Tackling the Great Wooly Mammoth

I am slooooooowly sipping a cup of overpriced masala chai for the luxury of wireless internet on my own laptop. It’s such a joy not to pound away on the sticky keys of primitive PCs at the only reasonably priced internet cafes around Kathmandu. Oh, the things I take for granted in America. Why back so soon, you ask? Or maybe you didn’t, but I’ll tell you anyway—on the day of my sign language lesson, a protest-cum-riot brought the whole city to a standstill, and my famed instructor couldn’t cross town to make the meeting. We had our make-up session early this morning, which worked to my benefit, because we didn’t waste any time with signs I could (and did) pick up on my own. I’ve been picking up Nepali Sign Language much more easily than anticipated—a third of the signs are similar to ASL, another third are similar to Tamil signs, and the final third are brand new to me, but logical enough (I suppose). I lucked out with three especially helpful teachers—the head teacher/my host mother (who speaks decent English and signs well, but is extraordinarily busy), a deaf teacher named Sharmila (who has a large English vocabulary and the patience of the Buddha), and another deaf teacher named Thulo (who knows very little English, but knows more ASL than I do!). After only a few days, I can follow along classroom lectures quite easily, even in a few of the upper level classes. I just hope by the end, I’ll be able to follow the complex, breakneck conversations among the teens and adults!

I’ve got sound and silence on the brain after my first few days at the deaf school, and already, I’ve stumbled upon a marvelous gem—my host family’s home sits smack next to a very noisy boarding school. From the balcony of my fourth story penthouse (if only!), I can overlook (ermm, overhear… but you’ll see what I mean) the national anthem sung each morning four floors below, and even peek into the open-windowed classrooms at eye-level. I hope to use this dynamic as an insider at a deaf school and an outsider at a hearing school to build a productive tension between sound and silence, as y’all suggested early on in the semester. When a group of children accidentally tossed a ball on my balcony, I carried it back down to safety and made nice with one of the teachers, explaining my project and intentions. I’m crossing my fingers that word will spread, and that public knowledge will be the unspoken permission I need to be a bit of a voyeur at this school. I also love the way the path to the deaf school—from the throbbing heart of Banepa through back roads to the countryside—gradually shifts from a trafficky, metropolitan sonic overload to a tranquil, earthy soundscape. I’m not sure entirely what I’ll do with these diamonds in the rough, but I have a few ideas. I’ve envisioned an entirely new structure, and I’ve been considering sending you a revised treatment, but who has the time? I know you’ve got your own film projects to worry about, and you’re too kind for making it this far in my long-winded entry. (Ten extra brownie points if you can make it to the end! Jistkeko! (That’s Nepali for “just kidding.” Isn’t that awesome?)) I may take Jeff up on his offer to read our “unblogworthy… frantic pleas for help” (Silva 2). ;-) If you wouldn’t mind taking the time to look over a super-informal revised treatment sometime in the coming month, let me know in the comments! I don’t want to burden you with extra work, but I really value your feedback.

For every blessing, there’ve been just as many barriers… I promised myself I’d spend the first week observing classes in order to let the children get to know me, to learn sign language and sign names, and to put serious thought into how I’m going to film this baby before I dive in the deep end. However, I broke down when I found out the recent graduates (who spend their days sewing and crafting together in the school’s office) would be selling their handmade crafts at a youth conference. I spent the whole morning shooting the lengthy preparation process—packing up, loading, unloading, and setting up—only to spend the whole afternoon waiting for them to make a sale. I got plenty of shots of them not making sales, but I don’t think it will be able to hold its own. It was frustrating to lose a whole day and a valuable mini-DV, but it did make for a good warm-up exercise (I would have lost a few shots anyway to that clumsy-and-forgetful stage after you’ve spent some time apart from the camera… like forgetting about focus for a solid ten minutes!), and it gave me a chance to see how the women reacted to the camera. The result? They act naturally when I’m rolling (yay!), but go out of their way to be in the shot (boo!). It turns out I’m not the first person to come to Banepa with a film project—many years ago, an American photographer named Kristen lived for some time in the deaf school, teaching English and taking pictures. She returned to Banepa three years later with the photo book she published and copies of the photos for all the children… Apparently some students made the cut and some didn’t. Whenever Kristen comes up in conversation (which is more often than you’d think, and never by my prompting), the older girls are quick to point out which students were the lucky few to be in the book, and which were left on the cutting room floor. It seems to me that this time around, the jilted students are looking for their fifteen minutes of fame (in my little student film, go figure!). For now, it doesn’t seem to be a problem, so I’m just going with the flow.

Another frustrating moment was when, in one fell swoop, I discovered that I lost my steadywings and broke my headphones. I was (and still am) so mad at myself for screwing up, but I’m trying to quit beating myself up over it. Fortunately, I “borrowed indefinitely” about seven pairs of earbuds from my trans-Atlantic flights (hey, free ear buds!), and I hope to get a high quality, reasonably priced (is that oxymoronic?) pair of headsets in Kathmandu today. As for the steadywings, I’m waiting to hear back from the hotel and original taxi driver who have promised to double and triple check their respective facilities (believe it or not and lucky for me, my volunteer organization uses one regular, reliable taxi guy)… Keep your fingers crossed for me!

My apologies for the lack of photos and comments. The battery for my still camera bit the dust (a permanent and untimely death), and I’m working on getting a replacement. After some slick haggling at a Kathmandu camera shop, I got an infoLITHIUM battery identical to my original, but the label was attached upside down, and when I put it in my camera, I got the error message: “This camera uses infoLITHIUM batteries only.” Needless to say, I wish I was having the same bargaining problems that Adam is having! It seems like every tourist-tout in Nepal is trying to pull a fast one on the Westerners here! For now, here’s a Photo Booth snapshot of the log book I made, in hopes that it would inspire me to be diligent with my logging. Unfortunately for me, it’s already begun to fall apart, so let this serve to preserve my good intentions. As for the comments, I didn’t even realize that people were leaving comments until last night! Reading through them was super fun, and I’ll be certain to add my own two cents quite soon… There’s such an overwhelming sense of support and comraderie when I remember that, even though I’m out here on my own trying to tackle this mammoth of a project, all of you are going through the same thing. It’s awesome to have this blog as a bouncing board and as a way to keep track of y’all, and it’s pretty spectacular that we’ve built this supportive network. And I saw while the page was slooooowly loading (just as slowly as I’ve been sipping this tea) that Adam added Google Analytics. It will be so much fun to look at the visitor map at the start of next semester!

Speaking of tea and mammoths, I’ve nearly finished my second pot of the stuff, and this entry has become quite the wooly giant itself! During my day off next week (the kids go to school SIX days a week here… the horror!), my other host mother is running a free screening for breast and cervical cancer (between founding deaf schools and heading NGOs and providing free health care, is there anything these magnificent sisters don’t do?) and I’ve agreed to lend a hand, so it will be at least a fortnight until you hear from me again. In the meantime, have a crazy. crazy time filming, and write some big, fat blog entries so I can savor them on my next journey to Kathmandu!

Peace, love, and mini-DVs,
Ty

Quotidian Life

It's definitely great to hear from everyone! Things are going well here. For the past few nights there have been demonstrations of traditional Sicilian music and dancing in the main square in town. I have gotten some pretty good footage of it. It's great as spectacle, but I am definitely feeling that I need to get (a lot) more footage of day-to-day life here. I am constantly getting new ideas, so I'm not worried. I still have another two months here, which feels at once like more than enough and not nearly enough! I am also beginning to worry that the 500GB I have for storage won't be enough, considering I have already used around 80GB and have only been here 10 days.

I finally managed to work out a place to live. The first one fell through, but this turned out to be a stroke of luck, as I ended up with a much nicer place for a much lower price! I have an incredible view of the ocean and Mt. Etna, and not only do I have a terrace, but from the terrace there is a staircase to the roof, where there is another terrace with even better views.

I think that is about all the news I have for now. I hope to hear from you all soon!

Net working!

I left NYC by midnight flight on Sunday 7th and landed in Sai Gon Tuesday morning, via Anchorage and Taipei. The next day I was on a plane to see a couple of friends in Singapore, as encapsulated in **Singapore Live**. There's a whole lot to think about there, but that's someone else's project. After the Great S'pore Adventure I returned to Sai Gon to welcome my partner-in-crime, a.k.a. Amanda, the ol' college roomie. I roped her into being my sound gal for a month. A quick round of family introductions and then we were on a flight out to Da Nang on Sunday 14th.

With just about a day and a half in Da Nang I felt I, too, was chasing my childhood (as per Sarah -- what a phrase!). Though I was born there, all that's recognizable from the recesses of memory are yellow mandevilla clinging to gates that line the walk to the beach from my paternal grandfather's house and the green-and-white checkered tile floor that remains despite the home's renovation over the past few years. On a previous trip back to Da Nang I had noticed billboards advertising a new Korean development along the shore, complete with skyscraper condos, office spaces, and entertainment complexes. I didn't realize it was still in the works. This time a relative of mine whizzed me on his motorbike past the construction site, where they've cordoned off the coast as a temporary parking lot for backhoes, dumping tons of sand into the ocean to create an extended beach. I have a distinct image of my father tossing me as a toddler into these very waters, and for that moment, I was terrified that he'd left me to the will o' the waves. Now no one has access to Thanh Binh (which translates as "peaceful") Beach. Right before this drive-by sighting I'd made a visit to my sick great-aunt (Grandpa's sister), who'd just been discharged from the hospital for a cancer treatment. Needless to say, the ride gave me lots to contemplate.

More than anything, two themes follow me in my thoughts: paranoia and networks. My time in VN so far has been cushioned by the incredible support of my extended family and their networks. Simultaneously, everyone (family in both the States and VN) has warned me time and again about theft and the dangers of unknown evils. I haven't fully unpacked the rationale behind these persistent exhortations to be careful yet but am slowly developing ideas. In these new urban spaces, where everyone is physically proximate and crammed!, the network of the extended family has a strong presence at the same time that a wall of mistrust is erected surrounding casual social interactions in the physical space of the city.


Ostensibly, Hue would offer me relief then. It's considered a more quiet, gentle city than Ha Noi, Sai Gon or even Da Nang. I luckily found a lovely 3-BR house with gardens, tucked in a little alley, for rent for 2 months, at a rate comparable to hotel stay. It's right next door to a big market, pictures of which I'll post sometime. My uncle (Mom's younger bro) and his wife have been extremely attentive and helpful in getting Amanda and me settled. He helped us get a bicycle for everyday errands and then negotiated a motorbike hire service with two men to help us get around the city with our equipment and to "protect" us. Even here people seem to think a bodyguard is necessary.

I could protest. I could refuse the coddling. But I decided instead to accept the family's gestures of concern. This way, the network continues to function. For example, I have had to rely on an aunt (Mom's cousin) here whose recently-deceased husband was in the police force. Through their connections, I had a meeting with the VP of Hue's External Affairs Office to ask for his help in acquiring a work permit for filming. One of my first work-related encounters with bureaucracy, I quickly became (internally) irritated at the show of procedural sternness. He yapped on at first about how I had to be affiliated with an umbrella organization, then after some explaining on my uncle's part that this project was not yet my dissertation work, he urged me to draw up a document explaining my exact itinerary and contacts and the thrust of the research and filming I was doing, including details about my place of residence, identification, etc. All this red tape is to be expected but I was a bit unsettled and frustrated when he said the footage would have to be reviewed and the office would have to issue me a certificate of permit before I leave the country. I am just not used to this surveillance. Overall I think it was good practice to establish myself as a researcher here, and ultimately I don't think there will be too much of a problem in terms of materials that would be liable to censorship. Still, just last weekend one of the most prominent pro-democracy lawyers here was just arrested in Sai Gon on charges of "colluding with foreign reactionaries to sabotage the Vietnamese State." He has defended a number of dissidents and advocates for a multi-party gov't. Reacting I may be, but a dissident I am not -- yet.

So I haven't started shooting yet. Settling in to the house and taking care of paperwork has taken a couple of days. Amanda and I plan to walk around tomorrow and get our bearings. Grandma's sister here is involved with the Hue Poets Society. Her deceased husband was Chairman of the Society at one point. She'll dig through their old publications for me and put me in touch with some writers soon.

Now, off in search of more delicious meals...

digital aliens

Today we lost one precious day to a defunct cable. Trying to not let it get us down, we aim to go back again and reshoot it all soon. We were following the fish as they were caught, straight up to the fish market, auctioned and bought (in total a process that unfolds in a matter of minutes) and got some pretty good character-building stuff with our fishermen friends, but alas... unless this is a silent project, it’ll probably end up on the cutting-room floor. We were using the external mixer, and everything sounded fine through the headphones and looked good on the levels, but when we played it back it sounded like digital aliens. So, tonight we’ll do some troubleshooting and hopefully resolve the problem.
Since my last post, Ben and I had the opportunity to go to a “retreat” centre north of here with a crowded bus-load of charismatics. They sang, prayed, clapped and made music the whole 2 hours there and back. It was phenomenal! Nothing like church-music I’ve heard before (for which I am eternally grateful). We recorded as much of it as we could… but man, trying to assemble the whole shebang with external mixer, zeppelin, camera, etc on a bus so crowded you can’t bend your knees is a feat that one can never really prepare for!
Keep the posts coming! And hope everything’s going well for you all!

Minor Technical Issues and My First Big Shoot

Buon giorno a tutti!

Things have been going great here, except a few minor technical problems. I'll start with those:

1. I forgot the Firewire cable to transfer data from the camera to my computer. Dunce. Hopefully I can find one here. (I'm sure I can, one way or another.)
2. Every time I turn off my camera, it reverts from "Video Cam" mode to "Film Cam" mode, which apparently doesn't take sound input. It's really annoying. It's just a matter of switching it back, but that takes valuable time when I should be rolling. Anyone else have this problem?
3. I was filming fire the other day, and the pops from the fire, though they didn't seem loud, sent the microphone input into the red. I'm guessing this doesn't matter since they are sharp, instantaneous sounds, but I'm not totally sure. Suggestions?

I had my first big shoot a couple days ago. As I mentioned earlier, I shot my friend's mother burning the weeds in her fields to prevent the brush fires that will no doubt arrive later in the summer from destroying her crops. It went really well and I got some really beautiful and interesting footage.

Other than that, I have been wandering around and getting lots of ideas. The Taormina Film Festival is this week and I have been to see a few films (I highly recommend Crossing Over, by the way). Thirteen euros gets students into every film and event for the whole week!

That's it for now! Happy shooting, everyone!

Tokyo

After a recent influx of posts (that I have very much enjoyed reading), I realized I really need to post an update myself.  I am safe and sound in Tokyo, having arrived here about one week ago.  I am still very jetlagged--I haven't actually gotten a full nights sleep since arriving--16 hour time jump is not something to be messed with.  I have spent most of my time so far trying to see as much as possible, and taking a lot of notes along the way, as well as meeting with my contacts here and asking questions, seeing who they know, meeting new random people, etc. 

When I first arrived I was somewhat dumbfounded by how pervasive language is here, and how hard it would be to adjust without being able to speak any Japanese, but I have since come to realize that there is no way that I can properly adjust to living here in such a short period of time, it's more a matter of just accepting things for how they are and rolling with it.  Sure it's really hard to get around, order food, and buy toothpaste, but somehow its just going to have to be alright.  At first I was scared to go outside, because there aren't really street signs, there is nothing even close to a grid, maps are really hard to read, and my sense of direction is inconceivably bad.  However, I got over it and just plunged in, spending a lot of time in the major areas, especially Harajuku and Shibuya, where most of the Lolita hang out and shop.  Right next to Harajuku Station there is a bridge next to a large park where cosplayers and lolita often hang out.  Sundays are the busiest day, when a lot come out to sit down, drink tea or wine, and pose for pictures with each other, with tourists that ask, and by themselves.  There are also these older men (some of whom are there almost every day), who will walk up to random girls, start talking to them, then take their picture (asking them to pose in certain ways), and give them the photographs for free (it's some kind of polaroid).  I asked two girls what happened right after I saw this, but they didn't speak English and I was alone, but I did get that it was free.  Yesterday I met two American women who were dressed in lolita and they told me all about what they know about mostly 'western lolita', which is much different.  Some of the other costumed Japanese people were asking to take pictures with them, along with random tourists.  They were just a part of the show.  I have also seen two men dressed like lolita girls.  Overall there is always a lot going on, and a lot of it makes me really uncomfortable, but in a productive way.  Its hard to watch all of these foreigners who are being so overtly foreign by ogling at these Japanese people who are for the most part acting like they are just apathetic to the whole thing even though their intricately chosen outfits and makeup denotes anything but apathy to the situation.   They are thrusting their foreignness onto these Japanese people in such a conspicuous way, making me uncomfortable because I am always just so conscious of my own foreignness that it seems ludicrous that they can comfortably and self-consciously do this.  The language barrier is definitely an aid--one time, this small group of four Japanese cosplayers were taking pictures with each other when these two American girls turned the corner and were caught completely offguard by what they saw, they literally stopped mid-sentence and started gawking.  They proceeded to start taking pictures as if they were at a zoo or something--be careful not to disturb the animals, don't get too close, but it's okay to take pictures because they don't really know what you are doing--it's crazy!

Like I just mentioned, I've been struggling with/thinking a lot about how pervasive and constant my own feeling of 'foreignness' is.  I've never felt so constantly out of place and like I don't belong.  It's not that the people have been unfriendly, it's just that I feel as though there is a certain level of apathy towards me.  On the other hand I have met some people that were way overly fascinated by me so I think it depends.  But the cultural divide is so strong and so inescapable that in general, its hard not to feel isolated and even invisible.  I'm existing in a world that feels very carefully designed and engineered, but not at all for me or anyone with my background.  It can be somewhat eerie.  From what I understand, that just never goes away, no matter how long you are here or how good at Japanese you become.  And I think that whatever I film will be so influenced by that outsiderness, by my physical presence and outsider perspective that it seems hard to try to document reality without acknowledging that somehow.

Oh also worth mentioning is that two of the students I know from Tokyo University know have friends who sometimes dress in lolita at school, and I am meeting them this week.  Wow wrote way more than I expected, and will probably write more soon, but I want to go find a shinto shrine or something where I can just have a pen and paper and think about all of this.

Glad everyone else seems to be having such great times, I hope to talk to you all soon!

-Lucas

On Cows, Kids, and Cameras*

My Classmates and World Adventurers,

Namaste! I’ve arrived safely and soundly in Kathmandu, and I’m already quite taken by Nepal--all the hustle and bustle of India, but with a distintintly East Asian vibe. After experiencing my fair share of cows and near traffic fatalities, I have to say: Julia, you’re stark raving mad! From now on, every time I have second thoughts about getting a difficult shot, I’ll just picture you standing in the middle of these crazy, crazy streets filming that cow!

I was super hesitant about coming through a middleman organization, but I somehow happened upon the one volunteer program that actually cares more about humanitarianism than money--100% good luck on my part. I’ve spent my first few days learning Nepali, exploring the city, and meeting my fellow volunteers, and this evening I have a sign language lesson with the interpreter for Nepali national television! I leave tomorrow morning for the Banepa Deaf School, and I couldn’t be more excited! I’m psyched to meet the chidlren and my host family (I’ll be living with the head teacher), and I’m eager to get out of the noise, chaos, and pollution of the city.

My biggest worry so far is on how the children will react to the camera. Not a new concern by any means, but it feels far more imminent now that I’m finally here and getting a taste for the locals’ reactions (or rather, overreactions) to tourists’ digital cameras. I fear the novelty of the camera will be difficult to overcome, and I also wonder how the kids will react to my divergent roles—first, as a highly interactive English teacher, and second, as a silent**, disengaged*** filmmaker. I’ve gotten loads of good advice from Stephanie and a documentarian I met through the volunteer program, and my plan is this: strictly use the viewfinder (so there’s no temptation for the kids to watch the LCD screen, and no way they can know of the camera’s playback feature), film exclusively in classrooms at first (where paying attention in mandatory), and make a clear designation that I’m in “work mode” when the camera is with me. If you have any advice, please let me know! And Elisa, I’m interested on hearing how you end up solving your similar dilemma.

I love, love, LOVE reading your adventures from around the globe—I save them to my USB so I can read them multiple times on my laptop. :) I’m looking forward to all the escapades you crazy kids are up to next! Keep on postin’ on!

* Oh no! I came up with the title before I got here, but I'm not quick enough on my feet to come up with an alternative. Sorry to rip off your "C" alliteration, Julia!
** You know what I mean!
*** or differently engaged, rather