daalbhaat

If only I could portray all the sights, feelings, sounds, emotions, scents, and sweat of the transition from California, USA to Dang, Nepal.  If only I could give you all a virtual tour of everything I've seen and experienced in the past few days.  Jumping back into village after a semi-long break in the States has been a wild ride.  My naniharu are walking and gabbering a storm when just the other day in May she wasn't even potty trained enough to avoid pooping in front of the home.

Coming back to earthquake ridden Nepal is very different from the Nepal I knew before April 25th.  Tourists are no longer to be found and NGOs have popped up tents all over parts of the country.  

The destruction of my former village where I lived during my pre-service training back in 2013 (wow I'm old) is a different place now.  NGO tents are scattered in the little spaces between corn fields and schools, and most families are now living in temporary shacks nearby their former homes.  It's tough stuff to bare witness to, but the spirit of the villagers are still alive, and that is a great feeling.  My former neighbors and family continue to force upon me tea and chiso (soda) and food even though I came back to visit with the intent to be of aid to them.  They continue to badger me that I've only come for a few hours and not for the night, and the next time I visit I must sleep over.  I'm grateful for the offer, and before the earthquake I would have made sure I kept my promise, but now I am compromised by the fact that they are burdened with living in a shack and that they may overwhelm themselves in the attempt to please an American with their wooden beds.  

The monsoon season has begun before my arrival.  When I pulled up to my home in Dang, the surrounding area was lush, muddy and beautiful.  My room is swollen with insects (and a rat that took the pleasure of sleeping in my bed while I was gone).  All is different, yet wildly familiar.  It's a fascinating feeling to feel at home in two very different parts of the world.  In my opinion, two completely different worlds, in fact. 


Keep in touch, 

Bora

No Looking Back

I've been toiling this past week over what I want to write as a "good-bye America/return to Nepal" post.  Ideas have sparked in my mind and fizzled away as soon as I begin to formulate my thoughts onto (digital) paper.

I want to come across as "articulate enough" and not "sound like a dodo head".  But on the real, I have some real life attention problems and small obsessive habits that stumble me often (as well as an extremely temperamental short-term memory).  But... that's besides the point.  That's my warning to you, reader, as I finally get some thoughts across today.

Returning home has been a blessing in many ways.  I was able to witness the Golden State Warriors rise to a NBA championship title for the first time since 1975 (we been waiting for this!), I ate free and delicious homemade Korean food almost everyday, and (TMI, but...) I had the most solid poop I've ever had in a long while.

Concerning the Warriors, I was elated to find out that no matter how long the finals series went, I would be home for game 7 if needed.  Then I was even more thrilled to watch the game 6 victory and know that the celebratory parade in Oakland will be held on my last day in the United States before I leave to Nepal.

I woke up this Friday morning early, before my alarm went off at 7am, feeling energized and well-rested.  I was all ready to go out and celebrate with all of the Bay Area, yet despite this, I've made the decision to stay home today. 

I woke up this morning with a change in spirit, and a very realistic sense of grace and thanksgiving.  I woke up realizing that I've spent the last five weeks at home in more turmoil with my family than I ever felt before.  And it's unfair to them. When I landed in America on May 10th, my brother was there to pick me up from the airport.  My mother prepared for me a bed to sleep in, cleaned the home, and continuously cooked food throughout my stay.  I woke up realizing that today may be the last moments I share with my mother and brother, and that they have been the few, if not the only, constants in my life during this time of great uncertainty.

I've had my moments of joy, celebration and laughter while I've been home, however I remember all the moments of frustration, anger, and pain just as well.  In my times of pain, I know I had the ability to cause pain in others, especially to those who are close to me, such as my mother and brother.  Yet, no matter how much turmoil I/we created for each other, they never once doubted themselves in their sacrifices and care of me.  This is why today, I decided there is no place I'd rather be (not even the Warriors victory parade) than getting brunch with my mother, dinner with my brother, and spending some last moments of quiet and rest in the home that provided me shelter from the heat, rain, and especially the cold.  

As I sit here, a heavy reflection washed over me reminding me tomorrow is never promised.  We are undeserving of such a promise.  Tomorrow may never come, so why wait to do tomorrow what we have the opportunity to do today?  

So, what have I learned?  Love God, be loving to each other (that means giving and receiving love), and always try to be only yourself (once you have a good idea of who that may be).  Prioritize your values so that you can prioritize the goals you want to accomplish and the time you spend in your efforts to achieve that goal.  Find humility in your sacrifices.  You don't have to be perfect; being good enough will do.  And America/California, walk around once in a while, and enjoy it!

One love, 
Bora