Happy Birthday to Mirinda!

Our second day in Jumla happened to be my birthday. We were settled in our rooms at Pooja Pattarasi Hotel in Chautara where we were to be based for the first half of shooting. This is also my Jumla family, the people and community that I have forged bonds with over the past year and a half. We had the warmest welcome when we arrived and were covered in garlands of marigolds and red tikas across our foreheads as soon as we arrived in the village.

My birthday was our first full day of shooting and the first time that I felt like I was actually ‘directing’. We were up at the crack of dawn to shoot Rama’s morning routine and the day wound round the twists of village activities from there. Rama was also making a buckwheat cake for me, so of course, we shot that too. By the evening, we’d been shooting for over twelve hours and now the festivities were getting underway.

I didn’t really know what to expect as I was under the impression that people don’t really celebrate birthdays here, but that was certainly not the case. The upstairs room where we held the training in May was set up with a table and my birthday cake with what seemed like far too many candles on it. On the white board behind, in big letters ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MIRINDA’ and the date. A chair placed like a throne at the table with a cloth over it and I was ushered into my seat facing the room of smiling faces seated on benches and chairs.

Everyone started clapping and I was instructed to light my candles. Rama had to come to assist me as it was taking me so long to light them all. And all the while, the clapping continued. Eventually my cake was ablaze, I made a wish and blew and a garbled rendition of Happy Birthday to You was sung. All very birthday and incredibly sweet. What I wasn’t expecting was what came next. One by one, everyone in the room came to wish me happy birthday, giving me a red tika in ever increasing smudges on my forehead and cutting a piece of cake and feeding it to me. I soon realised that I was supposed to also feed them a slice. Soon half my face was red and half the cake was gone – half of it in my tummy.

Singing and dancing followed and then the rakshi was brought up. More singing, more food. It was a really special birthday. The effort everyone made was incredibly moving and half the village came to wish me well. I don’t think such a fuss has been made of my birthday in a long time. Combining the evening’s festivities with the full day of shooting, when I went to bed, I knew I would sleep well. It was a wonderful day. And I was a director.

Whirlwind tour of Tihar

I arrived back in Nepal a fortnight ago and I've barely had a moment to catch up with my thoughts or words on the page. Sophie, my partner in Shakti Pictures and DP/co-director on the film project was due to arrive a week later, just in time for Tihar Festival and there was much to do to prepare (not to mention helping my friend move house).

I must admit, it is great to be back. Had a few Nepali classes in an attempt to dust the cobwebs off what I had learnt earlier in the year. Made sure all our travel arrangements were confirmed and an array of other bits and bobs to ensure that once Soph arrived, all would run smoothly. And shopped for my friends new house and house-warming party!

To her credit, after a 24 hour journey, Soph managed to take it all in her stride and showed only a mere hint of jet lag. The hustle and bustle (illuminated during festival time), noise and dust and sheer quirky madness of Kathmandu didn't faze her. It was good timing, as once the festival was underway, there were less people and traffic in town as people return home to their families.

Tihar is the festival of lights and all over Kathmandu, shops and homes string lights and lay out little oil candles to coax Laxmi to bless their homes. In the meantime, groups of enthusiastic children make a tidy sum from going from house to house singing and dancing - doing incredibly elaborate routines, I might add! One boy in particular clearly has access to music videos. He was impressive to say the least. Think Nepali folk dance mixed with breakdancing - not something you see every day!

this beautiful piece of artwork was on the street made of grains, rice and petals

Tihar lights adorn the whole city.

We did a manic drive-by viewing from one side of town to the other,
just to get an idea of the festivities

On the Friday of Tihar we flew to Pokhara where children continued to busk the neighbourhoods and lights make it feel like Christmas. I was able to introduce Sophie to my family at Bishnu Lodge and EWN. But days later and we were on the move again - in car bound for Nepalganj (11 hours).

I write now from a darkened room in Nepalganj, probably disturbing the sleep of my production team, but I wanted to send out a brief update before we disappear into the mountains of Jumla where internet accessibility is somewhat limited.

If and when I can (power, net & time permitting), I will be doing blog updates that are more specifically about the shooting experience on the Shakti Pictures blog.

Road Trip

Once again, the time slips by so easily and suddenly I'm on the verge of another phase of life. My few months in California slipped by and now I am back in Nepal.

Before I left, I had the opportunity to go on a short road trip with my Dad who was visiting from London. While his intrepid wife rafted and camped down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, we took a drive from there to Oakland, stopping at a couple of California's finest National Parks.

Here are some pictures...

double rainbow at the Grand Canyon

Hoover Dam

me in Death Valley (by Dad)

Yosemite

Two days after my Dad left Oakland, I flew out of San Francisco to Hong Kong and then Singapore en route to Kathmandu. A wonderful holiday road trip before beginning my journey back to Asia to start shooting the film in Nepal.

Minor updates

In lieu of more tales of adventures, for the time being, there are some photos of my time in Jumla on the Shakti Pictures website and a posting on the Shakti blog about postcards...

The End of the Return

It has been just over a month since I left Nepal and after a brief stop in the UK, I continued heading west. I am now half way round the world in California. My recent return to India and Nepal fades into memories as I move into the next phase. That 'return' over, but not for long...

The plan is to work (that said, I am actively seeking work in California in case anyone has any projects over the summer), save some cash to fund my personal existence over the next nine months or so back in Asia and continue with preparations and planning for our shoot in Jumla in November. The nearly six month stint I have just emerged from has been a wonderful combination of exploration and learning, working and playing. The long term journey I find myself on is an accidental adventure and unexpected challenge but one I feel grateful to be presented with and excited to rise to.

A Short Rant

Plastic is the enemy. If only it were easy for us just to make it global law that everything was biodegradable. The rubbish problem in Jumla is not anywhere as pungent or extreme as Kathmandu, but it is still a problem. Where can you put your empty bottles or used batteries? I can’t throw away my empty moisturiser tube as there is no rubbish collection. And it can’t be burnt in the fire. It really makes you think about how much ‘stuff’ we waste in our disposable society. And just because we bury our used plastics in landfills, doesn’t make them go away. In Nepal and India the only difference is you see the piles of rubbish out on display as no one is digging a hole for it.

But here in Jumla, there is less, simply because people use less. Particularly in the villages outside Jumla Bazaar (the main town is actually called Chandanath which is the district name by everyone just calls it Jumla or Bazaar). Milk is delivered by a young girl who pulls out two plastic bottle (old Sprite bottles or some such) from swaths of cloth, the milk is emptied into a pot and the bottles are returned to her, I assume to be refilled and delivered to the next house. Vegetables are picked from the garden and have no packaging. Rice, grain, pulses are all in pots on the shelf, scooped from larger sacks – no packaging there. The wrappings from noodle or biscuit packets are burned in the fire. Few people use moisturiser.

One thought that has played on my mind a lot while I have been in Jumla is how the infrastructure needs to be in place in preparation for ‘the tourist’, as slowly, this region will get developed. Foreigners, trekkers are going to want to buy mineral water. In bottles. Where will they go when they are empty? This severely needs to be addressed before the influx of ‘the tourist’, which is still a little way off, but as with all places of interest and natural beauty, is inevitable.

All things Jumli

Coming back to Jumla, I knew what to expect in many ways in terms of scenery, the people and the types of living conditions and environment I would be in. However, I hadn’t anticipated how profoundly I would be affected by it all. Coming last year, volunteering on the EWN training course, changed my life. It inspired a whole other journey that I wasn’t even searching for. I was so moved by the women, so intrigued by the culture, so curious about the daily existence that I decided to make a film. So I should have known that there was something here, something magical about Jumla for me.

This is a different world. It is almost another time. Life really is much simpler as it is necessities that are focused on. Again, I have had to question so much about the wasteful, indulgent society I have come from and been forced to look at my own life and behaviour. It is humbling. And at times, incredibly entertaining as what is normal here often seems anomalous to me.

I think it is a combination of the warmth of the people and the simplicity of living that make me appreciate my time here. Accommodation is pretty basic. There is no hot water unless someone boils it on the stove for you so you can have a bucket shower. Usually a little way from the house (so not ideal in the middle of the night), there is a small hut with a squat toilet and a bucket of dusty water and jug, so I appreciate that the amenities are not suited to everyone’s taste. But you adjust, surprisingly quickly. And it is the cultural differences, the little things I learn every day, that make it so interesting. For example, one shouldn’t cross in front of someone sitting down, so you must walk behind, or excuse yourself as you walk in front of them. In small, crowded kitchens this can seem a little convoluted as people climb behind people to get out of the room.

I spent a week in Urthu-Chautara, the village where we had the training. I already knew many women there, as they were my students last year. Over the week, I have become closer to the family who run the guest house – and that will be our base when we return to shoot. Their kitchen is a local focal point and hours are spent sitting around the wood stove before and after dinner. Rakshi is the local spirit made from grain – millet, wheat, barley or a combination. It is custom to drink before eating dinner, but you can snack while you drink, roti with fried meat or some spinach. It is usually only the men that drink and it is also custom for a wife to wait for her husband to eat dinner before she eats, so she won’t eat her dal bhat until he is finished drinking. These rules don’t exactly apply to me, I can drink with the men, and eat before I finish my rakshi. You drink from metal cups that you can warm on the stove, but I came down one night to discover a variation, fried rakshi! Rice, garlic and ghee are fried and then the rakshi is added until it is warm. This was a new experience and unsurprisingly quite oily on the lips, but it went down well and I enjoyed crunching on the toasted rice and burnt garlic.

After the training was finished, I set out with my production manager, Soraj, to see some other villages that we might feature in the film and talk to some of the women from last year’s training. It is a 1-2 hour walk to town depending on if you are a local or me and I have been most entertained by the fact that every other person we pass on the path seems to be clutching a chicken.

The first three pictures were all taken within an hour on the same walk.

From Jumla Bazaar we were to take a bus to Tatopani. I hadn’t even realised that there were buses here. The road going to Urthu, the other direction, sees only the occasional motorcycle, tractor or donkey. But lo and behold, we went through town and ended up at the bus park. The buses go every hour and we arrived just in time for the last bus so there was a hubbub of people milling around outside the bus and it looked more than full already. Soraj took control while I stood there half-smiling at all the staring faces. There was a general commotion for a bit which I took to understand was debate on giving the foreigner a seat and I have to admit that I was happy to be given special treatment as I can’t actually stand up on the bus as the ceiling is so low. Once given the go-ahead, I was ushered on to the bus and somehow managed to squeeze my way through the mass of people to the very back where two (I’m assuming recently vacated) seats were waiting.

Even seated, it wasn’t the most comfy journey I have ever taken. Aside from the fact that my legs didn’t fit behind the seat in front, being at the back on this very rough road meant lots of bouncing about, but the hour journey passed pleasantly enough with me attempting to practice my Nepali. Although I can now say a few things here and there, I rarely understand anything people say back to me. Everyone is always very intrigued to talk to me though, the women, often painfully shy and embarrassed, the men more openly curious. Few foreigners come to these places and if they do they are usually NGO workers.

Throughout my time everywhere I went, it is such a spectacle that life stops as I pass, people frozen in the midst of their daily chores to stare and often a procession of children following us so I end up feeling a bit like the pied piper.

There is no internet and limited phone service in most places outside of Jumla Bazaar. A lot of people have solar panels (subsidised by the government) to power lights. Some villages have micro hydro-power stations which provide electricity for a few hours each day. This is one of the major considerations we have about shooting and how much storage space we will have for our footage.

In Patmara, one of the villages we visited, a good 2-3 hour walk from the nearest shop, 180 houses get electricity for a few hours each morning and evening from their hydro-power station. It's a very local affair and villagers can request that the operator leave the power on for special occasions, medical reasons, or construction work. Our arrival fell into the first category so we had electricity into the night, recharging mobiles, cameras and my laptop. What a luxury!

You can see the pipe coming down the hill into the power station generating enough electricity to power the whole village for roughly 10 hours a day.

And on top of that, what they also have here, which is quite bizarre, is satellite television. I haven't even laid eyes on a TV since I arrived in Jumla let alone actually watched one, and last night when we arrived, we were just in time for me to watch Obama's speech at Westminster Palace on BBC World. Live! After a fairly strenuous uphill climb to this little village nestled on the mountainside, staying in a traditional house made of mud, stone and bamboo with low ceilings (think a little of Yoda's house in Empire Strikes Back), I suddenly found myself watching political rhetoric on the 'special relationship' between the US and UK. How surreal is that?