Savor the Flavor

So. This post (a few weeks overdue) is about the best (or at least one of the best) dining experiences I've ever had (hence the title, which is unfortunately trademarked so shh no telling the authorities please I have no money for legal affairs). Let us delve into my experience of attentive gastronomic delight.

The setting: Umi Fine Dining, Lalitpur, Nepal, around dusk.
The scenery: Fancy, red tableclothed mahogany tables, with intricatly folded napkins. Tasteful artwork on the walls, with ornate crown molding and wallpaper. Elegant metal-work windows looking out onto charming outdoor seating, surrounded by flora and a fountain.
The smells: Wafting through the repurposed house, to our awaiting noses impatient to taste.
The sounds: Covers of some of my favorite English pop songs floating out the speakers placed in the corners of the room. A lively discussion of politics and news by a group (seeming to be close colleagues of different ethnicities) pleasantly filling the background.
The service: Impeccable.

I was feeling sad today. Whether it's the fact that my dad and my sister have gone back to America (it's not home unless I'm there), or that we have no running water, or that I keep listening to the same sappy romantic Bollywood songs on repeat, or that I keep getting stared by strangers (attention is uncomfortable), or that my stomach (and the rest of my digestive system, I'll spare you the details) aren't feeling too good, I'm not sure. But talking helps so much. Unlike the past me, I'm trying to reach out more, and boy is it an improvement. Whatever I was feeling earlier today, thanks to my mom and my friends (and you guys, through this blog), I feel light and happy.

That's why the title fits this bit too. With therapy and meditation, I've been learning to slow down, note what I'm feeling, and acknowledge it. In this case, instead of the flavor, I took time to savor my sadness, letting it hang over me until I recognized it, and once I did, understanding why and talking about it. In the past I would've ignored it and let it build up inside me until I got irritated with everyone and everything (sorry to my family). But as with food, let what you feel wash over you and don't let it get buried in the rush.

We Out Here

Oy I'm back!

Miss me?

After a day on the plane and over a day in layovers, we have arrived in Kathmandu. Contrary to previous years, we arrived in the morning this time. It's been rough trying to stay awake to set my sleep schedule. So rough that I already fell asleep for four hours and now don't think I can sleep anymore. So instead, I'm watching the World Cup with my parents and my uncle and aunty! Uruguay v. France, and France is up 2 goals with 15 minutes left to go. Things aren't looking too good for Uruguay :(

The journey over here were interesting. Not the flights themselves (I felt like I was gonna throw up, nothing new), but the layovers in Chicago and Doha and arrival in Kathmandu airport. In Chicago, there was a camera facial recognition type thingy to pass through before boarding the plane, and (surprise surprise) instead of a green check mark next to my face, I got an exclamation point! I currently look nothing like my passport photo (except for my face, but I guess that doesn't count for much). Luckily, the officer I was waved towards was very kind and asked me about college (I was wearing my free UMich PNC hoodie) while he double-checked my face with my passport. It only took him a few seconds of referencing and I was on my way, scot-free.

In Doha, I was stopped in the restroom twice. The first time, I think I scared the poor bathroom attendant--as soon as I replied to her "Excuse me?" (with that high-pitched hesitant voice that always comes out around strangers) she took a double take and apologized profusely and walked to the other side of the bathroom. The second time I was about to walk into the women's restroom and a guy behind me blurted out, "That's for girls!" My mom, who was walking with me, turned around, laughed, and said, "She's my daughter!"

At the airport in Nepal, when getting my visa, the immigration officer referred to me as "bhai" (meaning younger brother, since strangers refer to each other as if family here, calling others brother and sister and uncle and aunt), and was shocked when I spoke up with "bahini", and asked, "Really? Bahini?"

I guess it doesn't help when I dress like this too (I've given up on protecting my privacy. So, enjoy these pictures of my face)

I don't mind it at all though. Honestly, in the beginning I would feel secretly proud whenever someone thought I was guy, as if I was this special agent who successfully pulled off a master disguise. It also helped reaffirm my masculinity, something that I've been struggling to balance with my identity as a woman. So it's a slight thrill that runs through me, but one that definitely has its drawbacks. Mainly with safety of others. Every time I went into the bathroom in Doha and saw women without their scarves, adjusting their hair freely without worry of men seeing, I realized I was a threat. Here I was looking like a guy, walking into a sacred zone reserved for women only. In those moments, I talked in a high pitch and made sure to accentuate my chest to help the women in there feel comfortable. I don't know how successful I was, but to anyone I made feel uneasy, I am sorry. That will never be my intention.

It's something that I'll have to get used to. Much of the world, even America, associates women with long hair. It's more so here in Nepal. As the immigrations officer told me, "Girls should have long hair!" Last year, when I first got my hair cut here, I got many stares (and that's when it was a long pixie). There's definitely going to be more confusion on the streets this time around. I hope that I don't get harassed, and I pray that I, my hair, my presence, doesn't make anyone uncomfortable, or if it does, helps them realize their biases and know that it doesn't apply to everyone.

No, I'm not a guy. No, pixie cuts do not define sexuality. No, short hair is not limited to gender (and neither is long hair!) I admit, I struggled with this myself. But I'm overcoming my own prejudices, and I hope others can overcome theirs too. It'll take time for sure, but it's all a matter of exposure and conversation and understanding.

If you've got any questions about my hair (my mom cuts it for me errrry month ((sometimes twice)), thanks Mama love you), gender, Nepal, or the meaning of life, comment them below. I love hearing from you guys, and I really appreciate that you read my ramblings. Hopefully I can keep this up. I forgot how much I enjoy writing.

Until next time, peeps. Big hugs!

Pathway to Enlightenment

Welcome back to another year of my travels in Nepal! Thanks for sticking with me and my ramblings holy moly I go off on tangents so often but it's okay that's just me but seriously I really appreciate you guys for being here.

I've been in Nepal for a week and two days but have I even attempted updating my blog before now? Yes, once, but it sounded like complete crap so I just deleted it all and and currently rewriting it (like all my college essays). But boy oh boy is there a lot of stuff that happened in these past nine days-let's see how long this one blog post ends up being with me explaining it all.

To be honest, when I first arrived in Nepal, the trip was not off to a good start. I'd been feeling sick the whole plane ride and was in desparate need of some good sleep and good food. Luckily, I'm always fed well when I'm in Nepal, so I was set with the food, but since we arrived pretty early in the morning, I had to stay awake another 12 hours so as to stave off jet lag. Oh goodness, that combined with the troubles between my grandparents and their youngest son (an uncle I've only met a few days ago), concerning the care of his daughter, and the tensions over the care of my grandparents on my mom's side had me stressed and sad the whole first week.

Luckily, my aunt was adamant about having us explore the tourist aspects of Nepal this year rather than sticking around family the whole time and getting ensnared into more problems. She planned a vacation for us to Lumbini and Chitwan National Park with the works--her friend is a travel agent and gave us a three day package with one day in Lumbini, with tours and rides set for our whole time, and two days at a resort in Chitwan National Park, with excursions including a Jeep safari ride, elephant rides, and canoeing. Honestly, this was the first vacation we've taken in years...I think the last time we ever went anywhere for fun was Disney World back in 2008.

We left for Lumbini by plane Sunday morning, and luckily the flight was bearable this time. It also helped that it was only 34 minutes long, and my sister and I were sitting next to two adorable little girls, who were understandably doted on by the air hostess and given a cup full of candies, which they turned and shared with us! AND OH. ON THE FLIGHT. I SAW MOUNT EVEREST FOR THE FIRST TIME. MOUNT. EVEREST. Can't say I've climbed it yet (for anyone who asks as soon as they know I'm Nepali), but one day. I will reach base camp. Not the top. Nope. Can't. But the base. Good enough for me.

 

CAN YOU BELIEVE IT MOUNT EVEREST RIGHT THERE

We arrived to (some pretty sweltering heat not gonna lie and) a driver waiting for us with a sign with my dad's name on it like in the movies when they have someone pick you up from the airport it was so cool and pretty sad how excited I got over it. From there, the driver took us to our hotel (Peace Palace!), and from there it was our first exploration of Lumbini.

Lumbini is the birthplace of Buddha, born into the world as Siddhartha Gautama. His father's palace, the site where his son was first ordained, and many relics and artifacts of his time are found there.

Our first stop was Kudan, where the Buddha came back to meet his father after leaving for all those years, and where his son Rahul joined his father in becoming a monk (I don't think I used ordained correctly in the last paragraph but ah well).

Stupa at Kudan

From there we went to Kapilavastu, the ruins of the palace where he grew up. It was amazing seeing the actual bricks that the Sakyan empire had used to build their boundaries from centuries ago, buried deep within the soil.

Floor plan of one of the palaces in the compound

Last stop was a museum filled with dug up artifacts from Buddha's time, including thousands of copper and silver coins, terracotta pots and plates, animal and human figurines, and sculptures of gods and goddesses. Fellow Honors Humanities students, you're gonna enjoy these.

AND THEN. Oh dang this part may take up a few pages but HOLYYYYYY MOLy okay so we went to all these amazing historic sites where science and discovery came together right? And then we went back to the hotel and from there we took an auto rickshaw (apparently it was electric!) to the main shining jewel of Lumbini-the temples! The auto rickshaw took us into this lotus flower decorated gated park, where we first visited a golden Buddhist temple from Myanmar.

So pretty...but the gold did nothing to help the heat my bare feet were burning off the reflective ground

Then we went to another temple, this time a Thai one.

I'm pretty freaking proud of this picture

That's when I asked our auto rickshaw driver why there were Thai and Burmese temples here, and he explained that the WHOLE GARDEN was filled with Buddhist temples sponsored by different countries. Foreign countries would provide the funding to build a temple in their name and style, giving millions for grand and beautiful Buddhist sanctuaries of peace and meditation.

Germany's Buddhist Temple (the inside was insane but no pictures allowed D: )

Oh mannnnn that's when my life changed. We went to a fantastic German temple, intricately and explosively decorated, a simplistic and modern and breath-takingly introspective Nepali temple, to an oddly familiar feeling Canadian temple, with an attached dormitory for nuns where I saw a few brushing their teeth and others walking into the temple to pray, to a otherwordly Chinese one where I met an adorable dog and her friend, to a still in progress Korean temple, each swirling detail being painted by hand right in front of us, to a storybook Australian temple, and finally, to Japan's gorgeous World Peace Pagoda, which lay right across the water from the Eternal Flame. Being able to step into each of these temples and feel a sense of peace and belonging in each and every one was the most wonderful and freeing feeling. I may not be religious, but Buddhism holds a special place in my heart as a philosophy--my way through this struggle we call life (speaking of, I saw a taxi with "Life is a struggle" written across the back. Don't worry-I took a picture of it).

View from the steps of Nepal's temple

Japan's World Peace Temple

Finally, we went to the Maya Devi temple, which held the actual location where Buddha was born, along with the tree that he was born under. We walked around and sat there for what felt like hours, until the sun went down and the candles were lit. This was a magical, magical place. I didn't want to leave.

Maha Devi (Buddha's mother's) temple

That day was a really good one. I felt relaxed and content (albeit drenched with sweat from walking around in the 100+ degree weather). Better yet, when our auto rickshaw arrived back at Peace Palace, there were some dogs loitering out at the front that immediately came up to me, and without knowing me, jumped all over me, licked me, and nudged their heads under my hand to be petted. I really love dogs you guys. Animals are so good. So pure.

This is Nanu (yes I gave her a name), in the morning when I had to say bye

All right, now this post seems to have gone on too long, even for me, so I'm gonna call it a day (actually call it a night I gotta go sleep) and be done for now. There will be more to come about the rest of my trip, and more updates in general (I hope. If there aren't, bug me until I come to my senses and actually write something). As always guys, please leave any questions or comments below (especially if I've got any spelling and/or grammar mistakes it's midnight I care but not enough to read through this mess again). I miss you all. Big hugs.

Ohana Means Family

Hey, it's been a while.

Ah, it's all my fault. I should keep updating but honestly I am a perfectionist procrastinator--the deadliest combination. I wait until the last possible minute to complete something, but even then it needs to be perfect, so I end up hurting myself in the end, stressing to get it completed to my satisfaction before the deadline.

But now that my mom's home from the hospital and done with all her antibiotics, it's due time for me to make the much-needed post about family.



Ohana is the perfect word to describe how family works. Most of y'all have probably heard of it from Lilo & Stitch. Ohana encompasses your nuclear family, blood-relations, and those you've added along the way, formal ties or not. It represents a bond between the members, in which unity, cooperation, and remembrance are stressed.

Coming here, I realize now how empty my life has been. Here, there's everybody. Grandparents. Uncles. Aunts. Cousins. Brothers and sisters. Friends. Memories.

Back in the US, I would constantly be trying to fill a hole in my heart that I never knew was there. Every friend I made, I would call them my sister, or my brother (especially my brother), trying to make sense of this loss I was experiencing that I didn't know of.

Gods, I've wanted an older brother for so long. I didn't even know why. Always, I would lament the fact that I had no older brother, no one to care for me or protect me or tease me or help me as I grew older. No one to look up to or prank or rely on. Every time I saw a younger sister-older brother pair, I couldn't help from getting jealous of that relationship. I've even asked my mom multiple times if I actually did have a secret elder brother hiding out there somewhere, waiting for the right moment to tell me. (To me, her silence was an affirmative...)

So I tried to make myself an older brother. Any family friends we had-older brother. My math buddy? Older brother. Camp counselor? Older brother. Best friend? Older brother. But I was still missing that real, actual, older brother.

Alas, my misery ends with good news. Not only do I have an older brother here: I. HAVE. TWO.

Holy crap, I was so happy to meet them. I had already met Alex dai, (meaning older brother), 11 years ago, the last time I came, but I only have a small memory of sitting and eating sugar cane with him while he made fun of me for some long forgotten reason. The other however, I had only found out through Facebook, when my mom told me that I had another brother cousin. I met him for the first time this visit, and he owns a restaurant and I got to eat so much food. I love them both so much, it's like all the love that I had tucked away is bubbling out.

With all my cousins and nuclear family (only), I have two older brothers, Alex dai and Bishal dai; two older sisters, Bhavana didi and Ragini didi; four younger sisters, Asmita, Ayushma, Dipshika, and Sidiksha; one younger brother, Rajiv.

This doesn't even include all the cousins of my cousins (hi Sriyog! Anushree! Shreeya didi!). Or cousins of those cousins. Or children of parents' friends. Or children of neighbors, friends, grandma's dad's brother's child's relatives. No, I'm being serious. At the hospital, my mom was recognized by her roommate: my grandma's dad's brother's cousin.

Nepal is a small world. Everyone's family here. (This last line was courtesy of Asmita).

BUT WAIT. THERE'S MORE.

Okay, this post wasn't supposed to be about me freaking out over the fact that I have brothers. (Although it sorta is. A bit. But seriously. They're amazing. I KNEW I had older brothers.) This post is about the awe-inspiring bond that's here, something I wish we had in America.

Families get together for bhojs (feasts), parties, and just random surprise visits all the time. And it's not just family on either side, mom's and dad's. No, family from my mom AND dad's sides get together and rely on each other and take care of each other. Finding out that Alex dai (my dad's nephew) is in such close contact with my mom's brother surprised me so much. But that's just how close and interconnected everybody is here.

This ohana impacted me the most when my mom had to be hospitalized.

She got a Urinary Tract Infection, same as last year, due to E.coli in something she ate/drank. Last year, she was able to get by with home rest and antibiotics, but this year, after three days straight of a fever over 102 F, we had to rush her to the hospital.

This was the first time she had stayed overnight in the hospital, and it unfortunately happened to be the same day that my dad left for the US again. If my dad was here, he could stay in the hospital, take care of her, keep her company, but he was gone. My aunt and uncle were busy with work, and I couldn't drive here (I wouldn't dare to--I'll show you guys in the next post).

But our family was there for us. Everyday and every night, someone would be there with my mom when I couldn't be, from my other aunts and uncles, to my grandparents, and aunt's grandparents, and cousins, and people just completely non blood-related to her. My dad's brother Binod tau-ba (uncle) even stayed overnight, trying his best to sleep on the small cot in the room.

Everybody brought food. Joula (rice porridge), soup, rice, daal (lentil soup), chicken, crackers, cookies, nuts, hot water, clothes, fruits; there was no shortage of food.

I would spend the days with her, but Mama wouldn't let me spend the night, for fear that all the stress would get me sick too. At night, I would return back home to my aunt and uncle's home in Sitapaila, and try my best to sleep before the next day. But I needn't have worried. Even before I got there, there would be at least two people sitting and chatting with her, distracting her from her painful IV and saline drip.

My mom was so embarrassed and felt so needy to have so many people taking time out of their busy days to come watch after her, especially at night, but my aunt summed it up best. "If your family can't even do this much for you, who will?" After all, it's our family that has our back when we're sick, or down, and need help. They'll always be there for us.

Man, I have SO MANY AMAZING PICTURES of my freaking beautiful family but I don't want to post them because...ya'know...stalkers.

Well, kind of. (That's a story for a different day). But also the fact that it's probably illegal to post someone's picture without their consent, and I don't want to do that to anyone who doesn't want it. The Internet is a scary place.


I'm a mess. I'm leaving in five days and I've made, what, five posts? I'm a disappointment.

I won't be able to update either because we're going to Chyasal for the next three days (my mom's family's home), and there's no wifi there.

I'll try though.

See y'all soon. Big hugs.

Par-tay!!!

I know I haven't updated in a long time. I've been putting this off more than homework...that's saying something. :(
My procrastination is terrible. I keep coming up with post ideas while on the road, doing things. in the taxi, but never end up writing them since I get so lethargic as soon as I get home.

Okay, the title is a bit misleading because I'm not exactly all that excited. Yes, we did have a party, and it was a lot of fun, but I am completely drained.

My uncle, aunt, and parents hosted a party at a restaurant with a third-floor banquet hall. As soon as I got there, for some reason, I began panicking. Absolutely no cause. But I stuck it through and the symptoms went away-I was fine.

Guests started arriving. It was all aunts and uncles and cousins and second cousins and parents' friends and their children and just a whole. Bunch. Of. Relatives. It was freaking amazing.
That's the thing I'll have to explain in my next post-the beautiful family circles and relations that are present here.

The thing is, I'm an introvert. Ish. Maybe more of an ambivert to be honest, since I do have my moments of talkativeness and excitability (very rare and usually with close friends though). Soo, parties usually aren't my thing. I'll talk for a bit then retreat into a corner with a book/my phone/the family pet if available (puppies always come first!) But today, surrounded by all these relatives and parents and family, I felt responsible to host the party. I walked around from table to table, trying my best to use my awkward self-deprecating humor to strike up some sort of conversation, brought chairs and drinks to those who needed it, and just overall smiled my way through the night.

I was proud of myself for being able to make a bunch of adults that I respected laugh, as well as be myself for a bit, but by the first hour, I was pooped. My sister and my cousins were all sitting together, with a seat saved for me, and I wanted so badly to join them, but felt I couldn't. I felt obligated to keep hosting, making sure everyone other than myself was happy.

As the older sister, and the eldest hosting cousin present, I always feel a responsibility to take care of everyone. Even when my sister pulled me away, I ignored her and took the weight of the party upon myself.

Why do I always do this to myself? Even at small parties at home, even at my own birthday party, I do this. It's almost expected of me, and I can't ruin that reputation.

It's not that I'm forced to do this, or that I don't like it, it just drains me completely. Even now, my family and cousin and aunt and uncle are playing cards-I'm typing this in the corner. Gotta recharge now.

But that's not to say I'm not happy. I've spent the past twenty paragraphs just complaining and whining about my poor night: wow, what a baby I am. That's not how I wanted to come across--yikes.

My dad's sister, my fufu, made it to the party tonight. This would usually be expected, but my fufu is special.

She's been suffering with mental illnesses for almost a decade now. She's had delusions, moments of split personality, hallucinations, and major, major depression. She hasn't picked up anyone's calls, allowed anyone to visit her at home, and doesn't leave her house.

My dad has tried for years to figure out what's wrong, but without being there directly, he hasn't been able to do anything. No one in the family has been able to, even her son, her husband, her brothers, her parents. My cousin, Alex dai, has been to every doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, and therapist there is here.

But this year, after 11 years, we were able to call fufu and visit her, all in one day.

She was sitting on the couch, holding her head in her hands, surrounded by medications of all kinds, scattered around in boxes and bags. We sat all around her, my dad held her hands, and we talked it through.

By the end of our visit, she was smiling and laughing and looked much better. She's not cured yet, but she has hope, finally.

So the fact that she made it to the party tonight made me cry. To be able to get past such crippling depression and come was so inspirational and yet so heartbreaking.

My cousins were there too, and there's so much to write about them. I love them so freaking much it hurts. I never ever realized what I was missing. Ahhhhh, the next post is gonna be all about my family.

Wow, writing all that makes me feel so much better. I'm sorry to you reader who were hoping for more of a travel blog, what with pictures and descriptions and amazing writing. This is actually pretty much a diary-a pretty public one at that. But I feel comfortable sharing all of this, more like it's all in my head. I can get out my personal issues without having to confront and confess.

There's so much left to write, but my eyelids are getting heavy.

You know what? I've been pushing myself to make this a more legit blog, something with fantastic word choice and intricate details with complex analysis. But screw it all this is gonna be my stream of consciousness: y'all are gonna intimately see how I think, pauses and awkward moments and terrible grammar and all.

Sorry for no pictures this post either wow. D: But I'm happy yes so all is okay.

Bye for now, before I start ranting more, yikes. :P Miss you all, and big hugs.

Why the World Needs Feminism

Feminism is a crucial topic, especially in developing countries such as Nepal.

There are the obvious worries, such as the practice of sati, where a Hindu widow throws herself onto her husband's funeral pyre, burning herself alive, since she is of no worth without her husband.

There's the child marriage, where young girls, even at the ages of seven or eight, sometimes even less, are sent into a marriage with a usually much older man, one who obtains his wife that young to ensure her virginity.

There's female infanticide-the abortions and murders of female babies due to the fact that parents and communities do not want to be responsible for the dowry that will eventually appear.

There's abuse. Whether it be marital, familial, child, or sexual abuse, it stems from the idea that women are weak and they must be punished in order to conform to the ideal.

It's worse within the most rural of villages, where communities are small and minds are even smaller. Tiny towns like these tend to stick to their traditional values, with their set ideas of gender, sexuality, marriage, rights, and treatments. They have neither learned nor seen anything saying otherwise, which is not entirely their fault, if done mistakenly. But we need a voice everywhere.

I bring this topic up not because I've seen any of the horrific abuses and tragedies I've described above, thank goodness. I'm talking about the smaller things that I've noticed.

Small things like the doctor asking me yesterday, "Are you sure? Is this really what's happening?" when I described my stomach and head pain symptoms. I didn't take his questions seriously (perhaps he asked this of all his patients just to make sure), but it occurs a lot. Read for more: http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/10/emergency-room-wait-times-sexism/410515/

Small things like in the emergency room today, I had to remove my bra to perform an ECG, and my main worry became 'what will people think of me? will my body be sexualized?' rather than the fact that I was in serious pain and I had to focus on reporting my symptoms accurately so as to get the best treatment.

Small things like nurses and doctors only calling my dad over to talk over the diagnosis and medications with him, leaving my mom to walk up on her own and struggle to make any comment on her own daughter's well-being.

Small things like my dear aunt staying up until eleven, watching with worry out the window for our taxi cab to arrive, unsure if it would, because it was just my mom, my sister, and me travelling in the middle of the night. When we arrived, she told us never to go out on our own like that again-it's too dangerous for girls.

These issues may not seem important in the light of more drastic ones such as the ones listed before, but the actually are. Quite so.

What these incidents tell females and males alike is that females complain too much, so they should not be taken seriously; their bodies are for the enjoyment of males; males are the only ones who can understand such complicated matters-females have simple brains; girls are not safe-they'll definitely be attacked at night.
Psychologically, this shatters a female's sense of self-esteem, ruining her goals, hopes, dreams, prospects. It degrades her, makes her believe that she truly is worth less than a man.
In males, it does the opposite, but to a much greater damage. Men see themselves as more powerful, yes, but they also see women as simple things, playtoys that can be used and thrown away to their own liking,
This is why instead of teaching our little girls to be more careful, to not talk back, to dress carefully, always walk with a friend, and never in the dark, we need to teach our little boys to treat everyone with the same respect, to never hurt someone, to always be there to help.

I'm done with being apologetic.



That's all for tonight. It's getting late. I wish I could've updated sooner, written more, but wifi is spotty There and I usually don't get it, especially as we switch houses, and I've been pretty sick. But I'm doing better, don't worry! Tons of antibiotics for me. I'll explain in (probably?) the next post.

This is some heavy chevy stuff but I needed it out. Everyone needs to realize this.

Please leave comments and questions below--I'm totally up for discussion and clearing confusion. If you have any incidents you want to share, please do so.

Until tomorrow (I'll try!). Big hugs. Miss you all.

Destruction and Dogs

Wow what a morbid title. But hey--alliteration! ;)

Today I wanted to talk about the rise of Nepal from its ashes (and now I turn into a talk show host). But seriously. One year ago, on a Saturday in April, Nepal was shaken by an earthquake of 7.8. Luckily, this happened during midday on a weekend, so most everybody was out and about, walking and socializing. Few people were inside their homes, on a beautiful day like this. That's why we were able to escape a death toll larger than 8,019. It could've been much worse.

However the point of me saying this was not to make y'all sad. No, no please don't. Today I went out and among the rubble was a rebirth. Old buildings that had fallen were now being rebuilt, clean, advanced, and up to new safety codes. People now had jobs, fixing roads and monuments. Neighbors helped each other, communities grew tighter than they were. As always, life goes on.

The hills stay standing. The people stay resilient. Nepal forges on.