A moment of joy- coming home!

So I am sitting on the plane, and suddenly, while Harry Potter was playing, I had to pause and check the map... Lo and behold, we were just flying over Labrador, about to cross onto Quebec space. And I almost cried. So joyful, I am home! I mean, I'm not back in Saint John yet, but I am now over Canadian soil. It has been just over 7 weeks since I left, and damn I am happy to return.

I have come to appreciate all we are so fortunate to have as Canadians. Our education system, our medical system, our government; yes, they have flaws, but compared to what many other countries have, we need to be grateful. Instead of complaining and being petulant, we need to be honest about the greatness and then strive to improve the weaknesses.

I still have a bit of time before I reach Toronto, then about two hours till my fast flight to Saint John. I am so happy to be soon home, so grateful for what I have experienced, and so motivated to continue improving my life and seizing the day.

Namaste, friends.

A little more on my own motivation (Please don't judge me)

Something the meditation 'guru' spoke about was motivation; and he made a point about not being concerned with petty things. He asked, "what if my motivation was for chocolate. What if everything I did was just to get chocolate. Can only a human do that? Can only I do that?" And of course, the answer is no. Anyone can try to attain chocolate, be it ants or animals or people. Yes, chocolate may make us happy, but is it true happiness? Or is it just a pleasureable feeling, a fleeting moment? He made the point that true happiness comes from being helpful and compassionate to those in our world; once again, if not a concern for each living thing, then perhaps just focus on being good to the 7 billion people we share the earth with. It made me think about my own motivations, and what silly things I have been striving for. Things that didn't bring me true happiness.

And the biggest thing in the past ten years of my life that I have been concerned with getting, thinking it would make me happy, is marijuana. Shocked? I didn't think so. Most of you who know me know that I have been rather, well, chronic for a long time. Maybe you didn't know the extent, or the length of time. It has been a decade since I started smoking pot.

It started out actually rather innocently. It was also ten years ago that I started to get sick. It was strange, first I would have attacks of digestive pain, then I started to have severe, unexplained muscle pain. Shortly thereafter the intense fatigue and malaise began. My doctor couldn't explain it. I had lots of tests, saw many different specialists, but no answers were forthcoming. Then, I was at a party and smoked some pot and WOW- the problems didn't disappear but it did ease the pain and discomfort. It even kept me energized! So I talked about it with my doctor, who had finally given me a diagnosis of fibromyalgia; a phantom disorder, no one really knows the cause, and often a catch all for pain and fatigue that cannot be explained by other disorders. It was good to have something to explain to people, but didn't change the fact that the only thing that seemed to make a difference was the marijuana.  So I began to smoke regularly.

Only I didn't stop  there. It was fun, as well as helpful. So I smoked more and more, and since it is technically illegal, spent a lot of money on it. After a while, it began to be my focus. Getting my hands on it, making sure I never ran out, finding time to smoke it. My motivation for working, for doing anything was to get more pot. And although I thought it made me happy, it didn't.
Through relationships with people who did smoke pot and people who didn't, I stayed the same. I worked hard and even my first couple years of school were a success; but I wonder now what I could have done with the clouded mind. My life was a haze of being high, something I did daily. I was sure I couldn't function without it.

And then, the unthinkable happened- I lost the person I cared most about. Instead of caring enough for myself to want to be an independant, healthy, successful woman, I was obsessed with being cared for, obsessed with the idea of being sick and having someone support and love me. And it crumbled. Imagine the stress that puts on a relationship; imagine the stress I unknowingly was putting on myself! And so I smoked even more, to dull the pain and fear and loneliness.
And then I woke up. I decided I wanted to care for me enough to be straight and clean and successful. To be the woman I was planning on being before I got sick. To not need others, but to appreciate them and care for them when they were with me. And I watched a video online about a school in Nepal- of course, you know where that led. 53 days of new experiences, of learning about myself and being strong.

It led to over 53 days of being clean. Of not smoking. Which to me, is a major triumph.
Whew, what a story, huh? Well, imagine if all of this came flooding in as you sit with 9 other people, on low cushions, as a slight Indian man talks about motivation. Imagine having to fight back tears as your entire being says "That is YOU Laura, you spent your time chasing 'chocolate', instead of working to improve yourself so that you could improve the lives of the 7 billion people you share this world with. You had so many gifts and you wasted them, ARE wasting them." So I followed his tips on meditation, and when we were done I hurried to my room. I furiously started writing down my thoughts, wanting to hold tightly to this feeling in order to not have to feel it again. That feeling that I wasted so much time, so much energy, so much of my resources chasing after a silly desire stung.

I don't want to feel like I am wasting my chances again.

Now that isn't to say that I will never smoke again; it isn't to say I won't have drinks with friends, or work to save for clothes I want or things I want. What I am saying is that my true motivation will be to improve my life so that I am in a position to improve the lives of those I love, and those they love, and so on as the circle grows. I want to be a person who is happy to find a partner in life, but who doesn't smother them in neediness. Who shares joy with the people she meets, instead of leeching their happiness from them.

It is something that is hard to do, but is worth it. Find out what your 'chocolate' is. Not everyone may have that silly motivation, but if you do, decide if it truly is making you happy, or if it is just the momentary delight that quickly fades and leaves you almost emptier than before. Decide what will truly make you happy and go for that.

Namaste, friends.

Leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again.... Au Revior, Kathmandu

So I am sitting in the airport, I still have an hour until my flight even starts boarding... I am already tired and a, looking to a 34 hour journey until I land in Saint John. It should be ok tho, once I am on the plane, I can get my headphones out and enjoy some in flight entertainment, as well as some delicious food (I hope!). I leave kathmandu at 130pm, if all goes well, then I land in Bangkok, where I have a 7 hour stopover! Luckily, I was able to change the last of my nepali rupees into American dollars, s. can get a drink and a snack while I wait. After Bangkok I have an 11 our flight to London, which if it is slap to my arrival, is full of delicious food and drinks. In London I have about an hour and a half to make my connection, where I will then fly to Toronto (not Halifax like when I flew here) wait two hours for the final leg of my journey. If all goes according to plan, I arrive home at 4:48 pm Monday, July 22. After 55 days of travel and adventure, I will be happy to be home.

My parents will be picking me up from the airport. I plan on utilizing a washroom in Toronto to make myself look much more presentable. I didn't bother with makeup before I left KTM, as I knew it would all end p melting and making me feel gross. I won't even bother in Bangkok. London is just a quick stop, but hopefully, even with customs, I will have time to make myself look nice. If not, I can always use the bathroom on the plane, although I am unsure if I can make myself up on a bumpy flight. Hopefully we'll have smooth skies.

I am impatient to get going. Unfortunately, I have a middle seat on the flight to Bangkok. It is only a 3 1/2 hour flight tho, so it isn't completely undoable. I am keeping my fingers crossed that the flight to London is as e,p as the flight FROM London was. If so, I'm set! It was so nice, on the flight from London to Bangkok, to have lots of room to stretch out. I'm not counting on it tho. I mean, it's not like I EVER sleep on the flights-even when I take sleeping pills and kick them up with an alcoholic drink. So I plan on catching up on some journaling, watching movies on the monitors provided, and enjoying the snacks and meals provided by the airline. Thai Gardens knows how to treat their customers, thank goodness, as it is a 12 hour flight!

This morning I took one last yoga class. I could have just allowed myself to sleep in, but I woke up early  and didn't want to waste the opportunity. It was rough! I was dripping sweat it felt great after. I ordered breakfast, had a shower, enjoyed delicious boiled eggs (which I loaded with chili sauce) fried potatoes with onions, yummy bread with yak butter and apricot jelly, a mango shake (so yum) and a cup of milk tea. 

Oh real milk tea, how I will miss you! I did buy some tea to bring home (along with local liquors, local cigarettes for my smoker friends, prayer flags, incense and scarves) butinfear I won't be able to recreate the goodness that is the Nepali milk tea. Especially like it was served at Pal Ewam. Whatever the cook's trick at the school, his large thermoses (thermosi?) of milk tea at break were amazing delicious and restorative, even on a hot day. I will try tho.

I will prolly have some internet in Bangkok, limited in London, and I don't know it'll have ANY in Toronto. Isn't that funny? There is so much more available wifi in the 'third world' country of Nepal than in my first world nation of Canada. So we'll see. I don't have long to wait there anyway, so even if not, it's not the end of the world. And once I get to Toronto I can turn my phone back on! Booyah! 

I haven't used my phone since May 30th. It doesn't even roam to London. Damn me for not having a smart phone. 

Oh well. 

And there is a tiny cat running around the airport. How cool is that? I only wish it was friendlier, and would come sit by me.

All for now, dear friends,

Namaste.

Meditation... Tougher than you think

So during this final week of my adventure, I have been attending Yoga and Meditation daily. The yoga isn't as tough as I thought it would be, luckily my workouts and stretches and bastardized-yoga-routines at home have helped me be ready to take part. Interestingly enough, the meditation is really tough.

The first half hour is analytic meditation, or thoughts and conclusions. Like today, our guru spoke about motivation; that we all have motivation to do what we do, whether it is the ants who are motivated to work, animals motivated to hunt, or people motivated to seek out meditation or guidance or clothes or cars or wealth... And that at the root, that motivation is really for happiness, to avoid suffering. Animals, insects, people, everything is motivated to reduce their suffering and be content, to be happy.

He also gave us the quote:
 
   "Every day, think as you wake up, today I am fortunate to be alive, I have a precious human life, I am      not going to waste it. I am going to use all my energies to develop myself, to expand my heart out to        others; to achieve enlightenment for the benefit of all beings. I am going to have kind thoughts          
     towards others, I am not going to get angry or think badly about others. I am going to benefit others         as much as I can."

It is from the Dalai Lama. Our guru asked us to think about how fortunate we are each day to be alive, to have the ability to seek out what makes us happy and to control our thoughts and actions. When we die, we no longer have our body to control; we can no longer speak, interact, be with our loved ones. Whatever your belief system, when you die you are no longer a part of this earth. And so we cannot waste the life and opportunities we have each day.

I am only 35, but I have already lost friends. People I care about, my grandparents, others I have looked up to, friends I attended school with or worked with, they have passed on. They are gone. I am not. And I am fortunate each day to wake up and be alive.

I nearly started crying as he spoke. How is it possible that I was ready to waste my own life, my own talents and strengths? It was a dark period for me, but there was a time when I just wanted to not wake up. Let me be clear: I wanted to die. I do not want to die any longer.

It isn't just living life, though. It is taking each opportunity to find out what philosophy is right for me, to find out if Buddhism, Hinduism, Christianity, Islam, Wiccan, Athiesm, whatever- take the time to investigate what truth is right for you and your life. Allow others to believe what is right for them.  It is also improving ourselves, not to be the best, to be the richest or the most famous, but to be able to ease the suffering of our fellow beings. If you can't make equal in your mind all beings, from insects to cows, to cats to people, then just focus on helping and loving your fellow man. To allow all people, no matter race or sex or orientation equality. To not be jealous (I have trouble with that- I am so jealous of people with singing talent), not to be hateful or spiteful, but to be honest and caring and compassionate.

After we have a period of thinking- of coming to conclusions and using our minds actively, we spend the other half of meditation clearing our minds and focusing on our breathing. Letting go of all that is happening in our brains, in our lives, and just breathing. We practice a Tibetan breathing technique where you do 9 rounds of breathing. Each round is a breath in and out, and you count them to 9. You only continue to 9 as long as you do not get distracted. That is the most difficult part. Not thinking about anything but the breathing. Not letting the noises outside distract your mind, not thinking about the video you watched before meditation, not allowing thoughts of those you love and miss in as you focus only on your breath in, your breath out.

Then, when the mind is calm, you begin to focus on your heart, picturing a light as bright as the sun glowing from your heart, your body disintegrating into nothingness, then the light envelopes the building you are in, the city you are in, the entire world. It spreads, beyond the earth, beyond the planets, beyond the sun until there is absolute nothingness.

That is the goal of this meditation, to lose oneself into the calmness that is nothingness. That is where true control of your mind comes from. When you are able to take your consciousness into this nothingness, you can then save yourself from the negative effects of anxiety, attachment, depression, to control your wants and seek true happiness. And that is why it is so hard for me. My mind is always doing so many things at once, thinking of so many different things, desiring so many things, worrying about so many things. And that is also why I find this meditation so important. I want to take control of my mind, to harness it, not kill it. To be able to improve myself, help others- both those I love and those I don't even know- and to use each opportunity to its fullest.

I am so grateful for this trip, I continue to learn about myself and my world everyday. It is Wednesday evening, I leave Sunday afternoon. I can't wait to come home, I miss home so much, but I will be sad that my growth here will end. It is easy to learn lessons when each day is filled with new and foreign experiences. It is tougher to keep motivated and learning and improving when you are in your comfort zone.

Yet that is my goal. To continue learning, growing, and improving.

Namaste

Thamel, Thamel, Thamel... Or updating on what I have been up to

Thamel is... Interesting. I stayed 3 days at the Himalayan Yoga Hotel; during that time I would go out daily and walk around the tourist neighbourhood of Kathmandu. Everywhere you go is reatsaurants, small shops, tables set up with jewelry and statues and all manner of scarves and pashminas. People walk down the street, trying to convince you to come to their spa, buy their wares, or stay at their hotel/guesthouse. And so many hippies! Nepal is a country filled with tourist hippies.

After three days, I moved to the Heritage Hotel and Guest House. Here I was surprised to find a tv in my room, with satellite channels! So even though I don't get Canadian tv, I do get to chill in the hot of the midday and the dark of the evenings with Star World India, Star Movies India, and HBO Asia. I have been watching repeats of Two and a Half Men (what an absurd show) Masterchef Australia (I love cooking competitions!) and so many hollywood movies, both old and new (Jurassic Park, anyone?)

Meanwhile, I have also been to the Garden of Dreams, a beautiful private garden that was restored at the beginning of the 20th century. It was amazing there, so peaceful and removed from the hustle and bustle of the road outside.

When you walk in, through a white stone wall, you buy a ticket ($2) and then turn a corner into some amazing greenery. There is a cafe to the east, and an open air bar to the west. Very near the entrance is a beautiful half circle of terraced ground, with cushioned mats provided for lounging. First I explored, taking pictures (Curious George accompanied me for this trip) checking out the many small nooks and crannies that amorous Nepalese couples love to hide themselves in. I disturbed a few people, apologized, and hurried to the next little spot.

There is a small gallery of before and after pictures, showing the state of the garden before the restoration. There are beautiful statues of elephants at the main entrance of the cafe, and a gorgeous pond with lillies and pads and coy fish.

After walking around I found an empty mat and relaxed in the hot sun, pulling out my iPad to read. (Can I just say how much I love the Kindle reader app on my iPad? I think I have 30 books on it now, available anytime, with no extra weight!) I think I relaxed there for two hours, watching a mother and her two children play and read, numerous couples cuddle and laugh together, and some groups of teenagers in their school uniforms joke around. It was heaven.

After the garden, I made my way back into the heart of Thamel, back to another visit to The Roadhouse restaurant. It was hot and sunny, and I was craving a tall cold glass of iced tea. I also ordered a club sandwich, and was not disappointed. Altho different than at home, this was delicious! It had sliced ham, fried egg, chicken salad, tomato and olives and cheese, as well as MAYO. It has been so long since I had mayonnaise! I ate it and read some more, then made my way back to my hotel. I was so tired.

But Laura, what about your volunteering? Weren't you going to be volunteering this week? Yes, I was. Maybe you remember my last post, when I was depressed about being sick again? Well, the hotel has a doctor on call, and the staff saw me one morning and asked if I was ok, if I wanted to see the doctor. Trutfully, I didn't. I was good at taking care of myself, I had already contacted the shcool to tell them I was sick, and I wasn't pushing myself each day. No 5 hour walkabouts like in Patan or Lakeside, just an hour or two then back to rest, with another hour or two later in the day. The staff here were insistent, maybe to get the doctor some extra bucks, maybe because they really are attentive to their guests, but I am glad I did.

I didn't have food poisoning, I didn't have heat stroke. No, the doctor listened to my complaints, listened to my chest and advised me I had a mild chest infection-something very common for tourists to Kathmandu. During rainy season, the quick changes in temperature and humidity, as well as the large amount of dirt and dust easily cause infections in many visitors. He gave me the name of an antibiotic that would help (I had to explain multiple times I was allergic to penicillan) and told me to tell the staff if things didn't get better.

Luckily, there is a pharmacy around the corner from the hotel. Pharmacies here aren't like at home, they are just small stores (many times just a stall) with all manner of pills, lotions, and medicines to help. In fact, you don't need a prescription for most drugs. I still need to go back and find out if I can buy a bottle of the sleeping pills I am almost out of.

So anyway, I took most of the week easy, until yesterday (Friday). It was yesterday I woke up and decided to visit Swayambhunath, the site of the affectionately named Monkey Temple. I grabbed a taxi there (maybe 3 bucks?) and was met by the most intimidating set of stairs; 365 in total, very steep. The sun was out in full force as well, and unfortunately I hadn't had breakfast that morning. It was a tough climb. I had to stop halfway up to rest, my lungs wheezing in protest, the air getting thinner with every step. Hadn't I learned at the Peace Pagoda in Pokhara to take my time? No, I pushed myself, and halfway up I nearly died. But I didn't. I regained some composure, traded the horrible wheezing for a mild wheeze, and continued up.

I think part of the reason I didn't slow down on the climb was the locals who tried to getyou to buy things on every step. Women with their babies begged for milk money, young teenage boys would offer their services as a tour guide, and tables and tables of jewelry and knicknacks and more with hawkers calling to you. I pushed myself on, smiling but shaking my head that I wasn't interested.
Then at the top you buy your ticket, another 2 buck entry fee, and you have arrived. I walked around, turning prayer wheels and taking pictures. An old lady saw me sitting and catching my breath, and came over. "Picture?" she said, bowing slightly, but I said no. Locals will offer to have their picture taken in gorgeous saris, only to demand payment after for their posing. I wasn't interested, but took pictures of the monkeys, (I think macaques?), the statues, the temples and the view. I walked around in a clockwise direction, according to the guidebooks, and then found a small cafe to have lunch in. I was starving. The climb and the heat was overwhelming.

The cafe was dingy, but the food was clean and delicious. I had originally ordered a cheese sandwich and fries, (most cheese sandwiches here come grilled), but the waiter returned to advise me they were out of bread! I quickly checked the menu again, and ordered some egg fried rice.

I am glad they were out of bread. The rice was basic yet delicious! I stuffed myself full, read a bit more, then continued on around the stupa, and down the back stairs to more stalls and temples and sites. Then I bargained a taxi (he wanted 6, I paid 4) and was on my way through the exciting streets back to my hotel.

At the hotel I found out the internet was down! What was I to do? I decided to relax a while, and then go find lupper. I returned to the Electric Pagoda restaurant, first because there were items on the menu I wanted to try and second because I knew they had wifi. I caught up on emailing, downloaded a few new books to read, and had the most delicious (and spicy) hyderabadi biryani with onion raita. Oh my goodness it was amazing, leaving my mouth sizzling with spicy goodness. I also downed too many gin and tonics, it was happy hour and I hadn'y expected 2 for one; remember, standard serving size here is a double! Luckily, the Electric Pagoda is only around the corner from my hotel, so I didn't need to worry about the (extremely tipsy) walk back. I made it to my room and fell onto the bed, snoozed a bit, watched some Greys Anatomy on satellite, then fell into a deep slumber. I didn't wake up until nearly 8 the next morning! Believe me, that is a very late sleep in for me, now.

The internet was still down so instead of eating breakfast in my room (room service rocks) I went out to the Northfield Cafe and had a large breakfast of sausage patties, homefries, fried eggs with lots of hot sauce (what can I say, I can't get enough!) and coffee. SO MUCH COFFEE. I was chatting via Skype with friends at home and didn't want to leave, so I ordered some iced tea (delicious and refreshing) and forced it into my nearly bursting stomach. Two iced teas later, it was 2 am at home and I needed to empty my bladder. Three coffees and two iced teas will do that to you!

A funny thing happened at the Northfield as well; the manager, a happy looking man, came up to chat to see how I was doing. He made the rounds to all the patrons, and was very charming. However, he sat down and talked to me, ordering an iced mocha for me to try, and complimenting me on my dimpled smile. He learned I was from Canada, and like so many of the native Nepalese I have met here, talked about how much he wanted to move to Toronto. Apparently Canada is well respected arond the world, and many of the locals here have dreams of immigrating. I proudly talked up our country, which I do love so much, and blushed as he came back multiple times to make me laugh so he could see my dimples. Oh these men! Always looking for foreign wives.

I am now relaxing in my hotel room, no plans for today other than to go out later for supper. I will, after everything digests and I feel less bloated, do some in room exercises; I looked up some simple things for me to do on the days I don't go walking in order to prevent all the food I have been fortunate enough to enjoy from fattening me up again. I mean, I'm pretty sure I haven't really lost much weight, but I sure don't want to go home and be heavier than when I left.

Only 8 days until I catch a plane home, and only one more site to visit. Tomorrow I go back to the Hotel Himalaya Yoga, and plan on daily yoga and meditation classes. Then, on Sunday the 21st, I head home. I do miss home, so very much. I love Nepal, I miss my monklets, but I miss home, my family, my cat, my friends even more.

Namaste

Learning to Cook like a Local

One of my days here in Thamel, the tourist district of Kathmandu, I was fortunate enough to be part of a 'Cook Like a Local' class provided by Social Tours. ST is an organization that runs trekking tours, cooking classes and local walks to raise awareness and keep money in the hands of local Nepalese people. I was excited to find out I could be part of a class to learn how to properly cook Dal Bhat, pretty much the national dish of Nepal. Rice, lentil soup and some type of vegetable curry is what most Nepalese eat at least twice a day. At the monastery, I fell in love with dal bhat, and when I came to Kathmandu I missed it. I am now happy to say I feel confident in my abilty to cook it when I get home. The ingredients aren't exotic, and the spices used are available in the supermarkets at home. It is just knowing the amounts and the steps involved.

I showed up about 15 minutes early, the Social Tours office only a couple minutes walk down the main street, Tridevi Marg. There I met Erika, a local who had lived most of her life outside of Nepal, but had returned as a young adult and was motivated to make a difference in the lives of her people. I also met the two other tourists who were signed up for the class, both from England, although they had been living in Honk Kong for the the last couple years. I, of course, easily chatted with them as we enjoyed milk tea and filled in our registration forms. Then we met our teacher, the office's resident cook, and started out for the market.

Now when I say market, I mean a tiny stall down one alleyway and onto another, even smaller alley. The store was packed with fresh vegetables, bags and boxes of spices, dried lentils, beans and chickpeas, and bottles of sauces and pickles (not what we think of pickles, but Indian style ones, more like chutneys). Our teacher asked what vegetable we wanted to make, and I knew right off- potato and green bean. It was my favorite combination at the monastery, and I wanted to know how to make it right.We also bought some mustard greens and spinach, a bag of mixed lentils, and fresh garlic and ginger. We were shown what spices we would normally buy, but didn't have to because the kitchen already had them.

Then we made our way back to the office where the kitchen was, and surprise surprise, it started to rain. You learn quickly that even when the day starts hot and sunny, you bring your umbrella with you because during rainy season, it can change in the blink of an eye. We opened our umbrellas and were spared a soaking.

Then the cooking began. I had so much fun. Using a mortar and pestle to mash garlic and ginger and create the tomato pickle (kind of like a salsa), chopping veg and learning what amount of water, spices and oil to use to create the deliciousness that is a proper dal bhat. It took about an hour, then it was time to eat our creation! The entire office staff came in to eat with us, and it was a wonderful time talking and laughing and going back for seconds.

After the class, Erika asked us to fill out a small form that rated our experience. I really couldn't have been happier, so I wrote out a glowing reccomendation and promised her I would be going online to talk them up on tripadvisor.com or whatever travel site I could find.

Really, it only cost about 10 bucks American for 3 hours of instruction and touring. And I got a meal, which at home would have been about 10 bucks anyway.

I can't get enough of this place. I love it here. Yes, I miss home, but I'm sure I'll miss Nepal when I finally get back to Canada.

Namaste

A slightly more melancholy post

13 days. 13 left until I catch my flight home. In that time, I'm signed up for a cooking class, and I hope to do a week of yoga during my last 7 days. This week, I was supposed to be volunteering at the Koseli School, but Saturday night I started vomiting, and although I have that under control (yay for extra meds from the last time I was sick) I now am having chronic headaches whenever I go out for more than an hour and a half.

Being sick again, especially such a strange illness, where I constantly feel a migraine approaching but it never actually gets to full migraine mode (I am not sensitive to sound but I am sensitive to light, I don't feel like I'm constantly going to throw up but do feel like I'm dizzy a lot of the time) has made me a little melancholy.

Not full on depression, but a sort of defeated attitude. I know that many times I get migraines during certain points of my menstrual cycle (TMI? Sorry...), but since coming to Nepal even my cycle has been completely screwed up. So has my confidence. Yes, I always feel down when I get sick, but before this trip I sort of thought maybe I was making myself sick. Maybe I was imagining things until I was actually showing physical symptoms. Now I'm a little worried that yes, I will always have to deal with being ill, with the unexpected flare ups of unknown origin. And it makes me sad.

So I spend a lot of time listening to shows on the TV, forcing myself out for short walks, and reviewing lessons in case I get to actually visit Koseli. I haven't given up, I'm just being realistic. I am not happy that I am missing the main inspiration for my trip, but it has also let me realize that we can't control everything, that the lessons we learn in life aren't always in the places we think they will be, and that my reasons for coming to Nepal weren't neccesarily to help others.

I came here to help myself. And I have, in a lot of ways. I've had to face my own fears of looking like an idiot to people, own up to the fact that I worry a lot about what people think of me. The locals, who I at first were so scared of asking for help from, and what you all at home think of me. I have also realized I am a little dependant on my connections at home. People who I was trying to grow and learn to be without, I feel more reliant on for friendship and support than ever. My family, who I wanted to show that I was actually maturing and growing and wouldn't need their support, I have had to ask for financial help. Friends who I wanted to prove I could do without, not because I didn't like him/her/them but because I needed to learn to be less attached (thank you Dalai Lama for that bit of wisdom, attachment breeds fear and sorrow), I have realized I love and cherish more than ever before.

I AM learning things here, about myself, my strengths, my weaknesses. I am also feeling lost, alone, and ready to come home. Is that shameful? So many people would give their right arm for this experience, and I am now ready to give it up and rush home, to the safety and comfort of my family and friends. I'm tired of not speaking the language (I have tried, reading the language primer I received from Alliance Nepal when I arrived, reading the Nepalese/English phrasebook, trying to have the boys at the monastery teach me words), tired of getting lost every time I try to walk to a new temple or garden or restaurant, tired of being alone.

I love to travel, I have realized that, but I think I love to travel with a companion. I am not a loner, as much as I like my alone time (after high school, my bestie Tish used to tease me about being a hermit), I am social creature and love to be surrounded by friends. I actually miss going to work at the craft store, talking with my co workers and helping customers. I miss my mom. I miss my cat, who seems to have adjusted back into his old home, and doesn't seem to even miss me. I mean, he is a cat, not a person, but I love him and he used to follow me around the house. Now I am unsure I want to remove him from his new/old domain. He is king there.

I don't even know why I am complaining so much. I am lucky to be here, so many people have helped me. I should be forcing myself to power through the illness, to ignore the pain in my head and the dizziness and just get on with helping. People here are strong, I don't think I am strong enough.

This really is starting to sound rather self-pitying. I don't want it to come across like that. Today is the 8th of July, and I will rest and take care of myself and tomorrow, tomorrow I will have the strength to do whatever needs done. To be strong and follow through on my commitments. At least, to stop feeling so sad about being sick and alone.

I promise the next update will be more cheery, I just needed to get this off my chest, I think. I will have good news, or at least update you about what I've done between Patan and getting sick.
Thank you, everyone, for being so supportive. I hope to not disappoint you. I promise to try hard to make you proud during this last leg of my adventure.

Namaste

From Pokhara back to Kathmandu, and settling into Patan!

So it was June 30th, a Sunday, when I left Pokhara. I've already written about saying goodbye, how much it affected me, and getting on the bus. The trip back was pretty uneventful. Hello's were exchanged with a German fellow (I don't know but I think everyone is pleased to meet me, I certainly personify the stereotypical friendly Canadian), I didn't eat at either of the stops, but munched on some chips and bought apple juice at the two lunch counters we took breaks at. And then we almost tumbled, bus and all, down into a deep valley.

Yes, you read the correctly. The bus nearly toppled over off the road into the deep valley below.

It happened rather quickly, I don't think most people even knew we came close to our doom. We were rounding a sharp corner, and the roads, narrow as they are, usually have a small curb at the side to warn vehicles when they tread too close to the edge. However right as we rounded the corner, trucks were driving on our right (remember, the drive on the opposite side here). The bus pulled slightly more to the left, and our left back tire hit the small curb and bounced off the side of the hill. Luckily, we were traveling fast enough and the other three wheels were firmly planted on the ground, and the upcoming road was straight for a few hundred meters. The bus continued, we were safe, but my heart was pounding. The guidebooks tell you about the many accidents and overturned buses and whatnot, but until you almost topple over the side of a cliff, it just doesn't seem real.

We arrived in Kathmandu, the traffic insane- more so than usual. The bus actually turned its engine off at one point, we were stuck bumper to bumper, not moving for a good 10 minutes. Then we arrived at the bus park.

We were about 7km from my hostel. I got off, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and tried to find a taxi. There were lots around, but I was tired, so tired, and didn't want to barter. I paid about 9 bucks (so much more than you would ever pay a taxi to take you to a location in the Ring Rd) and climbed in. I just wanted to get to my hostel!

The driver made small talk, like they all do, asking where I was from and whether I was married, if I was a student, how long I'd been/be staying in Nepal. I was in no mood to actual converse, but hey, I can't help but be polite, even when tired and hot and sticky. We drove and drove, through narrow back streets, and came to Patan. The driver had never heard of Sanu's House homestay, but luckily the directions I received with my booking were clear: across the street from B&B hospital, in a green building (the only green building in the area). Ram, the driver, took me across the street from the hospital, and I immediately saw the sign. I had arrived!

My heart nearly sank. From the outside, the guest house was small, dingy, and on a muddy road packed with taxi's, buses and people. We stopped, I paid the driver, and was helped inside by a smiling man who resembled Buddha. Seriously, this guy was round and bald and had the largest smile. Inside, a young woman, I think the daughter of the owner, showed me to my room while her uncle, the guy who looked like Buddha, took my suitcase upstairs. Thank goodness, as that thing is heavy! (Once again, I have no idea how it keeps getting heavier.) Inside my room, I closed the door and laid on the bed. While I was downstairs I saw a sign with the wifi passwords on it; they were easy to memorize so I pulled out my computer and power cord to charge up and surf the net.

Only the plug didn't fit in the outlet. This is the first time I've actually run into that problem here, as every plug so far has been universal. Amazing, yes, but I knew I had thrown my outlet adapter into my suitcase before I left the monastery.

The outlet adapter was no where to be found. I took every single thing out of my suitcase, shook out clothing, checked the inside of the lining. I searched my backpack and my grey purse and all the little bags I carried with me. Nothing. No plug adapter. I sighed and almost cried. My netbook had a good 4 hours of power left, even if I played videos, and my iPad had about 5 hours of power, if I kept it on airplane mode and didn't watch videos. No problem, I could survive until I went out the next day and found an adapter.

So I thought.

I was tired, but not tired enough to sleep. I had snacks and water, and about an hour after I arrived I bought a bottle of Fanta (I seriously now have an orange Fanta addiction) from the dwnstairs store run by Uncle Buddha. I snacked and watched episodes of 30 Rock (gee, again Laura? How predictable) and soon my netbook was warning me to plug it in or change the battery. Neither were an option. So I powered the computer off, and turned to my iPad. I used the internet a little, emailing and facebooking, then read. I was almost finished Bossypants, a book by Tina Fey, so I opened the Kindle app and continued to read. At about 6, I tried to get back on the net, only to find out the power was off. Load shedding, it is a fact of life here in Kathmandu. Luckily it is the wet season, so the power only goes off twice a day, a couple hours at a time (check out the schedule). I read some more, started to get tired (I was used to such early nights at Pal Ewam) , so I took a quick shower, swallowed half a sleeping pill and called it a night by 7:30PM. And although the bed was hard as I couldn't imagine, I slept so well.

That's the thing about Sanu's house: it looks like a dive on the outside, but inside is so warm and comforting and family-like, you fall in love. My room was actually quite nice, the hard bed (a thin mattress stuffed with cotton), a desk with chair, a hat/jacket stand, and a wooden closet. Across the hall a short two steps was the shared bathroom, with leaky shower and toilet that flushed too loudly.  It didn't matter; the bathroom looked old and dark, but it served its purpose. It even had hot water, something I hadn't experienced since that morning I caught the plane to come here.

And most importantly, the owner, Sarita, was amazing.

The next morning I woke up around 6AM, my (now) normal time, and used the iPad to check email and read a bit more. Around 7AM I went downstairs to find more clean water, and finally met Sarita; she told me to come and sit down in the kitchen. Against the wall were woven mats with round pillows, so I did as she said and sat. She made me milk tea (so amazing) and breakfast. That morning the breakfast was boiled eggs that she then coated in these amazing spices, a sweet rice pudding, and corn pancakes. There was even raspberry jam for the pancakes! I was in heaven! I ate two whole eggs, a good amount of the rice pudding and two delicious corn cakes covered in jam. I was stuffed! I sat and talked as Sarita cooked, talking about Canada (I wasn't the first Canadian to stay there), Patan, my experiences at the monastery, and what my plans for the day were. When I finished eating, I tried to take my plates to the sink but she would not let me! It seems to be a common thing here, the being served/not being allowed to help. I thanked her so much for the delicious meal, and she said when I was ready to go out, she would give me a map and show me on it where to go.

I rested for a bit, worried about the battery on my iPad, and read a bit more. Then I got dressed, put on my sunscreen (I have special stuff for my face, I want to avoid wrinkles as long as possible), and packed my bag with my bottle of water and my lonely planet book. My room locked (a padlock like at Pal Ewam) and I went downstairs to get advice. I had been studying the Lonely Planet guidebook, but Sarita pulled a photocopy of a clearer version of the Patan map and started to circle the different temples and sights. It seemed pretty straightforward, how to get to Durbar Square, how to find the temples, but somehow I still got lost.

I ended up walking around for about an hour before I was in a different part of Kathmandu and forced myself to wave down a taxi. This time I had the driver take me straight to Durbar Square, where I paid a 5 dollar entry fee to walk around the city square. It is filled with temples, both Hindu and Buddhist, the old Patan Palace courtyard, and, for an extra 2 bucks, the Patan museum.
I think I spent a good two hours in the museum, taking a total of about 270 pictures. (All are available on my facebook page, viewable by the public). It was filled with views of Patan from the 1800's, with Hindu tantric folios, and oh so many statues of buddha and hindu gods and more. I loved it.

I had lunch at the museum cafe, sitting in a lush garden behind the museum. I ordered a club sandwich, and was not disappointed. They included cucumber and fried egg, as well as the bacon and chicken breast and tomato. The white bread (I miss soft whole wheat) was lightly toasted and it came with some fries. I never liked thick cut fries more!

After lunch, I strolled around the square some more, then walked up the street a bit to an electronics shop I had passed in the taxi. I tried to explain what I was looking for, but had forgotten one of my power cords to show them the type of adapter I meant. Then the salesman pointed to a power bar he hd behind the counter; it had 5 plugs that fit ANY type of plug! I was saved, and now I could charge ALL my devices at once. Only 7 bucks (I didn't even barter, I was so giddy). I pulled out the map and asked which way I should turn down the street, and once they gave me directions I was on my way back to the guest house.

Sarita greeted me warmly, and listened with a smile as I described getting lost. It was only about 230PM, so she said if I felt like it, she would give me more directions later. I never made it out again, though, as once I had my netbook charging I was on the internet, relaxing after a stressful day.

Stressful? I spent it in a museum, right? Only it was incredibly stressful, from the amount of people, the lack of english signs (I'm sure I must have walked right by some of the temples without realizing they were down small alleyways because of NO SIGNS), and the insane traffic. Everywhere you walk you are nearly hit by cars and motorcycles. You just learn to listen for beeps and step to the side when the road is too narrow for both you and the  vehicle.

Still, this small city girl was overwhelmed. I was happy to upload photos and update my friends.

The next morning, I woke up and had breakfast at around 6:45AM. I felt weird, but Sarita made me sit down and cooked for me again. This time it was a spicy chickpea and potato with wheat pancakes. I never realized how good chickpeas can be! I wish I had asked her to teach me how to make it, or at least to give me a list of the spices I would need. Then I went upstairs to rest again, and set out for the zoo shortly after 9AM.

And I got lost again. Not before getting into my first accident! As I was trying to cross the road from the guest house to the smaller, inner part of Patan, I miscalculated and ended up having to back up quickly. Only I didn't realize a scooter had pulled up immediately behind me! I felt it bang against my left leg, I bumped my left arm at the elbow (ouch) and was shaken throughout my whole body. The guy on the scooter actually fell over, but jumped up, unhurt. He looked angry until he turned around and saw a small while foreign girl desperately saying I'm sorry over and over. He shook his head and climbed back on, then drove off. I stayed close to another group of pedestrians and made it across the road.

But again, the lost thing. The zoo is actually pretty straight once you make it to the main road in Patan, but somehow I veered off onto a smaller street and ended up who knows where. I found another taxi, he told me 2 bucks to take me there.  I wasn't in the mood to argue, and 2 bucks is nothing to me. So I climbed in, the taxi drove me back from where I had turned off wrong and down the tightly packed roads to the zoo.

It was only  about 950AM when I got there, and it didn't open until 10, so I walked around the block, past a football (soccer) field and a large open air market that reminded me of Rhoda's Flea Market at home. Tables of new and used clothes, accessories, some food and produce, and more junk than anyone would need. I waited the next five minutes with the other people outside the gates, then paid 5 dollars for admission (it is only 1 dollar for locals, 5 for foreigners). Inside, I worried that it was going to be disappointing.

It wasn't.

It is a little shabby, but the animals actually seem well cared for. There are large signs explaining what animals are in each enclosure, with facts about their eating habits and conservation status. There were strange alligator type creatures with long, thin snouts, lots of different types of deer, pelicans roamed free beside the small lake (pond?) and then I got to the good stuff.

First I found the hippopotamous. It was soaking in its enclosed part of the lake, and as I pulled out my camera, it proceeded to open its mouth and play for pictures! Across the walkway in their own exclosure with two smaller man made ponds were black rhinocerous. The day was hot, so they were doing their thing, sitting in the water with just their rumps and their eyes/snouts visible. I took some more pictures (so many pictures!) then backtracked so I could make it to the tiger cage.
Two Bengal tigers stalked back and forth, not cooperating for the camera. I think I must have taken about 40 photos of them, and only about 10 were worth keeping. Still, TIGERS! Nearby were macaques, two back simians, and some water buffalo.

I continued through the zoo, snapping pictures of many different types of birds (thinking of my dad, who loves birds, the whole time), some lizards and snakes, and even some fish! I saw leopards, hyenas and more. I loved it.

After the zoo, I made my way across another busy, busy street (much more careful this time, making sure to keep in step with a couple locals who seemed to really know what crossing the street entailed) and started the long walk back. I wasn't exactly sure what road I should be taking, but knew the general direction so I made sure to keep turning down the streets that woudl take me back to the area I was staying in. And guess what, soon I recognized the entrance to Durbar Square, and knew exactly how to get back to the guest house! I had triumphed! I bought some bananas and some of those alphabet chips I liked so much, as well as a cold Mountain Dew (no caffiene in it here, interestingly), and was soon back in my room.

I hadn't realized I actually got hurt in the accident earlier that morning, but by the afternoon I was hot and sticly and the salty sweat was making the gash in my left lower calf sting.  I told Sarita all about my adventure, including the accident, and assured her I had all the  neccesary first aid supplies. Thanks mom, for sending all that with me. It helped!

I cleaned and bandaged myself up, and then started watching some videos while I relaxed. I had another shower, took two tylenol PM's, and fell asleep quickly. I was worn out.

The next morning meant another breakfast in the kitchen with Sarita. I waited until about 730AM this time, hoping to run into some of the other guests, but I was still the first of the borders to get up! For breakfast was a homemade flatbread, spicy potatoes with onions, and more milk tea. I gobbled up so many potatoes, mopping up the spicy juices with the faltbread, and felt like a pig. Sarita seemed to love it tho, she is so kind and giving. Then I excused myself and went upstairs to pack up my things. I organized my suitcase and packed up my computer, then read a bit on my ipad while waiting for it to get close to noon. Sarita sent Uncle Buddha (I wish I knew his real name) to get a taxi for me, and proceeded to give me a tikka (a blessing made with red dust applied to your forehead) and a flower, I think a morning glory, she placed behind my ear. Then she handed me three coins for me to drop in a small vessel with incense burning beside it, and told me god would be with me me all day.

You know I don't believe in God, but how could I ever be rude enough to say that? It isn't the supernatural that matter anyway, it is the goodness that it inspires in each of us. And Sarita was truly full of love and goodness. I was sad to say goodbye, but wanted to see more of the city and knew it would be easier from my next hotel.

The taxi was there, Sarita bargained the driver down to 4 bucks for me, and soon I was loaded in with my luggage and we were off to Thamel!

Don't worry, there is still lots more to come!

Namaste, friends.

Horseback!

On the Thursday before leaving Pokhara I was fortunate enough to go horseback riding. Krishna arranged for me to ride up a trail to Sarangkot. I woke up Thursday morning, only to be met with gray skies and rain. So much rain.

It continued to pour all morning, so I thought no horseback riding. But then, around 11AM, the sun came out and it started to get really hot and nice. At lunch, Krishna called the school so that I would know the tour was on for the afternoon.

After an amazingly delicious lunch of dal bhat and curred potato and soybeans (I can't believe how delicious soybeans are!) I was relaxing and waiting for the tour operator. Soon a short and slim Nepalese man arrived via motorcycle. He was the owner, and would drive me to the start of the tour. On the back of his motorcycle.

Now prior to this, I had never ridden on a motorcycle. I had once, when I was like, 13, ridden on the back of a small dirt bike, but never an actual motorcycle and never on a real road. If you can call the road to Lakeside real, as it is potholed and dirt/stone most of the way, with dips and bumps and turns and big muddy patches. But I pulled on my backpack and climbed behind him, and held on to the back of the seat (not him, not knowing the local tradition). And funny enough, I was a great passenger!

The trick is to go with the flow. Pay attention, lean with the bike but not too much to pull it off balance. It was great, and now I want to learn to drive a motorcycle myself (I'm looking at you, big brother Tim...)

So we drove up the road to the stables, where the actual guide was waiting with a horse. I paid the owner, and then the guide helped me climb up on the saddle. It took a couple tries, as I am apparently much weaker than before I got sick (I attribute this to not going to the gym as well as the not eating for a week), but finally I was up and over and in the saddle.

Nepalese saddles are different than western style saddles. They resemble a simpler English style saddle, and so it took me a while to get used to riding in it. The guide had me gallop up and down the road to get ready, then we set off.

I had worried that since he was not on horseback, it would be the sort of tour where he lead me the whole way. Nope. After he found a switch for me to use (he called it my cowboy stick, leading to a discussion on western movies and Clint Eastwood on the way up the hill) which I was to use to slap the horse's haunches and get him moving, we started up the path.

Sometimes he would grab the reigns and lead the horse, sometimes he would start running and tell me to slap the horse and get moving. "Gallop Tango" he would call, then whistle, (the horse's name was Tango, obviously), and off I would go. At first it was jarring, then I got the rthym of the gallop and it was amazing!

We rode upwards for about 30 min, then I had to get down to climb up the narrowest, rockiest part of the path. I didn't know how the horse got up it at all, but after a 5 minute climb, we were back on a wider, grassy path. We took a quick break, then it was back on the horse (only 2 tries and I was up this time) and back up the hill.

Now when I say up, it is true, but it was also in this back and forth sort of way. Since Sarangkot was 2000 ft above where we started, you don't just climb straight up (too steep). Instead it was a winding path up the hill. It was early afternoon and the sun was now full out, no clouds. It was hot, and the heat was making the previous rain start to evaporate, so the humidty was rising as well. I had brought a bottle of water in my backpack (which was warming up but still refreshing) but the guide (I feel so bad that I can't remember his name) didn't have anything to drink. The two waterspouts we passed were dried out, so I told him I would buy him a bottle of water at the next coldstore we passed.

See, little stores were pretty much at every other house outside Pokhara. Some of the path was road, and soon we reached a small store. I bought him a bottle of water (30 cents) and was able to buy some of the tasty chips I like so much (20 cents total for 4 bags. Yep, 5 cents a bag).  We rested and drank water and I played with this tiny little cat (not a kitten, really, as it was shaped like a mature cat. A pretty egyptian style cat, just underfed), and then it was time to move on. Up the hill some more. And since we were on a wide, paved road, I was able to gallop some more.
It felt like freedom! Wind flowing through my short hair, riding the horse faster and faster until I'd hear the guide call 'Brakes' which mean I was to pull back on the reigns and slow the horse down. So I did, he caught up (running in shitty flip flops and yet so fast and energetic), and would lead me through the grassy paths, or to help keep Tango calm while cars and trucks rumbled by (on the paved road parts).

Now here is where I have to be really honest. About an hour into the ride, I was so ready to give up. The sun was baking me, my jeans were soaked in sweat which meant the dust in the air was sticking to them. My sweat soaked through my thin, white peasant top (chosen to cover and prevent burns and because it was the coolest thing for the sun), meaning that just like dirt stuck to the sweat soaked shirt and my jeans, the shirt and my jeans stuck uncomfortably to my body. My water was warm, the sun was giving me a headache, and our goal, the top, was still hours away.
Why didn't I just say "Let's turn around, head back, no worry about a refund". The sun  was making my head hurt, and my legs and ass were already sore from the new style saddle. So why didn't I?

Embarrassment. I was too embarrassed to give up. I would never meet this person again, I would never have to know what he thought of the chubby Canadian girl who was so sure she could ride but then called it off not even halfway through. So for once, my anxiety at what others think did something positive. It forced me to force myself to move on. To keep going. And wow, it was an experience.

We rode up further, paying 25 rupees (30 cents CAD) for my ticket to the top of Sarangkot (foreigners pay for EVERYTHING here, and usually twice as much as locals. I would be a little upset, but even a 500 rupee ticket to, say, Durbar Square Patan is only about 5.50 CAD. So for so little we help to fund the tourism industry). One we reached the base of the summit climb, I had to get off the horse. There are a long, steep set of stone steps that take you the rest of the way.
It was here that I also fell while getting off the horse. My shoe had pushed too far into the stirrup, and as I pulled the other leg over, I couldn't get the foot caught in the stirrup out. And I fell on my ass. In front of three ladies sitting outside a cold store, who started laughing. Being the good sport that I am, I jumped up to my feet and  did a comical bow, laughing myself. My ego was the only thing bruised.

I started up while my guide led the horse up the steps as well. I climbed, the view more spectacular every ten steps, for about 20 minutes. I think there was still at least another half hour of climbing steps. I knew there was a cafe at the top, as well as a lookout that allows you to get a panoramic view of Pokhara and surrounding area. I couldn't do it. This was an instance of knowing your limitations, and being realistic. I was already gasping in the thin air, so we stopped and rested on a small rooftop, I took lots of pictures, and then we were on our way down.

First, a happy looking middle aged woman came to offer cold drinks or tea and coffee, to which I declined. Then she returned with posters of a panoramic shot from the top of Sarangkot. I said no again, and I think I disappointed her. I just didn't want anything, and was saving my money for things to bring home.

We climbed back down the steps, and then it was time for me to climb back up into the saddle. In front of the same women who saw me fall. I got in on my first try! Seeing my success, they clapped for me, and I laughed and thanked them. Physical comedy translates in all languages.
Then we started down the hill, now it was later in the afternoon (I had been riding for about 3 hours now) and the temperature had cooled and it was so much more pleasant. The ride down only took about an hour and a half, I think. I was able to gallop on all the actual roads, and trotted a bit down the grassy paths. There were a few moments that spooked me; on some of the muddier parts we would be moving slowly and yet he would still slip a bit. The first time it happened it startled me, after 5 or so slips, (just his back feet) I was really nervous. But the guide just shrugged his shoulder and said "he slipped a little", and wasn't worrying at all. He was the one who really knew what he was doing, so I trusted his judgement. And I really didn't want to walk (hike) down the rest of the way.

All too soon we were back at the narrow, rocky part, and I had to climb down. I was slow, but made it down without falling (thank cod) and soon I was back up on Tango and galloping downhill. When we got to the main road, I was hoping he woud be taking me via horseback to the school. How cool would it be if the kids saw me on horseback. Many of the monklets ride horses in their village of Mustang, so it would have been great, then I could teach about horses the next day. Instead, he led me to a stable so close to Lakeside that if I had looked back and seen how close, I would have walked that way and taken a taxi (after buying sweets for the boys, of course). I didn't look, assuming we were much closer than we were (my judgement was off because the motorcycle was faster over that terrain than a car is, so I thought we hadn't driven as far as we did).

I asked him to take a picture of me on the horse, thanked him, then gave him a tip. He was wonderful and understanding and interesting to chat with, so he definitely deserved something extra! I then started the long (not that I realized it) walk back to the school.

Along the way I began to feel more and more tired, the sun had almost started to set and I didn't bring a watch with me. I had no idea how late it was, but I was determined to get back in time for supper. I pushed myself to keep going, not give up (what was I actually going to do, sleep in a rice paddy?), and soon I could see the monastery in the not too distant area.

I stopped at one of the litte stores that are everywhere in Nepal, and bought some shampoo (many of them have shelves just stuffed with all manner of toiletries and neccesities) and then some more of the yummy ABCD spicy chips.

When I arrived back at the monastery gates, I talked with the teachers and cook about my trip. I had so much fun, I loved being on horseback but even more, I was excited to be home just in time for supper. The monklets were playing in the courtyard and when I got upstairs, my watch said I had 8 minutes before the gong rang to signify meal time. I raced upstairs, locked my door (the monklets would walk in if I didn't lock it, which is normally fine but when I am getting out of the shower, no thanks!), peeled off the disgusting, sweaty, dusty, horse-smelly clothes, grabbed my towel, my new shampoo, and the ipad to play music, and showered.

The water wasn't very cold, the large black basin on the roof that stored water had sat baking in the afternoon sun and heating the water inside. I didn't mind, I washed my hair, my body, and soon it was just cool enough to be refreshing. I quickly got dressed and headed down to the eating area where the other volunteers were sitting.

By the time I sat down at the table, my whole body was sore. You use so many of your muscles while riding, not to mention the galloping on a very firm saddle, that much of me was stiff and my tailbone was super sensitive.

After supper, I moved to another table that had a padded seat. A little more releif, but the day was quickly catching up with me. I was getting very tired, and my ass was in actual pain. (How do cowboys do it? How did people ride everywhere and not be in pain all the time?)
I ended up excusing myself very early and heading to my room. I took two Tylenol PM pills, and settled in to watch some tv shows on my netbook. I was soon asleep. The day had plum tuckered me out.

Oh and the next morning? I didn't want to get out of bed. It hurt to sit up, but I made myself get ready and head down for breakfast. I managed to eat more bread than usual, as well as a bowl of the most delicious chickpeas (tiny ones still in their brown skins, with a slightly spicy sauce). I gobbled them down like no one's business.

I certainly will miss the food here.

So that is my adventure on horseback! I think I need to look into riding at home; where and when and how much it will cost. I felt so free while riding along, the horse in a mild gallop, the wind in my shaggy hair. It was such an experience.

Namaste, friends.

Good bye, Part 2

The morning came all too quickly. I had waited up the night before for the other volunteers to come back so I could say goodbye and give them my contact information. They had been having a great time at the cafe, smoking more shisha, eating more food and getting to know each other better. (See, Simon will be living near the girls come next semester of uni, so it was meant to be that they all volunteered at the same time! I can't believe how very small the world can be.) They returned late, around 1030PM (which if we were at home, would actually be considered getting home early), and I laughed while listening to their adventure. Then it was bedtime. I watched an episode of 30 rock to help me fall asleep, and soon it was 530AM and the monks were chanting and I was awake.

I packed up the last of my belongings, throwing my outlet adapter into my suitcase with my power cords, and zipped the monstrous thing up. Somehow, and I am completely puzzled by this, it seems to weigh MORE than when I left home. No more books, no toys and crafts for the kids, but somehow it is heavier. I didn't buy that much candy, did I? (I think I'll be leaving most of my clothes behind when my trip is done, along with the ratty pillow I brought. I am still considering the sheet from my bed. I mean, I can always get another, right?) I wheeled the suitcase to the steps, lifted it up (maybe I'm just weaker from no gym and from being sick) and was halfway down before one of the staff rushed over to help. They always want to help with everything!

I thanked him (no use in arguing) then went upstairs to make sure my backpack had everything and was ready to go. Then I sat down, watched a bit more 30 Rock (can you tell my go to when I am anxious/nervous/sad/sick?) and waited. I hoped that the taxi would be late, but no, he was early! Not very early, only a couple minutes, but that is what makes him great. I guess. I had hoped the bus was leaving a little later in the day so that I could say goodbye to my monklets after their prayers. Instead, the rest of the staff who were up came down to see me off.

I was able to give my head chef friend his t-shirt, thanking him for some of the best food I have ever eaten, and for the wonderful conversation about what makes a good western movie. I left the other t-shirt and thank you note for Sonam, and pins with Canada flags for everyone else. Then Lama Lekshey came and presented me with a red scarf, meant as a gift to signify honor, and a wall hanging. When I saw him approach I started crying, something I hadn't yet done in front of anyone.  I tried to laugh at myself, but could only thank them all for being so good to me, for taking care of me when I was sick and letting me be part of their lives. If only they knew how much they changed me.

See, I learned from them a great deal. Yes, I was able to watch their habits, the way they are aware and grateful for everything they have. The monklets say prayers of thanks at the beginning and end of every meal. They are different depending on the type of meal, how heavy it is, and what they are eating. They are so aware of all they have, even tho compared to our Western lifestyle they have so little.

The children were excited when I opened packages of crayons, of those little pre cut cards for art, not just for the contents, but because they loved the plastic envelopes they came in. Each boy wanted a water bottle different than their friends, and would race over to claim a soda bottle if one of us happened to be drinking pop. When I would open a pack of stickers, they wanted the plastic wrapping which they would store their drawings in. The markers were taken out of the package and  put in a pencil case, then the package was used to store gum or candies or whatever they wanted to keep as theirs.

So many letters I received thanked me for teaching, for the drawing paper, for the sweeties. The little nun asked me specifically for my address, and I wrote it out and explained how to write it on an envelope if she wanted to write to me. I plan on sending her something. She is so quiet and sweet and being the only girl at the school, sometimes feels like I did. No sisters only brothers. Of course, she has 65 brothers, compared to my 3). She loves to read and I want to send her some books to help. Early level books suited for her. Maybe Robert Munsch Paper Bag Princess, or Where the Wild Things Are. Things that she might like that won't be too hard for her to read.

I also want to send all the monks comic books. They kept asking me to find comic books. I wonder if I can order from Amazon. I think India now has an Amazon site. I'll be looking in to it when I get home and start earning money again. Also, of course, fun stickers and maybe travel games. Stuff I couldn't find easily in Pokhara (although because of being sick I only had a couple days to search).

But back to the goodbyes.

Lama Lekshey and his assistant climbed into the back seat of the taxi with my luggage (the damn thing didn't fit in the tiny trunk), and came with me to the bus park. The taxi driver had the information from Krishna for my departure, and found the proper bus and bought my ticket. I am sad Krishna didn't get to come and say goodbye as well, but last I heard from him his daughter had chicken pox and it might have been a bad case. So it is understandable that he wasn't there.

The bus park itself is a large dirt and gravel lot, with 20+ buses lined up in rows waiting for their departure. One either side of the lot are small kiosks with people selling food and drinks. There are also vendors just walking around hawking pastries and water. Delicious but I had some snacks in my backpack and didn't want to risk getting sick on the bus.

The Lama walked me to my bus, a giant yellow one with cushion-y seats and windows that slid open, and told me that I got a window seat. Then he asked if I needed anything, which I didn't and I thanked  him again. He reached out and held my hands and smiled, his smile is so very sincere and giving and peaceful as well. He thanked me, then he and his assistant moved to leave the bus. His gesture, one of gentleness and affection, brought me to tears again. I am glad I was the only one on the bus at the time.

It quickly filled up, and this time NO SEATMATE! I was fortunate to travel the whole way with no one sitting beside me, which I appreciated. I allowed me time to think about the things I have learned.

Gratitude- not just for what people give me, but for all I have, including my very life.
Acceptance- Karma isn't really getting payback for doing good things, but is just what your life is meant to be. Maybe you are meant to have one leg, or have a genius brain, or to struggle or to succeed. It isn't that karma is good or bad, karma just is. These boys have accepted their life. They will grow to be monks, living in other monasteries, giving up much of what we take for granted. They won't have romantic relationships, they won't be famous or rich or even successful by Western standards. Yet they will be successful at living their life. Accepting their karma.
Strength- I realized how strong I can be. I can get through anything, if I really try. When I was sick, I realized this the most. I thought I just couldn't do it anymore, and was ready to come home. Luckily my mother and brother told me to wait until I was better, and then, if I wanted, they would still bring me home. I got better, and although I still wanted to come home, I still wanted to stay as well. So I did. And a motto of mine was reinforced. What motto you ask?

"When you think you can't go any further, you still have one mile left". It was something I learned from an old Girls' Camp leader, Sister Grover. She was amazing, and that piece of advice (given on a hike thru Fundy National Park that I just wanted to END), has always stuck with me. I say it to myself on the treadmill, I say it when I work and am tired, but never have I needed to hold on to it, to really understand it, until I got sick half way around the world and without my mom.

I also learned that I even if you don't think kids are listening, some of them are. So it is important to keep trying so that they, even if it is just one, get the benefit of the lesson. So keep trying.

I miss my monklets so much, but part of accepting what is happening is knowing I had to move on. I made a commitment to Koseli. I also was so comfortable in my peaceful, monastery home. Maybe too comfortable. Part of this trip is to push myself. To get out of my comfort zone and show myself I am more than just a lazy girl who is sick all the time.

I experienced what it is like to be a real minority. When I was 18, I worked at PRUDE Inc, a Saint John multicultural organization that focuses on the plight of black Saint Johners. I was a minority there, and thought I understood. But being in the minority, not speaking the language and being in a completely foreign place is very different, and very difficult. I hope to be helpful to people at home who might be in this same situation.

And most of all, I realized that even though I am in the minority, even if I don't speak the language, I am still quite personable. People still seem to like me. Fancy  that. I know I have the gift of gab, but I always thought people were sort of humouring me. Before I left, so many of my friends reached out and I felt like they truly liked me, for me. Here, many of the monklets connected with me, and their letters make me think they may truly miss me. And you only miss the people you care about.

So that is it. Good bye Part 2. I just really miss my little monklets.

Still to come is my account of my horseback tour, the trip from Pokhara to Kathmandu, how crazy KTM is, my first hostel/guesthouse, and my day getting lost and finding Patan Durbar. There I went to the Patan Museum. By the time I get them all written, I'll prolly be starting my week at Koseli!

Only 20 days left until I come home!

Namaste, friends.