A Year Gone By

1/25/12

“Time flies” is an understatement. As the anniversary of the start of my journey abroad has recently come and gone, I find myself all too often thinking to myself but just think where I was a year ago. A year ago I was just getting back to my Aama’s dhal bhaat and dudh chhiya after our first SIT outing to Chitwan National Park, Nepal. Suddenly I was getting to know the people I was alongside in this adventure abroad, we were desperately trying to improve our broken Nepali, and settling into life in such a foreign land

So much can change in a year.

The last time I posted was amidst the hustle and bustle of Dhaka, a place I can’t often find words to describe beyond “intense”. But I was immensely blessed to be guided by a dear mentor and friend, Robin (at Hand & Cloth) as I continued teaching English, compiling a photo database, organizing my own version of “art therapy” activities, and (of course) taking care of my rescued kitten, Raati. On my final day of work, the women gathered around for tea and mishti that had been purchased for the occasion, and they began to sing. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I knew it was sad. Their tone wasn’t something that needed to be translated, and my suspicions were confirmed as Robin chuckled a bit, leaning toward me to explain they were singing mourning songs. A few of the women personally bid me farewell, each with their own style and personality shining through. Roni even told me that she would tie me up so I couldn’t go back home. I’m sure she had good intentions. Then there was Sonia. I was touched as she began to cry and cry, holding my arm and telling me she didn’t want me to go. Honestly, the idea staying right where I was seemed strangely comfortable. But it was time to go home.

Of course, traveling through Southeast Asia is rarely completely smooth, and I had a slight roadblock in the airport as (at 11:30 pm) the Bangladeshi man behind the counter informed me that my second bag couldn’t be checked unless I paid a large fee and that my credit card was not going through. Conveniently, my phone was highly malfunctioning, and as I stood at the counter desperately trying to call Wells Fargo to have them unlock my hold again, I laughed to myself. Ke garne? Of course, his suggestion was to leave my bag behind and get on the plane. Sorry sir, that bag has the last six months of my life in it! Not going to happen. But God willing, I was finally able to contact the bank and all was made right again.

More hours than I want to count later, I was back on American soil. Weird. I was greeted by my incredible family, happy to embrace once again. And life moved on.

So much can change in a year.

If you know me relatively well, you might be aware that I commonly coin July Fourth as my favorite holiday. No, I’m not such a fan of our country that I’m so excited to celebrate. But I love the barbecues, the friends, the family, the carefree summer attitude, and the FOOD! But this year was a bit different, as my slowly-adjusting-to-American-food stomach was not happy with me that day and jetlag seemed to be taking quite the toll.

A couple weeks later, Aarika turned to me and said, “You’re yellow.” “Nah,” I told her. “That would be weird.” Several weeks of stomach aches, doctor’s visits, sleeping on the couch all day, headaches, yellowish-orange skin, and other details I will spare you from knowing, my doctor casually informed me that I have Hepatitis E. “Sorry, I don’t really know what to tell you” he said. “I’ve never even ordered a test for it before, let alone diagnosed someone.” Comforting, sir, thank you. But its not chronic, and (for the most part) I’m better these days. Obviously my body just didn’t want to leave without bringing with it an extra souvineer!

So that was a bit of a setback, but I was determined to get back on my feet (literally) and get back to a normal daily life. But something about going back to Point Loma just wasn’t computing in my head. Somewhere between our homestay in Tukche and Spring Break Annapurna Base Camp, it dawned on me that I couldn’t see going back. Of course, continuing my undergraduate studies in Nepal wasn’t exactly possible – so unfortunately that was out of the question. But I realized I wasn’t ready to go back to San Diego. I realized there was something in me that needed something more than I had found there, and though I don’t regret a minute of the time I did spend at Point Loma, it was time for me to move on.

Due to a lack of consistent internet, my recent illness diagnosis, and a host of other factors, I found myself taking the semester off to regain my bearings. I began working full-time, and was able to be by my big sister’s side as my baby nephew came into the world in October. Living so close by, I got to go and cuddle with the little Kole after work and love on my new favorite person.

Recently, it came time for another change. It came time to head back to school, and I have recently started my first semester at Washington University in St. Louis. Seemingly worlds apart from home, the Midwest has certainly been something to get used to, as has a school that is so different from everything I’ve known. But I’m happy. I’m really happy that I went for the change I knew I was craving, and I can honestly say I feel that this is a great fit. Studying International Area Studies and Photography, I’ve been able to get involved with GlobeMed as well as the IAS department, met some incredible people, and slowly been introduced to all of the connections and opportunities Wash U. has to offer. I love it.

And here we are, a year later.

Last weekend Amita and Amrit journeyed down from Wisconsin – and with the two of them, Juni, Nikki (who both attend here at Wash U. as well), and myself – we had half of our Nepali group together. I can’t tell you how good it was to see them. We spent Mardi Gras weekend rambling in the bits of Nepali that’s still stuck in our brains and catching up on the months between the last time we saw each other in the Kathmandu airport.

Three weeks ago marked the anniversary of our bikeride to Dhulikhel. Not really sure what we were getting ourselves into, we jumped on-board for a bikeride with Jack’s Nepali friend Amrit who guided us on an “easy” ride to the Last Resort – just below the border between Nepal and Tibet. Long story short, the bikeride that we were told could be done by anyone who can ride a bike turned out to be 60km long and far from easy. But I wouldn’t have changed that trip for the world. Not to mention waking up the next morning to jump the second highest bungee in the world. No big deal.

A year ago there were more adventures ahead of me than I can possibly count. I miss Nepal, but I’m excited for where I’m at. Nepal was an experience that I wouldn’t trade for the world, and sometimes I feel like it’s constantly on my mind (its embarrassing how often I bring it up in casual conversation). But it’s also just a piece to the puzzle.