Blog 1: College Crossroads
Cultural immersion and experiential learning can come across as frivolous buzzwords to lure prospective students to Northeastern’s campus; however, I can confidently say such concepts are no joke in this dialogue. I’ve been grateful for the opportunity to travel and study abroad before, but I’ve never felt like I got to truly meet and thoroughly learn about another culture to the extent my dialogue class did in Kathmandu, Nepal. Beyond visiting historically significant sites, trying new foods (delicious, fiery, and sometimes queasy all in one), and attending lectures, my classmates and I connected with students at Kathmandu’s local Tribhuvan University. We became fast friends with a few of these students, Sushey, Momo, and Sampana, who provided us with a new perspective into their home, where we passed through but now secured permanent roots to.
When attending TU for a guest lecture, my fellow NU students and I were paired up with ½ TU students to simply learn more about each other and report back to the class. Though the activity initially seemed fairly awkward and trivial, it was honestly an enlightening experience. Speaking with the TU students helped us appreciate their culture and recognize the similarities and differences between our two experiences at the same pivotal point in our lives. We were able to understand Kathmandu from a local view. The students suggested the best restaurants for us to eat at, to try tear-inducing Newari food, gave us a walk around their campus, and explained what their everyday lives were like. Of course, there were similarities- long lectures, dorm life, grinding into the late hours of the night to finish homework, even co-ops!- but there were also striking differences. I asked my partners why they chose architecture as opposed to other engineering degrees at the school, and they explained it had the most prospects after graduation. They laughed at me when I asked why not aerospace engineering. As a developing nation, attempting to find work after school is an extremely different reality in Nepal vs. the US. I have the luxury of deciding on my major based on my hopes and dreams and not necessarily what will be economically secure.
Additionally, we discussed Nepal’s environmental issues in Nepal and its responsibility in solving and easing climate change. When I asked about the biggest environmental issue in the US, I stopped to consider exactly what seemed the most severe. Conversely, my partners immediately responded that water pollution was easily the most pressing environmental matter in Nepal. In most areas of the US, water scarcity and sanitation are not the most pressing environmental issues. We can drink tap water for the most part and walk near river banks with little concern. Moreover, I admitted that the US was much more historically responsible for our current climate crisis and should thus, take up the mantle of attempting to solve it. They gave me their perspective that Nepal needs to focus more on improving and constructing sound infrastructure and buildings before focusing on creating sustainable, net-zero, green structures. I couldn’t argue with such a statement, as it made sense that the more immediate concern is tackling a lack of necessary infrastructure. However, I’m now considering the idea that infrastructure built only to meet the challenges of today may all be for naught if it can’t adapt to deteriorating climate conditions.
I couldn’t have casually had these conversations as a mere tourist in Kathmandu. Frankly, I wouldn’t have even considered having these types of conversations before this activity at TU. It provided the opportunity to get a real sense of what college students are dealing with in a completely different world and though I wasn’t completely ignorant of social conditions in Nepal, it’s a completely different experience to gain a local’s perspective.
Though these discussions were extremely interesting and humbling, some of my classmates and I connected with TU students outside of this educational exercise. We bonded with a few students who led us on a memorable adventure on our last night in Kathmandu.
Momo, Sushey, and Sampana weren’t any of my partners at TU, but they became fast friends with Andy, Olivia, and Nikki while the rest of us attended lunch as a group. I met them the next day after they volunteered to escort us all to the Monkey Temple after our excursion to the living lab. Though it had been a long day of avoiding leeches and hiking 200m, Carys, Jake, Andy, and I still decided we should visit the Monkey Temple. It was our last day and we didn’t have any immediate plans of returning to Kathmandu in the near future. As a result, Carys and I forced ourselves out of bed and began the treacherous journey to the temple.
Despite ample rain and mud, growling monkeys, and endless stairs, it was truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Swayambhu Stupa, or the Monkey Temple, was a sight to behold in itself. Though the trek was tiresome, the end result of an unparalleled view of the city and swarms of monkeys was undeniably worth it. Though we had previously visited a Stupa on our trip, this one, lying on the top of the valley and surrounded by the natural wildlife, felt mightier, and like more of a cultural relic of Nepal. Though the site itself was certainly impressive, this expedition was more memorable for the friendships that emerged from the journey.
While hiking to the top and gazing around the temple, I got to meet the TU students and form strong bonds with them in the short few hours we spent together. They were all some of the sweetest, most pure souls I’ve ever met. They loved sharing their home and culture with us, teaching us Nepali words and explaining more in-depth about some aspects of Hindu culture. Sushey shared that her favorite part of Kathmandu is Pashupatinath Temple, where she goes to relax and recenter herself in times of stress. Beyond mere cultural comparisons though, we connected as 20-something-year-old college students, who enjoy the same music and carefreeness even though we’ve been raised 1,000s of miles apart.
Leaving the temple, there was a classic, monsoon downpour that stranded us on the side of the road. In response to such chaos, we huddled under an awning, singing “City of Stars” and dancing in the rain. It was a blissful celebration of new friendship and life- an experience that defined Kathmandu as more than a temporary vacation spot but a welcoming port in the storm. Such an experience wouldn’t have been possible on a regular trip to the country but was truly facilitated by this dialogue. Though we’ve had to say goodbye to Sushey, Momo, and Sampana for now, I hope they can visit Boston or that we’ll return to Kathmandu in the future. Kathmandu set a high standard for my expectations of what a study abroad experience should look like, and I’m excited to see what India has to offer next.
Blog 2:
Climate Disaster in Real Time
New Delhi brimmed with intricate architecture, colorful markets, and pure life. Though we were planning to visit more natural settings in the future, I was extremely excited to travel to Delhi and experience the vibrant culture and storied history of one of the world’s most ancient civilizations. Though I adored visiting the awe-inspiring Qutab Minar and the fragrant spice market of Chandi Chowk, there was a contrasting side to the glitz and tourist novelties of the capital, epitomized by the recent floods.
On our first full day in Delhi, in between sightseeing, our tour bus drove past the devastating floods and make-shift homes of the victims of the climate disaster that had occurred days prior. The banks of the Yumana River were overflowing with water, submerging entire homes and trees. Families’ entire lives were reduced to the few belongings they could fit under tents, temporarily constructed out of ad banners. I’ve never seen the ruins of a natural disaster in real life before. Though I lived through Hurricane Sandy in elementary school, my home wasn’t seriously affected. Until now, I’ve been cushioned from such crises, and it’s been easy to feel empathy for the victims but also too easy to stick my head in the sand and separate myself from such devastation. This time, however, as our bus drove past the families struck by these floods, I had nowhere to hide, and I was left feeling guilty and ashamed.
Driving by in our air-conditioned bus, accompanied by access to abundant food and water, and gawking at these refugees felt like a personal attack on the victims. Seeing photos on the news is no substitute for witnessing reality. It was extremely heartbreaking to see the condition of these families and individuals, and I felt immense shame at my contrasting good fortune. These people hadn’t done anything to deserve such immense loss, and it’s hard to reconcile these conflicting situations in humanity. Though it was important to observe the effects of climate change in real-time, I felt disgusted with myself that we looked and passed by like they were zoo animals on display.
Though ignorance is bliss, I do feel like this was a necessary experience to broaden my worldview. Until you’re faced head-on with a humanitarian crisis, it’s too easy to skim through news headlines, shake your head in sympathy, and skip to the next story. We need to be reminded that these are real people and that we should attempt to help out in whatever capacity we’re able. Our recent guest lectures on development, poverty, and inequality in India only emphasize the fact that these aren’t even the worst conditions within the country; millions of more citizens in rural regions are even more vulnerable to inevitable climate disasters. This experience has added new purpose to my aspirations and reinforced my commitment to my major and successive path in life. The effects of climate change are becoming increasingly hard to ignore, and even though I can’t personally solve this complex tragedy myself, I want to at least attempt to assuage its effects.
Though the monsoon season is a healthy and necessary component of India’s ecosystems and economy, recent extreme precipitation patterns have coincided with death and destruction. Global warming is certainly to blame for these more frequent, violent extremes, emphasizing the need for proactive adaptation plans. More can be done to proactively combat or prepare for these extreme weather events. The city of Delhi requires an urgent update to its drainage system, a project they have continually procrastinated, but recent events have shown that we can no longer afford to ignore the growing concern of climate catastrophes.
Extreme weather events aren’t just dystopian possibilities, but current realities, and not only in New Delhi; states in the northeastern United States are facing the worst natural disaster since floods in 1927. Citizens of developed nations often shield themselves from the effects of humanitarian crises “contained” in developing nations on the other side of the world. However; climate does not discriminate between the rich and the poor. The only difference is the vulnerability and resilience of affected populations to respond to these disasters, and those more sheltered from existential threats of climate change have a duty to protect or lend a hand to the most exposed communities.
Visiting New Delhi served as both an amazing cultural and historical experience, as well as a candid wake-up call to the reality of our present and future climate crisis.
Blog 3:
Learning to Lay Still in Leh
Leh, Ladakh was marked by spotty wifi, leaky roofs, altitude sickness, and late-night studying— the ideal ambiance for a serene getaway. Despite these less-than-ideal factors, however, Leh turned out to be my favorite destination on this dialogue, yet.
We arrived in Leh around 9 am, operating off of 20 minutes of sleep and suffering from the delusional effects of such an ill-advised decision. Our first day dedicated to rest was taken literally, as my roommates and I slept for 7 hours straight after arriving at the hotel. Previously, everyone was panicking about the lack of wifi and service- our American mindsets on full display. We eventually gained access to limited wifi services to inform our families that we had survived the journey. After overcoming that first minor hiccup, the second night increased the intensity of misfortune. Ladakh, which lies in a rain shadow and usually experiences dry summers, faced storms that saw a 10,000% increase in precipitation. The roofs of our cabins at the hotel, ill-prepared to deal with such rain, flooded in the middle of the night onto us and our beds. My one roommate sleeping on a cot on the floor definitely had it the worst, but she just moved her mattress over and went back to sleep. After some tarps were placed over the roofs and we weathered the worst of the storms, Leh redeemed itself in all the cultural experiences it offered us. Even its “shortcomings” were insights into a different world.
I wouldn’t describe myself as an incredibly “outdoorsy” person; I enjoy admiring nature, but usually from afar. However, I appreciated the break in Leh as a return to simplicity I hadn’t experienced on that level before. The disconnect from wifi wasn’t that unsettling, as most people at home are asleep during our days anyway. Even the flooding, though at the moment upsetting, was retrospectively a glimpse into real-time climate change effects as well. Sure, the flooding was inconvenient for me as a tourist, but it’s potentially life-altering for Ladakhis. Their infrastructure and homes aren’t built to handle such intense downpours, and they have to start redesigning their buildings to deal with such potential extremes. We learn so much in classes about the existential threat of climate change and the altering of ecosystems and climate zones, but real-life experience with such issues never fails to catch me by surprise.
Even if we hadn’t learned how to appreciate these mishaps, the amazing cultural experiences of Leh overshadowed any setbacks. On our second rest day, most of the students visited Shanti Stupa and the local bazaar to get our compulsory shopping in. On our first official day of sightseeing, we visited the Thiksey Monastery to sit and chat with local Buddhist monks and snuck into a nature reserve to feed recovering 2-humped camels. On our last sight-seeing day, we visited Leh Palace, the Maitreya Buddha statue, and a local Ladakhi family to receive an authentic Ladakhi meal and learn about their way of life.
Visiting Shanti Stupa was the perfect attraction as our first stop. Shanti translates to peace in English, epitomizing the theme of this trip. The monastery visit was such a peaceful, grounding experience. Learning about the beliefs of Tibetan Buddhism practiced there mixed with the sweeping views of the Himalayan mountains felt like a rebirth. The simplicity, though by no means easy, way of life of the monks was a thought-provoking contrast to my usual high-strung, always on-the-go routine. It provided a much-needed opportunity to breathe and put my anxieties into perspective. My problems seem so minute looking at mountains 8,000m off the ground and viewing the Indus River- the birth of civilization.
Visiting the local Ladakhi family was also an incredibly unique experience. I’m so appreciative of the generosity we’ve been met with in all of our travels and how excited people have been to share their culture with us. There was no exception in Ladakh. The family in Ladakh shared a delicious and authentic meal with us- momos, soup, noodles, butter tea, chhaang. They opened their homes to us and we gleefully accepted to learn about their food, traditions, and history in the accompanying museum. It was also extremely interesting to notice and learn about the strong Tibetan influence in the area compared to more mainstream North Indian culture. It helped conceptualize how individual each state in India is.
Each destination on this dialogue has shared its own heart and heritage with us, and coming directly from the fast-paced, buzzing lifestyle of Delhi, to the calm, naturalistic character of Ladakh was a welcome change. I will be the first to admit I underestimated Ladakh upon arrival. I viewed its dry mountains and lack of wifi with the lens of a sleep-deprived toddler, but its charm, peace, and generosity won me over and left me feeling more grounded upon a bittersweet departure.
Sophia Naumovski 