Adventuresam

Early last week, I was back in Elim; back to the yard with Mama, back to roosters clearing their sinuses at 2am, back to sun beating down so hot it’s like an eager boy-scout trying desperately to earn his badges. Back to a place where being called “fat” is a compliment, where food cooked over an actual fire is the norm, and where everyone in an entire community knows me by name.

I went to back to a country where any taxi driver, at any point, will blow you a kiss. And where the fruits are so plentiful, so delicious, and so exotic, even Willy Wonka would be impressed.

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You’d think if you lived on an island, you’d have been on a boat. Shockingly, I found out this was not the case for Mama and company. No one in the yard had ever been at sea! I set out to change that…

As a special family outing, we all took a speed boat to the to Pelican Bar,
a free-standing bamboo hut on the Caribbean. They were thrilled by the ride and grateful to experience Jamaica like tourists (with life jackets and ice-cold
Red Stripes).

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I went back to a country where I spent years of my life, where I farmed, wrote grants, had a school built, cried from loneliness, made foreigners family, and learned how to dance. (And by “learned how to dance,” of course I mean that I’m still white.)

I went back to a country that I had learned to love and that learned to love me.
A country I will visit for the rest of my life.

Like those ever persistent taxi men, I’m now blowing you a kiss — I can’t say with any authority when it will reach you, because I don’t know the Speed of Kiss, but be ready for it.

It’s coming.

‘mi

My parents were shocked; as they roused from peaceful slumber, in sailed the tresses, teeth, & backpack of a vagabond. No one knew that I was coming back from Nepal. It was sort of an “it’s-almost-Christmas-my-visa’s-about-to-expire-and-um-yeah-a-boy-bought-me-the-ticket” type of trip.

So I was home. And America was exceptional. As always. I opened my mouth in the shower, snuggled with clean puppies, and used facebook for so long I got depressed. I saw people I should have (mom, dad, angela, pmart, diane, wendy, paul, patty, erica, steph, trent, britt, betsy, marvin, michael, molly). And regretfully didn’t see others (kat, lauren). I rediscovered that my friends and family, in real time, are just as amazing as they promise they’ll be over the Internet. Russ gave me keys to his apartment, which, given his visceral reluctance to give any girl any key for any reason, is a good indicator of just how good I had it.

I didn’t get enough of Asia. I’m dying to know what it’s like in Burma, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, China…okay, okay, ALL OF THEM! I will definitely be back, but something even stronger than my passion for travel pulled me to Pittsburgh: love. Complicated love.

For the moment, a fix of complicated love will have to do, as my hunger for more exotic and mysterious (to me) destinations grows. So now I’m on the move. A free agent, destined to but not ready to come back.

Love is sometimes confusing and hard to navigate. Right now, I know I have to keep traveling. So I’m off again. More soon.

Love?
‘mi

Hi 2014!

I’m going to wrap up the past year with links to photographs:
5 countries in 5 months.
6 if you count India.
4 if Paris isn’t a country.

I put the albums on Facebook but made them public. Don’t worry, I edited.
Iceland, Sweden, Paris, Turkey, Mt. Everest, Nepal.

Plus, as you scroll down there are 3 bonus pictures and unrelated trivia:

Once it took me 9 hours to travel 60 miles.
In a bus.

In one of the Dali Lamas past lives he died, willingly, in order to feed a starving tigress and her 5 hungry cubs. Later, once he had become enlightened, he told people where to find his bones. They built a monastery around his selflessness and remains: This place is where Buddhists feel the practice of generosity can best be cultivated.

Tibetan tea is salty.

Yak-hair-smell is hard to get rid of.

Escape Plan was a fantastic movie.
and
My childhood prince charming is the Beast.

Tibetan calendars are great if you know what year it is.

“Raising a girl is like watering your neighbors garden”.

Lithuania sounds really diverse.

I have no idea where the months will lead but I’m hoping for another year full of vibrancy.
I seriously love you,
‘mi

For those of you who don’t know, Molly Dworsky is my best friend.

We met in college, 2005. Landon Hall, dorm room neighbors.
We were both on the intramural soccer team, playing forgettable positions, and loosing an embarrassing number of games. During warm-ups Molly, with her expressive eyes, physical exuberance, and natural propensity for silliness, kept us all entertained. She was incredibly light-hearted and I liked her right away. Within a week we were inseparable.

The two us have been close for 8 years, lucky me, and 48 hours ago marked the debut of her “first real creative project”! — A parody to the very popular song, Royals, by 17-year-old Lorde.

I’m a huge fan; at least 500 of those views are from me.
Word on the Internet is…she’s going viral.

If you want to support Molly in pursuing her dreams of making people laugh
please, share the video.

I am mega impressed and ridiculously obsessed,
‘mi

Neither China nor GoogleMaps acknowledge Tibet as an independent country. The people who live there are scared and the people who have escaped from there are sad. And – I’m so sorry to say – this story does not have a happy ending.
This is, without a doubt, not a funny blog:

Tibet is not allowed -by China’s decree- to have its own country, religion, culture, or language. If the people protest (peacefully), send any kind of email abroad, or use the phrase “human rights” they’ll be severely beaten. You run the risk of jail time merely for knowing a person who has committed one of these ‘crimes’.

This has been going on since 1959 and it isn’t getting better.

To get out, people have to escape. At dire personal risk they cross the Himalayas into Nepal (occasionally bringing video footage). It takes months and worse yet, when they arrive in Nepal, they’re still not safe. Because of Nepal’s relationship with China the Nepali government sends any new (traumatized) immigrants that they catch back into China for certain death. A Tibetans best hope is to continue on into India.

But even then! There are Chinese spies and Nepali and Indian and maybe even Tibetan spies who have ‘sold out’ in exchange for protecting their families. When a Tibetan refugee camp has new arrivals the top officials are exquisitely discreet because once China (via the spies) finds out that a Tibetan has escaped, all of the refugee’s associates and their family who are still in Tibet are subject to extreme torture and executions. China uses these people to set an example:
Running away from Tibet is not an option.
—

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of meeting over 100 Tibetan refugees while visiting their camps. I don’t think I had ever met anyone from Tibet before. Except the Dali Lama, that one time. And that wasn’t really a meeting so much as several thousand of us in an auditorium listening to him speak.

Alright, so I’d met one other person from Tibet before and now I was meeting 100+, looking into their faces, hearing their stories, and seeing their pain.

Most of the Tibetan people that I met were educated; speaking 4 – 6 languages and having completed a college degree. But yet they were unemployed. Just like America’s economic crisis. But worse. In Nepal, Tibetans can’t get papers (and their kids can’t get papers) which makes it tough to land a job. Or to travel. Instead, several entrepreneurial types have opened up tiny restaurants or shops. But mostly what is happening is far more depressing: they give themselves over to menial, degrading work like hawking souvenirs to tourists.

—
The Dali Lama (an all around stand-up guy and the Tibetan’s leader), like most people, wants Tibet to be free, although he insists that the only way to do this is through nonviolent means #martinlutherking. It is beyond admirable, but the sad truth is that in the 55 years since Tibet has been occupied over 50 other countries have already achieved their independence. But the Dali Lama maintains that “There is no need for violence…using force is not a sign of strength but rather a sign of weakness.” He has threatened to step down if Tibetans resort to fighting.

So, with compassion and awareness, young Tibetans are taking their non-violent stance. Making a statement. They are participating in the ultimate self-sacrifice while attempting to bring attention to the monstrosities happening in Tibet; they are setting themselves on fire.

Lighting yourself on fire?
Willingly?
Things must be
unimaginably
bad.

“…Telephone and Internet lines were cut, likely to stop news from spreading.”
I mean, What?
—
It’s terrible.

114 Tibetan people have decided to make a statement by dying calmly by fire.
China does everything it can to retain censorship and repress news. They’ve installed cameras on the streets of Tibet’s capitol to quickly and effectively eliminate any insubordination the moment it appears.

—
Is it possible to vist Tibet? To see some of this stuff for ourselves?
Here is a picture of me:

Those are Tibetan mountains.
It basically looks like I could have Sound-of-Musiced my way over there. In fact, I visited the border but it’s quite a process to actually get in. And silly expensive. You need permits, there is paperwork, and you are required to be on an organized, toured-around-by-a-Chinese-government-official-the-entire-time, trip. You must travel by private vehicle (maximum group of 4) and only with people of the same nationality (?).

An orchestrated, cost-prohibitive, only-what-they-want-me-to-see Tibet?
You’ll understand why I decided not to go.

—
So what can we do?

I have no idea.
Meditate? Put a Free Tibet bumper sticker on your car? Donate?

I’ve tried all three.

—
Grateful for freedom, liberty, justice, and an uncensored Internet,
‘mi

Last night I forgot to check how hard my mattress was before picking which lodge I was going to sleep in. Huge mistake, I slept on a piece of plywood #likeanovice.

Here is a photo of the computer I’m using to type this to you all:

The power outages have gotten bad in Nepal. Ever since that election in November — Congress won. My American mind can not even fathom a world where Congress might not have won — there’ve been daily power cuts. Nepal sells that ‘saved’ power to India.

Last week I went to 8 different petrol stations (I wish I was kidding) and none of them had gasoline. The 9th one did but the electricity was gone – India probably had a party – so I spent the next 6 hours waiting, drinking tea, and feeling grateful for flexible travel plans.

More about the aforementioned election:
There was a 10 day strike prior to Election Day in Nepal. It was Kathman-dated that no one was allowed to drive which didn’t make any sense (the strike not the pun) because there was already going to be an election, why the need for a strike? I’m fairly certain Maoists had something to do with it; I read a book (an entire book) on Nepal’s history and politics and I am still not clear.
Le sigh.

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I took a kickboxing class from a guy who only spoke Nepali. He talked my ear off with – I’m assuming – advice. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Everyone in the gym could, though, and watched me flagrantly disobey him while passionately not improving; those who’ve wrestled with me can imagine.

Elliott, the only person in the world I know who’s into cross-fit (and that kid from Dover) might appreciate The most ghetto treadmill in the world.

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To be fair, it’s only a 2 letter difference.

Life is full of daily challenges, I spend hours trying to figure out what signs say and then failing; simple activities can take me days to complete. If I’m out of touch more than you’d like, I’m sorry, it’s harder than I make it look. But, you know mi, I’m keeping things positive, really positive. In fact, recently I hosted 4 rousing laughter yoga sessions in-country that refreshed my spirit.
Ha.

Keep your gas tanks full, you never know.
Love,
mi

Namaste travel lovers,

Recently some new people have signed up for my blog! To an author who views 60 site visits as encouragement 4 additional subscribers is a bonanza.
Welcome, I’m honored 🙂

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Right, so I’m back in Nepal. Getting across that Indian border without the appropriate paperwork deserves its own movie — unfortunately I don’t have the time (or resources) so I am taking a page from my clever friend Seth, jotting down a few notes, and trusting my memory:

humanity, border guards with guns, dust, tea time, 5 re-gifted friendship bracelets, 2 bunnies — one blue one red, an orange chain of flowers (for scooty), and then I found $50.

My high-school math teacher taught me to add that last part. I think it helps.
—

To compensate for being cryptic here is a photo of me from a different epic day:

This picture was taken when I was on my way up (up up) a mountain to reach the Lama of Timure, a memorable experience which included peeling garlic for 4.5 hours and giving me a notable penchant for the stuff. Several weeks later I was in Pokarah, ironically reading Breakfast of Champions (for those of you who care), and casually chewing on raw garlic when a beggar approached me asking for food. I offered her the garlic in my hand which she scoffed at disgustedly and proceeded to ask for something else. But, like my father says, “if you’re not hungry enough for carrots than you’re not hungry enough for cookies”. Or, fire up the barbeque and throw down some fritos, I like mine with grill marks on ’em.
What?
That last joke’s not for everyone.

Here is another weird/poor-person thing I did with food:

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To change the subject entirely, and falling under the only-relevant-if-you-know-me category, I have decided to be an elephant (possible name Elefurnt?) at this years convention. You know the one. I started putting together my ears this morning.

k, that’s all I’ve got.
Life is what you make of it and I’m making myself an elephant.
love,
‘mi

I rarely enter a situation with the intention of getting rejected which is exactly how I am writing this post from India:

My plan:
Out of proximity and interest I was going to drive MV Augusta F4 (the casual name I have given to my rented Japanese scooter) to the Nepalese boundary line and then, well, that was as far as I had planned because clearly I was going to be denied entry; India requires a notoriously hard-to-procure visa.

…

At boarder patrol I stopped my bike.
“Namaste,” I smiled.
The guard with the gun said something in Hindi as I cocked my head to one side, “What?”
Another smile.
“Go” he stated in what had to be English.
I nodded as if I expected this.
Sure.
“Go?”, I confirmed, turning on my scooter
–he waved me on.

Soooo, new plan, I’m in India. It’s been 24 hours and I don’t expect to stay long but — if I’m being honest — I think this elephant wants me to stay.

As always; when I’m done surprising myself I’ll let you know what happened.
for realz,
mi

I know that my cocktail party-sized readership doesn’t mind that I’ve been on hiatus. Just my dad (aka my biggest fan).

And I’m back! Just in time for a read-out-loud at our family reunion in Massachusetts. Hi all you guys!! I’m so sorry I’m missing out on book-chatting, downhill skiing, and yummy hugging this year!! Please smother my adora-bell parents (mother) for me, I wish I was there.

Currently, though, I am residing in Nepal.
I arrived here two months ago with a very dear friend, Patrick Marti, and I confess to knowing next to nothing about this mutant-flag country before I arrived except that the Himalayas were somewhere nearby. Turns out they’re actually in Nepal. Which is neat, and so it took a mere 24 hours in Kathmandu before he and I decided to head for the hills.

—
Everest base camp.
I mean what, is it like 5,364 meters? (17,598 feet.)
We should just do it. Leave the next day. I mean, A. We’re here and there is no B.

—
Luckily for us The Sparkling Turtle – fabulous name – wasn’t able to make our flight reservation until 2 days later. On Yeti airlines. We had time,
Patrick bought sunglasses.

We had both heard that things like food were significantly more expensive on this trek, which made sense. So, fueled by a Jew-y sense of economics, we went shopping together and stocked up on the essentials. Snacks.
Snacks is unarguably The funnest word to say which may be how our snacks came to consume us more than we consumed them: We talked about snacks, rationed snacks, wrote about snacks, sang songs about snacks, made jokes about snacks, and cared for their snack-y well-being. We did everything but share them.
And, like all good hoarders, we had our favorite: 50 prized Twix bars.

Here’s what happened:
The store we gathered supplies in prior to our trip was having a special on Twix, 2 for 1. Two for one Twix bars!!!!!?? I still can’t believe it as I’m typing it now. What a bargain!
We bought expired, deformed Twix bars for thirty cents each, a deal in any language, in any country, by any standard.

—
The next morning — with our bags noticeably heavier — we hopped into a taxi and boarded the Yeti plane which was miraculous because 1. That airport is utter chaos. and 2. We had no business climbing to Mt. Everest base camp; Patrick didn’t even have a sleeping bag.

Our plane landed in Lukla 40 minutes later with perfect weather.

Day 1:
After a spot of tea we tightened up our laces/velcro and started trekking. It took less than one hour for me to decide that I loved Nepal and I absolutely wanted to extend my visa.

The rest of days 1-5 were sheer bliss; my entire journal is filled with how happy I am! The Nepalis were kind, we felt justified and pleased with our decision not to hire a guide, there were hardly any other tourists, and neither Patrick nor I had adverse altitude effects. Plus we did silly things to amuse ourselves while we hiked: When we passed people on the trail I would say ‘namas’ and he would say ‘stay’
namas
stay
namas
stay
We were using the local language and cracking ourselves up.

Almost religiously at 6:30pm darkness would come and forcing ourselves to stay awake became a formidable challenge. We would happily have an early night in anticipation for another early day.

—
On day 6 we were blanketed in fog.
On day 7 it rained and rained.
On day 8 it snowed. This was all problematic because our jackets weren’t water proof and the only pair of shoes that I had with me were my Vibrum 5-fingers.

Day 8 was miserable.
Here are some cons to hiking to Mt Everest in a pair of 5 fingers:
Zero insulation and no socks. Snow/rain/ice bring pain and frostbite threats.
Nasty, smelly. Friendships could literally be lost.
Wearing them is the equivalent to having a puppy with you; everyone wants to stop but only to chat about your puppy.
They attract small children, acting as a beacon for kids (gross) to touch me.
And pros:
My 5-fingers are super light and compact.
They make me feel like I am Spiderwoman; fun and empowering to hike in.
They don’t hurt my hips and knees which enables me to shoulder more weight.
My parents bought them for me so it makes me think of them (aw).

Day 9 we summited.

—
We had done it!!! So of course we celebrated by eating candy and making up songs, a few even had nothing to do with snacks.

Here is a pie chart of the things we talked about:

Moments in time:
-Cultural racism at the top of the world, “Keep out. Japanese, this means you.”
-Crying in front of sherpas because I ate too-spicy food.
-Playing Connect-4 with the man who’s climbed Everest 3rd most in the world.
-The biggest, brightest night-sky I have ever seen. With shooting stars.
-That Nepali who used a feather to clean his ear and then turned to share.
-Avalanche on the way to Base Camp.
-“I’ve got my headlamp on because my lodge is cheap as heck tonight”
-Movie day with a warm chocolate chip muffin.
-Sounds of being chased through the woods by an old person with a walker — who was really just a Korean with trekking poles.
-Brokering a party with Jeremy Jones, a world-renowned snowboarder.
-Leftover, cold meat delicately wrapped in a pink paper napkin.
-That day our budget had an audible.

Some things I learned:

-Yak steak is more yak-y than stake-y.
-It is possible to drink too much chai tea.
-An Everest marathon exists. (!!)
-I lurve me some boiled potatoes.
-Dhal Bhaat translates to more baby-wipes.
-Pizza might not look like you’d expect.
-A Sherpa earns double the amount of money that a teacher does for sherpa-ing tourists to the top of that elusive mountain.

More to come.
Sending Everest-sized hugs,
‘mi (and Patrick)
or
Team Snack Attack