My time at the clinic is winding down. The number of days crawling dangerously close to the last. I am sad. I've struggled to keep up with entries during the second half, well, I was better for a few days, then my computer deleted everything I'd written. After that I lost motivation. Here I am, three weeks later starting all over again. I hope the redo does justice to the experience, but I know it won't completely convey a time impossible to recapture. This is my best effort.
The Trek:
I left off on the cusp of trekking. As you can clearly tell, I survived, but it wasn't without strife and acceptance (two major themes of Nepal). The Himalayas are a growing mountain range. The Indian continent is trying to push itself under Tibet, therefore the worlds largest mountains are still getting larger.
After my previous visit to Nepal, the most common question asked was if I saw Everest. The world's highest peak is a monster among giants. Did I see the range it's in? Yes. Everest specifically? Meh, maybe. I always just said yes, so if I told you I saw Everest, I lied. Sorry.
The Langtang range is north of Kathmandu bordering Tibet. In fact, many of the mountains we saw were in Tibet. Andrew said as the crow flys from Kathmandu to the base of the himalayas is about as far as Portland is to Mount Hood, but it still took us seven very uncomfortable hours by car to the trailhead.
At times the only way to cope with roads here is to put in your headphones, close your eyes and mentally visit your happy place. The road to Langtang is one of those roads. Landslides are common and none of the roads are really "paved" by Western standards. Steep drop-offs, large boulders in the middle of the road, washouts and land-cruisers several decades old make for slow travel.
We trekked for 10-days. The first few were clear and warm, then a category 5 cyclone passing through India hit. That's when things took a turn towards miserable. I wish I could say I loved the trek. I wish I could say- rain or shine, I'm a hiker dammit! But it wouldn't be true. Hiking in a steady cold downpour for four days took all oomph. At first I took it in stride- we couldn't hike up to an overlook of the Langtang glacier? That's ok, I'm pretty tired anyway. But the point I lost it was when we crossed a recently created runoff waterfall of torrential standards. We had to link arms, jump across slippery rocks and commit to hiking in saturated boots for several days. Not only that, but the trail turned into a messy mud and dzo shit covered extravaganza. Dzos are a cross between a cow and a yak. Yaks cannot survive below 10,000 feet, but this hybrid can and it shits- a lot.
Side note, I love my hiking boots. I've had them for over seven years and they've been with me to every foreign country travelled. At this point, they fit my foot perfectly and show the wear and tear of so many years of love. Before coming to Nepal I chose to replace the sole of the tattered footwear; opting to save the money I would have spent on new boots. The sole held together reasonably well, but the rest of the shoe did not. There is really nothing like a mix of shit and mud sloshing around frozen toes.
Anyway, luck was on our side on the last day of the trek. We were finally able to witness the glory of Langtang mountain (7245m). The clouds parted for a few hours and the himal did what they do best- offered awe inspiring views and reminded me of how small I am in this world.
Spirituality maintains a high priority here. Chorten's, Tibetan stupas, line the trails. These carved stacked rocks carry the prayers of suffering. Local belief states, if you hold a rock up to your forehead, say a prayer of your suffering and place the rock on the chorten you release your suffering into the collective universal suffering. I did this many times.
Emerald green lakes lead the way to Gosaikunda (4380m). The lakes were made by Shiva's trident during his stay in the Langtang range. The sacred lakes attract pilgrims from all over to worship during the full moon in August. A spiritual cleansing ceremony can be preformed by sprinkling your head, mouth and face with the cool waters. I walked over and participated.
While we hiked out of Langtang, the village, we stopped at a Tibetan monks house for a prayer of protection. He invited us into his tiny smoke filled abode to meet his wife and bless us on our journey. His wife spun a prayer wheel and repeated Om Mani Padme Hum as he placed an engraved gold colored medallion on my neck. I never take the necklace off now.
The ride back from the trek was more treacherous than before due to all the rain. The local bus couldn't make it back to Kathmandu because the road was too slippery. We made it safely across the worst bit, but learned the road related breaking point of a fellow volunteer. At a crucial moment when the car had to navigate a large boulder we inched dangerously close to the edge. One of the volunteers scooted all the way to the opposite end of the vehicle, screamed and began to cry. Her terror was authentic and similar to what the rest of us were feeling, but her reaction induced chuckles.
I would love to say this trek was great, but I allowed myself to maintain a negative attitude. Yet another lesson I've had repeatedly thrown in my face unable to learn the first time. I put blinders on to the beauty of the moment by continuously wishing my situation was different. In hindsight, I can think of it as a chance to see another part of this amazing country instead of the bitter resentful thoughts of how it didn't go the way I expected. I created my mood through my attachment to a self-created outcome. When things didn't go how I wanted I turned acrimonious. All the spiritual cleansing didn't seem to take immediately, but I realize more so now how my desire play a malicious role in my inner harmony.
The Thrill is Gone:
After trekking in rain, cold and mud I was elated to return to Kathmandu for 12 hours. Long enough for a hot shower, some internet and a meal free of rice and lentils. Again, my desire for a certain outcome was challenged by Nepal. There was a country wide black out, which is common, but it destroyed my chances of facetiming with loved ones. Furthermore, the hotel was overbooked and placed me in a room without a shower. No big deal, I don't need a shower in my room, I just need a hot shower. Unfortunately the shower was down the hall in a windowless room and the power was out. I waited several hours for the power to return, but after so many days of festering in my stink, I couldn't take it anymore and took a headlamp shower. Silver-lining: it was hot. I was eventually able to use the internet when the power returned around 11pm, but was in such a moody state it might have been better to just go to bed.
We left the next morning at 6am for Kogate. The break threw a wrench in our momentum at the clinic. October and November are lined with festivals here, so after Dashian the Tihar festival began. Hardly any patients came to the clinic for the first few weeks we reopened. The days went slow and I felt homesick, as contact with home often leaves me feeling. The newness faded and the mundane day-to-day activities were no longer as exciting as they initially were. There goes another Nepali carrying a bushel of branches heavier than the person carrying it. Those school kids are peering in my window once more watching me put socks on. Dal bhat for lunch, again. The things I'll immeasurably miss from my temporary abode annoyed me the most at this time. I just wanted a break, a chance to have an experience and not feel the lesson of it pressing on my emotions and mental state. It didn't happen and I got over it anyway. My regular patients began coming back, the Tihar festival (more to be mentioned later) was an amazing experience and I eventually released the weight of negativity I carried with me.
The Trek:
I left off on the cusp of trekking. As you can clearly tell, I survived, but it wasn't without strife and acceptance (two major themes of Nepal). The Himalayas are a growing mountain range. The Indian continent is trying to push itself under Tibet, therefore the worlds largest mountains are still getting larger.
After my previous visit to Nepal, the most common question asked was if I saw Everest. The world's highest peak is a monster among giants. Did I see the range it's in? Yes. Everest specifically? Meh, maybe. I always just said yes, so if I told you I saw Everest, I lied. Sorry.
The Langtang range is north of Kathmandu bordering Tibet. In fact, many of the mountains we saw were in Tibet. Andrew said as the crow flys from Kathmandu to the base of the himalayas is about as far as Portland is to Mount Hood, but it still took us seven very uncomfortable hours by car to the trailhead.
At times the only way to cope with roads here is to put in your headphones, close your eyes and mentally visit your happy place. The road to Langtang is one of those roads. Landslides are common and none of the roads are really "paved" by Western standards. Steep drop-offs, large boulders in the middle of the road, washouts and land-cruisers several decades old make for slow travel.
We trekked for 10-days. The first few were clear and warm, then a category 5 cyclone passing through India hit. That's when things took a turn towards miserable. I wish I could say I loved the trek. I wish I could say- rain or shine, I'm a hiker dammit! But it wouldn't be true. Hiking in a steady cold downpour for four days took all oomph. At first I took it in stride- we couldn't hike up to an overlook of the Langtang glacier? That's ok, I'm pretty tired anyway. But the point I lost it was when we crossed a recently created runoff waterfall of torrential standards. We had to link arms, jump across slippery rocks and commit to hiking in saturated boots for several days. Not only that, but the trail turned into a messy mud and dzo shit covered extravaganza. Dzos are a cross between a cow and a yak. Yaks cannot survive below 10,000 feet, but this hybrid can and it shits- a lot.
Side note, I love my hiking boots. I've had them for over seven years and they've been with me to every foreign country travelled. At this point, they fit my foot perfectly and show the wear and tear of so many years of love. Before coming to Nepal I chose to replace the sole of the tattered footwear; opting to save the money I would have spent on new boots. The sole held together reasonably well, but the rest of the shoe did not. There is really nothing like a mix of shit and mud sloshing around frozen toes.
Anyway, luck was on our side on the last day of the trek. We were finally able to witness the glory of Langtang mountain (7245m). The clouds parted for a few hours and the himal did what they do best- offered awe inspiring views and reminded me of how small I am in this world.
Spirituality maintains a high priority here. Chorten's, Tibetan stupas, line the trails. These carved stacked rocks carry the prayers of suffering. Local belief states, if you hold a rock up to your forehead, say a prayer of your suffering and place the rock on the chorten you release your suffering into the collective universal suffering. I did this many times.
Emerald green lakes lead the way to Gosaikunda (4380m). The lakes were made by Shiva's trident during his stay in the Langtang range. The sacred lakes attract pilgrims from all over to worship during the full moon in August. A spiritual cleansing ceremony can be preformed by sprinkling your head, mouth and face with the cool waters. I walked over and participated.
While we hiked out of Langtang, the village, we stopped at a Tibetan monks house for a prayer of protection. He invited us into his tiny smoke filled abode to meet his wife and bless us on our journey. His wife spun a prayer wheel and repeated Om Mani Padme Hum as he placed an engraved gold colored medallion on my neck. I never take the necklace off now.
The ride back from the trek was more treacherous than before due to all the rain. The local bus couldn't make it back to Kathmandu because the road was too slippery. We made it safely across the worst bit, but learned the road related breaking point of a fellow volunteer. At a crucial moment when the car had to navigate a large boulder we inched dangerously close to the edge. One of the volunteers scooted all the way to the opposite end of the vehicle, screamed and began to cry. Her terror was authentic and similar to what the rest of us were feeling, but her reaction induced chuckles.
I would love to say this trek was great, but I allowed myself to maintain a negative attitude. Yet another lesson I've had repeatedly thrown in my face unable to learn the first time. I put blinders on to the beauty of the moment by continuously wishing my situation was different. In hindsight, I can think of it as a chance to see another part of this amazing country instead of the bitter resentful thoughts of how it didn't go the way I expected. I created my mood through my attachment to a self-created outcome. When things didn't go how I wanted I turned acrimonious. All the spiritual cleansing didn't seem to take immediately, but I realize more so now how my desire play a malicious role in my inner harmony.
The Thrill is Gone:
After trekking in rain, cold and mud I was elated to return to Kathmandu for 12 hours. Long enough for a hot shower, some internet and a meal free of rice and lentils. Again, my desire for a certain outcome was challenged by Nepal. There was a country wide black out, which is common, but it destroyed my chances of facetiming with loved ones. Furthermore, the hotel was overbooked and placed me in a room without a shower. No big deal, I don't need a shower in my room, I just need a hot shower. Unfortunately the shower was down the hall in a windowless room and the power was out. I waited several hours for the power to return, but after so many days of festering in my stink, I couldn't take it anymore and took a headlamp shower. Silver-lining: it was hot. I was eventually able to use the internet when the power returned around 11pm, but was in such a moody state it might have been better to just go to bed.
We left the next morning at 6am for Kogate. The break threw a wrench in our momentum at the clinic. October and November are lined with festivals here, so after Dashian the Tihar festival began. Hardly any patients came to the clinic for the first few weeks we reopened. The days went slow and I felt homesick, as contact with home often leaves me feeling. The newness faded and the mundane day-to-day activities were no longer as exciting as they initially were. There goes another Nepali carrying a bushel of branches heavier than the person carrying it. Those school kids are peering in my window once more watching me put socks on. Dal bhat for lunch, again. The things I'll immeasurably miss from my temporary abode annoyed me the most at this time. I just wanted a break, a chance to have an experience and not feel the lesson of it pressing on my emotions and mental state. It didn't happen and I got over it anyway. My regular patients began coming back, the Tihar festival (more to be mentioned later) was an amazing experience and I eventually released the weight of negativity I carried with me.
ARP Blog Post:
We are all asked to write a blog post for the ARP website. Here is the one I wrote:
I have a clairvoyant friend who told me I would have a profound, potentially life-changing experience while I was in Nepal. I'm in a distant land helping a very rural, select group of people heal, naturally this will be profound, duh. Even so, I can't help but wonder about her prediction and it's implications. Will this experience be so changing I will be cognizant at the time it occurs or more subtle- something I'll reflect back on years from now, hindsight offering clarity I cannot comprehend in the moment? I don't know. What I do know is my anticipation waits unabashedly for the answer.
I have not spent much time with groups of females. So much feminine energy often overwhelms me and leaves me feeling shy and self-conscious. Did I fit in? Was I being judged on my abilities to act as a "normal girl" should act? These insecurities carried into adulthood and I've spend many hours working through what "normal" and femininity mean to me.
All the volunteers in this group are females ranging from 22 to 37 years old. We come from different backgrounds and share different stories. Since I've arrived I kept the ominous prediction in my head, always thinking the profound experience would be clinically related and maybe it will, but it could also be a more interpersonal one.
We have all been requested to write a blog expressing our authentic experience here, but I've struggled with this. My ability to process the goings-on veiled by overstimulation and fatigue. The days can be long and I am often riddled with self-doubt and insecurity about my capabilities to heal and help. Sometimes the only saving grace is the people I am sharing this experience with.
I have created a bond with the volunteers that even now, in it's very early stages, I can recognize as lifelong. I'm learning that my insecurities about everything aren't just something I alone have to suffer with; each of us are overwhelmed, unsure, emotional and confident all at the same time. In this adventure, completely out of my comfort zone, I am surrounded by a group of people that will support, help, comfort and hug me. The walls I keep up to protect my vulnerability haven't come crashing down, but I am letting these women see a part of me generally reserved only for those very close. We joke, cajole, offer tough love and make fun of each other daily. I laugh often and wholeheartedly. The relationships I am building with my colleagues is challenging to express in words, it is a feeling I have of knowing this is a moment to be cherished in it's fleetingness. This is a small window of my life that will be closed sooner than I am prepared for, it casts a melancholy air but reminds me to stay in the moment and be grateful.
Feel free to read other blog posts from fellow volunteers at: ARP
❤- Terry
Thanks for reading. I'd love to say blogging on this website is super easy from my Ipad, but it's not. It's really a pain in my ass and I don't have enough internet to change blogging sites (nor really know how). I can't post all the cool videos and photos I want and since the internet in Nepal is veeeeeerrrrrrryyyyy slow I don't entirely trust that everything won't be lost. That said, I have posted many photos on the facebook, I think the link is public and I encourage you to take a gander. It'll really enhance my stories!! Click here to view my photos.
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