A day in the life of a Dolpa-ite:

The early morning mountains and clouds reflected in the mirror.

Rise and shine early in the morning at 0530. Battle porters staying at our “hotel” for the very dirty, smelly, grimy squat toilets. Sometimes a hike, but always meditation, yoga, core work. Tea. Wash face, and look up into the mirror to be astounded by the view reflected: three large mountains dominate the background, with a deep river running between them. Splash a little water out for Mickey Mouse and Donald, the two ducks who hang around the dining area. Rarely a shower. (By “rarely” I mean about every five days… or every week.) Plan lessons. Read books.

Lunch at 0900. Dal bhaat.

School at 0930. Assembly, including a very out-of-tune-but-oh-so-cute Nepali national anthem, followed by a shouted prayer of which none is most likely understood by the supplicants, and yet still so adorable.
Class 1: LKG (Lower Kindergarten) Science. The hassle of an American woman trying to wrangle twenty-three 4-9year old children who don’t speak English into learning about family trees. “Chup lagera basa” (“shush and sit down”) is my favorite phrase here.
Class 2: UKG (Upper Kindergarten) Science: A group of five fairly well behaved little munchkins who love to learn. Biplop knows almost every answer and is often my translator for the rest of the class. Sushila and Saugat are barely a step behind him in brainpower. They dazzle me.

Concentrating very hard on the morning prayer.

UKG working at their studies.

Break for the volunteers at 1110-1345. Time to read, plan lessons, chat with the trekkers whose supplies and porters have taken over most of the yard, and eat a small snack (Tiffin here, instead of lunch)… usually the apples which make Dolpa famous throughout Nepal. Mmmmm, the taste of autumn.

Back to school at 1345. Periods 6 and 7 with Class I: a group of older children some of whom are very bright, and a few of whom would rather cause mischief instead of learn English. Difficulties.

School ends at 1505. Spend time tutoring Tarak’s son Saugun (UKG), who oftentimes mysteriously disappears into the kitchen and under the arm of his grandmother as soon as the word “book” is spoken (we all know how nanas are). Work in Tarak’s shop so he’s free to roam around a little; sell the locals noodles, biscuits, and cigarettes with very poor Nepali and much gesturing. Help Im, the cook, in the kitchen chopping tomatoes or garlic, while trying to memorize the seven different kinds of masala he uses to cook his dal bhaat.

Tarak in his shop

Me, Im, and Sam in the kitchen during dal bhaat lessons!

Me stirring the tarkari at supper.

Supper at 1900 hours. Then some time reading the Odyssey aloud to Sam and Sarah, discussions, laughter, maybe a much-desired and very expensive chocolate bar. And, gratefully, but with the uneasy feeling that I might already be 75 years old, to bed around 2100 hours.