Are you a traveler or a tourist?

"Tourists don't know where they've been. Traveler's don't know where they're going." - Paul Michener

Thailand has shed some light on the backpacking whirlwind I was caught up in for the two months before I arrived there. I almost forgot what "normal" tourism was like. I almost forgot what Americans were like. Backpacking creates an entirely different environment than short-term tourism, and expat lifestyles.

G.K. Chesterton said it best, "The traveler sees what she sees. The tourist sees what she came to see."

Travelers and tourists lead essentially different travel experiences. The traveler or backpacker is a tourist and expat in one. We have a budget and we have an extended period of time - like an expat. We do this while we are foreigners trying to experience a new land and get the biggest bang for our buck - like a tourist. However, for some obvious reasons, and not so obvious ones, tourists and backpackers live very different travel lives.
So here are what I find to be the major differences between tourists and backpackers;

1. Time constraints - a backpacker is usually not in a hurry, usually doesn't have a place to be, and usually only makes his or her own time constraints when there is a sudden desire to go or do something different - or that sad day is approaching when they return home to work their ass off for the next adventure (or their visa expires). Backpackers travel on island time (we can meander and wander), not city speed (trying to fit everything in to the day at lightening pace). A tourist basically has a small window of time within which to fit all of his or her hopes and dreams of the place visited. A tourist is banging out the main spots, seeing and doing as much as they can while they can. We all are, really.

2. Money constraints - backpackers have this, big time. We want to see the world and we want to do it slowly, taking as much time as we want, and have a little bit of money left to survive when we're ready to settle down. The backpackers are looking for that local price. What you might spend on a weekend out with your buddies in the States, Australia, New Zealand, or Europe, seems pretty reasonable for those nights when you're off from work and want to spoil yourself. Well, that is every day for a backpacker, and "spoiling" yourself while traveling sometimes just means you are paying the tourist price for something that locals get the same of for cheaper. We are not about to "spoil ourselves" every damn day and still manage to travel the world for months or years.

3. Accommodation - Due to money, and sometimes personal need, tourists don't typically stay in backpacker hostels, or homestays. Anyone traveling less than a month is more than likely going to lay on the beach at a resort with Mai Thais being served to them by some guy who makes 2 cents an hour. I'm not knocking it, you're on vacation, you deserve to de-stress and have someone wait on you once in a while. No way in hell are you sleeping on a top bunk bed during your precious vacation time from your stressful life. As a backpacker, however, I am feeling pretty damn spoiled if there is air conditioning, an in-suite bathroom, a proper locker, and bread with jam for breakfast. Damn, sometimes you just want that American style buffet brunch, even though you know you wont eat half of the food offered, its there and that is luxurious in and of itself. I'm surprised I haven't peered through the window of the Marriott to watch brunch like its food porn. Window seat is free.

4. Transportation - again, money is a factor, but then again so is time. Buses take time, and are cheap - sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes overnight, sometimes the air-con leaks on your face, or the person next to you smells like they lived in India for 5 months without showering. I have been on overnight buses that were too short for my legs, so I stretch out over the top of my recliner kicking my neighbor in the head occasionally (that's how Vietnam introduced me to valium). Then there were overnight buses that were beds for two, and someone else with a ticket got to be my bed buddy (like in Laos, or Myanmar). One memorable trip was the overnight bed-bus in Laos, sweating without air-con and trying not to touch the sweaty body laying next to me for fear of sticking together and producing more heat. Then there are bus companies in some countries that are under the delusion that they are bigger and better depending on how loud they show a full-length feature film in the middle of the night (Myanmar with their Burmese soap operas, and Thailand with their blockbusters). I want to thank whatever Thai bus company it was that decided to show the second Hobbit film at the highest volume from 11pm to 2am. Sometimes earplugs are completely useless. My favorite buses are the ones during the day that play local music throughout the entire ride (Cambodia, Vietnam, Nepal) or slow down so that other locals can jump on the moving vehicle and we don't waste too much time by stopping (Nepal, Myanmar). I could discuss at length the sort of transportation I've used just to save a dollar. Motorbike for three with 5 bags of luggage. Overnight boat that was one giant bed for 100 people with insects falling in my face, and rain sweeping in from the window. Lots of times, when I'm on your average 5 hour mini van trip, the van would stop and all of the locals would get out, and I would have no idea what's going on. The best was when bathroom rest-stops in Nepal meant stopping at the jungle while the ladies go in one direction, and the men go in the other. There was always someone sharing tissues or hand sanitizer. I had a good laugh that time that I hopped on the wrong overnight bus at a rest stop and had to bang on the driver window, waking everyone up at 2am, so that he opened the door and I could jump off as it was moving to go and find my assigned bus. Thank God that was not a day that I indulged in a sleeping pill. Theres the time that the tuktuk driver didn't realize that I climbed on the roof of the car during a drive through the forest, so that I could take in the beautiful view of the mountains. Or that time 30 of us sat on the floor of a long-boat on our way to a no-name abandoned island for the day. -- Its interesting to hear about right? The reason I had these experiences was because I didn't want to pay for anything that would run my budget dry, and I had the time for it.  Unfortunately for tourists, these experiences are few and far between, simply due to the fact that land journeys take a lot longer than air, and a short term vacation usually means being able, and needing, to afford a domestic flight.

5. Tours - theres the kind of tours that are advertised at the Marriott, and theres the kind of tours advertised at the central backpackers hostel. This is when tourists can really lose out, paying double or triple what a backpacker would pay for the same thing and actually getting the same thing. Then there's times when you really truly get what you pay for, and the backpacker is lumped into a van or boat full of people hoping for the promised adventure and soon learning that they were all mislead about what they were paying for. Mainly its the difference between private tours and group tours - flower pedals on your clean bed every day, versus a leaky sink and stained towel. Sometimes its a roll of the dice, but always, as a backpacker, you have spirited people with you on the adventure!

6. Food - Well, really this also depends on the degree of openness that the traveler has. Sometimes it takes time for tourists to open up to the idea of eating on plastic patio furniture in the street with only a metal cart of food in baskets with flies all around, and a wok frying pan as the kitchen. It can take time for a foreigner to learn that this is what locals call a restaurant. I remember as a tourist in Morocco it was particularly difficult to choose a "local" place to eat based on cleanliness, since food poisoning was so common. Backpackers, expats, and sometimes locals, call the local run-in-the-mill restaurants "street food", and backpackers live off of it. I can pay $.50 in Myanmar, $2 in Cambodia, $1 in Laos, $1 in Vietnam, $2 in Thailand, $1 in Malaysia - and for that price I can have a delicious, home-cooked, all natural, local meal. Tourists are usually going where they are sent or recommended, and not looking around in order to stay in their budget. A tourist wants "local food" they go to a proper westernized restaurant and they get it, the same enormous plate I got for $1 in the street, they will get for $5 in a restaurant and it will be smaller and not like mama makes it. Of course, like I said, there are tourists who know better, have traveled much before, or are open to all of these new foods that you come across in travel. However there is no necessity to find cheap local eats, only desire. Backpackers have both the desire and the necessity.

7. Language - being a backpacker does not mean lower standards, it means no expectations. Hostels may not be concerned about how much English their staff speaks, and guesthouses and homestays definitely involve language barriers. As a long-term traveler, a backpacker can pick-up some crucial local words, or even learn the English words that a local could understand easier. For example, instead of saying "can you wait for me?" And repeating this over and over with sign language, I simply say "you wait me." It's almost always understood, and communication is more efficient. I have found that the poorer my English is, the better I am understood. Suddenly I am saying to friends back home things like "no have" and "wait me." This is not to say necessarily that tourists lack this skill, or even that all backpackers take the time to learn how to communicate, however, being in the same place for a long time and traveling at a slow pace creates an openmindedness that simply may not feel necessary for the traveler who is passing through. Sometimes learning is hard work, and people don't want to do it while on vacation.

"When you travel, remember that a foreign country is not meant to make you comfortable. It's meant to make its own people comfortable." - Clifton Fadiman

8. Attitude - One thing I have learned, for sure, the longer you stay in one place the more time you have to fall in love with it and the more tolerance you build. I have met negative backpackers, negative tourists, as well as tourists who are openminded and backpackers who put a sincere effort into loving and learning from every experience. Of course, after traveling for a while, the backpacker usually evolves into having a "backpacker ideal" of simplicity, fun, understanding, open-mindedness and ease. After traveling so many countries, and seeing how different people can be, the only way to truly live and love is with an open mind, and patience. Unfortunately this is when tourists often fail to take the time to grow from travel. There are so many people who go to a country for a short while, unfamiliar with customs and culture, expecting things to be accomplished in the same manner as it would at home. I have seen tourists yell at locals for making them wait because the bus was late. I have seen tourists insult locals, for the quality of the work that they do, to their face. Rather than comparing or observing customs, I have seen time and again the judging of them. The savvy tourist will have the open-mindedness and patience of a backpacker. Unfortunately not all tourists are savvy, and neither are all backpackers. However, backpackers will often flow with the culture and what is going on. I suppose this is also freeing for some people. Tourists, even the openminded and easy going ones, often don't have enough time to travel so that their stress is completely released and their need to control and plan dissipates. The ability to "flow" is much more difficult to obtain. It took me months before I was able to release all of my stress and float through some places, rather than force my plan and not create worry in a situation that is out of my control. It took me time before I was walking at a local pace. In some places dogs would bark at me like I was a threat to their life when I was moving quickly or breathing heavily - when I slowed my pace it was as if I became one with nature. The fact is that backpackers can simply show up, and have the freedom to figure things out as they go, and to do so at the pace of their choosing. Tourists don't have that luxury.

"If you reject the food, ignore the customs, fear the religion, and avoid the people - you might better stay at home." James A. Michener

9. Meeting locals and making friends - it has mainly been while traveling that I have experienced the natural connection between people. Often times back home, the person sitting next to you will observe and experience the same thing, and still no one will communicate about it. On hundreds, literally hundreds, of occasions while traveling it has been the norm to turn to the person next to me and start a conversation. Where are you from? We are more connected to where we are from and where we have been than the person sitting in front of us sometimes, as a result this questions is often asked before the person even introduces themselves. It is because of this that I make a conscious effort to ask people their names first. Then, there's the backpacker questions of: how long are you traveling for? Where have you been? What was your favorite place? Where did you start? I can now list off the countries I've traveled at lightning speed.
Backpackers get more in your business than tourists too. After all, we have been sharing rooms with strangers for months on end, and we understand the difficulty of budget travel. So backpackers don't hesitate to ask: where are you staying? How much does it cost? Even more so, how are you affording this? I have come up with my standard answers, and in doing so have realized that tourists don't really ask these questions, not unless they are desperately curious for the same thing and always with the prerequisite of "i hope you don't mind me asking." Tourists are more likely to keep to themselves, also more likely to be traveling or meeting up with other people. The tourist wants to talk enough to have share a moment, but not enough to make a travel companion. The backpacker is the same, we are all in constantly changing environments as travelers - when we meet those special people who are worth traveling with its really a gift. However, when a traveler is with a companion, or on a fixed plan, it is harder to leave their bubble and expand to new people and alternative plans.

10. The party - we all pretty much party the same. I think that tourists do this the right way, and backpackers could learn a bit. Again, it depends on the person, but when I am traveling in a conservative country I am mindful of that, and often times I look around and see backpackers and tourists in revealing clothes, publicly drunk, and yelling every which way to their friends. In this case, maybe we're all doing it wrong. But when it comes time to party, we can. We dance to the crappy electro music and Pitbull songs from 10 years ago, we get sweaty, drink buckets of alcohol (literally), and are completely open to meeting people.

I'd be interested to see if other people who have traveled can understand and agree with these points or not. Being a backpacker has made me feel as if I am a part of a secret society that understands something that others might not. We are well-rounded, but by accident, through travel osmosis. We have tasted it all, from the BBQ rat, to the luxurious air con hostel, to camping on a deserted tropical beach, to fried scorpion, to invitations from complete strangers to go on overnight excursions, and on and on with all of the awesome and weird travel opportunities we get, learning from each of them all along the way.

Cheers

Mahem in Myanmar

With political fighting currently going on, the army run-government, the corruption of Buddhism, millions in foreign investments, and a newly adapting backpacking culture - Myanmar/Burma was more than a change of scene from the easily backpacked and modernized countries like Thailand, and Vietnam. Traveling from city to city was almost the same as traveling between timelapses.
My first goal was to understand the difference between Myanmar and Burma. Locals debate upon which name they prefer, however "Myanmar" is the Burmese name for Burma, and Burma is the English name. The change in name only occurred within the last 20 years. All locals have an opinion about the political situation in their country. Some are excited about the development, the freedom, and the money coming in, whereas others are concerned about what this will mean for their culture, their children, and their country. These folks are more up-to date about the happenings in their government than I am about my own government. Between student rallies being seized and arrests being made, to fighting from state to state within sections of the country, to monks begging on the street - Myanmar is a quickly developing, heavily confusing place.

The typical backpacking circuit in Myanmar begins in Mandalay or Yangon, and goes to Kalaw for trekking to Inle Lake, and also to Bagan for ancient ruins. Traveling outside of this circuit is easy, however there are parts of the country that tourists are still not allowed to go to because of fighting. I'll be honest, I don't know much about the fighting in Myanmar, but I do know that there are several different states and ethnicities within the country, and each of the 16 ethnicities have their own army. Since the British relinquished control of Burma to the Burmese government in 1948, all of the ethnic armies began to oppose the central-government. Since then, fighting has occurred between all varying parties, and the agreements appear to be far off. At any rate, Myanmar seems to be developing rapidly to join its famed fellow Southeast Asian countries - like Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam - known as easily accessible, safe, affordable, and totally worth going to. The overnight buses are great, the people are friendly and patient, and when the power goes out it comes back on as planned (more like Nepal, and parts of Cambodia in that way).

I had read about some of the fighting in Myanmar and had been hesitant to go alone. I only knew people who had traveled there in group-tour style fashion. Sufficed to say Myanmar was another country, along with Laos, that was not on my "to visit" list before planning to come to Asia. People change, circumstances change, and somehow my attitude became so I had stopped putting shackles onto my own plans by creating concrete ideas. It was time to go with a feeling, and my feeling was that I shouldn't miss out on Myanmar. I would love the serene life temples and reflection.

The experience of backpacking solo there was freeing. There was little to no internet, so even if booking online was possible, it didn't happen. The best way to travel was to show up, fingers crossed. After showing up, fingers crossed, first I would walk hostel to hostel seeing what the condition of the rooms were. Accommodation in Myanmar is the most expensive that I have seen in all of Southeast Asia. I have stayed everywhere from a private bed capsule with an aircon in Yangon, to (almost) paying $10 to sleep on the floor of someone's living room in Bagan.

Yangon is the capital of Myanmar, some call it Rangoon - just as some say Burma instead of Myanmar. There are enormous pagodas, lakes and rivers to see here. On the street where I stayed there were no sidewalks, and everything appeared to be under construction. Locals were always excited to wave at any non-local possibly western looking person walking in the street.
The only thing I did in this friendly big city was visit pagodas, and drink at a local tea shop. I spent 3 hours at the enormous golden Shwedagon pagoda where I was invited to join a Burmese family for lunch. I motioned to get food, meaning it more as a question for where to get food, and they invited me to join them. Myanmar was one of the places in Southeast Asia where I found it most difficult to communicate. It required a lot of patience all around the country to voice questions properly, and I am sure that my English became extremely simplified by the end of my visit.

I made a lot of friends by laughing and pointing.

As friendly as the locals are, I found the tourists in Myanmar to be the opposite. Since the backpacking life in Myanmar is not accommodating for people to meet one another, I found myself alone most of the time, or taking notice of other solo travelers and locals who could speak some English. In Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam and Thailand, it was sometimes hard just to find time alone while backpacking - in Myanmar, it was the opposite. Most tourists traveled in couples, or groups - and other solo travelers, I noticed, would sometimes cling to each other for dear life. This offered me a lot of time for meditation, and visits to temples.

I saw all kinds of temples in Myanmar. In the desert city of Bagan, I climbed ancient ruins to view the sea of temples that remain there.

In the seaside capital of Mawlamyine I saw the largest reclining Buddha in the world, and a Buddha made of bamboo.

The largest reclining Buddha in the world was literally the size of a laying down sky scraper.

I climbed mountains in Hpa'an to find pagodas at the top, visited monasteries inside enormous bat caves, and I saw giant rocks balancing on one another, with pagodas on top that were only accessible by a bamboo ladder.

Between the mountains, the pure sunsets and sunrises over lakes and rivers, and the authentic pagodas all over the country - I have to say my favorite part of Myanmar was the children.

Being a celebrity looks something like this

In Yangon, I encountered a Hindi festival celebrating the Day of Happiness, and while there I came across dozens of fathers and mothers asking me to photograph there beautiful children. No English, just a hand expression and some pointing. I was stopped everywhere I went all over the country in order to take pictures with locals. Of course, my response was "yeah of course, but I want one too" - with some pointing and pretend clicking. Once someone asks for a photo, soon after a crowd forms around, and I feel like a celebrity.

Would you like me to kiss your baby? Lets make a peace sign. You want to make a face together? You want me to have a picture with your children? Monks took selfies with me. People stopped in prayer at pagodas to find me for a chat. The temples in Myanmar didn't tend to be very somber or peaceful, so a loud chat was hardly opposed. Often I would see couples hiding out around corners to have family-forbidden-private-time. Conservative countries like this tend to have strict cultural rules about dating, cultural rules that almost everyone seems to "secretly" break. Families bring picnics to chill with Buddha while they eat their rice and noodles in between hourly meditation. The mellowed out men and women light up cigars while they sit in silent reflection.

Me, Piopio, and little Chu. Precious

In Bagan I had an interesting encounter with a little boy named Piopio. He wore my sunglasses, and I thoughtlessly told him that he could keep them. It turned out, since a dear friend of mine gave me the glasses, that I had a sentimental connection to them. Shortly after giving them to this boy I began to cry. The story turns into a funny adventure quickly. A little 5 year-old pops up behind Piopio saying "dont cry! don't cry!" and Piopio says he still wants to keep the glasses. So I told him I would give him other glasses, I would return tomorrow. When I arrived a few hours later with glasses for all of the 5 children who were outside of the temple earlier, I began to give them the glasses and suddenly there was a sea of children saying "give me give me." They have multiplied. I forgot one of my travel guides telling me not to give things away. Classic tourist mistake.
Well we've already begun... so I played a little game with the children for them to win the glasses fairly, and when all was said and done I walked back to my motorbike rental. Suddenly, happy with myself having cleared my conscious and kept my glasses, more children and one elderly woman crowded around my bike asking me for more gifts. I told them no, of course, but I couldn't help but laugh at this old lady. There are children begging, yeah kids always want free gifts from anyone who will give to them, but lady, what are you doing here. I laughed to myself and left before my heart was taken by these kids and I gave them everything besides the clothes on my back.

"You take photo me"

From Bagan I took an overnight bus to Inle Lake, where I thought I would spend several days. I stayed one night and two extremely full days. The lake is beautiful, and the surrounding nature was fantastic. I spent 24 hours without sleep, going on a lake boat-tour to see how the local cigars are made, and joining in on how to make them. I saw how lotus silk is made, and got to weave some of a scarf, and then I went to the market and a cat-themed pagoda. After this I felt I had seen all of Inle Lake.

The next day I went trekking to a village through the mountains with a lovely little man named Mau Lau. At the village I met an old woman who smoked Burmese cigars with me, and talked to me about her children and growing up in the village. She was 61 and told me she was very old, and would probably die soon. I said NO, but realistically, since Myanmar is so under developed the lifestyles of people are rewound a hundred years in time. Life expectancy is in the 60s. Children are working beginning from 5-12 years-old, getting married before they are 22, and having many children by the time they are 30. Dancing in public is not accepted. Touching children on the head is not accepted. Women don't usually travel alone. This is all customary in the complex  Muslim/Buddhist mixed country. For some reason day drinking and blood red chewing tobacco is widely accepted, even by the monks. Myanmar is so weird - nothing is allowed or "okay" but then at the same time anything is possible and perfectly okay to do what you want. Take your time.

I even learned from locals, that although Myanmar was the safest place for me - as a tourist - to travel, it is not necessarily safe for locals traveling between different states. Sometimes women are raped, and often people keep to their own state and culture for safety. The people are good, the money is enough, and there are no worries from day-to-day life within ones comfort zone.

After my day of trekking I took a night bus to Yangon followed by an early morning bus to Hpa'an, where I spent a majority of my time in Myanmar. The capital of Kayin State is underdeveloped like anywhere else, yet developed enough so that I stayed in a nice motel for a low price and was able to travel by motorbike to neighboring villages and mountains.

I met an enormous amount of people in Hpa'An. I became friends with boat drivers, children who swam at sundown by the nearby pagoda every night, and the people who worked at my hotel. I had the great opportunity to communicate with a lot of local people.

The dogs however, were some of the meanest I've come across. I found a lot of parallels between Myanmar and Nepal, like power outages, dog gangs, and incredibly friendly people.

One thing that came as a sort of culture shock to me, was the way of Buddhism in Myanmar. I expected monks to be quiet, middle aged, simple people. What I got was monks with tattoos, chewing tobacco, selfie sticks, cigarettes, and eating anything they can get including meat. The monks live entirely off of donation, and aside from the daily rice donations that they receive, the monetary donations can go towards whatever they wish or need to survive. Also there are different ages, from 5 to 500. I saw monk children playing football, older monks smoking long cigars as they give blessings. Many of the children choose to be monks because of who they admire, or maybe their parents are monks - it doesn't necessarily mean that they are at an age of understanding. As it is, monks can become monks, and stop being monks, then become monks again up to 3 times in their lives. As I spoke with a local, he explained to me that most children are sent away to be a monk early in their life for a week or two before returning home. He told me it is like going to camp. That's cool! I worked at church camp, so I get it. I could probably use a good retreat to monk-camp once in a while.

One of my favorite monk-moments was during my trek at Inle Lake. Mau Lau and I took a detour in our trek to go see the local monastery for prayer on the day of the New Moon. When we arrived a monk was sitting in front of the Buddha facing outward towards the worshipping people who came for the day. The room was silent, and the monk was sitting cross-legged in a meditative position. I bowed to him and began my meditation along with everyone else. As I bowed I heard a loud sound like a whale. When I looked up, everyone seemed unmoved. Thats when I saw it, the monk, in his seated position, gracefully lifted one of his butt cheeks and - while making an intensified pooping face - let out an enormous fart followed by a forced burp.

Thanks for the memories Myanmar. I'll never forget the meditating monk pushing out his farts in the middle of prayer.

Aside from the unique ways of Buddhism in Myanmar, children in Hpa'an were my favorite thing about the country. Since I rushed through most of the country, I didn't have enough time in some places as I would have liked to completely emerge and anamor myself with the people or the city. The reason was that the waterfestival - Burmese and Thai New Year, also known as Buddhist New Year - was quickly approaching making travel difficult and expensive. I wanted to return to Thailand before everything shut down for a week in Myanmar, and I wasn't sure how the border crossing by land would turn out. The land crossings are still somewhat new since Myanmar opened itself to tourism.

During my time in Hpa'an, I took a tour on a tuk tuk for a day to see caves, and temples that I had intended to see before arriving. Chugging along the bumpy dirt roads, around mountains, and through small villages, was one of the highlights of my day. At one point the tuk tuk stopped, and the driver with his limited English turned around and said "Camera! No!" I thought maybe it was because the villagers were out and wouldn't want their photo taken. I asked why, needing to be in the know about all, and he pointed ahead and said "wet wet." At that point we looked in front of the tuk tuk taxi and saw that about 100m in front of us was an enormous crowd of children playing with water. Celebrating the new year a little early no doubt.

Water fight action shot! These kids are precious

No one in the tuktuk really understood what was going on, other than those kids up there have water. While everyone packed up their cameras, I took my waterproof camera, jumped out of the back of the tuk tuk and ran to the children with my arms open yelling something like Yaaaaaah, I've come to play! Immediately I was attacked by the tiniest girl, chased her around while buckets were thrown on me, and I began tripping all over myself on the slippery muddy road. As the tuk tuk drove through after me with the rest of my group still on it, all of the children lined up on either side with a bucket and threw water inside the open sides of the truck. Everyone was soaked. After realizing that there was no point in not joining in the fun, the rest of the tuk tuk unloaded and we all began playing with the children. I really just wanted to play. Water fights are my sort of thing.

After this uplifting play-time I decided to buy a water gun at the market the next morning.

The temple team

My last day in Myanmar was spent riding around on a rented motorbike squirting children with water. I went to the temple where crowds of children joined in throwing water from their bottles at each other. One little girl started directing me towards who I should attack next. Afterwards they all wanted to take pictures with me on their phone or my camera, whatever was nearby. They were adorable children.

I stopped at another house on my way towards the city, slowly got off my bike towards a few children playing with their mom, and went straight for it. Normally, where I come from, if a stranger gets off their motorbike and approaches you, chases you and sprays you with water - it just seems like the parental response would be more alarmed than the response I received in Myanmar. With the festival approaching, and the heart-pounding heat, most people embraced the water as part of the celebrations. When I ran towards these children, the mom clearly directed them in Burmese to get water and attack me back - yelling all of this while she takes out her cellphone to capture photos of the strange westerner coming to play with her kids off the street.

Nothing like being welcomed. I think maybe I am just weird enough to make it in Burma.

Namaste to Laos and Cambodia

Today, my spontaneous trip through Cambodia and Laos is soon coming to an end before entering Thailand. Although these countries, underdeveloped that they are, maintain some of the highlights of natural beauty and experiences in my journey through Southeast Asia, it’s not the countries themselves that have made this month so uplifting for me.

I was recently asked by a good friend of mine; “who has awed you the most on your journey so far?”

Without a doubt, it is the people I have traveled through Cambodia, and Laos with. Stephanie and Sarah, my Swiss-French travel mates, and Anna my Swedish soul sister who I traveled with months ago in Nepal. The miracles of the Universe have given me three enormous gifts by bringing these people to me. I truly believe in the power and beauty of the dawn. In our darkest moments, we must remember that the light always comes back. Today, right now, I am reaching my light after a dark and stormy month. At the end of my time in Vietnam I contracted a parasite, which caused several health problems for me while in Cambodia, and required me to go to the doctor 4 times (and the pharmacy at least 7 times) to get some kind of answers about what was going on in my body. Even at the international clinics, I was not receiving the appropriate attention and care that I needed. I was afraid of what was going on my body, and the information I was reading online was definitely not helpful. Looking up doctor information online is probably the worst idea someone could have. I type in cold and flu symptoms, result: maybe it’s a cold or flu, but probably cancer or death. I type in something about a sun rash, result: maybe it’s a rash, but probably HIV, cancer, or death. I type in fainting symptoms, result: maybe you were dehydrated, but it’s probably diabetes, HIV, or cancer. The lesson I learned: DO NOT type in “urethral worms” on a google search engine. Not unless you are completely removed from any possible parasitic situation and have a strong stomach. So… of course, I did this already, and that’s how I learned this lesson.

I would call this last month my darkest moment, and these women, my dawn.

I met Steph and Sarah in Nha Trang, Vietnam and after only a couple of days of getting to know them they asked me if I wanted to join them going through Cambodia, and possibly Laos. In my head, I was hesitant to commit to traveling with people I had barely known even though we were going the same route out of Vietnam and through Cambodia. However, in my heart I could feel the glow of their spirits and how being with them would mean being surrounded by goodness. Thankfully, I trust my heart more than my head.

Together we traveled to Phnom Penh, the capital of Cambodia, where we experienced the deeply moving history of the Khmer regime. I walked through the S21 museum, and the killing fields, where oppression, torture, and mass graves were up-kept in memorial of the thousands of people who were killed in a time not so long ago. I met veterans of this time, and was touched by countless torture stories. I explored the Russian market, and walked along the waterfront. The hostel we stayed at was very nice, with a pool, so whether I was in the city meeting tuk-tuk drivers, or at the hostel relaxing by the pool – I really enjoyed Phnom Penh. I learned about the local night-life, how marijuana is an essential every day thing even though it is illegal, how bars make “happy” pizza and shakes, sell laughing gas balloons, and the occasional MDMA or marijuana shot. It was fascinating to learn about how these places and things could possibly exist in such a corrupt country. Particularly since I had met half a dozen people who told me stories about being arrested, going to jail or paying ridiculous bribes, if they were caught even remotely related to these substances.

The museums and nightlife are considered essentials for anyone briefly passing through Phnom Penh. But still, I enjoyed the market and the pool above all else. I am very lazy sometimes.

After a few days, the Swiss chicks and I traveled to an island in the south called Koh Rong - a backpackers’ paradise. The island consisted of 24 different beaches, including my favorite – Long Beach, where the sand squeaked like new shoes under my feet and the sunset fell perfectly down in front of me. There were no roads, no need for shoes really. There were no tuk-tuks on the island. To get around you hop on a water buffalo, rent a boat, or you walk along the sandy beach path to the next place. On one particular day we took a tour with a boatload of French people, and got to snorkel, sunbathe, and even swim with the plankton that looked like underwater green glowing air bubbles in the night. After a few days on the island, symptoms of the parasites became more prominent and I knew that being on an island with no roads or doctors was not best for me. I left the girls to return to Phnom Penh so that I could see a doctor. It was a difficult, yet intuitive, decision for me to make.

From Phnom Penh, I finally made it to Siem Reap, to the Angkor Wat temples I heard so much about. The sunset there was divine. In Siem Reap, I saw a spectacular parade for Chinese New Year, spent a day on the Mekong River/Lake experiencing life in the floating villages there, and eating delicious and healthy street food.  It felt good to be healthy, (despite the dusty pollution). The most amazing feeling about Siem Reap, was when my soul sister Anna, whom I traveled and trekked with in Nepal, reunited with me to spontaneously travel with me and the Swiss girls from Cambodia to Laos. When Sarah and Steph rejoined us in Siem Reap (along with some other absolutely fantastic friends I made in Vietnam) my resting time was over and the next adventure began. 

Throughout all of this my health was less-than normal. I was concerned, taking all kinds of medicines, trying anything and everything the doctors suggested no matter how ridiculously rude or under-qualified they appeared to be.  I meditated a lot, and focused on healing myself from any of the fears I had about being sick. However, trusting in what is good and perfect to happen is probably the hardest spiritual thing to do. Having blind faith is enormously difficult.

These girls, who I am still traveling with, and still in complete awe of, helped me get through this time. Not only was I able to focus on enjoying the time I was having with them, they also lovingly gave me the support that I needed. I had prayed for God to surround me with good people, positivity and love – and that’s when I met Anna. Before I met Sarah and Steph, I prayed for people who had a deep mutual love, who I could feel safe and at home with. My prayers have been answered a thousand-fold by sending these ladies into my life.

Each of these women have touched my soul in different ways, and more deeply than I could have asked for, or imagined happening when I first began my journey. I am on a solo adventure. I am encountering people every day, of all kinds, learning new things from them, about myself. I have learned the kind of people that are not good for my soul, the kind of people that are perfect for temporary adventures, and the kind of people who enrich me and make me thirst for more love and goodness.

You can learn a lot about a person by how they travel. Whether they complain or not, what kinds of questions they ask people, how they speak to locals, whether they use manners or not, what kinds of activities they are drawn to during the day and the evening – all of these things and more.

When we arrived in Laos we spent some time on 4,000 Islands in Don Det exploring the beaches, and daytime life. It was really fun for me to take in the hippy-atmosphere. The no shoes, no shirt life - just like in Koh Rong, Cambodia. The most beautiful thing about Laos - aside from the authentic beauty, life on the Mekong River, and the tremendous mountainous views throughout the hill-country – the most beautiful thing has been the sunsets. Every night, a bright orange ball descends behind the mountains, or the jungle horizon, and every night I look at it and I am in complete awe of my life and the perfect circumstances that have brought me here. I am among good and loving people every day. Not just that, not just friends that are fun and make me feel good, but spirits who shine and provoke a powerful movement in my heart so that my phoenix wings expand and my soul is soaring. I am in Laos, on the side of the world I (ignorantly) never even thought I wanted to visit, in a country that I never planned to set foot in even after making my way to Asia. I am sitting on a deserted sandy beach watching the big orange ball descend and looking at the wavy mirror reflection of light that seems infinite. I am sitting on my hostel balcony watching the colors of the sky change as orange and yellow shine behind layers of jagged mountainous shadows. I am lying on a raft in the river watching the trees change color, the mosquitos come out, and feeling the air slowly cool.  With tears in my eyes I am filled with the spirit, overjoyed, and bursting with gratitude. I look next to me, and I have these absolutely astounding girls, who have changed my life just by my knowing them, and there is nothing more perfect.

I can’t speak very much about Cambodia, because I was sick and spent much of my time there resting. However, I can say that Laos I am in awe of. The natural beauty of the country, the warmth of the people, and the encounters I’ve had with locals, have truly made me fall in love with this place. All I can say to Laos, Cambodia, to Steph, Sarah, and Anna, is Namaste. I see and bless the God in you, and I thank you for sharing your beauty and the beauty of the world with me.

Peace on you.

My Nepali Family

Leaving from Istanbul to Kathmandu, and choosing to stay for a month, was one of the boldest moves I have made. I booked my international flights within a week, in and out of Kathmandu, with no plans for the 30 days in between. I intended to volunteer in Kathmandu, living in a homestay and working in a school.

When I arrived at the airport, I was retrieved by my homestay dad, Shanker, and introduced to the basics of Nepali life. The primary introduction consisted of the smallest international airport I’ve been to yet, (smaller than my home town domestic airport in New Hampshire).

Dirt roads. Dust everywhere! The streets in Kathmandu were a basic free for all. In between cars driving on the left side of the road, were motorcycles getting through traffic in whatever way possible. On several occasions during my stay Shanker – or friends I made – took me around the city on their motorcycles. The potholes were so excessive that we would be driving at full force head on towards an oncoming car or motorcycle, not turning until the last minute. The roads of Nepal were most commonly a free for all. Thankfully, the most dangerous roads were at least partway paved.

The Hindi traditions I learned while in Kathmandu consisted of observing my host family’s living and eating habits. My host sister, Chunchun, introduced me to Bollywood MTV and we would create dances for hours on end. She and I goofed around a lot, and had fun being kids. 

The food at the house was always Dahl Bat.

Dahl Bat is a traditional meal, typically eaten twice daily (more or less). It consists of rice, a small portion of vegetables, and a vegetable or chicken liquid to pour on the rice. The common phrase, is Dahl Bat 24 hour power! You can eat it any time, anywhere.
Before eating, the family would each take a small amount of rice (a fingernail size) and place it on the table next to their meal before beginning to utterly engulf their food with their right hand. I followed suit with the new traditions, learning that the rice set aside was a sacrifice to the Gods, and holding my hand a certain way so as to push the food into my mouth with my thumb was a more efficient way to eat.

I didn’t learn until a week later, that even Nepalese don’t always eat with their hands, and it wasn’t really necessary for me to do so. Nonetheless, I preferred it. It gave me purpose to play with my food.

Shanker Man insisted on taking me to several different locations in Kathmandu at his own behest. When I went to the temples, I rang the bell in front of the Hindi statues, placed flowers on my head, and filled myself with the positive energy from the gods. Some of my favorite gods are the dancing Shiva (the destroyer), Surya Ganesh (incarnate of Vishnu the preserver), and Brahma (of course, the creator). The first Temple I've ever been to was Monkey Temple, and the reason they call it Monkey Temple, is because on the grounds of the temples are thousands of... monkeys. Thousands. I fed them with crackers that we bought at the market, and some crawled onto my leg. They weren't the nicest monkeys though, fighting each other and screaming a sound that made me think they might attack me.

Unfortunately, I did not receive any details about the volunteer work that I was meant to do in Kathmandu, other then where the school was located. Once I arrived, I learned that the children were very young, and having worked in several different parts of the world with children, I wasn’t comfortable becoming attached with them if I only planned to stay a few days. It’s not healthy for children to make attachments and for those people to always leave them. Not to mention, there was no volunteer work needed at the location.

On a daily basis, I began to walk or ride the motorbike with Shanker to his money exchange office in the main tourist hub of Kathmandu, called Thamel. One of his new employees, Rabin, became a good friend of mine and introduced me to the relaxed nightlife of the locals. Each night I walked with Rabin twenty minutes to where his friend owns a shop. Although, I’m sure his friend owns a “secret hangout disguised as a shop” since we had to walk through dark allies behind buildings and needed a flashlight just to find the place. There were rugs in the room that were meant for selling… but they were the same rugs every day. I asked Ring, Rabin’s friend and my new friend, when the last time he sold a rug was. There was no coherent response. I became friends with all of the regulars who came to Ring’s shop in the evening to drink homemade whiskey and play cards. The oldest man in the group, Barbar, who I called Baba (father), drove me home at the end of the evening before he went home to his wife. I was thankful for that since the dirt roads were deserted after 9pm. Rabin and I even stumbled across his friend Kim on the first night that I went to Ring’s shop. Kim is an American who has been living in Nepal working for a Non-Governmental Organization and studying Nepali. She is so sweet and full of life that she insisted on meeting me. We became instant friends, just like everyone else that Rabin introduced me to. By the time I left Kathmandu, I felt like I had created a family.

Ring, Baba, Soogar, and Rajis, are among these amazing guys!

If I hadn’t stayed at the homestay - with Shanker, Chunchun, her mom Padma, and grandma who I called “Ma” - then I might not have had some of the amazing opportunities that I had. One of the family members who came over for a visit one day, spoke English very well and was fascinated with my travels and my work as a social worker. It turns out, that he (Mygendra) is the #1 exporter of wool in Nepal, and had been looking for a social worker to communicate and empathize with the men and women who work in his factory. Many Nepalese women live difficult lives, and having someone to counsel them and hear their stories is very important. The next day, he was gracious to bring me to his factory 18km outside of Kathmandu to a town called Baktapur. There, he gave me a tour, introduced me to many of his employees including an American distributor named Matt, and conducted several business meetings with me about ethics and interpersonal relationships in business. In between working with Matt and Mygendra, and touring the factory, I had a few hours to kill before we all drove back into Kathmandu. As if Mygendra wasn’t already showing immense hospitality, he had his factory chauffeur take me on a motorbike into the center of Baktapur to see the temples, and try some of the traditional local foods. Baktapur is famous for being home to the milk curd. I went to eat at the Curd King, where I learned that milk curd tastes like ice cream and most locals don’t like it because many don’t like cold foods. I understand, because cold means that it isn’t necessarily hygienic, so they don’t eat cold food often. I wished that I could take a bucket of the stuff from the Curd King and bring it back to America, but dairy doesn’t work like that.

The people of Nepal were extremely loving and warm to me. However, I couldn’t stay in Kathmandu for one month. The pollution of dust from the unpaved roads, and sidewalk-less streets were enough to make me feel like I was nursing a cold the entire time that I was staying there. I took medicine every day, and eventually my allergic reactions really did turn into a cold.

Something people in Western civilization don’t seem to think about often, is how lucky we are to not deal with the pollution that is all over Asia. It’s hard to breathe some days. My nose might burn, or my eyes might not be able to open on days when the pollution is bad. I will never take advantage of fresh air, ever again. The reason I didn’t leave Kathmandu sooner, was because my passport was being held at the Chinese Embassy for my visa, and on the day when I went to retrieve it, I didn’t have U.S. Dollars to pay the visa fee. I learned the hard way, that because I am a U.S. Citizens I can only pay for my visa fees in USD all over Asia. It took me two days to find an exchange place that would give me USD, and then another day to book my bus out of Kathmandu. The trick was to figure out where I should go.

On the plane ride in from Turkey, I met a 70-something year old woman who was traveling with her son to go climb Mount Everest. She told me, that if I have time to travel around Nepal, I should go to Chitwan National Park. So, without much of a plan, I booked a lodge and left the next morning on a 6 hour bus ride - through mountains on winding roads - to the south of Nepal. Into the jungle, if you will. I was happy to have some time outside of the city, with fresh air, to recover from whatever I had caught.

Leaving Kathmandu and entering into the unknown, was the biggest adventure I had in Nepal. Every day was brand new, unplanned, and uninformed. The first day I rested. In Sauraha, bordering the wild jungle of Chitwan National Park, there were no streetlights, and the fence across the street that separates the world from the wild jungle was less than intact. It was not safe to walk around at night after 7pm. My first day at the lodge was spent reading and eating Momo (Tibetan & Nepali style dumplings).

I wasn’t alone for long. One night I found friendship with a 6 year-old boy, who loved dancing. It didn’t take me long to get the lodge bar to turn up the music, and dance for hours with this little guy, whose name was close to sounding like CVS. Between watching Bollywood in Kathmandu, dancing with my homestay sister Chunchun, and dancing with CVS, I had pretty much nailed some of the classic twisting and pumping moves that are popular in the country. Before you know it, CVS and I were tying scarves around our heads and shaking our tails off. It was a perfect release, since earlier that day I had spent 5 hours riding a rented bicycle across unpaved jagged roads through the community jungle. My butt was killing me. I didn’t want to lie down and sleep at 7pm, but I didn’t want to sit around either. A good shake-off and dance competition was just the ticket. Just before my dance-off competition - after my rigorous bicycle journey, with the jagged roads, and mental struggle - I said a prayer asking God for me to only encounter goodness and perfect conditions to uplift me. Prayers answered? Check.

That’s how I met my friend Anna. In the course of my dance competition with CVS, I noticed that a red haired smiling girl was watching us and laughing. Of course I looked silly, but I always thought silliness made me more extraordinary, not less. When it was finally time to take a break, I sat down for dinner and invited Anna to join me. Immediately I connected with this girl. I still don't know her life history, her family, native language of Swedish, or even what her favorite anything is, but she has a light about her that speaks far more than words – a light that only people who are deeply routed in goodness can have. It only took another full day of trekking in the jungle together for me to learn that I could trust her, and that meeting her was quite literally an immediate answer to my prayers.

The jungle trek was a life-risking adventure! I participated in a half-day trek before, however, I didn’t get to see any animals. I fell in love with the excitement of searching for them in the jungle with our guide.

The day after meeting Anna I had, literally, the perfect day full of goodness. I was refusing to pay the extra $17 that the lodge was aiming to charge me for another jungle walk – particularly since every time I entered the office to inquire about the cost, someone gave me a different price. It was easy to know that they were inventing an exploitative commission. The jungle guide overheard that I wanted to go, but did not want to pay such a ridiculous commission. $17 in Nepal is equal to 1,700 rupees, which is equal to 3 or 4 nice meals. The guide found me, snuck me aside, and told me I could pay the park directly, and his fee directly, and save the extra money. This is how my perfect day started. God's plan in motion! So I grabbed my snacks and my water, and headed into the jungle with Anna and a couple - Marlaine and Stephan. I always know when I’m in good company, because I just feel it. When I feel that I am in good company I am also usually curious to learn what everyone does for a living. I wasn’t surprised to learn that I was spending the day with two psychologists and a social worker. Knowing that someone works in a profession grounded in empathy and love, can speak volumes to their personality.

Left to Right: Stephan, me, Marlaine, & Anna

Our journey into the jungle began riding in a hollowed tree canoe up the Rapti River until we arrived deep into the edge of the Sauraha side of the Chitwan jungle.

Along our ride we saw over 15 different alligators and 10 different kinds of birds. We heard from canoe drivers, walking their boats up river, that we were approaching a rhinoceros. When we approached the feasting fiend, we pulled the canoe over to the side of an eroded cliff and hand climbed up a wall of vines and mud, so that we were within a few feet of the rhino! We whispered and took safety precautions, (like remembering to huddle together or locate the nearest climbable tree) as we followed the rhino up the path in his giant wake. The most exciting part was walking across naturally made log bridges, careful not to fall into a sinking pit of mud, and hand climbing up the wall and back down afterwards.

Once we continued on our journey we arrived in the jungle, laughing and joking all along the way. It wasn’t until after our lunch break that our trek guide told us, whatever we have to say, to get it out of the way and shhh from here on out. We were searching for a tiger after all. He gave us all of the safety tips. If a rhino or tiger approaches, climb a tree. If a bear approaches, huddle together and grab a weapon, or run like hell as your final option for any life threatening situation. Our guide was amazing, he stopped to smell poop just to tell us how long ago the animal was there. I always made sure to stay close behind him.

After a 4 hour hike through the jungle, silent laughter, and seeing a number of different wild animals, we all headed back, showered up and then joined another couple for dinner and card games. Coincidentally it was on thanksgiving, and with the new bonds I made, I was so thankful to be with amazing loving company and great food!

The manager of the restaurant is someone I will never forget. His name was Osac, and he was entertaining to talk to because of his choice English phrases - said with his stronh Nepali/Hindi/Indian accent - were some of the highlights of the evening. For example, every time he approached our table (between long intervals, sometimes hours) he would say “ahh yes, excuse me yes. Is okay?” Meanwhile, we haven’t been served anything. “yes, is okay” was his most common phrase. On one occasion we had been waiting a half hour after ordering some classic foods, like Momo and Dahl Bat, before Osac came over and said, “excuse me, excuse me. Yes, the food is not coming.” Why? "Your food is coming, but your food is not coming. We have no Momo." It was odd that he would say that they don’t have Momo. It was on the menu, and is a simple and classic Nepali dish. Not to mention that we had ordered quite some time ago. Osac paused a little bit as if to chew on his words a little bit, mumbling, and then pointed to the man at the table next to us while he said, “Well, there is no Momo… because the chef is very drunk.” (You mean, that guy over there who has been harassing us and coming to sit at our table?) We all sat for one second before making eye contact with each other and bursted out in laughter. I asked between fits of amusement, ‘So who is making our food? Do you need help?’ And he said, “is okay, he make only the Momo. We have no Momo because he is very drunk.” We laughed hysterically at the language, and the circumstances. Osac didn’t sugar coat it at all, and the Momo chef was very very drunk. Drunkenness and alcohol are looked down on quite a bit in Hindu and Muslim countries, so all of the factors were surprising and hillarious. 

The honesty of Nepali people is brilliant.

Needless to say, we did not have Momo, but the food was still good.

We polished the night off teaching each other card games we knew from our varying home countries.

My goals around Nepal, aside from trekking in the jungle, were also to travel north in order to go trekking in the Himalayas. Without a partner, or a guide I couldn’t afford, it seemed impossible, so again I took my needs to God, and told Him that if I am meant to go trekking, then the perfect conditions would arise.

The next day I made the decision to travel to a place called Lumbini, across the top of Chitwan National Park to the Western border between India and Nepal. It turned out, that in order for Anna to take a bus to India, she also had to go to Lumbini – so we decided to go together.

Lumbini is a large sector marked as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is 3 miles by 1 mile and is best known for its temples and for being the birthplace of Siddhartha Gautama (the Buddha) in 623 BC.  

The exact birthplace of Buddha in 623 BC. Govered in plexiglass and different foreign currencies, but underneathe is a good ol' slab of granite.

Anna and I spent only 3 hours on the gardened land where dozens of temples are represented from around the world. When I entered the Maya Devi temple where the original ruins from Buddha’s birthplace are kept safe inside of a plexiglass entrapment, I saw before me ancient ruins from before Christ. The walkway follows along the walls of the temple, while the ruins stand in the center, and a ramp leads out so that people can go closer to the exact birthplace. Lying on the ruins were currencies from all over the world to be collected for donation to the temple. As I entered to the left circling around the ruins, a group of Buddhist monks from China entered in a single file line. Slowly they took steps in a single file line, one step at a time, allowing their feet to kiss the ground – and chanting in their native tongue. I joined in the line. I don’t know what they were saying, but the use of tones is what’s soothing, not necessarily the words of the chant. I circled around, and afterward felt refreshed and renewed, as if my head had cleared.

After our walkabout, Anna and I returned to our hostel room. The hostel was probably the poorest conditions I’ve stayed in. We were the only guests in the facility, and aside from the bugs spattered on the wall, and no net hanging over the bed – I didn’t have any complaints. I can stay anywhere as long as I feel safe. So I asked for nets (to protect from bugs carrying diseases), and what the hostel owner gave us were essentially, moth nets the shape of tablecloths and tied up over our bed in various positions around the room. I felt satisfied after that, and it was quite a sight to see!

The conditions of Lumbini were the poorest developed that I had seen in all of Nepal. I brought toilet paper and germX with me everywhere in the country, since although the Turkish toilets were always available; there was never toilet paper or paper of any kind and often no water. There was definitely no hot water.

From Lumbini I planned to go to Pokhara, Nepal, where I would go trekking for 4 days at the start of the Annapurna Circuit in the Himalayas – provided that my perfect conditions arose. Anna had finished climbing Mount Everest not too long before we met and was interested in trekking in the Annapurna region despite her previous plans for India. So when I said before that God answered my prayers to give me the perfect circumstances, Anna was very much an answer to my prayers, not once, but twice! Rather than go our separate ways from Lumbini, she traveled with me another 8 hours to Pokhara Nepal where we stayed for a few days in between trekking.

After a grueling twisting and turning ride through the mountains, Anna and I arrived at a hostel just before my motion sickness started to kick in. Pokhara was a whole new world compared to Kathmandu, Chitwan or Lumbini. There were paved roads, thick sidewalks, and many modern westernized restaurants and shop stalls. My favorite part about the restaurants was the free popcorn they served. The city overall was more organized, better suited for tourism, and welcoming. It would be easy to go out for a night on the town in Pokhara.

 

The view from our hostel in Pokhara, Nepal

We stayed in a hostel for two nights before leaving early in the morning to begin our trek. I rented a backpack so that I wouldn’t have to carry all of my things, and I purchased lots of under armor. We were heading above the clouds and it was not tropical weather in Nepal! Trekking at this time of year surrounded us with snow and cold after a certain altitude. On our first night in Pokhara we returned from an adventurous encounter with some locals, followed by an evening dinner. Later, a girl staying up the hall from us in the hostel approached us. She was from California and traveling alone wishing to go on a trek. I was hesitant at first, as I sometimes am with new people I meet, but as it turned out, Azin (was her name) was a lovely young woman who introduced us to her Australian friend. By the end of our second night in Pokhara, we had created a small trekking group; me, Azin, Anna, and Rob. Rob was heading out to go to Annapurna I - which is the Annapurna Base Camp - and the rest of us were aiming to do the first three days of the trek before heading back on the fourth day. Rob had a guide (named Delhi), and was interesting to talk to because of his deep affection for animals and his experience trekking. I was grateful to have happened to be traveling with someone who paid for a guide also because there may have been a couple of parts on the trail where I wasn’t sure which way to turn. Delhi was nice enough to always tell me how much further we had to go too.

If those aren’t the perfect conditions, then I don’t know what are!

Our 5-person group ventured out and for the first two days we climbed steps up the mountain to 3,200m (10,498 ft). It was consistently steps all the way to the peak called Poon Hill. The steps were often piles of rocks or branches, and the inconsistency of them made it a challenge. Staying at teahouses at night was also a new experience. The beauty of trekking in Nepal is that all along the route are villages, and in those villages are guesthouses that cost between $1-5 a night. After a certain altitude the guesthouses no longer offered hot water or electricity, but all along the way we encountered the same menu for food and ate the same delicious local treats. I ate lots and lots of chocolate. In the evening after trekking we would shower (or not), relax, kick up our feet, and play cards over tea and dinner.

On the second day, rather than get up at sunrise to go to the top of Poon Hill, I wanted to go and watch the sun set. I was tired. The stairs were astonishingly challenging on the second day. There was no way I wanted to wake up in the freezing cold before the sun came up in order to go to the top of the mountain for the start of a 7-hour trekking day. So instead, my entire group went along with my idea and joined me up to the top of Poon Hill that evening to watch the sun set. Our day was a 6-hour trekking day, and it was perfectly worth it. In the wind I stood for 20 minutes watching the distant mountains of Annapurna and Machupuchre turn dark blue, and then pink and purple until finally the sun was set. Afterwards we hiked back down the steps for an hour before snuggling up near the heater in the guesthouse and playing a fun game of Uno with other trekkers. The trekking life is a work hard play hard life!

Left to Right: Me, Anna, Rob, & Azin

The third day of trekking was the best day, in my opinion. We weren’t going up stairs the whole time, but we also weren’t going down stairs the whole time. The views were spectacular as we weaved through the jungle terrain passing waterfalls and crossing bridges.

After saying our goodbyes to Rob as he continued on his trek, Azin, Anna, and I headed down the mountain and eventually back to Pokhara. While Anna rested to recover from a sickness, Azin and I had our celebratory farewell dinner together (complete with popcorn. Two nights later I was on my own once again. It was sad to be on my own after splitting from Anna and our new friends. I felt like I had met my soul sister by how connected we were so quickly. It was such a blessing to meet al of them.

After trekking, I decided to stay in Pokhara for a week, doing nothing and enjoying my down time. I shopped for Christmas presents for my godsister who I would stay with in China for the holidays. I ate delicious food, read my books, and rested up for the days to come. For only three days in the week I explored parts of Pokhara beyond walking along the Lakeside and main roads.

I rented a motorcycle to ride to the top of a mountain where a well-known village called Sarangkot is home to a popular paragliding launch site. It was exciting for me to ride a motorcycle on the left side of the road, let alone on the edge of cliffs, along the side of a mountain, high in the sky. For a long time I had been afraid of heights, and afraid of speed (or loss of control), so conquering my fears and allowing myself to be lost, spontaneous, and virtually out of control, was a freeing feeling. I stopped along my route to take pictures and watch the paragliders take off.

One of my last days in Pokhara was spent taking a canoe boat to a hill where at the top sits the World Peace Pagoda. There are many peace pagodas in the world but this is the only World Peace Pagoda. From the canoe I hiked for one hour on slippery mud paths up to the Pagoda, read all of the plaques and paid homage to the symbols at the top and the amazing view of the Annapurna Conservation. It seems every mountain I climbed there was an amazing view of the Annapurna Conservation. As they sing in the Sound of Music, climb every mountain, ford every stream, follow every rainbow, 'till you find your dream.

After taking photos I headed back down the mountain to find a French and German man, lost at the beginning of the trekking path. They needing to locate a canoe to return to Lakeside, Pokhara - and I already had my canoe waiting for me. We hiked for an hour or so, chatting and laughing. After getting dinner at the lake we headed back for a stroll along the main street before parting our separate ways.

The next day I traveled back to Kathmandu so that I could have a few days to say goodbye to everyone before flying to China. It was a long day of travel, the true Asian way. After only an hour of driving, our bus hit a motorcyclist. I knew when I got onto the bus that this would happen – I just knew it. The reason I knew is because for two consecutive days prior I had seen motorcycle accidents. As Paulo Coehlo says in the Alchemist if something happens once it probably won’t happen again, but if something happens twice it will definitely happen again. So it was no surprise when my bus was delayed at an accident site and later at the police station for about 3 hours.

The other ironic side-note that was thrown in for good measure – the name of the bus company was “Open Heart.”

When I arrived in Kathmandu it was raining, and dirt everywhere means mud.

I walked in the mud and the rain looking for a hostel that I didn’t book or locate. I entered three or four hostels before I found one that was affordable, clean, and in a fantastic location. I kicked off my shoes, went to dinner, and messaged all of my Kathmandu friends to let them know I was back in town. The next night, all of the people I became friends with for the first few weeks in Nepal, invited me to do the same old, drinks and cards, and an enjoyable late night. Much to my pleasure and surprise, it turned into what felt like a going away party. We took pictures, and Kim even gave me presents! When I left the next day, I felt like I was leaving my family.

Me in my Nepal hat that Kim gave me as a going away gift, and the one and only Ring!

The people in Nepal were all so relatable and warm to me. All of my experiences were good and personable. I became friends with every shop owner. I became friends with every other person with my spontaneity and openness. The nature of Nepal is beautiful in and of itself, and although Nepali business people have a willingness to exploit tourists because they are in need of money, I have complete understanding, compassion and love for them all. It was a perfect month, and so far, it was the longest that I’ve been in one country since I began traveling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

To top it all off... I saw Mount Everest on the flight out.