Time to go home

I’ve started writing this final blog posting at 3:30 am in the Singapore airport. My five months in Kathmandu came to end yesterday (Jan. 9th). We’ve completed the first leg of our journey home, yet to pass through Tokyo, Minneapolis, and Detroit before landing in Maine. The weather forecast calls for temperatures as low as -19 F next week. Maine is welcoming us home as only Maine can.

I’ve tried to make all of my previous postings of general interest, knowing that I would bore most people if I only wrote about work. But my final entry will summarize what I actually did professionally in Kathmandu. Otherwise you’ll think that I just played tourist since July!

Although it wasn’t always possible (due to strikes or extended holidays), I tried to go into Biotechnology Department at Kathmandu University (K.U.) five days a week. I was responsible for teaching about 1/4 of the 3rd-year Recombinant DNA Technology course. I also taught 2/3 of a Masters-level Research Methods course. Both courses met twice a week for two hours each day.

I was asked to give several presentations. I talked about my redwood genetics work at K.U. and at Tribhuvan University (T.U.), and my spineflower genetics work at T.U. and the Center for Molecular Diagnostics-Nepal. I also gave a lecture on the use of RAPD-PCR at K.U. Since many Bachelors graduates in Nepal are eager to attend graduate school in the U.S., I gave a talk at the U.S. Educational Foundation and at K.U. on how to select and apply to U.S. graduate schools in biotechnology and related disciplines.
Biotechnology research is in its infancy in Nepal.

In order to get a feeling for where it’s at and where it’s going, I visited the Biotechnology Unit at the National Agricultural Research Center (NARC) and the laboratories of Intrepid-Nepal/Center for Molecular Diagnostics –Nepal (CMDN). NARC is focusing on DNA fingerprinting methods to assess genetic diversity in important crops while Intrepid/CMDN is developing molecular diagnostics for diseases such as AIDS and tuberculosis. The Intrepid/CMDN laboratory is probably the best equipped in Nepal (comparable to good U.S. labs) while most others have minimal instrumentation.

The Molecular Biology Laboratory at K.U. is a teaching laboratory that some of the faculty use when the students are not there. The absence of a dedicated research lab and the long delay between ordering supplies from India and their arrival (often 2 months), made it difficult to get as much research done as I would have liked. Fortunately, I brought some equipment, reagents and supplies with me. I also ordered some PCR primers from a German company on my credit card that arrived by Federal Express in a week, much to the amazement of my Nepali colleagues.

The research collaborations I got going were:
1) DNA fingerprinting of Nepali potato varieties using microsatellite analysis.
2) Sex determination of lapsi, an indigenous fruit tree using RAPD-PCR analysis.
3) Identification of arsenic-resistant bacterial isolates from well water by 16S rDNA sequencing.
DNA fingerprinting can be used as a tool for potato breeding. The ability to identify female lapsi seedlings using molecular methods will help lapsi farmers increase the number of fruit-bearing trees that they plant. Arsenic toxicity in drinking water is a big problem in South Asia, so

understanding how bacteria become resistant to arsenic might lead to new water treatment methods. Assistant Professor Dhurva Gauchn, a plant biologist, will continue with the potato and lapsi work, while Sangita Shakya is doing the arsenic-resistant bacteria project in pursuit of her Ph.D. I’ll get the DNA sequencing done for her when I get home since they don’t have that capability in Nepal.

I’m very indebted to Janardan Lamicchane, my official host and the head of the K.U. Biotechnology Department. He bent over backwards to make my visit fun and productive. All of the faculty took me under their collective wing and made me feel like a part of their family.

I will come back to Nepal. I promise.

Chitwan National Park and the elephant race

After the elephant rides earlier in the morning (see the previous posting), our lodge manager had arranged for a guide to meet us at the office at 11 am. His name was Bikram: a slightly built young man in his late twenties or early thirties dressed in an official looking outfit complete with an army-type hat. He had a couple of bamboo walking sticks, one of which he handed to Bonnie. He handed me a couple of bagged lunches to stick in my pack and then we were on our way to the edge of the river.

At the river we met up with our canoe paddler. He steadied the 12-ft long, but very narrow, flat-bottomed dugout canoe as we stepped in. The temperature was in the low 70’s, the sun was bright but not too hot, and there was a gentle cool breeze blowing up river – perfect canoeing weather. The river current was very slow now that we were in the middle of the dry season. At its deepest, it probably wasn’t more than 6-8 feet, and its width was maybe 70-80 yards.

The next hour was the nicest part of the entire trip. We slowly floated down river while Bikram pointed out the wildlife and gave us some of the history of the park (which lay on the opposite side of the Rapti from Sauraha). There were lots of bird species including egrets, eagles, kingfishers, storks, martins, and ducks. In the water floating like sticks, only their eyes visible, were gharials – the long-snouted fish-eating crocodiles that can grow to over 20 feet in length. We also saw some on the river bank along with marsh muggers, the meat-eating crocodiles. Some of those were lounging on the bank with their mouths wide open (“grinning” as Bikram called it) which is how they help regulate their body temperature.

We passed people who were at the edge of the river doing bathing, fishing and doing laundry. In fact, we made a slight diversion so that our canoe paddler could drop off a dirty jacket to his wife who was at the river doing laundry. There were also some elephants wading into the river for a bath. One elephant handler in the distance ahead of was standing on the back of his elephant, making a really nice silhouette against the river and forest.

Shortly after noon, we beached the canoe and got out onto the park side of the river. Our paddler went back home while Bikram led us into the forest. He pointed out footprints of sloth bears, rhinos and deer and then took us onto a path through some tall elephant grass. That eventually led into a denser part of the forest where birds were abundant. We saw yellow-headed woodpeckers, a large hornbill, blackbirds, orioles, jungle foul and pidgeons.

At 1 pm we came out onto a 2-rutted jeep trail where we stopped to wait for a jeep to take us to the Gharial Breeding Center. We broke into our lunch bags which contained boiled eggs, deep-fried veggie pakodas, Tibetan bread, apples, tangerines and bananas. There was so much food that we were able to save the leftovers for lunch the next day at the Elephant Breeding Center.
Lots of jeeps passed by, but they were all filled. It wasn’t until 2:30 that the last jeep of the day came by for us. The ride to the crocodile center took an hour, with Bikram standing on the back bumper searching for wildlife. He pointed out more crocs on the shore of a narrow lake, peacocks, a rhino in the distance, a few macaques, and a really cool monitor lizard in the crook of a tree.
There wasn’t much to the crocodile breeding center, just different cages holding gharials of different ages. They also had a large wooden enclosure where they kept a “man-eating” tigress. The poor thing was bored to death and just laid there staring back at us. After spending about 45 minutes there we got back on the jeep for the uneventful 1 ½ hour ride back to the parking area across from Sauraha where we got into another canoe for the short trip across the river. Bikram walked back with us to the lodge where I slipped him a 500 rupee note as a tip for an excellent job of guiding. We didn’t blame him for the long wait for the jeep.

The next morning we walked an hour to the Elephant Breeding Center where several jumbos were chained up beneath shelters. There were a couple of really cute babies laying down in front of their mother and a few wandering around free. I petted one and it felt like I was petting a wire brush – their sparse hair is so coarse. There was one huge bull elephant that was rather well endowed. After viewing the elephants, we stopped at a bench for lunch. A 5-6 year old boy came up to us and said “chocolate.” We indicated that we didn’t have any, but he kept repeating “chocolate.” Finally, Bonnie offered him a boiled egg and he started to flap his arms wildly in frustration saying “Chocolate!” Sorry, dude, all out of chocolate. He finally went back to his mother, completely defeated.

Down the road half an hour toward Sauraha was the big field where the elephant races were being held. It was about twice the size of a football field, roped off with probably a few thousand or more spectators around the edges and milling about the refreshment tents. Shortly after we arrived they had some pony cart and ox cart races. The race was a down-and-back competition as opposed to the usually oval track. It took nearly 2 hours before they had an elephant race. Six large ones lined up at one end of the field, each with two riders. Once the race started it was all over within a few minutes. The winner outran the others by several lengths, although calling it “running” is an overstatement.

We got back to our lodge in time to take a short nap. For dinner I had the so-called “enchilada” that tasted like the previous day’s “burrito”. We spent the evening watching the sun go down over the river, drinking beer and wine, and talking to an interesting English couple who were touring South Asia for several months. Back in England they live in a small trailer in a farmer’s field and make their own moonshine. She’s afraid of having babies because they run large on both sides of the family (over 10 pounds), and twins are common. The idea of bearing two large twins didn’t appeal to her.

We turned at a 11 pm and caught the bus back to Kathmandu the next day -- with visions of elephants and large English babies dancing in our heads.

Riding elephants

On Dec. 26th we took a 3 ½ hour Greenline bus ride west out of Kathmandu and then transferred to a 15-passenger van which took us another 1 ½ hours south into the lower elevation Terai region of Nepal. We were dropped off at a parking lot in the middle of a rice field and walked the remaining mile into the village of Sauraha, the center of tourism for Chitwan National Park.

Just as we walked onto Sauraha’s main street we saw a big red banner advertising an “Elephant

Race and Food Festival” running from Dec. 26th to Jan. 2nd. In fact, a parade had just started and was on its way to the elephant racing field about a 30 minute walk out of town. There weren’t any elephants in the parade, but there were several groups of women, each group wearing different traditional outfits. While watching them go by we also got up close and personal with a couple of camels tied up at the side of the road.

Sauraha is very small and only has one main street, so we took it all the way to the Rapti River where it dead ended into a bunch of lodges and restaurants. The van driver had recommended the Riverside Lodge. Krishna, its manager, said that he only had one room available for $20 per night but warned us that the lodge’s generator was just below it. We were so happy that they even had a generator that we didn’t care how much noise it made. Just in case we found something better, we reserved the room just for one night but told him we might stay on for another couple. He also told us to let him know by 6 pm whether we wanted him to arrange elephant rides or tours of the park for the next day.

After dropping off our stuff, we went back into town and looked at a few other lodges but decided we were better off at the Riverside. We told Krishna to sign us up for three nights and then decided to take an elephant ride in the morning followed by a canoe trip, jungle walk, and jeep ride into Chitwan National Park in the afternoon. All of those activities would cost about $100 for the both of us.

The sun was starting to go down over the river, so we found an outside table right on the river’s edge and ordered dinner and drinks. I ordered a “burrito” that had the shape of one but was made with canned baked beans instead of refried beans. It tasted suspiciously like the “enchilada” I was to have at another restaurant the next day. We watched the sun disappear into the forest on the other side of the Rapti before retiring for the evening.

At 8 am the next morning we were met at the lodge office by a van that would take us to the community forest north of Sauraha where the private elephant rides are given. Each elephant carries four people in a wood framed enclosure that sits on top of a giant pillow on the elephant’s back. The phanit, or driver, sits on the beast’s neck with a bamboo stick to guide it (or whack it when necessary). Bonnie went up the stairs of the platform and got on first, followed by two Australian girls, Hanna and Rowena. I managed to squeeze myself into one of the back corners of the frame. My legs were on either side of the vertical corner brace of the frame so that my crotch was right up against it. More on that later.

We took off at 8:30 for an hour’s ride through the forest. I hesitate to call it a jungle because it was more open and less tropical than what we think of as a “jungle.” Riding an elephant is not at all like riding a horse. Instead of the up-and-down movement of a horse, an elephant’s gait gives you a rolling side-to-side motion. We were constantly bumping our ribs against the wooden frame or bumping into each other in the tight enclosure. The phanit tried to move branches away from us with his stick, but occasionally one would smack us in the face as we went by.

Within minutes we reached a clearing where a mother rhino and her calf were grazing in the morning mist. They were obviously used to the interruption and didn’t even look up at us even though the elephants came within yards of them. As we left them, I got a nice shot of the elephant behind us as the sun’s rays punctured the fog. From there we forded a shallow river and were treated to views of water birds, peacocks and foxes. Our elephant stopped in the middle of the river for a few minutes for some “load shedding”.

We crossed back over the river but it took our jumbo three attempts to make it up the steep muddy sides on the opposite shore. Each time he tried to climb, I was pushed over at a 45 degree angle, staring down at the water with my crotch jammed against the vertical support of the frame. If we hadn’t made it up the third time, I was going to have to start screaming like a little girl.

The forest became denser. The phanit stopped a few times to point out a samber deer and a family of wild pigs sleeping on the edge of the trail just a few feet away from us. At the next clearing he got off the elephant for a pit stop behind a bush. Too much tea at breakfast, I suppose. On the way back to the starting point we came across what looked like Rhode Island Red chickens which I found out later are called red jungle fowl.

We got off the elephant and hung around the staging area waiting for our van to come pick us up. We noticed an elephant that had grabbed a big stick with his trunk and was using it to scratch his back. He looked really, really happy, like he had been itching for a long time.

Christmas party in Kathmandu

When we throw a party in the U.S., we’re lucky if half the people we invite show up. But that rule of thumb doesn’t seem to hold true in Nepal. We invited 50 to our Christmas party and 41 showed up!

We invited the entire staff of the Fulbright Commission office, all of the Fulbright professors and students currently based in Kathmandu, my colleagues in the Biotechnology Department at Kathmandu University some of my KU students, our landlady, plus spouses and kids.

Sachin, his wife and his sister came over early to help with some cooking and to set out the food. I had whipped up two big pots of vegetarian chili the day before and got them heated up while Sachin’s wife started cooking rice. We hadn’t planned on making any rice but Sachin said, “This is Nepal. People expect rice.” Our spread also included 80 samosas, 4 lbs of cheese, 4 loaves of French bread, fresh veggies, snacks, two cakes, 2 cases of Corona, 14 bottles of wine, vodka, and a bottle of rum for any pirates who might show up unannounced.

When the sun went down, I began distributing and lighting candles on all three levels of our apartment, including the terrace on the roof, because the power went off at 4:30 and wouldn’t come back on again until 8:30. I also put three candles on the second floor balcony railing as a guide to our apartment.

Promptly at 6:00, people began to arrive. We had to open the compound gates to let in three cars and half a dozen motorbikes. Three or four groups got lost in the dark and phoned for directions. Sachin and I took turns going out into the alley and street to flag them down. By 6:30 the lower level of the apartment was completely filled, and a few people were braving the evening chill on the roof.

I had to spend the next hour and a half stirring and serving my chili. Everyone had come in from the cold and wanted something to warm them up. I had put in a little extra chili powder because Nepalis like food with a kick to it. I got rave reviews on the chili and many requests for my “secret” recipe which Bonnie had found on the internet a few weeks before.

The food and the booze really loosened people up. By 8:00 the place was hoppin’ and everyone seemed to be having a great time. The chili was all gone by then so I could mill around, take photos and talk to everyone. Deepak, one of my graduate students, told me that he really liked the Corona beer. I told him that I love Mexican beer. Without missing a beat he responded, “I love Mexican girls!” I told him that he and I would have to take a road trip to Mexico someday. I can see him now: sombrero on his head, a bottle of beer in one hand, and a pretty senorita on his lap.

Several people brought gifts for Christmas and for my birthday, but a very special one came from Deepak, Prajwal and Keshab (the three students in my graduate course). They took my photo to an artist friend who painted a wonderful portrait of me in blazing colors. It was fantastic! When the power came on at 8:30 we turned on the stereo and the dancing began in the kitchen. Prajwal, of course, was the instigator of that – he loves to dance. He even got Bonnie to spin around a few times.

The last of the party goers left at 10:30. Bonnie and I quickly put all the leftover food away, moved furniture back in place, and blew out the candles. I went straight to bed at 11:30, but Bonnie stayed up until 1:00 enjoying the quiet while sipping on a well deserved glass of vodka.

Shed a tear for load shedding

You may curse the non-stop rain of the monsoon season in Nepal, but at least you don’t have to curse in darkness. The rains fill up the reservoirs that power the hydroelectric turbines that generate most of Nepal’s power. But, in October, the monsoon season ends and the reservoirs recede meter by meter each time the floodgates are opened to generate another megawatt of electricity. To manage this precious potential energy, the government begins the process of “load shedding” (rotating neighborhood power cuts) at the end of summer in hopes of conserving enough water to get the country through the dry season until the monsoons return in the Spring.

When we arrived at the end of July, the outages were only a few hours per day and were hardly noticeable, but now they’re up to 63 hours per week: 10 hours per day 6 days per week, and 3 hours per day 1 day per week.

Several nights each week we find ourselves sitting in the darkness sharing a rechargeable flashlight, reading to pass the time. Last night we pitched in the towel early and went to bed at 7:30 pm. Of course, I woke up at 1 am and am now writing this at 3 am to take advantage of my “power window.”

The nighttime temperature has been dropping to the mid to high 30’s (Fahrenheit) and without central heating the temperature in our apartment has been dipping into the low 50’s at night. So, we’re spending more and more time huddled in sweaters in the dark. We need to count our blessings, though, because the bad winter in the U.S. has knocked out power to over a million people the past few weeks. Those poor folks would absolutely love to be sitting in 50 degree houses right now!

The problem has been exacerbated this year by flooding of the Koshi River in the southern part of the country which knocked out transmission lines bringing in power from India. Someone told me that the monsoons dropped less than an average amount of rain this year, so the reservoirs aren’t as full as usual. The government is trying to get more hydroelectric projects going, but it will be a few years or more before they’re up and running.

Nepalis take load shedding in stride along with all of the other infrastructure problems they face. On moonless nights it’s difficult to walk on the dark streets without running into people, so we carry a flashlight or penlight with us. The only other illumination comes from the headlamps of speeding motorbikes and cars. Some of the larger restaurants and shops have generators, but most just light candles.

Even at 45 hours per week the outages were manageable if you planned around them, but now at over 63 hours they are impossible to ignore. In early December we planned a Christmas party for the evening of Dec. 21st, assuming we’d have power that night based on our 45 hour load shedding schedule. Then, just a few days ago (four days before the party), the new 63 hour schedule went into effect with the power set to go off from 4:30-8:30 pm – and our party starts at 6:00 pm.

So, instead of cursing the darkness, we went out and bought a dozen large candles.

Graduation day at Kathmandu University

Sorry for the nearly month-long delay in posting anything. They’ve been keeping me extra busy at Kathmandu University with lectures, presentations, and research.

Just a few photos here of the graduation ceremony held in mid-November for the 2008 K.U. graduates. It was delayed several months in order to accommodate the schedule of the speaker, a former President of India. The ceremony was held in a huge tent set up on the soccer field that held at least 2000 people.

The photos below are of the graduates from the Biotechnology Department who dragged me into a few pictures with them. The family portrait is with Deepak and Prajwal, two of the M.S. students who went to Langtang with us.

Hopefully before Christmas we’ll have some good photos from the holiday party we’re hosting for all the Fulbright students and faculty, and our Nepali colleagues and friends. After Christmas we’ll be going to Chitwan National Park near the Indian border to ride elephants and look at crocodiles and rhinos. There should be some good photos from that trip posted by New Year’s Day. And then, come Jan. 9th, we’re headed back to the U.S.

Langtang National Park Trek - Part Three

(Continued from the previous posting)

I fully expected to wake up a mess after yesterday’s tough hike, but other than some sore muscles I felt amazingly good with no symptoms of altitude sickness. We were fully packed by 5:15 am and went downstairs in the pitch dark to see if any of our group was outside yet. Not finding anyone, we sat inside on a cold bench waiting for dawn to arrive. Finally, at 5:45 we peeked outside and saw Prajwal with a cup of tea shivering in the predawn – it was probably in the low 20’s. Eventually, the others trickled outside.

Dawn did not explode with a fury that morning. Instead, she very slowly unwrapped herself, gradually illuminating the mountain peaks with indirect sunlight. It wasn’t until after 6:30 that the first direct rays hit the tallest peaks, turning them into golden spires. We walked around taking photos of mountains and nearby yaks until 7:00 then went inside for breakfast. My oatmeal porridge was bland, but I hadn’t eaten much and knew that I needed high density food in order to make it back down the trail.

We met the others outside at our agreed upon departure time of 8:00 am. Deepak offered to take my pack, knowing that I had struggled yesterday, but I wave him off. I felt good and, after all, it was downhill this time. Unfortunately, Keshab’s knee was throbbing and Bonnie had developed some nasty blisters on her feet, so we took things a little slower going back.

Janardan, Bonnie and I took the lead with Deepak and Prajwal falling back to keep Keshab company. It didn’t take long for the temperature to start rising once the sun came out. By 9 am it was close to 50 degrees and very pleasant. As we passed yaks and prayer walls, it struck me just how much we had ascended the previous night in the dark. Within an hour we could see Langtang Village spread out below us. Bonnie and I were determined this time to find that bread and cheese place.

We got to a sign that pointed west at a building on the hill with a red roof. Printed on the roof in big white letters was “Bread and Cheese.” That must be the place, we thought. We headed up the pasture toward it but took a wrong turn and ended up having to climb over a couple rock walls to get to it. There were two workers inside, both extremely friendly and glad to have customers. We ordered some small baguettes and 100 grams of yak cheese and then decided to have them prepare a few toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches for us. From our vantage point we could see trail and were able to flag down the boys when they came past. By the time they got to us, the sandwiches were ready. We had a leisurely brunch in the sun which was most welcomed since Janardan and the boys only had tea for breakfast.

By 10:30 we were headed out of Langtang Village to meet up with Ma’am again back in Ghora Tabela. We had told her to expect us by noon. I was the first one in and plopped down next to her at 11:59 on the bench where she was having a cup of tea. She was glad to see us and said that she had a very pleasant time while we were gone looking at plants and basking in the sun. We had a quick lunch and took off to Lama for the Jungle View Lodge where we’d spend another night.

Along the way, Deepak climbed a tree on Ma’am’s orders with a khukuri (Nepali knife) and began scraping off some of its bark that she thought might have some medicinal value. The inner bark was bright yellow. After that, the collecting was over for the day. Everyone had at least one small bag of plant material tied to their packs. We arrived at the Jungle View Lodge at 4:30. I attempted to take a shower, but it had been cloudy there all day and there was hardly any warm water available. Bonnie decided to nurse her feet and stayed wrapped in her sleeping bag with a book while I went into the dining room for dinner. It was packed this time with barely a seat to spare. German, French, English and Nepali conversations were all mixing together as the proprietor ran around taking orders and serving hot plates of rice.

I finished my dinner and checked in with Janardan about our departure time in the morning. He wanted to leave at 6 am to get off the sunny side of the hill before it got too hot. I looked at Ma’am and raised an eyebrow. She just winked at me and smiled. Janardan said, “ I’ve convinced Ma’am that it’s a good idea to leave early.” I responded, “If it’s OK with Ma’am, then it’s OK with me,” and winked back at Ma’am. Planning is so easy among friends.

In the morning we had tea in the dining room while the proprietor’s wife was still in bed (in the dining room). After awhile she raised up, wiped the sleep out of her eyes and looked over at us with a smile. We finished off the last of the snacks Bonnie had brought along (oatmeal cookies) and took off down the steep hill at 6:45 am. Bonnie, Ma’am and I took up the rear this time. We took a break at the Landslide Lodge around 11:00, and it wasn’t until Domen sometime after 12:00 that we caught up with the others. They had taken a wrong turn at a fork in the trail and had lost nearly an hour.

Bonnie knew that if she sat down for too long her legs would sieze up and her blisters would start barking, so she didn’t stop. I rested about 5-10 minutes and took off after her while the others waited for Ma’am to finish her soup. I caught up with Bonnie after 20 minutes. The next 1 ½ hours was the only time we’d had alone on the trail as we made our way back to Shyafru Bensi. Crossing the last bridge, we we struck up a conversation with a young Buddhist monk and his younger brother. The monk was on leave from his monastery in India to visit his family for two months. He said he was extremely board in these little villages. We came to a dead end on the road and had to scamper up a small hill to the next road. The monk took my hand and his brother took Bonnie’s. They managed to pull us and our packs up the hill.

Finally, we dragged ourselves into town and through the door of the Buddha Hotel. A German trekking group that we had been bumping into all week arrived just after us, so we raced into the bathroom ahead of them to make sure we got some hot water for a shower. We took a well-deserved nap then went down for dinner. Janardan and Ma’am, who were in a hotel down the street, came to visit with us for an hour before turning in.

The next morning was our most leisurely. We didn’t have to leave until 8 am since the office at Dhunche, where we had to show the officials what we had collected, didn’t open until 9 am. The rest of the trip back to Kathmandu was as butt-busting as before, and even a little more so since the driver seemed to be in a hurry to get back home. We stopped in Trisuli again for lunch, this time at a slightly better place, and were back in Kathmandu by 3 pm.

Just before descending the hill back into the city there was a nice vista to the north of the Langtang mountain range. From a distance they seemed so much bigger than when we were actually there. But to experience the Himalayas, it doesn't really matter how close you get to the mountains. Just walking towards them is enough.