Culture Shocks in Kathmandu

For one month I have been in Kathmandu out of quarantine. What have I experienced so far? One culture shock* after the other.

I have prepared myself for a lot. After all, Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world and Kathmandu is among the top cities globally in terms of air pollution. But when I arrived in my new, self-chosen reality, the culture shock hit me with greatest force, despite inner preparation.

Especially since I had just come out of my comfortable quarantine hotel, whose touristy location and balcony on the highest floor offered a pleasant distance from the “real” Kathmandu. Accordingly, I fell deep when the hotel taxi took me directly to the school where I have been living and teaching since then.

How I found the school project

In February I had already found and contacted the „Big Buddha National Academy“ via workaway.info.

Instead of going through an excessively overpriced volunteer organisation, workaway.info puts you in direct contact with those seeking help, mainly farms and schools. As a volunteer, the deal is usually to provide your own labour for accommodation and food.

So at the beginning of the year I wrote to the headmaster Niranjan and we agreed that I would live and work here from August. With a delay of two and a half months due to Corona, the adventure could finally begin!

Culture shock #1: My accommodation

Niranjan and his son Nirman welcomed me at the entrance gate and escorted me to my new room in the school building, where I was directly blessed by Niranjan’s aunt “Pupu” with a Hindu tika on my forehead. The tour of the rest of my new home was quickly done, because basically there is only one “bathroom” with a toilet (= hole in the ground) and a shower. There is a sink outside at the other school building.

After the comfort of the hotel, this was the first small shock, especially regarding the sanitary conditions. Now, of course, I got used to the shower and the Asian toilet. A large pack of disinfectant wipes brought back from Germany helped me with this, including bathroom cleaner and desinfection spray bought here.

I also feel quite comfortable in my room now. Since everyone can look inside, my curtains stay closed most of the time. Of course, the windows are not sealed, let alone double-glazed, so a cold has already knocked me out. In addition, I hear every peep from outside, especially the barking and howling of the street dogs, the traffic and the radio, including the hearty singing of the school family from 5 a.m. But from now on I just go to bed early with earplugs.

The private school was founded in 2000 by Niranjan’s parents; since then, the whole family has been working for this project. The big earthquake in 2015 destroyed their house, so the whole school family is living on the floor above me until their new house is finished.

Culture shock #2: Pollution und traffic

After meticulously cleaning everything and stowing my things, I set off in the afternoon of my first day to explore the area. And here the next shocking impressions followed: Rubbish, smog, traffic, smog, skinned goat heads, chickens locked up in tiny cages, no sidewalks, traffic, smog, rubbish, shabby corrugated iron sheds, staring people, traffic, smog, rubbish.

The FFP2 mask has become my best friend here on the streets, because without it I hardly dare to breathe. Even with the mask, I blow my nose black after a day in the city centre.

The littering is insane. Rubbish paves almost every centimetre of the ground here – sometimes in small, sometimes in large accumulations. Mainly plastic waste, but also a lot of building rubble. There are very few rubbish bins here.

The most bothersome aspect for me, however, is the traffic. Most of the people travel by motorbike. Even in the smallest alleys full of people. Honking, of course. And pushing. Since there are hardly any traffic lights here, Kathmandu’s traffic participants are not used to waiting. Thus, every gap, no matter how small, is aggressively exploited to somehow get past. Just don’t stop!

Since traffic lanes on the disastrous roads seem to be a recommendations rather than a rule, sometimes three to five motorbikes (depending on the size of the road or alley) try to overtake each other here. While overtaking, taking a turn or avoiding the several huge potholes, they repeatedly cross oncoming traffic.

To make matters worse, there are rarely any pavements. So most of the time, you walk on the street and have to be ready to dodge a honking motorbike at any time. Relaxed walking with music in your ears is not possible. It is hectic, loud, dirty and full of exhaust fumes.

Going for a walk after work is still nothing I do. Apart from the traffic-caused stress and a dirty environment, I don’t feel I would do anything good for my helath because of the smog alone.

Nevertheless, I can come to terms with the traffic as a cyclist. I have had the family bike repaired and in return I am allowed to use it freely. The tricks are simply an ever-attentive eye and a blind trust in the other drivers. Somehow, I have survived so far despite longer rides. Kathmandu has its own traffic rules, you just have to learn them. And if someone almost knocks me down, I yell at them in German, thus at least causing a little confusion as revenge.

Culture shock #3: Like an alien

Staring

In addition to all the stress, there are two other things that bother me: I am constantly being eyed and chatted up.

People stare at me in bewilderment, look after me, point at me and sometimes drive past me more slowly on their motorbikes to catch a long glimpse of me – as if they had never seen a white person before. I would not have expected this, because Kathmandu usually attracts many tourists who would later go trekking (even though I am currently one of the only tourists here).

On the first day, I thought it was because I live in a not very touristy area in the outskirts of the city. But the gawking also hits me in the city centre and at the tourist hotspots.

An example: The other day, I wanted to have a quiet look at a temple, when two young men asked me for a selfie with them (which was not the first time this had happened to me). Friendly (and with an eye on my valuables) I complied with their request. A small queue of other temple visitors formed immediately, wanting to have their picture taken with me one after the other.

When I escaped from the gawking crowd after about seven photos to a quieter corner, a Sadhu approached me – a saint who dedicates his life entirely to Hinduism. Usually they let themselves be photographed with tourists for a small tip, but I didn’t ask for that. We talked to each other and when the Sadhu found out about my origins, he proudly pulled out a German-language picture book from his bag for me to look at. In fact, he led a group of Germans through Nepal at the end of the 90s, who then published a book of pictures about him and the country.

So I sat next to the painted man with a turban and politely paged through his book, while I noticed that a group of about 15 people (young and old) was gradually forming around us. I asked the Sadhu if they were here for him, because he was a saint. Or maybe because of the picture book, which I then also offered the crowd to look at? No: The crowd had formed because of me, they just wanted to watch me.

Chatting up

I can get used to the penetrating stares, but often it’s combined with a “Hey man”, “Hi bro”, “What’s up dude” or “Hello, how are you?”, which is incredibly annoying when you just want to go your way and have to respond to such chatter every minute. In the beginning, I got involved in almost all the chatting ups and tried to have a conversation. But that usually leads to one of two exits:

Either there’s no conversation at all because the person I’m talking to doesn’t know English or is just giggling and having a laugh. Or it’s someone who wants to sell me something: a guided tour of the city or some tourist souvenirs. And after several “no’s” comes the begging. The beggars are not the ones who beg me for money here the most, but the traders.

For one and a half years, tourism, on which many depend financially, has been lying dormant. People are desperate and I feel very sorry for them. I get involved in a lot of things, look at their goods, have conversations, am friendly and interested, give a lot of tips, but I can’t buy every rubbish and I also have to pay attention to my budget. Many people don’t understand this, and after unsuccessful requests, the exaggerated friendliness often turns into a face marked by dislike. Buddhist salespeople have even invoked bad karma on me because I kindly refused to buy a sound bowl or an aluminium bracelet that I found terribly ugly.

The average monthly salary of a Nepalese is the equivalent of 80 euros. Accordingly, Western tourists are considered very wealthy and a lucrative source of income. Because I was initially one of the only tourists here (among the thousands of people here, I saw just a handful of white ones in three weeks), the desperate traders at the hotspots chased after me, sometimes three or four simultaneously.

Of course I understand this, and no one means any harm by staring or chatting up, but in the long run it is simply unpleasant and exhausting. Now I only respond to the chatting of passers-by with a smile and a “namasté”, and to the begging of traders with a polite “pardeina”, which means “no thank you”.

Fortunately, I have been seeing more and more Western tourists for a good week now, which is also due to the fact that the quarantine obligation has been lifted. I hope not to be the sole focus of every crowd in the future.

Religion and hospitality

I reached the school directly during the Dashain Festival, the most important Hindu folk festival of the year. You can compare it to our Christmas. Accordingly, I was directly integrated into the family customs during my first week (it was a holiday). During festivities, the tika is important, a Hindu blessing symbol on the forehead, usually made of rice and a mixture of red sandalwood powder and mustard oil. In addition, flowers are sprinkled on the heads of the blessed.

During the Dashin festival, the family sits together, plays music, plays cards for small amounts of money, eats and blesses each other. This was followed about a week and a half later by the Tihar Festival, also called the Festival of Lights. For the Newari caste, the indigenous people of Kathmandu, Tihar also represents New Year’s Eve – they celebrated entering the year 1142. The houses are decorated with chains of lights, a colourful mandala is painted in front of each house entrance, and brothers and sisters are honoured on the most important day of the festival.

Tihar was attuned by the students through self-made decorations, mandalas and an extensive school programme of dancing and singing, which I was allowed to attend as a guest of honour.

Generally, guests are considered a blessing from God, so the family treats me almost like a saint and takes great care of me. The older family members do not speak English, so I try to communicate with them in Nepali. So far, my vocabulary is still limited to words related to food (“Mito chha.” = “It’s delicious.”), but I’m trying my best. My family also belongs to the Newari, the indigenous people of Nepal, who place particular importance to tradition.

About 80% of the Nepalese follow the Hindu faith. About 15% are Buddhists, and only five percent are a mixture of Muslims and Christians. But Hinduism and Buddhism go hand in hand here: Temples of both religions often stand right next to each other, festivals are often celebrated together, and Buddha is also worshipped in Hinduism, which makes for a very harmonious coexistence.

Culture shock #4: School lessons

Lesson contents

Every day I have four lessons of 40 minutes each. Every day at the same time, I teach classes 5 to 8; there is one class per level. I teach classes 6 and 7 according to a textbook on literature. I don’t find poetry interpretation a particularly exciting subject myself, but I try to make the material as interesting and varied as possible and focus on the useful parts.

Grades 5 and 8, on the other hand, I teach more freely. At first, I introduced them to European cultures and taught them some German. Currently, I teach rhetoric and articulation training in connection with the topic “Jobs and Future”.

There is so much to improve in Kathmandu and Nepal, and I would like to show the students how they could take action themselves, for example, to avoid littering and smog. But it is difficult, because points such as waste collection, road construction, traffic regulation, specifications for exhaust filters etc. have to be controlled by the government. And the government is highly corrupt, has destroyed all Nepalese industries in recent years, in some cases even banned them, and receives large bribes for importing everything from India.

That is what I was told. The Nepalese feel helpless in the face of their situation, and I too felt this helplessness as I thought hard about how to get corruption under control. Of course, the students are currently not very interested in becoming politicians and joining the opposition.

So all I can do is improve their English skills and encourage them with new input so that they won’t stay satisfied with their poor status quo and strive for something higher instead.

Starting next week, I will give acting lessons, and write and direct their own plays with them. This is not only fun, but will especially improve their articulation, so my hopes.

Lack of discipline

What is lacking is the students’ discipline. I have the impression that they are not used to sitting still and raising their hand when they want to say something. During the whole lesson, they run around wildly, hit each other, talk all the time or yell wildly when they know an answer. Moreover, they don’t take notes (they don’t have anything like binders) and they don’t always have their school books with them – and they are even less willing to open them.

Class 6 in particular pushes me to my limits, as I have difficulties getting the (admittedly quite boring) poems across, as half of the class simply won’t stay quiet or even seated, or simply won’t open their books, despite admonitions, pleas and rewards in the form of sweets.

Of course I realise that the children don’t mean any harm, that they are going through puberty, and that there are the usual troublemakers in every class in every country. Most of them are curious and really cute. Besides, I’m a bit of an attraction here and don’t yet enjoy the familiar interaction between students and the “real” teachers. Some of the students have been here since their kindergarten days, so a strong bond of trust has formed between everyone, which I, as a stranger, first have to grow into.

This is why I work with a lot with games and more active ways to get the classes calm again. Except for class 6, that actually works quite well. But I realise that I still have a lot to learn pedagogically, which is why I’m here. Therefore, I need a lot of time for daily lesson preparation, although I can recycle some of my work at the Maltese language school.

Meeting other Westerners

Despite my integration into the family and school, I withdrew myself in my room for some time; everything seemed a bit too much for me. Even though I experience warmth here and can joke around with the older students in particular, I longed for contact with Westerners whose culture and temperament are more similar to mine and with whom I can talk about all the impressions.

So I organised a first Expat Meetup via Facebook, a meeting for all foreigners who are staying in Kathmandu for a longer period of time. And it was a genuine relief for my soul to be able to exchange with the other eleven participants of the event! Among them were true globetrotters – many of them have already lived in various countries all over the world and have now been in Nepal for some time for professional reasons.

Among them were two Brazilians, a German woman who has has been living in my hometown of Dresden for quite a while (it’s a small world!), a French couple, an American-Turkmenian family, a Moroccan woman and a Nepalese man who travels the world as a digital nomad. It was a very inspiring and cheerful exchange and I hope to have found some travel partners now.

In any case, I received a lot of input and after my temporary retreat, I was once again excited by the desire to travel, which I will live out from January onwards after my time at school! In order to be able to afford this, I am currently working a lot as a freelancer editor – which is currently going very well.

Until then, I plan to continue exploring the Kathmandu valley and all the surrounding attractions. After my initial grumbling about all the dirt, I now also want to share some beautiful impressions of Kathmandu:

Farewell to my grandmother

At this point I will briefly mention my grandmother, who passed away in the past days. Her death was foreseeable: She had not wanted to live for some time and was afraid of her increasing dementia and of a nursing home. Fortunately, she was spared both.

Shortly before my trip to Nepal, we said a tearful goodbye to each other, because we both knew that we would not see each other again. In the last few days, she fell in her flat and then came to the hospital, where she died of old age within three days. Her heart did not want to go on any more and so she fell asleep peacefully.

Of course it hurts to lose a loved person. As I have no siblings and little contact to my other relatives, she was part of my closest family together with my parents, and she shaped my childhood. But in a way, I am happy for her to have finally made it and to be in a better place now. Despite all the sadness, it is also a relief for my parents, who had cared for her almost every day for the last few years.

Her ashes are spread in the Baltic Sea near her old home of Stralsund. Thank you so much for your unconditional love, dear grandma. I will never forget you.

Bonus: Published articles

After a bit of personal sentimentality, a little bonus. Below I list all my articles that have been published by other editorial offices in the meantime. They are in German, so you probably won’t be able to understand them, but here they are nevertheless:

• My first time: Genshin Impact has earned its hype (spieletipps.de)
• Switch is the best console from here to Kathmandu (GIGA.de)
• Love letter: JRPGs, you are wonderful! (spieletipps.de)

The historic inspirations for Call of Duty: Vanguard (PlayStation-Blog):

• Part 1: Operation Tonga at the Western front
• Part 2: The invasion of Stalingrad at the Eastern front
• Part 3: The battles of Midway and Bougainville at the Pacific front
• Part 4: The battles of Tobruk and El Alamein at the African front

In addition, in October I was part of the in-flight magazine of Wizz Air, a Hungarian airline. The approximately 45-minute interview for the article was already conducted with me in July, initiated by my friend Daniel. I am a little unhappy about the “I” wording, as the article suggests I wrote it in this very simplistic English. But what the heck, Malta and digital nomadism are getting some attention, I’m happy to give myself up for that.

*Footnote on the wording “culture shock”

I am aware that, strictly speaking, I am using the wording “culture shock” incorrectly in this article. Culture shock is a gradual process for people who spend a long time in another culture. After an initial “honeymoon” phase, when everything is exciting, the mood can tip into the opposite after a while. Everything seems difficult, misunderstandings accumulate, you feel like an outsider. This low phase can take on depressive to hateful turns. But the brain needs it, because only through this deep-seated “shock”, the usual structures and behavioural patterns can be broken. Only then does the mood start to improve again and the foreigners begin the true assimilation process until they accept the new culture and become part of it.

I am also experiencing this process; actually I am right in the middle of it. However, what I call numbered “culture shocks” in this article are actually “civilisation shocks”. But since I didn’t want to start this article with this definition, I took the liberty of deliberately using the term incorrectly for the sake of simplicity and entertainment.