"You don't look American," Exiting the Bowdoin Bubble, and other comments from IFYE Orientation

While I left home on Friday morning, I didn't immediately leave the country. Before my departure from the states (which has now put me in Tokyo waiting for my next flight), we had an orientation for both incoming (people visiting the U.S.) and outgoing (Americans visiting other countries) IFYEs. We definitely had some fun getting to know new people, visiting places of historical and cultural significance in this region of Illinois, and beginning to learn other cultural practices both through delegates' presentations and through listening to how the incoming delegates reacted to such things as Kmart and people's interactions. My favorite comment of this variety was when when the girls from Finland characterized American behavior as, "In America it is like everybody is always flirting"--that is, if guys were talking to girls as much in Finland as they do here, everyone would think he has a crush on her and wants to get her attention. Having been to Finland, I understand the differences to which they were referring, but I couldn't have put it so aptly.

Although I was still in my own country for this orientation, it was an experience with a "culture shock" of sorts--I graduated 3 1/2 weeks ago, but it wasn't until I left town that I could feel myself exiting the "Bowdoin Bubble." One the one hand, as I interacted with fellow Americans at this orientation there was a sense of camaraderie through recognizing familiar characteristics of 4-H people--4-Hers (at least in the West and Midwest) tend to have grown up in rural area, have many skills and are able to initiate the learning of skills they don't have, know loads of camp songs, know how to swing dance, and so on. In this sense, it was kind of like coming back to a community I haven't really seen in the past for years. On the other hand, as I interacted with my fellow Americans, I found myself a minority in terms of political and religious views and was the only person to have studied something as liberal-artsy as anthropology. These differences in opinion were by no means an obstacle to forming friendships, but it was a bit of a jolt to enter an environment in which the assumptions made in day-to-day conversations (or perhaps better described as the premises on which people's statements are made?) are shaped by viewpoints very different from my own. At first I was a little frustrated that it seemed like people with other views were failing to consider that the same issue might be seen in a different way, but I also realized the the dominant views in the Bowdoin Bubble likely lead to a similar pattern of certain ideas being assumed to be "true" or "right," but that those assumptions are less visible when they align with my own viewpoints.

In any case, this shock from exiting the bubble and the concurrent workshops that celebrated cultural difference made me wonder why it seems that many people are more willing to adopt (or try to adopt) an attitude that is respectful toward other people's cultural (and sometimes political and religious?) difference if those people are perceived to be "Other"--someone who, in the viewer's eyes, clearly "has" a different "culture" than him- or herself--than they are willing to adopt an attitude that respects other people's cultural/political/religious difference if those people are perceived to be a part of the same "group" as the viewer--for instance, people who, by virtue of being American citizens, purportedly share American culture. Perhaps these thoughts seem out of the blue or tangential to blog posts about an international exchange (or totally strange as a result of writing this as what is 3:30 am in EDT, the time zone my body still thinks it's in), but because I think that such an exchange should teach us something about ourselves, I think that taking note of the contrast between how similarity and difference are talked about in a program aiming to build cross-cultural understanding and how similarity and difference is treated within the U.S. raises the question--how might the positive attitude and openness encouraged between "cultures" be adopted within a setting such as the U.S. to foster more positive communication/interactions between people with differing views? If one is willing to accept and respect the cultural differences of people from Germany, Finland, Taiwan, or Scotland, why be unwilling to do the same for differences within one's own country? I, of course, have a slew of thoughts to begin to pick apart that question, but given that we're boarding in a few minutes, I'll just leave that question there--while I know there are plenty of theories about why that might be, I also think it's a good question to ask simply to begin to think how we might foster such attitudes toward people within our own countries who have different views.

On a lighter note, perhaps the most entertaining aspect of the whole weekend was that orientation organizers, delegates, and random passersby kept thinking I was from a different country. I guess a strange name like mine contributes to the confusion, but apparently it has to do with appearance as well. Several people commented when I corrected them about my origin, "But you don't look American!"

Revival

Hello? (A greeting that will likely echo through the unpopulated recesses of cyberspace given that the few folks who read my writing in the past have likely come to believe this blog has become inactive.)

So I haven't posted here in over a year...at first because I was in Bhutan without a computer, then because I was hiking a section of the Appalachian Trail for my anthropology honors project research, and then because I managed to misplace good health and have been attempting to regain that while also trying to complete my final undergraduate year. All of these experiences spurred the kind of thoughts that I would normally write about here. For instance, here are a few excerpts from my list of potential blog topics (raw notes, please excuse the sentence fragments and the like):
-->

• Inji [white tourist] things to do/tourist stereotypes in Nepal versus Bhutan 
• Cultural Pollution. Worst term ever. 
• Tibet and Bhutan: cultural preservation, yet also impermanence/acceptance of change?-->But there is maybe a difference between the philosophy and the practice? 
• Status/Capital through Compound bows in Bhutan 
• The multiple functions of archery (performance to various people); trad. game and changes (Eichberg).
• ...
•  privilege to be able to push one's self to the max
• visible vs. invisible losses
• Medical Authority. And how it can screw you over down the line
• Doing Patience All over again. You wait and you wait and things don't get any better but you just have to be patient and trust that maybe it will.

...and so on. Yet I didn't get around to writing extensively (yet?) about any of these things primarily because I've been through a (as they would say in some groups of young people) "rough sauce" year. During this year I've had to encounter many a medical professional who did not take me seriously, adapt to a completely different state of existence that could no longer include mindlessly pushing myself to the max, and lean on others for support in ways that I hadn't before.

In many ways, this year could be characterized by loss--the loss of physical strength and stamina, people I cared about, and the elusive potential of "what could have been." Yet the same events creating the challenges of the year also provided opportunity. These experiences brought about many lessons and changes in perspective, and this bout of misfortune helped bring my attention to just how fortunate I am to have such rich personal connections with a range of people that created possibly the best support network or safety net an ill person could have. I can't claim to have held such a positive and patient view throughout the whole mess (my many supporters can attest to my frustrated and unhappy moments), but even so, I would still say that rather than this being a year of loss, it might better be understood as an opportunity to discover lessons and perspectives that might not have otherwise been available to me--it was, as a friend of mine would say, a chance to explore the possibility of wisdom in illness.

So, what now? Well, I'm leaving the states again, this time to visit Taiwan and Vietnam as an International 4-H Youth Exchange Representative. For some of you this might seem crazy given the tumult of the past year--I, too, have wondered if this is in my health's best interest, but I am just going to have to trust that all will work out smoothly enough. (In my defense, I made these plans when it seemed obvious that I'd be back to full speed by this June.) Furthermore, as a recent college graduate, it is hard not to wonder if what I "should" be doing is something different. Yet my desire to reconnect with Montana and 4-H (which will happen primarily upon my return) and to better discern what to do next by seeing what kinds of topics, causes, or activities I gravitate toward when immersed in an unstructured learning environment convinces me that I haven't gone the "wrong" way.

With this new adventure I hope to start posting more regularly about happenings, observations, questions, etc. that arise from my time in each of these countries. Some of my primary goals for this experience are

• to learn about people's everyday lives in Taiwan and Vietnam with a level of detail and understanding that allows me to return to my home state and teach Montana youth in a manner that avoids "othering" the people in these countries and avoids essentializing or exoticizing their "cultures." Ideally, what I learn while abroad should help my presentations be an opportunity for youth to learn something about themselves and their attitudes toward other people as well as about the lifestyles of people in other areas of the world.
• to diminish the marked self-consciousness I have about speaking languages other than English with native speakers of those languages. I believe that I cannot reach the level of proficiency or fluency I desire in any of the languages I study if I do not step away from that reluctance to speak in front of native speakers.
• to start anew with my own everyday habits and work toward constructing a lifestyle that contributes to the sustainable management of health. Ideally, developing more reasonable habits while away from the more rushed and insanely busy environment of college will help such a lifestyle stick when returned to such environments (for instance, graduate school).
• to approach the many opportunities to learn while I'm in these countries open to all kinds of learning--these experiences and encounters can lead to not just intellectual growth, but also emotional, social, and even spiritual growth. I think often lessons are either missed or unexpected when they are noticed if we are focused on learning a particular "type" of lesson. 

So here's to the next grand adventure, friends. Hopefully I'll have some interesting insights or at least some entertaining anecdotes to share soon.

The image on a postcard given to me by a friend before my departure from my Bowdoin home. Well put, I'd say.

Doing Patience

            Today is our last day in Kathmandu, so I thought it would be a good opportunity to stop and reflect on the past month. A couple days ago, I learned the Tibetan vocabulary for talking about being patient. Whereas in English we say, “I am patient” or “you are patient or “she/he is patient” and “I/You have or He/she has patience,” the Tibetan version of trying to express the same idea—at least the way our gen-la taught it to us—translates into “I/you do patience” and “He/she does patience.” This difference in patience as a quality and patience as an action may seem insignificant to you. Just another one of those small oddities that arises from translating one language to another, you say. But I’ve latched on to this alternative perspective—I like that by becoming something that is done, patience can be practiced or developed as a skill. Some people might argue that “being patient” is also understood as a behavior one can practice to become better at, but I like that “doing patience” brings attention to the temporality of patience (the quality only exists as long as it is being acted out) and makes patience seem to be less of a personality trait (i.e. She is impatient/patient), something that is open for anyone to practice. The concept of “doing patience” has helped shape the way I look back on the past month.

            For one, I have been doing patience a lot. I absolutely loved learning Tibetan, but I’ll admit that the pace of the class frustrated me. Based on what I’ve heard from some of our staff who have learned Tibetan or seen students learn Tibetan in other courses with other institutions, I am very grateful I am where I am. According to them, our class was one of the fasted-pace classes they’ve seen. In any case, it felt like we kept repeating content and making tiny, tiny steps with out language skills. I managed to do enough patience to stay focused in class by keeping in mind the great respect I have for our gen-la (our teachers). In the end, I was also able to feel a little bit helpful in answering students’ questions that seemed to be misunderstood when asked in class. Anyone who knows me well understands that I’m a rather gung-ho, full-speed-ahead kind of a person, so you might be able to see how sitting in a class knowing I could be learning more and more quickly is difficult for me (especially after being spoiled by Bowdoin academics that tend to really push me). In that sense, I would view getting through these classes without getting too frustrated was the greatest challenge of this first period of the program. I think if I had the concept of “doing patience” in my mind earlier in the month, I would have had fewer moments of frustration during class time, but even now having just brought the concept into the equation in the past couple days, I have been able to look back on the month and appreciate the month (in addition, of course, to learning Tibetan!) as a chance to practice doing patience. Additionally, I feel that the combination of this month and the concept of doing patience will help me in the future when I find myself in situations where patience will be helpful.

            I also think that it might be helpful to think that if we can say one does patience, can’t we also say that one does frustration? And if one does frustration, one can also not do frustration. And I’m beginning to think that whether or not I do frustration is more in my control than I may have thought in the past. Another Tibetan word highlights this: like doing patience, diligence is also addressed in Tibetan as doing diligence instead of being diligent. I see the actions I do that can be considered diligent as very much intentional and in my control. (Indeed, I feel out of control of many things, but at least I can trust myself to always work hard.) Transferring that idea of intention and control to the doing (or not doing) of patience and frustration sets me up for doing more patience, doing less frustration, and, as a result, existing or participating in potentially frustrating situations without seeing them as such and without the visceral tension of frustration that makes such situations harder to enjoy.

            Another way in which “doing patience” ties into reflecting on our time in Kathmandu is that the difference in perspectives—that between being patient and doing patience—is an example of what might be deemed the “favorite part” of this first month. Just today one of my classmates asked me what my favorite part of being in Kathmandu was, and it is, of course, a challenging question to answer, both because there are many great things to recall in the past month and because “favorite” and “part” can be interpreted in so many different ways. What I ended up describing was the love for being able to take in what people do and say and how the landscape looks, feels, and smells, because it enables me to become aware of the multiple ways any given thing or activity can be done or thought about. It isn’t so much that it’s exciting because what I see, hear, smell, touch, or taste is always different—indeed I think I’ve seen a lot of similarities to aspects of home in addition to “different” things—but it’s exciting because it highlights possibility. It invites me to take into account that there isn’t just one way of doing something or thinking about something, that whichever “way” is most familiar to me is just one of many. Accepting or being aware of different ways of doing things is by no means a particularly new concept in how I navigate my own life, but in this reflection of the month, I bring it up as an extremely enjoyed aspect of being here. Just as my past journeys have shown me many ways of doing and thinking, Kathmandu has provided sights, sounds, and experiences that have added more options to what my mind can conceptualize as possibilities for carrying out human life.

            To wrap up this post, I just want to express my gratitude for all the people who have done patience with us as students, visitors, and temporary inhabitants of Kathmandu. Certainly our teachers, our host families, and the people with whom we’ve interacted on our various minor and major excursions to the city and beyond have engaged in doing patience to help was get from who we were before we got here to who we are now. On the one hand, I can’t believe I’ve already been here a month. On the other hand, I can’t believe I’ve only been here a month. It feels both long and short, and it’s hard to sort out which factors make it seem either. In terms of content, it’s really quite amazing what we’ve accomplished in a month—there is the language, which though not at my desired pace, resulted in knowing hundreds of words and many ways to use them, and then you can watch the way we talk about what we read and experience and see that together we’ve formed a setting in which we use terms regarding Buddhism and Tibetan history with the confidence that everyone in the group will understand what we’re saying. In that sense the time has felt long enough to accomplish such things. Living with a host family has been very enjoyable, but I don’t feel like I have been in Kathmandu long enough or spent enough time at my family’s house to really develop strong relationships with my amala, baala, and ajak. In that sense, the time has been short.

            So now we’re headed to Bhutan (land of the thunder dragon, if you care to know). Although some student groups have traveled to Bhutan during study abroad in the past, we’re kind of the guinea pigs for potentially setting up an SIT program in Bhutan in the future, so our group will be spending an entire month there. After that is the independent study project period, and it’s shaping up that I’m going to be staying in Bhutan for that month as well. Of course, who knows what could happen? As our program director says, all plans are subject to change. Let us see what happens!

            (There probably will be few to no posts during that time, because I’ve decided to leave my computer here at the program house. There will be computers and internet in Bhutan, of course, which I will inevitably be using to get my summer work in order and do silly things like register for classes, but I don’t know if I’ll be spending much time doing other silly things like writing blog posts.)

And for you visually-oriented folks:

The Wheel of Life, seen painted on monastery walls, basically contains through symbols the Buddhist understanding how the universe works. Maybe sometime when I get a chance I'll write about all the different parts of this image. For the time being, I'll just note that I find it notable that this expression of Buddhist teachings does not require literacy. It reminds me of the murals in the churches we went to during Western Civilization which were able to portray the stories from the Bible to illiterate followers.

This is the Shechen Monastery in Boudha. They have training for Buddhist philosophy and art and have many opportunities for people coming from other parts of the world to study.

Mani ("prayer wheels," though they are related to mantras not prayers) have mantras written on many layers of metal that are wrapped around to form the cylinders, which are spun in a clockwise direction to multiply the merit gained by reciting the mantra printed on the mani. These manis have the mantra for the Bodhisattva of Compassion (whose emanation is the 14th Dalai Lama), "om mani padme hum," written on them. Tibetans recite mantras in Sanskrit rather than translating them to Tibetan, because it is the sounds of the words themselves which have power.

This is a water source in Patan that is in the middle of being repaired. We spent an afternoon walking around Patan learning about the dependence of structural heritage on living heritage and the dependence of living heritage on natural resource management. Patan seems to have it down pretty well--their water system has been function since 537 AD!

This image shows my favorite mudra (a symbolic gesture with one's hands in Hinduism and Buddhism), which is the varada mudra signifying generosity, giving, compassion, forgiveness for self and others...those kinds of things which I find very important.

The outside of a well. The center part appears to be a carving of the 8 Auspicious Symbols. The snakes are significant, because the snake gods, Nagas, control the water. Wells are cleaned once a year during a specific festival, and people will send a light down into the well. If the snake gods are angry, the light goes out, and people know not to send people down. Sound like a similar test that happens in our own wells?

An interesting name for a restaurant...

Just to clear up the debate (as there has been one here at SIT): there are monkeys in Kathmandu. This one was doing kora one morning on the rooftops around the stupa.

The Stupa (and Chapel) as Centerpiece

If you were to take a look at my photo albums of the Bowdoin campus, you might be shocked at the large number of photos I have of Bowdoin’s chapel. It’s not so much that the chapel as it functions as a chapel plays any part in my life, but instead it serves as a physical centerpiece to my habitual pathways. The chapel enters my vision many times throughout any given day. The chapel is also incredibly photogenic, what with its twin spires, massive door, and gray stone that contrasts with its surroundings. With the aid of changing light, it becomes a common subject of my photographs.

Similarly, the past three weeks have been spent almost entirely in the Boudhanath area of Kathmandu. In this short time I have developed habitual patterns, as well, often going to do kora at the stupa in the mornings before class, walking to school from there, sometimes adventuring back to the stupa during our break before lunch, and often returning to the stupa with classmates in the evening if we have a bit of time before curfew. It’s not that the stupa is the only place to go in Boudhanath. Indeed, I do wish that I’d taken some of those times to venture off in other directions, yet despite the repetitiveness of where I spend my time, there is never a shortage of people and activities to watch from any vantage point around the stupa. Like the chapel, the stupa is quite photogenic, and with various angles of light and even more angles from which to view the stupa, it has become the chapel of my photographic existence here in Boudha.

I find it interesting that the Boudha stupa, like the Bowdoin Chapel, is both the physical centerpiece and a prime photographic subject for me, because each is a structure for religious practice. Perhaps that shows the importance or ubiquity of religion in both societies. But it is also somewhat interesting that patterns of movement and my camera lens is so focused on such structures, since religion has never been a significant part of my life. In any case, religious places and light…