious to the whole scene.  This continued until 8pm, when the power load-shedding kicked-in.  Lights throughout the city immediately shut-off and the sisters retired to their room where they studied by flashlight, preparing for a busy day of school and work at the house the following day.

Gopi Lama, a friend of Jagat's, came with his car Friday morning at 10am, just as Dana and I were waking from an after breakfast nap.  We spent a thrilling day with Gopi and his friend Navan, navigating through the streets of Kathmandu, visiting beautiful Buddhist stupas and Hindu temples tucked into various parts of the city, ascending the stairs to the  Monkey Temple to take refuge from the heavily polluted air in the city, wandering through the narrow streets lined with outdoor shops in Thamel district, and meeting with Jagat and Carolyn to finish the day with a delicious traditional Nepali dinner and traditional dance.  An amazing tour of Kathmandu thanks to Gopi and Navan, and an incredible evening thanks to Jagat!  Being thoroughly exhausted, we returned to the house and immediately collapsed into a heavy sleep.  Tomorrow, onward to Kumari and a slower-paced, rural life.

It is almost certain that internet access will be non-existent in the villages, which means that I bid you all farewell for the next 3 weeks.

PS.  See this facebook album for more photos: 

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100757549736243.2632393.19200474&type=1&l=a5b2b3a50c

The yankee sails!

"To young men contemplating a voyage, I would say go."    -Joshua Slocum

Photos from a 5-day cruise in the Finnish archipelago aboard Iiris.

Our skipper, Dave, loads provisions onto Iiris, our 13 meter home for the next several days

Fellow deckhand enjoying the evening sun on deck before we depart

Kevin and Esa in the cockpit

A bit of wind, "Cut the engine and raise the mainsail!"

Greenhorn at the helm of Iiris in the archipelago

Ella takes the wheel as Laura watches on as we cruise the archipelago

Lying around in the cabin

Winds have picked up and we're keeled over

On land and out for a hike among the rocks

The small community on the island (pop. 10) hosted a midsommer party where 3 generations of musicians entertained a lively bunch of sailors and locals full of crawfish and schnapps

Boats landed at the harbor

Back to sea in the Baltic

Found a nice spot at the bow with the main and jib carrying us through back home to Naantali

Across the Baltic

As we rumbled into the Turku (Swedish: Åbo, "oh-bo") harbour, Silja line employees came around to each cabin on the boat.  A bit of a rude awakening, but very necessary to ensure a quick and efficient unloading of boats inhabitants.  Quick shower, load the packs, and out the cabin door just in time to make a quick exit, passing by a lone and forgotten men's, brown leather dress shoe in the hallway- probably an artifact from the previous night's festivities.

Exiting the mighty Galaxy, spilling out of the bridge with our shipmates onto the harbour where everyone quickly dispersed into the train station, taxis or cars with waiting friends and family.  We continued on by foot, first making a stop at Turku Castle, one of the oldest continuously used edifices in Finland dating back to the 13th century.  After a stroll around the empty castle grounds, we continued along the boardwalk next to the Aura River where retired tall-ships converted to fancy restaurants and bars were docked.  A boardwalk cafe was opening for the day so we claimed an outdoor table and enjoyed strong coffee and lax and hard-boiled egg sandwiches.  An older couple out for a morning walk with their nordic walking poles saw my backpack and kindly inquired about where we were coming from. "USA, Colorado/Utah area," I answered.  "Oh, a good ski place," the man replied.  I raised my cup, smiled and nodded as they continued along, poles in hand moving in stride with their footsteps.

As Turku was his home while he was a graduate student, Kevin reminisced about different places in town as we continued walking along the Aura and then into the city center where we stopped in at the tourist information center for a much needed bathroom, and then to the central market where vendors were beginning their day, selling fruit, vegetables, berries and mushrooms.  We scored a half-kilo of lingonberries and a bag of salmiakki candy, a peculiar black-liquorice candy with an overwhelming, tongue-numbing ammonium chloride salt powder core.  I called it good after one and rinsed my mouth out with a few handfuls of lingon.

With the sun shining brightly we crossed the bridge over the Aura and up a grassy hill to one of Turku's beautiful parks, passing markers along the path up the steep hill which indicated the sea level at different points throughout history (rise of land masses due to post-glacial isostatic rebound, about 1 cm/year in this area).  Without enough time for a thorough visit, we passed by the Luostarinmäki, a traditional Finnish village and now a museum exhibiting the fine, sturdy Finnish woodworking and architecture.  

Now, with my stomach rumblin' and nearly ready for feeding, we made our way toward the university campus, first making a stop at the Turku Cathedral, the mother church of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Finland, originally constructed in the 13th century.  We popped inside to muse at the cavernous interior and listen to the church's organist, who was apparently practicing for the coming weekend's service.  A very impressive structure, especially given the age and the fact that it had been partially destroyed during the Great Fire of Turku in 1827.

The campus at Åbo Akademi University was quiet, as the new semester was still one week away.  We made our way to the department of chemical engineering just in time for fika (coffee break!), where several of the graduate students, administrative staff and professors were gathered around large tables in the break room, chatting over coffee and homemade pastries.  The entire room immediately looked up at the two ripe vagabonds, several recognizing Kevin, and welcoming us to join them.  We filled cups of coffee from the automated machine, which I fumbled through not being able to interpret the numerous options available.  Within five minutes most of the room had cleared out as fika abruptly ended with only a few folks hanging around to chat with us.  I entertained Levenspiel's theory of atmospheric pressure during the time of the dinosaurs while Kevin caught up with former colleagues until we had the pleasure of joining Professor Mikko Hupa, renowned expert on biomass utilization for energy and fuel production, for a delicious Finnish buffet lunch complete with mashed potatoes and various types of pickled fish.

We finished our visit at the university, wielded our backpacks and walked into central Turku to rendezvous with Kevin's friend Dave to begin what would be another great adventure over the coming days on the Finnish Archipelago.

Introduktion: Stockholm

I was up early with my body still on Colorado time (if there is such a thing).  The air was cool and wet, reminded me of Venice in November (haha, I can say that!)- damp sheets and everything cool to the touch.  Skyped for a bit, attempted to force myself back to sleep and then succumbed when I heard people stirring upstairs.  A quick breakfast of soygurt, muesli and strong, black coffee (the Swedish way) and we were on our way, first boarding the Pendeltåg into the Stockholm city center.  The train was relatively full with commuters, both workers and students (college and younger), most with their noses in their iPhone.  We arrived in the central station (Stockholm C) and made our way from the train platform to the surface and out onto Sergel's Torg ("ser-yells tor-ye", Sergel's Square), a bustling, modern city square in downtown Stockholm- site of sporting victory celebrations, regular protests and demonstrations, and apparently, drug dealing.  The area was quite busy, with folks on their way to work and tourists like myself, wandering around obstructing the flow of pedestrian traffic.

While in the neighborhood, I figured I would make my first visit to my new friends at the Swedish Fulbright Commission on Vasagatan (gatan = street) just down the way from Sergel's.  A ride up a very Swedish elevator (just big enough for the two of us) and we arrived at the office.  Eric and Monica were very welcoming and gave me a quick rundown on the preparations that they had made, including a Swedish bank account (not easy to get apparently) and personal ID number (also difficult to obtain).  In addition, they have organized monthly social events during which the Fulbrighters will gather.  I'll be bugging these folks quite a bit over the next year, thanks Eric and Monica!

We wandered hastily around the city center for a bit, walking past modern clothing stores and office buildings.  As we continued about I noticed a couple of things about Stockholm that seemed different from other cities that I have seen.  Everywhere we went things seemed very clean and orderly.  No trash in the gutters, cigarette butts on the sidewalk, even the garbage cans and surrounding areas were tidy.  There was some amount of vehicle traffic, and by this time presumably most people were already at work, but I didn't see backed up traffic or even large numbers of cars that we might see near the business center of an American city.  Much of the vehicle traffic appeared to be municipal and service vehicles: garbage trucks, delivery, taxis.  Most people were on foot or bicycle, and the folks that were driving were very courteous to us non-motorized cats.  These, along with the docile and unobnoxious people, made Stockholm a comfortable and welcoming place, which was quite nice given that I had been in the country for just over one day.   Lastly, there didn't appear to be any homeless or pandhandlers, or maybe just not in the city center.  Possibly all products of high tax rates and a generous welfare system?  I have much to learn.

Continue.  We sauntered into Hötorget ("huhr-tor-yet", haymarket) where a vibrant fruit and vegetable market greeted us with lingonberries and bounties of bright yellow kanterella mushrooms.  We pecked on some berries in front of the Konserthuset (Stockholm Concert Hall), which was housing a Banksy exhibition and will later host the Nobel Prize Ceremony (interesting contrast).

A hop over the bridge and we entered Gamla stan ("old town"), a small island between Norrmalm and Södermalm (the "north" and "south" islands), home to many of the iconic narrow cobble streets and medieval architecture which dates back to the 13th century, including the Nobel Museum, the Stockholm Cathedral, the Riddarholmen Church (burial site of Swedish monarchs), and the Kungliga slottet, Sweden's baroque royal palace.  Gamla stan is definitely an area to devote a good amount of time to:  admiring at the well preserved architecture, people-watching at outdoor cafes in open plazas, and visiting the many historic sites.  Despite the tourists and novelty gift shops, I will be back to Gamla stan.  But onward we go, time was short and still more to see before the end of the day!

We made our way toward the Skeppsbron ("the ship's bridge") harbor and onto a ferry, my trusty blue SL card coming through for me again providing free access to the ferry.  The small, steel, motorized boat puttered into the harbor, providing a nice view of Gamla stan behind us, the cliff boundary at Stadsgården to the south, and the pleasant traditional Swedish architecture of the prestigious harbor-side hotels, shops and apartments on Strandvägen (beach road) to the north.  I wandered about the boat for a few minutes thinking that I could find a "toalette", opening a door to a maintenance room and trying several others that were locked, looking like another confused American tourist.  We exited the ferry after making a round about the island Djurgården and then landing on the opposite side of it, near the Vasa museum, which houses the salvaged 17th century ship of the same name that sunk on it's maiden voyage near Stockholm.  With still an hour or so before our Silja ferry departed, we enjoyed a pint at an expensive harbor-side cafe, during which the rain abruptly started to pour down from the overcast sky.

And the rain continued to come down.  We stood stranded under a tree, the leaves of which soon became saturated with water which then transferred on to us who were hoping to find shelter under it.  Standing water began to fill the streets and cars and buses passing through were generating sizable sprays onto the sidewalks which were now empty.  "This is pretty typical," Kevin informed me, as rainwater dripped down the end of his nose.  We bailed on our tree position and found a crowded hotel canopy to stand underneath until the rain finally began to subside and we evac'd in order to reach the ferry loading area where drivers were pulling their cars onto the first and second decks.  A convenient automated kiosk dispensed our tickets to us and we passed through the a futuristic automated gate contraption to enter the bridge which transported us to the 11-deck, Class 1A icebreaker Silja Galaxy, holding 2,800 passengers and 420 automobiles and powered by four Finnish manufactured Wärtsilä V-32 diesel engines, totaling about 35,000 hp.

Our room was on the ninth deck, a 3 x 2 m enclosure with a bathroom, window, and two single beds separated by a small walkway.  We ditched our bags in the room and bolted for a spot with a good view on the upper deck.  The sun was setting and the air was cooling down.  All of the surfaces on the boat were cold to the touch, giving a subtle discomfort.  But, we were now at sea, a new adventure which overcame the discomfort.  Dusk set in as the big ferry rumbled through the archipelago, passing islands small and large, speckled with colorful summer cottages (interestingly the ferries are engineered to create very little wake to minimize shoreline erosion on the islands in the archipelago).  After an hour or so, the dusk was finally drawing down to darkness and only the flashing red and green navigational beacons lining the shipping channel were visible.  Time for a beer.  We found a spot at one of the many pubs on the concessions level of the ferry.  Two Guiness', please.  A nice looking gypsy troubador, who we later found out was Hungarian, performed American pop songs from the 1960-70s, adding a little "yee-haw" to the end of every song.  Two more Guiness'.  A couple of hours of that, the boat clipping along now on the open sea just outside of the Åland islands.  On my way back to the room I stopped in at the performance auditorium to find a lively scene of 20 or so of my shipmates getting down on the dance floor to "Billy Jean".  All ages- grandmothers, fathers, teenage daughters; and it didn't appear that they were slowing down, even at 2am with about four hours until we landed in Finland.  Tempted to join in the festivities, but utterly desecrated by jet-lag and Guiness, I retired to my cabin and quickly drifted into sleep to the faint rumble of the boat hull breaking through open water.  A few hours of shuteye before landfall.

Välkommen: A new chapter

Here we go, back again to whisp you away on another whimsical adventure.  It's been some time since I've checked in here, but I've managed to bag a couple more years in old Salt Lake, and a few letters on the back end of my name in the process.  After a total shot in the dark, I've landed myself a Fulbright Fellowship which has planted me in Sverige (pronounced Sver-ee-yuh, which means "Sweden") for the next year in an effort to share culture, establish connections and learn about different forms of energy production in one of the most efficient and cleanest energy producers in the world.  Yup, young Sween from little Waverly, Colorado headed over to the old world to chum it up with our ancestors and right all the wrongs of the world (or vise-versa)!

Leaving the States was a bit panicked (big surprise, right?) and melancholy.  We had a nice little cookout in Liberty Park to say farewell to the Salt Lake crowd and a mighty fine get-together at the Sweeney compound (aka. The Weasel Duck Ranch) back in Fort Collins. Some barbecued  homegrown beef, beers, tears and a few hugs and I was on my way.  Ahh-dee-yos.

During the flight over I broke the ice and struck up some conversation with the fellas sitting near me.  Henry, a basketball player from Houston, was making his first trip to Sweden and, coincidentally, heading up to Luleå ("loo-lee-o"), a city approximately 60 km (that's about 40 miles for ya folks back home) from where I would be living. He had been recruited to play for the professional team in town called LF Basket.  Oyvind, a photographer originally from Norway and now living in Stockholm, was on his way back from a photo shoot in New York City.  We had some good laughs and a couple of beers, then popped a melatonin and drifted into an uncomfortable but much needed sleep.  The attractive flight attendant awoke me with a tasty but undersized breakfast and before we knew it we were touching down through overcast skies at Arlanda Airport in Stockholm, blanketed in greenery and lush forest over all areas that weren't covered in road or building.

After making my way through the terminal, featuring linear, wood based architecture, and a failed attempt to negotiate a reasonably priced cab ride, I decided to try my hand at the public transportation after receiving some sparse instructions on how to get to my destination. "First, get on the #86 bus to the Märsta train station. Then board the J36 pendeltåg commuter toward the central station and change to the J35 Bålsta train at the Karlberg station and ride to the Barkarby station, then a couple of hundred meter walk and you'll be there!"  It was a bit too much for me to put together in the state that I was in, but I took a shot in the dark, and was pleasantly surprised to find that my first mass transit experience was relatively painless.  Within an hour or so I was on the front steps of Kevin's house in Järfälla, ready for a smoked salmon sandwich on rye and a much needed nap.

Residential area in  Järfälla, a suburb of Stockholm

A few hours of napping and then off for a lovely walk through the neighborhood streets of Järfälla with Kevin, Elisia and the dog, Lea.  The weather was overcast, but relatively comfortable.  The humidity in the air keeps the skin moist and the hair curly, with a similar feel to that of the Northern Pacific Coast.  The streets were very active with other walkers, some using the traditional nordic method with trekking poles, and bicyclists.  Young and old, and everyone very healthy looking.  Nearly every house was lush with foliage, well kept and very cozy looking.  Oh, and nearly every vehicle is a Volvo stationwagon (yeah!).

Still with no introduction to the city center, and completely disoriented with no mountains for reference and dense forest covering every undeveloped section of land, the jet lag was kicking in, and with much in store for tomorrow it was time for another sleep in my cool basement flat.  Veggie curry, sauna, a shower and sleeee... 

Tomorrow, off for a train, boat and walking tour of Stockholm and then boarding the Silja line ferry to Finland for a weekend in the Finnish Archipelago.  Stay tuned!

Your's truly,

Daniel Joseph Sweeney XIV