Musings from early October at Osel Ling

SURROUND SOUND:

A full one half of the monastery is surrounded by mountains while the other side looks out over the sprawling cement city that is Katmandu. During this time of year, as the rainy season gives way to the clear, cooler days of autumn, thunderstorms are almost a daily occurrence. The sound of the thunder as it rolls over the valley, traveling from mountain to mountain, is better than any Dolby digital experience I've ever had.

THE DOGS:

I've finally gotten friendly with the monastery dogs; as I've watched the typical ear-pulling and body-hugging they get from the kids I've relaxed a bit and feel it's safe to assume that these are likely not rabid attack dogs. (Although to hear the way they bark all night you'd never guess it!) I've actually given them all names (something not common here) and have enjoyed hanging out with them in the afternoon sun on the steps leading up to the temple. There's Princess, a small, white, fluffy dog from the mountains, whose breed is used as foot warmers, seriously. He's a bit of a diva, thus the name, and the only dog that gets a collar and indoor privileges. Next there's Big Mama, a lanky black dog with a swollen stomach that houses a litter of puppies due to make their appearance in the next few weeks, far as we can tell. Then there's Bandit, one of Big Mama's last litter (the rest of the puppies were given away) - he's a year old and still a little nippy, very curious, and fearless yet patient with the mini monks. There's Bear, a hulking black dog with longer hair, clearly the pack leader and not very social with the humans here. There are two more I don't see much - another black dog whose missing an ear and a black and tan dog that spends most of his time in the grassy knoll and football field behind the monastery. Lastly there's Goldy, the newest member of the Monk Pack and so extremely submissive. She rolls over onto her back on sight and all you have to do is scratch her belly and she blisses out (tongue hanging, tail wagging, eyes rolled up in her head, blissed out). I know they have enough food, water and space to call their own, and that's more than most dogs have here.

DINNER - Sunday: Last night's carbo soup happened to also have bits of meat in it (left over from the meat feast a few days ago) and so Joules and I left the kitchen with empty bowls. We'd both bought emergency rations earlier this week (me, a can of baked beans and her, some packaged noodle soup) but we couldn't cook our Plan B's because the power was out. I considered eating the beans cold but decided to save them for another time. Instead, we poured some Indian snack mix (little potato sticks, various nuts, raisins and lots of spices) into bowls and ate it with spoons like dry cereal, giggling a bit along the way. Tonight's dinner was the pasta clumps in spicy broth with bitter green leaves, which I was hungry enough to eat but Joules couldn't quite stomach. I told her that in a week she'd be chowing down like me and I thought she'd best give it a go as it was twelve long hours before bean soup breakfast. She took a few bites and we ate in silence for a while before she broke the reverie with, "Eh, I've eaten worse". For some reason, many of the things she says are funnier because of her proper English accent, this being one of them, and I laughed out loud. "I mean they're really just concrete blobs, aren't they?" We decided to save some of the beans from tomorrow's breakfast to add to the pasta broth (maybe noodles, maybe rice, maybe blobs) we're likely to have for dinner. It's good to have a comrade.

DINNER REDUX - Monday: Tonight was noodles in broth with green leaves, which on its own is somewhat less than satisfying, but add breakfast bean soup and voila! you have a rather hearty meal! We were admittedly quite pleased with ourselves and happy to go to bed with full stomachs.

TEACHING: Ah yes, there's that. With Picnic over and Emily gone, I took over one of the Senior classes today. I was trying to assess their grasp of English and so was asking them some basic questions and for the most part they knew how to answer. I learned they range in age from 16 - 19, some are from Nepal, some from Tibet, they all have siblings, they've been in the monastery for 6 - 9 years, and studying English for one of those years. Next I asked them if they were told to come to class or if they chose to come to class. They all answered that they chose to come to class. I asked why and they said they wanted to learn to speak and write English. I asked why they wanted to learn English and...crickets. "Because it is useful", one of them chirped up. "How will you use it? What will you do with it?", I asked. "Verb!", came the response. Hmmm.

I'm no imperialist and I have wondered at the value of Buddhist monks learning English, but as it has been explained to me, many of the monks will go on to become lay people and knowing English will give them an advantage in the job market. Also, many of the monks want to be able to share their philosophy with the world (although they are NOT about converting anyone to anything, one of the most attractive aspects of Buddhism in my book) and English is the gateway language for that. I've been trying to focus on speaking and listening; they've been soft-wired to learn by rote and would rather copy lists and memorize but without an auditory component that they actually participate in, I'm afraid they may be able to list 40 irregular verbs but won't be able to tell anyone say, what they had for breakfast or why they want to learn English. So many of the resources here and the ones I brought with me are either culturally irrelevant to the point of hilarity (not much use for the "Who's my date?" or "Describe your bedroom" exercises) or they're obscure ("The ABC's of Asthma" - the actual title of a book in our 'library'.) Thankfully there are a few useful books and Joules and I both brought games and markers and flashcards and some other activities that should come in handy. There's not a curriculum per se (something Bhupi is very interested in establishing in the near future), so we'll figure it out as we go, day by day. Which is actually a very Buddhist way to do it.