The Ooh La La House

Upon entering our permanent residence here in Vilnius for the first time, Evie immediately made her impression clear. "Ooh la la!" she exclaimed, then pulled off her dinosaur rain boots and began running around in socks. From that moment, our home in Lithuania has been dubbed "The Ooh La La House," and every day it feels a like more fitting description. A few rugs, a pair of couch covers, and, as of today, some pictures on the walls, and this place has quickly become a sanctuary for the Roaming Reynolds.

The Ooh La La House sits on a short, quiet block which is bookended by an entrance to the park and a small grocery store. When you come to visit - which I know you will! - you'll walk up the front stairs toward our beautiful white facade into the community entry way. The house is comprised of three apartments, and ours takes up the entire first floor, arranged in a U-shape.

You'll come in through the door to your left, and immediately be sniffed by Moki and Kiro, who are always waiting to greet us, particularly if they have done something bad. (Kiro somehow thinks we haven't picked up on his distraction technique over the past 7 years.) You'll walk into our family living area - a long, open room broken up by furniture into a kids play area (which is to say, where the toys get put away by Mommy every night), the sitting/tv area, and the dining area.

There's one special feature that I especially adore. Nick is a master at executing any brilliant idea I cook up (read: find on the internet), so when I decided that, like so many other Foreign Service dining chairs, ours too needed to be child-proofed, he was on it faster than Zoe can rip out my nose ring. Water-proofed and covered with a new fabric from Ikea (because who doesn't love Ikea), our dining set has been brought into the 21st century.

A door at the end of the dining area will lead you into our kitchen - and what a kitchen it is! We have a rare full-sized refrigerator, two ovens, a dishwasher (*angel choir noises*), and yes, even a wine fridge (BYOB, but you can pick up wine at the shop on our block). Attached to the kitchen is our washer/dryer/dog feeding room, and the back wall of the kitchen is a complicated sliding door onto the deck which leads into our small but well-maintained yard.

When you make a right off the dining area, which you will because you'll be jetlagged, you'll pass a half bath on your right, then come to the end of the short back hallway connecting - as I like to call them - the East and West Wings (think the Eggs from The Great Gatsby, not the White House).

On your left is the master bedroom, complete with en suite and his and hers sinks, thank you very much. Immediately in front of you is the kids' room, which they delight in sharing. You will no doubt want to turn right, however, and make toward the end of the West Corridor.

At the far end of the hall are three doors. The closed door in front of you is a closet we've converted into an office. The door next to it on your right leads back into the community entryway. The door to your left - now that's the one you've been waiting to pass through since partway over the Atlantic Ocean!






Walk through the door to your left and find two twin beds, two dressers, a tv, some lovely full-length windows letting in tons of natural light (and also fitted with black-out shades) and a tv with an Amazon Firestick. Now - NOW - you can finally sleep lying down!

Have a good rest, and when you awaken, we'll begin our adventures (and give you the wi-fi password). A day trip to Trakai Castle? A weekend in Klaipeda? Maybe just a nice jog in Vingus Park? Whatever your plans, they all begin here... at The Ooh La La House.

My Kingdom for a Cuppa

There my boxes of tea sat next to my coffeemaker, nearly undisturbed, for 10 months. Clear in my mind's eye, they taunt me now in my hour of need: jet lag. I know, of course, that to sink heavy and warm into dreamland at 7:43 pm would be a mistake, and that an equally dangerous indulgence would be a cup of coffee at this hour. And so I blinkblinkblink at my screen, wondering if, had I not taken my tea for granted, I might have brought some along to be sipping at this very moment.

My lack of tea... that is the only thing wrong with this picture, and thanks to the presence of the Maxima XXX supermarket a few blocks away from our temporary residence - the U.S. Embassy Vilnius - it is one that is easily remedied.


Once the kids wake up. Which could be tomorrow morning, tomorrow afternoon, or 2:00 am tonight. You see, tiny kids do not observe the rules for overcoming jet lag. Tiny kids don't push themselves to stay awake until their usual bedtime (or a reasonable facsimile thereof). Tiny kids don't set alarms to wake at a decent hour in the morning, or force themselves up from naps after 2 hours so they can get back to sleep at night. No, tiny kids do what tiny kids do best - whatever the heck they want.




Tiny kids waking at 11:00 pm and staying up past 2:00 am notwithstanding (yeah, that's when I remembered she has a Kindle - glorious invention, that), all is quite well with the Roaming Reynolds.

Our permanent residence here in the capital of Lithuania will be ready for occupancy in about a week, which is shockingly quickly considering the work that goes into the preparation. Until then, we're living on the embassy compound itself. Nick's office is down the hall, providing him with the world's shortest commute. We have a view of the Russian Orthodox Church located a block away, which is lovely, and we have air conditioning in our bedroom, which is clutch. Someone very clever packed Evelyn's favorite pillow and blanket from Virginia, so she's happily sleeping in her new bed, and there's a crib set up for Zoe, who didn't even give it a second thought as a safe place to sleep.

Why yes, we do have dogs! Well remembered, you. Moki (MOH-key), our 35 lb. Zimbabwean Jack Russell/something cross, has made her second international journey easily, and is happily lying on the clothes in my open suitcase as we speak. The one report we received of her during our travels was that she was being "extremely cute." Kiro (KEY-roh), our 80 lb. Nepalese Tibetan Mastiff, is, alas, still at doggy summer camp in Virginia. Due to a Lufthansa pets-as-cargo flight embargo during the current heat wave in the DMV area, his arrival had to be delayed until the middle of next week - just in time to adjust to our apartment before moving again.



Truly though, we have had nothing but positive experiences thus far in LT. The embassy staff is efficient and welcoming, the Americans are in high spirits, and the groceries are inexpensive. I even saw hot air balloons out of my kitchen window last night! We have a lot to see, do, and learn, and we're all looking forward to exploring this new world. To quote Evelyn: "We're having an adventure!"

And I Am a Material Girl / The Bullpen in the Mist

Life in Kathmandu is incredibly conducive to writing a blog... except if you're going on month 3 as a stay-at-home spouse with no pets, children, vehicle, disposable income, or local language skills. Under those circumstances, you may tend more towards drifting from day to day, trying to figure out exactly how you filled the previous 24 hours.

Fortunately, my luck seems to be changing a bit; just last week, both our household effects and vehicle arrived. I cannot say enough about the impact of having all of our personal belongings - from both our limbo year in DC and our previous life in Boston - tucked neatly away in our home. I'm the sort of person who needs to unpack as quickly and completely as half a pot of coffee and 2 cups of Nepali tea will allow; thankfully, Nick's the sort of person who understands how important that kind of unnecessary, slightly manic activity is to me. We have pots, pans, mugs, plates, measuring cups, books in a bookcase - and in all that time, storage, and shipping, we only lost 2 plates and a mug to less than ideal packing conditions. Personally, I consider that to be within the acceptable margin of error for kitchen casualties, given that their total distance traveled was over 8000 miles.

Regarding the arrival of The Bullpen: Aren't you hiring a driver? They ask. You're going to drive yourself in Kathmandu? They ask. Well let me tell you this: after 2 months of walking 15 minutes, often in monsoon rain (monsoon rain = normal rain in excessive quantities, combined with mud, trash, and whatever else may be on the road - and keep in mind, the city is home to legions of street dogs and a sizable number of street cows) to track down a taxi driver with whom to haggle, all the while praying that he has change, as "ATM money" - as it is commonly known in the States - is completely useless in this situation, driving our own vehicle through throngs of motorbikes, tuk tuks, and oh-my-god-people-actually-ride-on-the-tops-of-those buses has made us happier than we ever could have imagined.

A mountain pass, and bus, falling precipitously away...

Finally having the ability to take to the roads, we ventured out on a little driving excursion this past Saturday, and discovered that only a few moments north of KTM valley is the Land of the Lost. Following a single road that climbed endlessly into the hills, snaking around a mostly-paved mountain pass that rose steeply to one side and fell away precipitously to the other, we were genuinely in awe.

After 10 weeks of city living, we were experiencing what we had long-expected central Asia to be: trickling streams down the sides of the mountain that became waterfalls before our eyes as the mist hurried to become late afternoon rain; 

shining black water buffalo grazing in the precariously terraced rice patties and corn fields;

and a change in elevation so significant that we began well below cloud cover and within 2 hours emerged into clear day, only to find that the valleys below were shrouded so heavily as to create a sense that something ancient and unexpected was lurking around the next blind bend in the road... 

as if our own day and time would be waiting for us upon our eventual descent, but for a single hour above the clouds, we were being allowed into another world.

And apparently, the restaurants in that world serve fresh rainbow trout... maybe next time...

Juxtaposition

Something as simple as a brief walk through the surrounding area can help you understand what Modern Kathmandu is all about...

  The stunningly beautiful, vibrant colors of a small Buddhist temple/monastery. Complete with street dog & motorcycle. 
 (This dog walked right into my shot, then stood still, looking straight at me until I put down my camera. Obviously he found himself of critical importance to my representation of Nepal. I'm bound to agree.)

The Buddhist temple itself, bearing both prayer flags and graffiti. Although I have no way of knowing what the tagger meant by scrawling "Phoenix" on that particular wall, I've chosen to believe it was due to an uncontrollable moment of hope that the tagger - and all of humanity - will rise again in a new existence, possibly one that does not carry the burdens of our current life. (Either that or commiseration with the state of Arizona over the extreme summer heat.)

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This, to me, says Kathmandu. A piece of trash, a post-consumer cob of corn, and wildly growing flowers. No matter how many times I look at it, for me, the flowers dominate, but the trash... it is sometimes sad, sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes defiant (don't ask how trash can be defiant, it just can), sometimes it is just what it is - un-self-conscious. 

 A simpler message. Chairman Mao said that religion is the opiate of the masses. However, a house this size flying prayer flags reminds us that spirituality - a gentle acknowledgment that we are part of a larger whole - that belongs to everyone. (And let's face it: we could all use an opiate now and then...)

I know that they're holy. I know they always have the right of way when crossing (or lying in) the street. I did not know it was an option to drag one down the street on a leash. Must not be a Hindu cow?

I set out to take a picture of a field of corn growing just centimeters (no inches allowed in Nepal) from the busiest road in the Valley. Due to the traffic, I tried to get the picture as soon as the truck (stage left) passed by. Unbeknownst to me, the young man on the back of a bicycle (that I could not see because of the truck) saw me & waved at the exact right moment. When I saw this picture, I looked up, and he was turned around on the bike smiling at me. Highlight of my day!

 
Don't know what the ad is for. Don't think country music sensation Taylor Swift knows she's advertising mystery Nepali product in a foreign language. DO think this is the best way to wrap up today's theme. Special note: this banner is almost directly across the street from the Buddhist temple. 

Yes. That's Modern Nepal.

Descent

New York. Frankfurt. Layover. Frankfurt. Doha. Layover. Doha. Kathmandu. The longest 48 hours of my life. I slept about 2 of those hours; I was hallucinating. However, there's no debating that it's all worth it for the last 40 minutes of the last flight from Qatar: the plane is coasting just above the cloud layer, so that you're skimming the tops of them & looking at a blue sky. You look out the window at dawn and swear you see a faint triangular shape just sticking out over the clouds in the distance. As the plane comes more fully into Nepal from India, and you travel along the middle latitude of the country towards the east, the little triangle becomes an 18,000 foot glacial mountain peak. Over the next 30 minutes, you ride just above the clouds only about 40 miles from dozens upon dozens of the most massive, majestic snow-covered peaks imaginable. I was nearly brought to tears. There is a world in the peaks of the Himalayas that is unknown to us here - it is easy to understand why generations of people have believed that the gods dwell in that shocking, surreal place. 

After 2 days of travel, 1 1/2 books, 1 shower, 2 bad movies, 3 episodes of Friends, 3 security checks, 2 tarmac landings, then 5 days of jetlag, I would gladly fly to Nepal again just to witness that scene through the tiny airplane window one more time.

Anniversaries & Departures

Exactly one year ago, Nick & I were en route to Colorado for our honeymoon. Having celebrated our one year anniversary last night, we are in a state of mid-departure for our first State Department tour to Nepal. Preparing to move ourselves and everything we own to the Rooftop of the World ensured that the final week of our first year together was the most stressful yet, but you know what they say - what doesn't kill you makes you glad you have cable. (Oh TBS, I think I'll miss you most of all.) But after spending 3 days systematically piling all of our worldly possessions in our living room & packing, unpacking, and re-packing suitcases to meet the most stringent of weight restrictions, we finally made it to our one and only rest stop: New York, New York. (It's a hell of a town.) While my husband of one full year is off doing diplomatic... things... I'll be hanging with my parents as they train in from CT. Saying goodbye to family & friends has been very difficult (I cried a few times, I won't lie), but we hope the distance makes some hearts grow fonder - at least, enough to come visit us in the land of the Yeti. (Not making any statements for Nick here, but as for me? I believe. Always have, always will.) So, while there are no crazy stories to report, our flight to Nepal by way of Europe & the Middle East may just yield something yet. In the meantime, all is well... especially because they just opened the continental breakfast.