Happy New Year.

It's New Year's Eve today and I am feeling quite good. I found a Sitar for only $150 but I think I can talk the guy down, so I have been debating on whether I should get it. It's a fairly difficult instrument, but it seems it would be a lot of fun, plus it won't be cheaper anywhere else. Another reason I feel good is because today I received some very pleasing information. Last week a street friend of mine left her home to sleep near the public toilets because she was being beaten by her husband. When she left, he sold all of her things and so now she has nothing and no one will give her a job because she has no home now and is thus assumed to be a thief by many employers, but she can't afford a home without a job; quite the catch 22. But today a friend who I contacted about the situation told me that a new program is starting in Feb. and as long as she is clean and doesn't have HIV I can get her on the list. I just hope that my friend has the commitment to stick with the six month program. Christmas was great. Interns from all over the world and Nepali all coming together. My friend got me a righteous Iron Maiden T-shirt, I wore it for 4 days straight. I saw my first Baliwood film yesterday, "Ghaji". It was the movie "Memento" on every drug imaginable, only one word could describe the film, supercrazyoffthehookmaddinsane. All this and the fact that it is almost a new year is reason for my excitement. Work has slowed to almost a stop as far as photos are concerned. New shots are harder to find, but I still try every day, some days with more enthusiasm than others. The exhibition is Jan 22, 2009, so we have also been working to get that set up. I only have a little over a month left in Nepal and I have started writing all of the little details down so that I won't forget them, the list grows and grows every day. Any way, I love you all and hope you have a great New Year's Eve and an even better new year. Seth.

7:30 am. I open my eyes and listen to the merchants and beggars outside my window shouting their services or crying their needs, always in the same escalating tone every morning, "pariGANHO!" or something like that. I still lie in bed fully dressed and wrapped in my sleeping bag because there is no indoor heating in Kathmandu. I eventually rise to go outside and the air is crisp and sweet, I have many times read the description of sweet air in books but always thought it was some sort of poetic statement for literature's sake. Despite the lack of white around me and the grinning cinnamon faces unconcerned with a holiday such as mine, it still feels like Christmas. Didi (big sister in Nepali) calls me to breakfast. A hard boiled egg, bread with jam and some milk tea. She apologizes, as she does every morning, for sleeping in and thus why the meager breakfast. I say that it is alright, hiding my disappointment, knowing on days when she does get up early enough, it's French toast.
On my two to three mile trek to my office, a.k.a. downtown Kathmandu, I daydream of unimportant things and then try to remember that I am in Nepal and should not simply admire the sidewalk with my gaze. Along the sidewalk I run into some friends of mine, six to twelve years old, running into traffic to sell postcards and posters to tourists and generous Nepali, (money is more immediately important than school). They stop me and we shake hands; they ask when is Christmas and I tell them just a few days more. "And then sweets!?" "Yes, and then sweets." I say good by and head further into Thamel. The boys here are much more aggressive with their questions and demands than the kids working the traffic. You can imagine them, six sometimes more, huddled close to me, feeling my pockets, touching my camera and occasionally playfully trying to hit me in the groin. Soon they all settle down with a communal cigarette and begin to tell me that the local police have told them to leave, that they can't sleep here anymore. "This is our Territory, where will we go?" their eyes cry at me. I tell them I will bring them the number of a person who can help. They say "Tomorrow?" I respond and go on my way.
Upon my walk, a man sitting on the side yells out, "Sir I like your shoes, please may I ask how much?" I have been approached many times like this, although never about the shoes, sometimes it's my camera or my jacket, but either way I sluggishly walk over to him knowing what is to come and try to express my impatience. "I don't know this brand what is it?" referring to my Nike's. "It is the same as your jacket." I reply, with a cunning tone letting him know I am on to him. After the niceties are through he begins to tell me of how he would like to chat over some tea just as a friendly Nepali gesture, I tell him no thank you, knowing that he owns a jewelry store and is looking for business. He responds as if I have been rude, "You have no time for me?" and I want to say, "No I don't have time for you. I don't have time for Liars and Looters, Scoundrels and schemes. It is you sir who give Nepal a bad name and I will not burden my soul with your scummy presence." But all I manage is, "I am very busy."
As I continue on, I soak everything in. The old woman smoking on the stupa watching her peppers and the potential buyer walk past. To the left are mounds of intestines and ox jaws on a table, of which I have no idea for their use. And amongst all of this: beads, blankets, pots and shoes all with their corresponding sales person shouting out their bargains. The prices all sound so good, but I know as a white, I will pay double. I find more of my friends further down than from their normal hang out. No marbles today, just some glue, some talk and some tag. The group is too big to approach and will only cause a scene if I enter, so I turn around an walk away, but one of the boys spots me and yells, "SATI!" (friend). I turn and am swarmed by a cloud of arms, hands questions and eyes all begging for my attention and affection. One boy starts to nibble on my arm like a dog playing with his master, (I have come to recognize this as a form of love generally only shown when huffing glue) while another boy slides next to me and looks through my camera. Then another friend comes up and says, "No condom, no ramro." (no condom, no good) confirming the lesson from the other day of HIV and the risk of syringes and unprotected sex. One boy understanding my distress amongst so many kids, pulls them away and says "Goodbye Sati." I thank him and go on my way.
After this I begin my three mile walk home and mentally beat myself up over not having the courage to take some photos that I see pass me by due to the embarrassment of explaining myself or apologizing if the party becomes upset. I tell myself I will do better tomorrow and move forward. Soon after, I make eye contact with a very beautiful woman; it was only a moment but things like this have a tendency to feel a whole lot longer, she brakes contact and begins to stare in another direction but at nothing in particular, passively giving me permission to admire. I thank her with my eyes and sweep by as if the whole thing never happened.
I have one more stop before I get home; it's with a street family, whom I care for very much and have come to call the Jamal Family, (Jamal being the location in Kathmandu). they aren't there today and so I talk a little with the local watch mender, a woman with a lovely face, large proportion and a look that would make any police officer freeze. I then again start for home and think of Christmas day. The gifts I have bought for my family and friends and the smiles they will bring, and me getting out of a cab on Christmas day with a large garbage bag filled with things for my less fortunate friends, much like a Garbage Santa. In the sack will be over twenty empty plastic bottles for the Jamal Family, they can get ten Rupees a piece for them. My old hat, belt, and shirts that no longer fit me since I began this Nepali diet. And chocolates and photographs for all the rest, giving a smile and a memory to them all.
I hope you enjoyed my day as much as I did. Please know that on this Christmas there isn't a single one of you that escapes my thoughts. For this new year I hope all the best for your plans, and may you enjoy your time wherever you find yourself as much as I have here. I love you all and will talk with you later, Seth.

New photos

I am sorry it took so long but I finally put up some new photos. All of these photos were taken the first two weeks I was here so they have been sitting for some time now. I also apologize that they are so small and that there are none with me in them, next time though. Work is hard, finding new subjects and locations has been very difficult, I hope I will have enough when I come back home. Every day I go out and stroll Kathmandu, looking for new friends as well as old. Sometimes I will sit for an hour or two hanging out and other times it is merely a high and by deal, but every time I see them, a grin shoots across their faces and I am lifted up beyond my exhaustion and heartache and frustration. I love the friends I have made on the streets and it pains me very much to see what they have to deal with, mostly with the adults. The children are given the opportunities needed to pick themselves up from this mess, however the older generation of the streets are labeled as no good thieves and addicts, who can't be trusted and it only be the fool who gives them a chance. The faces of my friends and their difficulties here will be forever left in my mind, always in my thoughts; I just don't know what to do. It will be hard when I come home.
I usually walk the same way through Kathmandu everyday, and thus certain characters have come to recognize me and we say hello every time we pass, (crazy Angie with the cucumber being one of them). But on my walk every day, I pass this security guard; he looks to be about 50 years old, 5'10" with a grey mustache and a nice security cap. Well, one night I was walking home from work and I stop to salute him and say goodnight as usual and then to my surprise and completely unprovoked, he gives me a hug. That afternoon hadn't been a particularly horrible day, but even good days on the street have a tendency to be emotionally overwhelming in one way or another, and this hug fixed all that was broken. I believe it was one of the best hugs I have ever had in my life. He simply hugged me snug and long, not shy about others around us, not letting go until his point was made. He seemed to know all my worries and then just took them away with his care, saying without actually saying, "You are good, this is a lot to deal with, and you won't fail." To those who have finals around now, I wish you the best of luck, to those without finals, I hope all is well. I hope you like the photos, I love you and will talk to you later, Seth.

I bought myself some class.

Well, I know that some of you will be very pleased to know that I went out the other day and bought me a bit of some class. I was discussing with a fellow intern how cheap everything is here and it struck me that there would be no better place to by a tailored suit than in Kathmandu where it's 80 Rupees to the dollar. So my friend and I went out and found a tailor, and it was actually pretty fun, acting all high society picking out colors and materials. I bought some of the best material in the store with a very nice dark charcoal color, solid, no pattern. I am pretty excited to get the suit. With the fitting and the cost of the material, the suit cost me $130. I don't think that's bad, I assume it would be more in the states, maybe I'm wrong, that and I have never had a suit, especially one for all occasions. My wardrobe consists only of clothing I still have from high school, some which I bought at the Salvation Army, and free shirts that I have acquired through any of many charitable events, so to have clothes that will fit my body as they probably should will be an interesting change. Maybe I'll even let some of you try on the jacket... oh wait, I can't, it was tailored just for me, sorry. I then went out an got a shave and a haircut for about $1.25, boy did I feel sharp.
On a different note, work has been of mixed enthusiasm lately. I have all and more of the photos necessary for the exhibition for the human rights group and now I just need to edit the 25 we have selected and I'm done. Which is nice I guess because I feel I have photographed most of what I can with the children I have gotten to know and it may be time to move on. For two months I have been walking the streets of Kathmandu, playing with them, talking with them a little with my very broken Nepali, and photographing them. I have begun to feel like that guy from "Never Cry Wolf" or Jane Goodall. I haven't seen some of the boys for a couple of weeks now, I know that they rotate groups pending on resource availability or disagreements with others in the gang but I can't find them. Sometimes they just go off and when I try to follow they insist that I stay because where they are going is too far. New boys have come into the groups recently and they seem to like me just fine. Sometimes I will just sit with them and watch foot traffic go by and they will start stroking my beard, roughing my hair, and rubbing the fuzz on my arms while others inspect each other for mites. They just want affection, but they also don't want rules, so how does one help them. I have decided that even though the photographs are done and the show is in Jan. I am going to continue my work in Kathmandu. I am going to try to build an even stronger body of work to bring back to the states and do all that is in my power to publish a book. This means starting all over again, finding new locations with different kids and even trying to get some street girls as well. I am not certain of my success, but every time I go out and see my friends, it gives me new strength. In the last blog, I mentioned Baby Mukti. For two months I have watched this girl growing up with her family on the streets, only able to sit up and smile. Today she was standing under own strength, putting away a bucket of noodles. She is why I won't stop. Today I have decided that I love telling stories with my photos and I love Nepal. Thanks for reading, I love you and will talk to you later, Seth.

Happy Thanksgiving

Well, Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I am happy to announce that there will be no rice at my Thanksgiving and that is what I am thankful for. The other interns and I found this place that is doing a Thanksgiving buffet; it's a little expensive but I don't care. For this Thanksgiving I am truly grateful for the experiences I meet every day here, the friends I have made in Kathmandu who make my work bearable by helping me laugh at the end of the day, and my friends and family, both past and present who in one way or another are the reason why I am who I am. I love you and thank you. I know I have said this in every message, but I have decided that I will not let any person leave my life without them knowing what they have meant to me first.
It has been a pretty crazy couple of weeks here. Just the other day, this crazy homeless woman named Angie, whom I walk by every day was speaking into her cucumber like it was a cell phone, but she was nice enough to put down her call and say high to me as I passed. Yesterday I was visiting with some street friends when one of the guys high on glue just came up and swung at one of my friends. She fought back instantly and with a force I would never call upon anyone. Her older sister then jumped in and all three were in headlocks. I didn't know if I should help in a situation that was none of my business, snap some shots, or go pick up Sabitri's (the older sister's) baby . I decided that it wasn't my business to step in as much as I wanted to help my two friends and snapped one shot before my card filled up, and then I went and picked up Mukti, the baby. After several bloody bights and some pulled clumps of hair, the girls won and left. I found them soon after, almost laughing about it. I am not certain I can be a war correspondent. I don't think I can step out of myself and simply be an observer, there will always be a drive to help and it could get me in big trouble or killed. I will have to think about it. Oh, but also just last week there was a protest because the Maoists killed somebody, so shops were supposed to shut down and people were not supposed to drive. On this day my friend and I go to buy some bus tickets out of town. As we are buying the tickets the shop keeper out of no where sends his friend to go shut the metal garage door behind us. So now we are in this pitch black office and all we hear is shouting and stomping and then we hear glass breaking in the room above our heads followed by some loud thuds. It soon passes and we are aloud to leave the office. Everywhere is broken glass and bricks from the riot. Later that day I was walking down the street and I see this small group of people stopping traffic. They stop all motorcyclists and tell them to walk their cycles the rest of the way and if they wouldn't then they would pull the keys from the cyclists ignition and walk away. Cyclists who tried to plow through the crowd either had their bike damaged by some very firm kicks or were almost pulled off their bikes until they stopped. I could have written all of this in much greater detail but I figured quicker would be better for this kind of medium. I'll put up some more photos soon, and I hope everyone has a great Thanksgiving. Oh, and thanks for the comments, I love reading them, Seth.

I Dreamed of a Philly Cheese. No Joke.

Well it finally happened, I thought it would come a little later than this but it's here and what can I do. I am not completely certain I can face another meal of rice and vegetables. For two times a day I have had nothing but rice and vegetables for almost the entirety of the two months and one week I have been here. I think that I am starting to slip. Eating has become more of a chore than anything else and I am constantly tiered (I way 160 lbs.). The other day I put a pile of rice on my plate and just stared at it for minutes before I took my first bite. Afterwards I went to the fridge and got myself a big spoon of honey. As I am lolling the spoon of honey in my mouth my fellow intern just stares at me. I'm not certain of my motivation for the honey but I think something just needed to change. But bless my Sister host here, she really knows how to make the same dishes different and interesting; however, the menu has been sampled thoroughly now and I don't know what to do. We even went out to dinner once and our Nepali family ordered the same thing we have eaten every night. Stupefied as asked my Sister host why and she said, "I like rice." They also are baffled to learn that Americans don't eat rice every day. Things like this make my two months and three weeks left here seem a little to long for comfort. But aside from this I am having an awesome time here, and will be sad to go. The city of Kathmandu is just so weird sometimes. For instance the other day I was sleeping in my bed only to be woken up by this horrible screeching; I open my eyes and my little sister had scooted her trainer potty into my doorway so she could watch me sleep and go to the bathroom. I also see some of the strangest looking dogs; I saw a dog with the head and tail the size and likeness of a husky but with the body of a wiener dog. I was so fascinated by this canine that I almost stepped and slipped on a dead duckling in the road. And amidst all of this weird and crazy, the cab drivers maintain complete cool as they rush by. They know exactly where their car ends and chaos begins; there simply is no room for chaos in a cab. You sit and watch close call after near miss as they weave through traffic at speeds that boggle the mind and never get a scratch. But any way, I have finally brought out the big camera and it was met with good response. Some of the kids still pose but I hope that this phase will soon pass, along with them constantly asking for their photos. It's funny, I took a picture of this one boy and not a half hour later he comes back looking through my bag for his picture as if because my camera could show the image on the screen, I could print it right there as well. I have recently had a bad cough which has kept me in bed for the last two days so I am very eager to get back out there. I only have until mid Dec. to finish but I think I am going to continue with the street children on my own afterwards and build up my theme so that when I come back I might be able to turn it into a book. Well this is probably the longest blog I have written yet and I am sorry. Just know that I love you all, as soft as that sounds and I will somehow find a way to mix up my diet. Seth.

Happy Halloween.

Happy Halloween! I hope you all had an awesome time. The people of Nepal know of Halloween here but don't celebrate it. They actually just finished their own holiday known as Tihar. I don't know what it's for but there are a lot of fire crackers, Christmas lights and flower necklaces on dogs; pretty fun. For my Halloween, I just bought some candy at the store and watched a crappy scary movie on TV. Nothing much new here; although I did finally get out of Kathmandu. Two friends and I took a cab to this place called Nagarcot, which is about 20 mi. away and takes an hour to travel, but when you do get there you get an awesome view of the entire Kathmandu valley, and since you are at 7200 ft, you are way above all of the pollution of the city so you can see a lot of stars come night time. Never having been outside Kathmandu, seeing a different kind of Nepal was a breath of fresh air, literally as well as metaphorically. Driving past the staircased hills of the local farmland truly puts one in awe of the ingenuity and strength of man. To have to provide for your family but being completely surrounded by steep hills and mountains would seem an impossible task, and yet the people here have done just that. They have molded these mountains for their own needs. As if this was how the landscape should have bee and mother nature just forgot to finish, so they picked up where she stopped. Cutting shelves into the earth, moving unthinkable amounts by mere shovel and bag; it is spectacular. And then being able to see some of the farm work actually being done is something else beautiful all of its own. The knowledge of each process and act passed down through generations, as well as the workers own personal wisdom is manifested physically and clearly with every gesture. I have seen more grace and expertise in the hands and face of a farm woman than I have ever seen in the feet of a dancer or the brush of a painter. However, as beautiful as everything was to see, it was even better to smell. I never thought air could actually smell sweet but I am wrong. The air was so clean and full of energy and grass that it reminded me that Kathmandu is not Nepal, much like Anchorage is not Alaska. I have been in Kathmandu for so long that I have gotten use to its stench. The haze of motor exhaust everywhere, the piles of garbage stacked around every corner, and the massive varieties of poop all over the streets and paths. There are little to no public toilets here so people that are in a bad way have to go where they can, which generally is on the side of the sidewalk or any random corner. Being here for a while now, I have come to be somewhat of a crap connoisseur. I can tell you whether it is dog, cow, man, and in some cases what kind of bird. I was the kind of person who walked with a bit of pride inside knowing that in my 23 years of existence, fecal matter had never touched me where it shouldn't, and yet in my two months of living here in Kathmandu, I have been shit on twice. You go out and you walk the streets knowing that every day is a gamble, both in life and in excrement. But all of this I had been able to ignore until now, when I know there is a better life. However friends, seeing the beautiful countryside and smelling the grass and the soil made me pretty homesick. I miss my wilderness, I miss your jokes, and I miss our adventures. But what gets me through the days when things are rough, either with the street kids or be it that I just am not feeling well, is the thought of my friends and family. I love you and I will see you in three months. Seth. Oh, and here is a picture of me and two my street friends.

The Pressure is on

Well, the pressure is on. We had a meeting today to map out the next few months plans for this photo project I'm doing. We have to start scouting for a venue to hold the exhibition that also has dining capacity as well as the space to show a film documentary we will be making on the street children. There is so much to do that I am just glad that I only have to come up with the pictures. Although today, the man heading the project took me aside and said, "I hope you understand the gravity of the situation. Everything rests on you and the quality of pictures you produce." The whole office is working to prepare this exhibition solely on the faith of my ability. Basically if I don't come through, not only do the kids not get the help they need, but the organization's reputation will also be blemished and thus limiting their ability to help the children in the future. I said to Saum, (my boss) "I understand that you feel you are gambling on a strangers competence." and he said, "If you wish to put it like that." and I followed with, "Well, I am not a gamble." I have never been so sure of myself in my life. I have never had so much responsibility before, but because failure is not an option, it will be done; no matter what I have to do. I am terrified and yet more excited and confident than I have ever felt before. I don't know if it is the fact that I have been reading "Atlas Shrugged" by Ayn Ryand or if I have finally become an adult, but I know I am ready for this challenge and am going to see to it that my word is kept. Today was good progress: some of the more difficult street kids and I played my harmonica for about an hour, and then I played marbles with some other friends of mine and then lastly watched a game of Nepali poker for about 30 min. On a side note, some things of interest about Nepal that I may have forgotten to mention, although I'm not certain how, are: Brittney Spears, Bob Marley, Kurt Cobain, Iron Maiden and Sid Vicious from the "Sex Pistols" cover every T-shirt on every 12-17 year old in Nepal. Also, hand washing your laundry is very difficult. I have done my laundry three times now and despite my soar and bloody knuckles, I still don't think I'm doing it right. I can't get out all of the stains and my clothes feel very stiff when they dry. As I write this letter, my T-shirt lies propped up against the corner at attention ready for tomorrow. I love you all and should be photographing soon. Seth.

Keep an eye on Canada.

It's been a while I know, but I have been pretty busy. First, thanks, to all of you and your responses. It was your support and care for me that gave me the confidence I needed to make my decision of sticking with the street children. Even though some views supported the non-street children route, those perspectives still showed a concern that gave me this secure feeling that no matter what I do, you'll be there, and that is what I needed the most. Knowing that through all my mistakes and flaws, I have you. But onwards with the blog; I have been very busy because every day, I have been walking through Kathmandu, meeting the street children and trying to talk with them. And even though their English is as good as my Nepali we still somehow make it work. I think things are coming along alright, they invited me to fly kites with them today, (The kids here have such simple pleasures like flying kites, playing marbles, and watching traffic) however they are still either sending me away or walking to a remote location to huff, so there is still much more trust to be earned. I probably won't even reach the point of carrying my camera around them for another two weeks, which is killing me because there is much I would like to photograph that doesn't involve the street kids but since I spend my days with them, there isn't much time for leisure photography; not yet anyway. On a separate note, I finally got sick. As I type this blog I am aching, tiered, sweaty, cold and dizzy. But it's funny because of all the things that could have made me sick: the food, the water, shaking hands, the pollution; it ended up being a a fellow intern from French Canada. Isn't that just like them; while you are worried about everything else that can get you, they sneak up from behind and boom... fever. So be careful America, don't be fooled by the whole "I'm OK, your OK, we're all OK" facade that Canada tries to pull off, because the second your not looking, they are going to swoop in and put gravy all over your fries. I'll get some photos up soon, sorry. I love you, Seth. Oh, and I think I mentioned how I'm not feeling well so please forgive me if this doesn't flow as well as the others, or if something isn't clear.

I'm tiered and I need help

I need help friends. I feel I need it more now than I have ever before. Recently, I was laid off from my internship with the online magazine project. The web designer fell through and so until a later date, the magazine has nothing for me to do; so they let me go and said they will call me if and when it gets started again. However I still have the project with the human rights organization, documenting the street children and their lifestyle. My problem is this: through my recent efforts, I have come to realize that documenting the street children is going to take all of my time and effort, leaving nothing for another job. I could get work for another publication here easily but I would have to drop the street children, which is where my dilemma lies. I feel that I have been given a rare opportunity to help a large number of people through my passion of photography and to not give it a try seems cowardly and the easy way out; two qualities of which hopefully none of you see in me, and I cannot appreciate. But, and it is a big but; I came here to get work experience that I could take home with me and use to get a job that I truly enjoy and not just tolerate. According to the people I have talked to and what I have heard, many have attempted similar tasks to what I am about to venture into but their success is little or unknown. So if I fail, what am I to say to prospective employers when they ask me "What kind of experience do you have?" Do I tell them that I spent five months in Kathmandu trying to document the lifestyles of street children, but was unsuccessful.? No one cares about the person who attempted the difficult and failed. History is not written about men and women who tried their best. Results are all that matter today. No one's future is paved by good intentions, only what you have achieved makes a difference. Thus if I choose to go to a different publication and leave the street children, I will have my work history and I will have that concrete symbol of effort and knowledge; but I'm not certain if it is in me to just quit; that is not the Seth you know. I have been told that I am a very caring and stubborn person and that is why you like me, but if I left the street children project, would I be the same? I have been torturing myself over this situation and I need your help. This is not a bate and hook for an ego stroke or a search for a boost in self esteem. I feel that I have already made up my mind, but I need an outsiders opinion because I think I might be too blinded by my stubbornness to make a proper decision. I need the love and support of my friends and family. I need you, my foundation, those who have helped to mold and shape the person I am today. Do I go for the sure thing to help my life and career, or do I risk five months of my life for something that may or may not end well? Help your brother out. On the brighter side of things: I am happy to announce that plaid is very fashionable here, as well as my couch shirt, (inside joke) and so are my yellow, purple and pink bracelets; everyone comments on them. I don't have internet access for my laptop, but when I do, I promise to put up a picture that is twice as good to make up for the loss of this one. I love you and will speak with you later, Seth.

The next photo, I promise.

There is a band today: the streets are bare, there is no honking, no coughing, no yelling, the cows have plenty of space, it's nice. Basically, no body went to work today to protest something or another. It's so hard to keep track of all the protests here; with the formation of a new constitution for Nepal on the horizon, everyone is acting out to get their voice heard: the bar owners, the festival coordinators, the schools, everyone; and as nice as it is that they get their opinions noticed, with no vehicles on the road I was a little bored. Yesterday I finally mastered bicycling in traffic, and man is it fun. I spent four hours with close calls, sudden stops, passing cars, narrow passages between vehicles and weaving in and out of open spaces, (it's a lot like a puzzle, in fact I think it is my favorite puzzle) all while following a van through Kathmandu, giving food to the needy. But now no one is on the streets and it's just like at home. But any way, I should probably finish this blog before the power cuts out. For those who might not know, power is not as readily available or plentiful throughout the world as we westerners have come to rely on it. Case in point, here in Kathmandu there are scheduled power cuts in which parts of the city's power is turned off for three to five hours at a time. Thus the city puts out a week long schedule to which you can count on having power; and you plan around this schedule until all of a sudden somebody comes up and asks you, "Did you get the new power schedule?" But you are confused, not knowing if your schedule is the new one or the old one; because even though there is a schedule, the word schedule in Nepal is very loosely based, (there is a two hour window here in which one can still be called, "on time"). It may be your side of towns turn, or it may not, they may decide to go an hour early, they may not and they may change the schedule or they may not, it is all at the whim of the power company. But as much as I complain it is nice just to sit with the family around a candle and talk, I enjoy it quite a bit actually. Also, I think my Nepali might be getting better but I'm not certain. For instance I will say a sentence to my family and they will nod and say correct, but then I go out to use this knowledge in public and no one knows what the hell I'm saying, and then I look like a fool. The other day I got caught out in the rain on my walk home, normally this wouldn't bother me but it was raining hard and I still had a mile to go before I got home, so I stop at this bench under a tarp and ordered some fried bred and some sort of potato dumpling. While I'm waiting for the rain to stop I meet this Nepali actress, Harisha, and she begins to teach me Nepali, but she is laughing at everything I'm saying as if I don't understand what I am meaning. So I walk her to her office, she introduces me to all of her coworkers and friends, she shows me her movie posters and then she says that she'll teach me better Nepali, but she never called back...women. Any way, I know I promised one of you to put some pictures of me in Kathmandu up, but I don't have any yet. But know that I have all intentions of doing such. I love you and will talk to you later, and thanks for the messages. Seth.

Love you to zombies.

Another restless night for me. Still waking up at 2:00 am and falling asleep at 5:00 till 8:00. This cannot continue or it will mean my end. The other night I woke up as expected between 2:00 and 3:00 to hear the neighbor dog barking at something pounding at our gate and moaning. Maybe it was the fact that I had just woken up and it was around 3:00 am, but I swear it was the day of the dead. So as I lay in my bead certain of the zombie outside my window, I began to think about how Kathmandu is ideal for zombie infestation. First off: a good percentage of the people of Kathmandu live in fairly congested circumstances, some people already stumble around the streets looking blankly into space, there isn't a single gun store in all of Nepal, and even though pirated western films are very popular here, no one has seen a zombie movie; they wouldn't even know what to do. I was giving a talk with this seventh grade class yesterday and none of them had even heard of a zombie! The only thing this place has going for it is that they cremate their dead.
I am sorry if this subject may seem like rambling, but something has happened here. I don't quite understand but I feel like I could write a million things about a hundred subjects and never run out of ink or enthusiasm. I see everything and I want to talk about it: How the women of Nepal are probably some of the most beautiful I have ever seen, and they don't wear any makeup, the exhaust from the busses and the trash piles on the side of the road, the spitting, the fruit sellers right next to congested traffic, the smiles, everywhere smiles, the swindling, the media, and much more. I feel inspired, much like George Harrison and the "Beatles" when they left for India and came back with "Love you To".

Each day just goes so fast
I turn around, it's past
You don't get time to hang a sign on me

Love me while you can
Before I'm a dead old man

A life time is so short
A new one can't be bought
But what you've got means such a lot to me

Make love all day long
Make love singing songs

There's people standing round
Who'll screw you in the ground
They'll fill you in with all their sins, you'll see

I'll make love to you
If you want me to.

Back in College one of my professors said, "Journalism is not a career or a profession." In that, saying it is a very unofficial title with a very unreliable salary. But then one of my other professors that very same semester said to us, "Journalism is a way of life, it is in the way you think about the world around you. You see someone or something and you want to understand why and tell the world." Maybe I am a journalist. We'll just have to wait and see. Love you and will speak with you soon, Seth.

No longer am I this starry eyed child filled with wonder and curiosity visiting this strange strange land.  Where once I strolled through a rainbow of both color and culture, I now cruise through on the back of my hosts 250 Honda watching the faces and creations blur into the brick of the streets.  Oh, but please forgive me my friends for I may seem to be sad or wining, but do be assured that this was not my intention.  I am actually quite pleased with the situation.  I have made myself at home.  I am comfortable with my surroundings, not distracted by the slightest of instances and thus truly able understand and appreciate this great place of which is becoming as familiar as my own clothes.  

Things are beginning here and I am very excited.  I have recently been doing some editing for "New Business Age" and really enjoy it.  I can't wait to try my hand at writing for the youth magazine.  I feel that I may have made the right choice in choosing journalism; the sheer anticipation of writing and photographing makes me smile.  My dream has turned out to be just that, a dream and not a nightmare as I may have once worried.  Although it still may be too soon to tell, it certainly does not feel like a mistake.  The web designer is here and thus soon, I will be in the full swing of things: writing, editing, photographing, and then will I understand better my passion for this career.  I have also gotten in contact with a human rights organization here and they have asked me to take photos of the street children here in their living conditions and with their drug problem for a photo book. Then with the book, the organization can get more funding due to the simple fact that a picture is much more fruitful than a pie chart.  So I have made a connection with a doctor here who feeds the children on a regular basis through a program of his and by volunteering with him I will be able to make myself known to the children and will be more welcome to speak with them in the streets.  And then after about a month and a half of getting to know them and letting them get comfortable with me as well as me with the language (which I might add I am trying like hell to learn), then, and only then will I be able to take their photos; and hopefully have enough time after getting to know them to build a substantial body of work. I can't express how privileged I am to get a chance to have my images make such a difference in this world. Such and opportunity rarely comes across to an artist or journalist. I think I am going to write more often so it isn't as long for you guys.  I know I have said this before but I absolutely love hearing from you, it truly lifts my soul, but please leave your name because this thing doesn't tell me who leaves the messages.  I love you and will write sooner than later, Seth. Oh, and if it seems like my writing voice has changed, I should let you know that I have been reading "The Brothers Karamosoft" by Dostoyevsky. Sorry.

Ooops.

CRAP!  I am pretty sure that I may have, more than likely, possibly, probably forgot to file for my PFD this year.  Oh well, there are things in life more important than free money, although it is really nice.  Any way, I did have a question for you readers; have you ever had a craving for a plate of rice and some pickled vegetables?  And when I say craving, I mean have you said to your self, "Man, you know what I could really go for for the next five months... some rice and pickled vegetables."  I haven't either, but I tell you what, my family here puts so much spice and flavor into just those two items that you don't even care.  I went to a touristy place the other day to get a steak and it was the worst steak I have ever had.  Afterwords, all I wanted to do was go home and eat some rice and vegetables with a cup of tea, which they make very sweet here.  But onwards with the blog.  I'll tell you a few of the small things about living here and then I won't bore you anymore with such mundane details, I promise.  First of all, I do have a normal toilet and it is in a normal three bedroom apartment, (although the bathroom itself is just one giant shower) and I am only a 25 minute walk from the office.  I am still waking up at around 5-7 every morning but due to several reasons: one being that in Kathmandu, gangs of dogs roam the streets at night looking to fight other dog gangs, it's a regular West Side Story if it was in Nepal and of a more fury persuasion.  But any way, all of the gangs seem to come to one specific location known only to them and me as rumble alley, which just so happens to be outside my window.  Every morning like a clap of thunder, there is a dog fight which always ends in a whimper.  And if it isn't the dogs then it's the neighbors with their strange hours and even stranger drumming, booming across the way.  However, the mornings here are beautiful so it isn't so bad.

Moving on to the people of the streets; beggars beggars everywhere and not a dime to spare.  I like to think of myself as a person who will help those in need without thinking twice, but living here in Kathmandu has made me a little more selective as to whom I help.  Twice now I have been approached by fairly well dressed individuals who just seemed curious about my situation.  We go and have tea and in one circumstance spoke for several hours and then after you feel you have built a relationship with this person and you feel you could be there friend and stay in contact with them; they begin to tell you how hard their life is and how you can help them with your money.  I am sick of it friends, and while most of the people here are good, it is the couple of bad apples that I have met that have darkened my perspective.  I see few as genuinely nice anymore and now I am always looking for the angle and I hate myself for it.  But I have kept you long enough,  I love you all and will speak with you soon.  I am going to be doing this blog about once a week around this time so hopefully I will never have to bore you with such tiny details like this again.  Oh, and I love getting messages from all of you, thank you so much.  Speak with you soon, Seth.

I'm in Kathmandu

Alive and well with so much to tell.  I'm not sure if any of you are aware of a little thing called the international dateline; but I'll tell you, as you were putting away the day of Sept. 3 and ready to meet Sept. 4, I had already been flying for two days thanks to our little imaginary friend.  Three hours of sleep in 48 hours and only steel chairs at the Bangkok airport for slumber...fun.  However there was more than just that.  On the way there I met this man who was  a scuba instructor on one of the islands off the coast of Thailand and he invited me to come with him to a little town called Pataan, about an hours drive from the city of Bangkok.  And simply put friends, your humble narrator is quite the catch in Thailand.  Walking the streets of this simple city, I was getting cat calls, whistles and shouts from all around.  Women of the corners and bars were yelling that I better get myself over there if I knew fun, and to say that I was blushing would be quite the understatement.  I ask my friend why everyone is so nice here and he says that they were all working girls; and all I could think of was that I hope they don't work at a beauty salon, less is more obviously meant nothing to these ladies except for when it came to their clothing for some reason.  But as I left Thailand and said goodbye to my new friend I couldn't help but feel that those ladies were going to make some gentleman very happy some day.  

But I digress.  Any way, I land in Nepal and the airfield is over grown with some sort of weed 4 feet tall if it was an inch, surrounding the airport and enveloping this old rusty jet sitting in the middle of the field; it looked like one of those Wasilla lawn ornaments.  I meet my host outside the airport and we take a cab to his home, and let me tell you friends, I feel like I was in the middle of a Dr. Suess book.  Whoosits and Whatsits zigzagging around putzits, smells of poogle and doogle far worse than a shugal, and the trash my god the trash!  Mountains of colors and textures and such, oh why did I choose five months it seems like sooo much.  But after the initial shock all was well.  My host family is beautiful, inside and out.  There is Nardev the husband, Mina the wife, (I call her Didi, big sister) her sister Sila and two awesome little kids Nasib/Bi, (little brother) and Muscan/Bahini (little sister).  And there are two other people volunteering here that are staying at the house as well and they are both great.  I have started my job here at the publication; it's called "Infotiser" and it is the number two youth magazine in Nepal.  Due to the price of paper over here though they have been forced to temporarily stop publication, so I am on this awesome team that is going to put it all online.  I will get to take some photos and do some writing and even some editing; it's not what I came here for but I think I'm going to like it.  Any way there is more to tell but I have kept you long enough.  To those who messaged me, thank you very much, you don't know how much it was appreciated no matter how short or how long.  I love it here and I will talk with you all later, Seth.

I think I'm gonna make sick.

I am confident, I am terrified, I am anxious, I am withdrawn, I am determined, I am uncertain, I am ready, I think I'm gonna throw up and I wouldn't have it any other way. Months ago, I stumbled upon an internship in Nepal for photojournalists. I was skeptic at first but as time drew on my mind I decided to go for it. The day is finally here and for the past few nights my imagination and emotions have ran the full spectrum. One of my main concerns was that for the past four years I have studied for this profession but it has always been nothing but theory and dreams; what if I find out that what I loved did not love me in return or that what I told myself was love was a lie completely. When a life's dream becomes a nightmare, how does one wake up from that. My other concern was more focused on motives. Why do I leave safety, comfort, regularity, love of friends and family, why do I run out from under the shelter of my parents long wise arms? And I guess the answer is that it's just in me. None of my friends or family understands the love I have for them because I cannot measure it myself, and I know if I were to just stick around and not leap for new edges, I would not be myself and could not in good conscience lie to friends and family. So I leave to strengthen my body, my mind, and my care for everyone. I go to find my own rules because I don't have time to simply accept anyone else's. I hope this wasn't too long winded or self righteous for you, this has just been on my mind for a while. I'll get some picks up asap. Hope to hear from you all soon, Seth.