Tag Archives: David Jarmul

Dazzling Autocracy

Dubai and Abu Dhabi were impressive when we visited last week. Our overlap with President Trump’s trip to the region was coincidental but instructive.

Millions of people have flocked to the United Arab Emirates from around the world. They seek higher-paying jobs and better lives amid growing skylines, bustling airports, a modern metro system and luxurious shopping centers.

What they don’t find are democratic institutions. UAE’s citizens, who comprise a small percentage of the population, cannot change their government and have limited human rights.

The same is true of Qatar and Saudi Arabia, which President Trump also visited last week. Thanks to their oil riches, all three nations have transformed over the past half-century from poor agrarian societies into modern global powers. Champa and I visited Qatar’s capital, Doha, two years ago, and were amazed, just as we were in the UAE.

Yet I wouldn’t want to live in any of these countries. As an American, I am unwilling to compromise my freedom to speak out, criticize the government and write an article like this one. 

I recognize my good fortune in asserting this. If I were poorer and felt no stake in the political system, my overwhelming concern might be to improve my economic situation.

The UAE exemplifies the beguiling appeal of autocracy. Its royal families can act with few constraints from courts, legislatures, reporters or protestors. They have used their extraordinary power and wealth to build schools, hospitals, roads and shopping malls, creating jobs for millions of people while enhancing their own fortunes.

You can make a similar case for China and some other nations that have prospered over the past several decades. Their leaders have immense power and can be ruthless and corrupt, but they often get things done.

In our own country, by comparison, our political system struggles to solve anything, from the price of eggs to protecting our borders. Recent successes have been limited.

It’s not just that these Mideast monarchies have so much money. Consider Bhutan, where we spent several days before flying to Dubai. It’s vastly different from the UAE — poorer, Himalayan and Buddhist. It is remote and idyllic, with a “democratic constitutional monarchy.” Yet its unelected king retains enormous influence.

Here, too, the people we met — a tiny sample — enjoy living there. Bhutan has made great strides in reducing extreme poverty. It’s currently building a “mindfulness city” that was glowingly profiled on 60 Minutes. Many of its young people have left to pursue opportunities abroad, including in the Gulf, but Bhutan has been a success story compared to many of its neighbors. We traveled there from Sri Lanka and Nepal, two fragile democracies beset by poverty and political strife.

Of course, during the past year we’ve also traveled to Portugal, Canada, Australia and New Zealand — countries with both strong democracies and healthy economies. At the other end of the spectrum, I’ve visited autocracies that provide neither freedom nor prosperity. And to be clear, I am appalled by the corruption and cruelty taking hold in my own country, and by the recent attacks on science, education, diversity and other ideals central to my career.

Furthermore, I know the people I met in the UAE may have hidden what they really believe, and people everywhere are motivated by more than economics. Autocracy’s rise in our own country has many roots.

So all of this is complicated, to be sure. And, no, this trip didn’t change my mind about what I value. Yet traveling to the UAE, especially while Trump was there, made me think anew about why so many people, including fellow Americans, are willing to accept autocracy. I don’t agree with them. I think we must solve our problems ourselves, without autocrats who often make things worse. But after seeing these gleaming cities up close, I find it easier to understand why some people might make choices different from mine.

When autocracy dazzles, it’s hard to see anything else.

Rethinking Bhutan

Bhutan has been widely hailed as the champion of “gross national happiness,” but I had my doubts.

I’ve never forgotten its mass deportation of ethnic Nepalis in the 1990s. More than 100,000 people languished for years in refugee camps. Ever since, I’ve avoided going there. Until now.

I kept hearing glowing reports from friends who visited Bhutan. There was also no denying Bhutan’s leadership in showing how a country can advance while protecting its own culture and environment.

So, this past week, I finally traveled there with Champa from Kathmandu. We arranged a quick tour with an excellent local company, visiting Thimphu, Punakha and Paro. 

And now, I have to admit it: Bhutan is pretty wonderful.

It’s like Nepal in many ways, with terraced fields and snow-capped mountains, but it’s cleaner, calmer and easier. As we drove from the airport in Paro to the capital, Thimphu, there was no trash on the road. No blaring horns. The rivers were clear. The air was pure. Everything was well-maintained. 

Many people wear Bhutan’s distinctive national dress — the kira for women and the gho for men. Every building has traditional architectural motifs. Prayer flags are everywhere. So are photos of the royal family. Bhutan’s beauty surrounds you. 

We visited many of the main tourist spots, including several dzongs, or fortified monasteries, and the breathtaking Dochula Pass, whose 108 memorial stupas frame white peaks of the Himalayas. We climbed partway up a mountain to view the Tiger’s Nest monastery, which clings to the side of a cliff (top photo).

We visited a “fertility temple” along a path whose shops feature ornamental penises. We bathed in tubs heated by hot stones, tasted the local momos and drank homemade alcohol with a Bhutanese family. 

Like I said: pretty wonderful. 

So now I’ve joined the ranks of Bhutan’s many admirers. Bhutan requires visitors to travel with a guide and imposes a hefty daily fee, so it’s more expensive than a typical trip to Nepal, which is why our own trip was short. But Bhutan is also gentler for Western visitors, especially those who haven’t experienced South Asia previously. 

Personally, I’m much more likely to return to Nepal instead of Bhutan in the future. That’s where our family is and where my heart lies. I speak Nepali and feel at home in the chaos of Kathmandu traffic and the paths of Champa’s hometown. Nepal is also a much bigger country, with a population of nearly 30 million people versus 800,000 for Bhutan. 

Yet I’m glad we finally gave Bhutan a chance and I’d recommend it to anyone wanting to explore the Himalayas. The scenery is stunning, the people are friendly and it’s fascinating to learn how this small country is charting its own development path based on gross national happiness — something we could use a lot more of ourselves back home these days. 

New School Video

The school we helped build in Nepal is now open. (See post.) This video tells the story. Also on YouTube.

Samalbung’s New School

The new school we’ve been helping to build in a Nepalese village has finally opened!

The local community dedicated it on April 30 in a colorful ceremony filled with dances, songs, speeches and food. We traveled there to join the celebration.

The school is more beautiful than we’d dared to dream and the community couldn’t be happier. 

The Vidhya Mandir Boarding School in the eastern village of Samalbung has 126 students, many from indigenous and marginalized groups. School fees are low and some students receive full or partial scholarships. 

The attractive two-story structure, with a lovely view of the Himalayas, is a huge improvement over the previous school, which was in terrible condition. The students now have a much brighter future. 

The two of us have spent the past year working with a team at the school to design and construct the new building. We also raised funds for the project through a GoFundMe site and direct contributions. 

We were overwhelmed by the response from family, friends, Not Exactly Retired readers, Returned Peace Corps Volunteers, Friends of Nepal and others. 

Their generous contributions totaled more than $24,000, which covered a significant share of the costs. The two of us funded most of the budget. The school community prepared the site, donated money, contributed labor and supported the school in other ways, from providing wood from their trees to feeding the workers.

I’ve posted some photos here and produced a short video so you can see the new school and celebration for yourself. You can watch the video above or on YouTube.

We are grateful to everyone who opened their hearts (and wallets) to assist these young people. We extend special thanks to Santosh Khapung, Bindu Suwal, Shankar Limbu, and Pooja and Sabin Shrestha for all of their help to us during this project. 

Thank you — and enjoy the video

The Tea About Ilam

Champa’s hometown of Ilam, Nepal, is bustling these days with new shops, banks, bakeries, schools, hotels and people.

But it’s still best known for tea. Lush plantations surround this town whose population now exceeds 50,000. Ilam is the heart of Nepal’s tea industry, with rolling hills, terraced plantations, and a favorable climate and soil that yield a product similar to the better-known tea of neighboring Darjeeling, India.

We traveled here several days ago, mainly to visit with family and friends. But we’ve also taken time to explore the bazaar and stroll beside the tea gardens, as you see here with our niece Mangila and some of our grandnieces and grandnephew.

After one walk, we stopped at a shop where I treated all of the kids to ice cream, something that was unavailable when I served in the Peace Corps here in the late 1970s.

There was a single bakery back then, selling only white bread. Now there are several, with display cases featuring fancy birthday cakes. This tea-growing center even has a coffee shop where you can order a cappuccino.

Something else that was unimaginable when I lived here was cheese. Now there’s a nearby cheese factory run by a Sherpa entrepreneur who learned cheese-making from Swiss experts. He makes a delicious hard cheese that we sampled and brought home to eat.

Ilam’s food scene is not the only thing that’s changed. Notably, there are now vehicles everywhere — mainly motorcycles and scooters, but also buses, jeeps, cars and auto rickshaws. I also discovered some new sights, for me at least, such as a tea garden statue honoring the Limbu ethnic group and the Bhaludhunga ecological park

At almost every turn, I’ve been reminded what a beautiful and interesting place this is. I wish more people knew about it, especially foreign visitors looking to escape Kathmandu’s craziness and discover the “real Nepal.”

Ilam is relatively easy to reach. It’s a quick flight from Kathmandu to Bhadrapur followed by a 3-4 hour jeep ride on a winding road that is in generally good condition. Good, inexpensive hotels are available. The air is clear. The view is gorgeous when there’s no fog. Monkeys await you at the temples and Ilam’s friendly people are eager to meet you, too.

You should come see for yourself, even if you’re not a tea enthusiast.

Magical Kathmandu

Kathmandu is vastly more crowded, polluted and traffic-jammed than when I lived here during my second year as a Peace Corps Volunteer in the late 1970s.

And yet, it remains magical, at least to me.

Champa and I have had a busy week here following our recent road trip to some of Nepal’s less-visited places. We’re leaving again on Sunday for her hometown, Ilam, in Nepal’s eastern tea-growing region.

While we’ve been in Kathmandu, we’ve been revisiting some of the city’s iconic sights, like the Bodhanath Stupa, above two photos.

We’ve explored new places for us, like the Changu Narayan temple in Bhaktapur, above.

We’ve been visiting with family and friends, such as the Shresthas, who gave us an incredibly warm welcome and dinner.

We’ve met up with friends and family from back home who are also in Nepal now, such as Sarla and Sudhir from Virginia, top photo, and Steve and Muna from Vermont, bottom.

We had tea with our friends Anne and Raju, who once lived in Boston but now make their home in Nepal, something we’ve been thinking about on a shorter-term basis while our own country is so unsettled.

We visited an acupressure doctor, who treated both of us.

We had a great conversation with the director of Peace Corps Nepal, who brought us up to date on their programs and challenges.

Best of all, we’ve enjoyed hanging out at the home of our nephew Shankar and his wife Bindu, who’ve taken very good care of us. That’s their children Senchhen and Lajesha, bottom photo, playing a card game we brought from home.

My week ended with a surprise birthday dinner at a beautiful restaurant outside Bhaktapur. It was a fitting end to our week in a city that still holds magic for me. I’m always happy to return.

Elsewhere in Nepal

First-time travelers to Nepal typically visit the magnificent temples and other treasures of the Kathmandu Valley. If they’re adventurous and have the time, they may also go trekking near Mount Everest or someplace else. 

That’s what I did back in 1975 when I first discovered this magical country. I fell in love with Nepal, even before I met Champa, and I remain smitten with it a half-century later. 

We’ve returned here many times but have usually been so busy visiting our family that we didn’t explore much beyond the tourist trail. 

Until now. 

We just returned from a memorable road trip to several places we’d long been hoping to see: a remote valley unlike the rest of Nepal, a picturesque town atop a mountain and the homeland of the king who unified Nepal. 

We enjoyed all three places — Mustang, Bandipur and Gorkha — as well as our stop in Pokhara, a more familiar destination famous for its beautiful lake and snow-covered peaks. 

If you’re considering a trip to Nepal and want something different from the usual itinerary, you might consider a similar trip. We did ours in five busy days with a private jeep, traveling with our nephew, Shankar, and his wife, Bindu. They hired our driver but you could arrange something similar with a local travel agency. 

Mustang is a distinctive region of stark landscapes and traditional culture. Parts of it were closed to foreigners until recently and permits are still required to visit (although easy to obtain). We stayed in the main town of Jomsom, home of the Thakali people. Apples grow in many of its fields and its stone houses are adorned with prayer flags. We gazed out of our hotel window to see snowy peaks and small planes landing across the street at a tiny airport. 

Mustang is best known for Muktinath, a temple and pilgrimage site for both Buddhists and Hindus. Champa and Bindu visited it while I remained in Jomsom with Shankar since I wasn’t feeling well that day. I was sorry to miss it but still happy to finally see Mustang, which was so mysterious when I first came to Nepal. 

Bandipur, our next stop, was familiar to me since I did my practice teaching there during my Peace Corps training in 1977. I remembered it as being spectacularly beautiful — and it remains so, although much more developed. 

Bandipur is a traditional Newari village built atop a small mountain. Back when I lived there, the usual way to reach it was by climbing a long series of stone steps. Now you can drive up or take a cable car, which we rode for fun. Cars are banned in the town center, which has a growing number of souvenir shops and small hotels catering to tourists who have begun discovering this charming escape from Kathmandu’s traffic and pollution. 

We stayed in a lovely hotel — two private rooms with five dinners and breakfasts for $68 — and the owner was amazed that I’d taught there so many years earlier. He told some friends and the next morning we were joined at breakfast by one of my former fellow teachers and his wife, who’d worked with the Peace Corps. That’s Bidya Prasad Shrestha and Laxmi Shrestha in the photo with us. Amazing. 

Gorkha is a regional center best known as the birthplace of Nepal’s unifier, King Prithvi Narayan Shah. He’s a bit like George Washington in our country and lived at roughly the same time. Gorkha also lends its name to the Gurkha soldiers, who serve in other countries and are known worldwide for their bravery.

We only spent a brief time there, mainly to climb up to the Gorkha Durbar, a 16th-century palace featuring both monkeys and traditional architecture. Nearby is the Manakamana Temple, which we’d visited previously and is a great place to stop and visit via cable car while driving between Kathmandu and Pokhara. 

Pokhara’s tourist crowds are bigger than ever, with hotels, restaurants, shops and travel agencies filling the streets near the famous “fish tail” mountain and lake. Nonetheless, we were happy to return. We strolled beside the lake and enjoyed dinner at one of the many outdoor restaurants along the shore. 

When the rhododendrons are blooming, the lake is shimmering and the famous mountains appear — Annapurna, Dhaulagiri and others — few places on Earth are more stunning than Pokhara. 

We returned to Kathmandu just in time to celebrate Nepali New Year. We’ll be visiting with several friends and family this week and will then head east to Champa’s hometown, Ilam. From there we’ll drive through the tea gardens and mountains to Samalbung, the small village where we’ve been helping to build a new school with generous support from many Not Exactly Retired readers. 

For now, we’re savoring our road trip to some of Nepal’s less-visited places. We’re very glad we finally made it to Mustang, Bandipur and Gorkha — three destinations that I hope others will discover, too. 

Talking Trash

We’d barely arrived in Sri Lanka a few days ago when I came across a fascinating example of something I discuss often on this blog: older Americans who are looking beyond traditional ideals of retirement to redefine their lives in compelling ways.

I met Al Sunday at the guest house where Champa and I have been staying near Sri Lanka’s capital, Colombo. He’s a retired military helicopter pilot who served in Iraq and elsewhere. He visited Sri Lanka a year and a half ago and fell in love with the country and its people. 

While strolling the local beach in Negombo, he began picking up trash. He returned the next day and picked up more, then more. People began helping him. They installed trash cans. They teamed up with the local tourist board and reached out to national officials. The beach got cleaner. 

“I’ve been coming here for 15 years and the beach is the cleanest I’ve ever seen,” I heard another guest, Dennis, above left, tell Al. 

Recently approved for Sri Lankan residency, Al explains that “we wear these ridiculous, bodacious yellow T-shirts and people see what we’re doing.” His whimsical retirement effort has become a small local movement.

Al still makes time to work as a dive instructor, travel, be a father to four adult children and return regularly to a cabin in western Maryland. But his Coast Clean project is now central to his identity, the highlight of a simple foreign life he can afford with a military pension and other resources.

“How much money do you really need?” he asks. “A lot of my friends say they wish they could do what I’m doing but they have too much stuff. Well, the old saying is true. You can own things or they can own you.

“It’s really not that hard to make a change like this if you just jump in. You can start with baby steps.”

I was impressed by Al’s project, which you can follow on Instagram, and even more by his example of grabbing life during this “not exactly retired” phase that millions of us are trying to figure out. At a moment when I’ve been feeling unmoored by what’s happening back home, Al Sunday reminded me that we can still redirect our own lives, pursue adventure and try to help others. 

It was something I needed to hear, a welcome lesson at Sunday’s school. I came to Sri Lanka and heard the best kind of trash talking.


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Come to the Cabaret

I’ve wondered lately whether I’m like the emcee in the musical Cabaret, amusing myself as darkness spreads across the land.

You probably remember the emcee. He kept singing and leering in a Berlin nightclub as Hitler rose to power, refusing to recognize, much less confront, the nightmare unfolding around him. He distracted his patrons from paying attention to the chaos outside the door. But in the end, there was no escape. The deluge came and they were all swept away,

Following this past November’s election, Champa and I anticipated the nightmare we’d soon be seeing in America. Our strategy for coping, as I wrote previously, was to spend as much time as possible outside the country. 

Soon after the election, we departed for nearly two months in Australia and New Zealand. A few weeks ago we returned home to see our family and take care of some business — doctor’s visits, jury duty and the like. But now we’re planning to leave again, to Nepal and other countries.

Eddie Redmayne in the recent Broadway revival

After that we’ll return home again, but not for long. Just over a month has passed since the inauguration, although it feels much longer. We still have nearly four years to fill.

I don’t regret our decision and don’t plan to change it, at least not yet. I simply don’t have the energy to feel constant outrage. Living abroad gives me distance and perspective. Moreover, from a strategic standpoint, the best thing now may be to wait and let the American people see the consequences of their choice, as devastating as these are proving to be. Of course, that’s easier for me to say than it is for a fired federal employee or a Ukrainian soldier.

Alan Cumming portrays the Cabaret emcee

As I’ve discovered, there’s actually no escaping what’s happening, even far from home. When we were in New Zealand, some Canadians asked me why our president was so hostile to a long-time friend. Australians said they were nervous about U.S. tariff policy and anticipated closer trade with China. A family from Mexico wondered whether they’d be able to visit the United States again. More recently, our friends in Moldova have been shocked by the abrupt shift in U.S. policy towards their neighbor, Ukraine.

Since we returned home, just a week after the inauguration, I’ve witnessed a relentless attack on things I hold dear — justice, democracy, diversity and more. I devoted much of my career to science, higher education and foreign assistance. Now all of these things are on the ropes. Fellow former Peace Corps Volunteers who pursued careers with USAID have had their lives upended. Scientists I know are deeply concerned about their funding. The list goes on and on.

And me? I’ve been researching travel itineraries in Sri Lanka. 

Taylor Mac in the 2013 PlayMakers production

The juxtaposition makes me uneasy. I don’t want to be the cabaret emcee saying: “The world keeps going round and round, but it doesn’t affect me.” It does affect me and many others, most of whom lack the flexibility and resources to leave. Going abroad for months at a time is hardly the same as performing at a sleazy Berlin nightclub, but it’s also a far cry from manning the barricades.

I keep hoping more of my fellow Americans will finally wake up and political options will become more promising. In the meantime, I’m doing my best to focus on things I can actually change. I’m volunteering locally with several groups. I’m finding joy with family, friends, my community and projects like the school in Nepal we’ve been helping to build, which we’ll be dedicating during our upcoming trip. I’m traveling as much as I can before I get too old, especially while things are so grim at home.

I wish I had a better plan right now, but I don’t. I wish things were different, but they’re not. I wish I could turn off the song in my head, but I can’t. It keeps playing: What good is sitting alone in your room? Come hear the music play. Life is a cabaret, old chum. Come to the cabaret.”

Top photo: Joel Grey as the emcee in the original production of Cabaret.

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Thank You Donors

The children of Samalbung, Nepal, will soon have a beautiful new school, thanks in part to the generosity of Not Exactly Retired‘s readers.

Nearly 100 people have contributed to the project we announced in May to help build the school in a remote village of eastern Nepal. It will serve about 125 students — mostly girls, mostly from indigenous groups. Our previous announcement has more details.

Readers have donated nearly $23,000 through our GoFundMe account and directly to me. Together with funds raised by the local community, which is also helping with the construction, this has covered nearly half of the total budget. Champa and I are paying the rest.

The school should be ready in late April, in time for Nepal’s new school year. We plan to attend the dedication ceremony and will share video and photos of the event.

We will bring with us a sign thanking all of the donors by name, as shown below. If I have overlooked or listed anyone incorrectly, please let me know by Friday, February 21, so I have enough time to make corrections before ordering the sign. If you want to add your name to the sign, we still welcome donations, which will be used to enhance the school and buy much-needed classroom supplies. You can donate directly to me or through the GoFundMe site — again, by February 21, please. We’ll make the final list public.

We also welcome additional donations from previous donors. No matter when you donate, or how much, the school’s teachers, students and families are deeply grateful for your support. At a moment when the U.S. government is turning its back on foreign assistance, you have made the opposite choice — to open your hearts.

Champa and I join the Samalbung community in saying dhanyabad — thank you! — to all of you.


Thanks to:

Anita Adhikary
Cheryl Arroyo
Jay and Celine Barker
Elia Ben-Ari
Amy Blackwell
Evan Burness and Katie Lindquist
Linda Carlson and Larry Himelfarb
Jennifer Chow
Nancy and Joel Collamer
Thomas Corr
Phyllis and Jerry Crabb
Jill DeGroff
Deepa Dewan
Lokendra Dewan
Raj Bahadur Dewan
Joel Diringer
Kim Dixon
Doschinescu and Nanu Family
Debbie Durham
Scott and Diane Eblin
Benjamin Edwards
Bruce Fong and Virginia Lim
Jill Foster
David Fryer 
Robert B. Gerzoff
Christa Gibson
Ryan Gorczycki
Deborah and Simon Gregory
Bob Green
Kate Green
Mitch and Chiyoko Haas
Valerie Harden
Ruth Heuer
Katherine Hicks and Henry Rosenberg
Sally Hicks
Dwight Holmes
Rachel Holtzman
Wendy Hower
Juliana Collamer and Nick Hughes
Camille Jackson
Jonathan and Jamie Jarmul
Paul and Stephanie Jarmul
Ruth Jarmul and Irvin Rosenthal
Pukar and Rekha Joshi
Mariam El-Khouri
Christina Kohrt
Danielle and Steve Kohut
Peter Lange
Keith and Cheryl Lawrence
Priya Limbu
Sudhir and Sarla Mahara
Mariana Mari
Bernadette and Bob Marriott
Herbert V. McKnight
Chris McLeod
Geoffrey Mock
Larry and Judy Moneta
James Moore
Shashi Nembang and Peter Giaquinta
Dennis O’Shea
Steve and Lynn Olson
Lisa Orange
Joyce Pardon
John E. Paul
Deepak Prajapati
Stephanie Prausnitz
Kevin Quigley
Deepa Rai
Timothy and Crissy Ready
Rosalind Reid
Margaret Riley
Rachel Rosenthal and Yair Rosenberg
Rebecca Rosenthal and Adam Arenson
Sarah Rosenthal and Mark Broomfield
Patricia Ross
Jeannine Sato
Peggy Schaeffer
Manish Shrestha
Bob and Karen Simon
Bruce Simon and Betsy Hely
Beth and Cabell Smith
Susan Turner-Lowe
Melinda Vaughn
Jennifer Vega
Sue Kaminsky Vest
Ken and Nancy Warren
Rob Waters
Cindy Weinbaum and Mark Prausnitz
Anne Williams
Robert Wright
Vivekananthan Yatheepan
Merina Dewan Yolmu