Nepal - Kathmandu

Our last week in Nepal was spent in the capital city - Kathmandu. It was busy and big with so many people, it took me a while to enjoy it. I was used to being in a tiny village, under mosquito nets, without running water. Now I'm racing across the street to dodge the six lanes of traffic (which is actually only the width of two normal lanes, but somehow they make it into six) and eating American food at touristy restaurants.

I eventually learned to love it. Our guest house was amazing - it was a 3 story house turned into a hotel of sorts. Along every hallway was a never ending bookcase, packed full of books! I am the biggest bookworm, and was going through reading withdrawals, so to have hundreds of books at my fingertips was such a simple joy.

I had so much fun that week. We took taxis, watched movies, played games, took plenty of walks throughout the city, washed our clothes (finally!), and went to a huge marketplace. And after the previous three weeks of constant hiking, we treated ourselves to a much needed massage. And did I mention that the coffee in Kathmandu was great?!

My favorite part about being in Kathmandu was the city tour. Our tour guide took us to both Buddhist and Hindu temples, explaining every statue we passed, explaining every ritual. We went to the old castle, where a royal massacre happened just a little over ten years ago. It was amazing to see how much that effected the people of Nepal, especially those living in Kathmandu at the time. There was one temple named Swayambhuanath, which we climbed 365 stairs to see (as you look through my pictures below, you'll see a view of the city which I took from the top of the staircase, so yes, the climb was worth it). At all of the temples (and especially at the one nicknamed The Monkey Temple) there were the cutest little monkeys running around. I absolutely love monkeys, but as our tour guide said, "You can take pictures. But if you look them in the eye, they will attack you." I had a close call with one monkey as I got a little too excited and broke into his personal space (Can you blame me? He was so cute, I just wanted a closer picture). After both making eye contact and getting hissed at, I'm lucky that there were no monkey attacks. Also, bonus points to whoever can find the monkey in one of my pictures.

But it was most humbling to watch these devoted people coming to pray at the temple, men in business suits giving offerings to their gods, women lying face down in the doorway crying out their prayers, children spinning prayer wheels over and over and over again. I watched as a family burned an old man's body right next to a holy river, in the hopes that he would be reincarnated into a good thing. I watched starving bodies walk past a dozen temple cows, which are too holy to eat.

Out of the whole month of adventures that I had in Nepal, what sticks in my memory the most are the faces of these Nepali people at the temples, waiting for their god to do something. Waiting for their god to save them. Not knowing who the real Savior is.

Nepal - Dadhuwa

We left the busy, adventurous, touristy city of Pokhara early one morning, with fresh bananas and lychees in hand to snack on on the way. After hours of speeding through rough mountain roads, we arrived in a village totally opposite of our last week. Dadhuwa was slow and simple, and we were the only foreigners around.

We stayed in the community center, built a few years ago by members of our team, and were hosted by the most beautiful local woman, who we affectionately called Didi, which means "big sister" in Nepali. She cooked us two meals a day - daal bhat for lunch and daal bhat for dinner. Daal, which means "beans", and bhat, which means "rice", was a plate of white rice and a bowl of bean soup. You pour the soup over the rice and eat it with your hand. The first time I tried it, I think most of the daal bhat landed in my lap, not in my mouth. It's definitely an art, and I am proud to say that by the end of my two month trip in Asia, I had it mastered. In the early morning, and in the afternoon, she would serve us hot tea. Even though it was over 100 degrees outside, we would never pass up a cup of Didi's tea. I still crave it, hot and milky and so spicy.

This was the most simple village that we were at. There was limited electricity and I went a whole week without showering (thank God for baby wipes and lots of deodorant). We slept in bunks underneath mosquito nets, and here's the best part - no toilets. We used a "squatty potty", which was a hole in the ground, with ridges to put your feet in, and a bucket of water nearby to "flush" with. The people don't use toilet paper (that's what your left hand is for!) but we brought some to spoil ourselves. It's really not as bad as it seems, but it did make me gain an appreciation for Western toilets.

The people here were such hard workers. They were awake early - I saw them up by 4am every day and went to bed late - after dinner, which was usually at 8pm if not later. I often saw women carrying heavy containers of water in baskets which were secured around the head. Inspired by the work ethic we saw all around us, the team and I carried firewood up a hill to bless the widows of the town. I was way too weak to carry a whole bundle, so I picked up the stray pieces of wood that fell out of the other bundles. Even just carrying a stack in my arms was such hard work. Blame it on the altitude or the hot weather, but I give major kudos to all those who live and work in Dadhuwa.

The days were so hot. Even in the early mornings, sweat would be dripping down our arms as we prayed for a breeze. There was no relief. The nights were so cold, the coldest out of all the villages we stayed at (except for Jomsom - Jomsom wins for coldest, but that was thankfully only one night). We lived right across from a sheep pen, right next to chicken pens, and on the road where cattle and goats often were herded by. Needless to say, there was never a quiet moment. One afternoon, the sky went dark and we experienced the loudest thunderstorm. My roommate, who slept in the bunk directly beneath me, was shouting something, but I could not understand a single word. The rain on the tin roof, the thunder echoing through the village, the wind forcing the windows open with loud crashes, and the lightning lighting up the whole room. It was humbling and drew my thoughts to the Creator.

I think most of my Nepal stories come from our stay in Dadhuwa. From Didi's famous tea to the struggles of the squatty potty to the children we fell in love with. I can't write a post about Dadhuwa without mentioning the beauty of it. There was the most spectacular view of the mountains, the brightest stars, and so many different types of trees that it made me want to take another biology class (hear that, Dr. Guevin? Teach me more about tree recognition!). I loved this week so much - the simplicity won me over.

Nepal - Pokhara

Leaving Tukche, we hiked several hours north to the city of Jomsom, where we spent one night in order to fly out early the next morning. My roommate and I were already itching to explore so as soon as we signed into our guest house, we dropped our bags, changed out of our hiking boots, put bandages on our blisters, and left to walk the village streets.

The locals were definitely more used to foreigners, probably because Jomsom has the only airport nearby. There were several souvenir shops and restaurants, but we barely had time to look around before eating dinner and going to bed (although I didn't do much sleeping - the room was freezing, even after layering with several pairs of pants, my heaviest jacket, and two pairs of wool socks). Our flight left early the next morning, but I do wish we had had more time to explore and take pictures. It really was a beautiful town, perched high in the mountains.

We landed in Pokhara less than twenty minutes later - the shortest flight I've ever been on. For that whole week, we chilled at a beautiful Americanized guest house. The streets were filled with souvenir shops and restaurants that boasted of having American cuisine. I became very familiar with Pokhara, often taking walks to nearby cafes or buying fruit from one of the many fruit stands.

Because this city is so touristy, we had a lot of opportunities to do fun things. On Wednesday we went white water rafting, a first-time thing for me, which is a big deal because I don't know how to swim. I was so afraid I'd fall out and be sucked down the river or under the raft or into the rocks. At the end of it, not only did I not fall out, but I had such a great time. I credit all of the fun to our awesome rafting guide, who was so quirky that he made us laugh the entire time.

The next day a group of us went paragliding. I'm sure paragliding in general is a thrill, but paragliding throughout the Annapurna mountain range, with barely a cloud in the sky, and beautiful birds flying all around you, was breath-taking. I felt so small, and that's a good thing. I could not stop praising God for his beautiful creation - the huge mountains right next to me and the "tiny" trees below me.

Even though Pokhara is one of the largest cities in Nepal, there is still so much nature all around. The Annapurna range, which is a group of mountains belonging to the Himalayas, could be seen clearly from the balcony of our hotel, where I often hung out to read. My favorite was Mount Machhapurchhre, which literally means "fish tail" in English. The city was home to so many different types of trees, parks, and a huge lake just down the street from where we stayed. Any direction you turned, you could see at least five different birds flying around. Nepal definitely turned me into a bird-lover.

The people! I had figured that since this was a touristy town, everyone would be used to - and probably annoyed by - the many foreigners who walked their streets. But I have never met more friendly people. They were curious about us, where we were from, what we were doing there. One of my favorite memories is when my roommate and I took a boat out to one of the temples, talking to one of the locals the whole ride about everything from where he grew up to his views on Nepali politics. These people wanted us to learn about them. They taught us more Nepali phrases then I can even remember and they loved sharing their culture. I felt privileged to be there.

I realized only after we left this city that I barely took any pictures. I took that week as a time to relax, become familiar with the culture, build relationships, read, write, think, and learn. So I apologize for the lack of pictures that honestly do not give the beauty of Pokhara any justice at all.

Nepal - Tukche

Arriving in Nepal after a couple days of travel, we were immediately thrown into even more traveling. A 6 hour bumpy ride in the back of a friend's SUV through the pitch-black, curvy roads, led us to the city of Pokhara, where we spent less than 12 hours in order to quickly sleep and eat. The next morning, we immediately took a 12 hour bus ride on the edge of a mountain to the village of Tukche.

The mountain roads were barely big enough for our bus, sometimes just wide enough for the four wheels to fit before the road fell off into a cliff of rocks and trees. At times, I would look out the window and not be able to see any road underneath us at all. The fear factor didn't bother me, but after about the ninth hour of being jostled around, I was definitely done with the bus. I left with my ribs still rattling and bruises on my hips, sides, thighs, and even my head from being thrown against the sides of the bus while going over bumps.

For the next week, a group of friends and I hiked into surrounding villages about 1-2 hours away. We returned every evening to the same guest house in Tukche. I was able to explore a little bit and found Tukche to be a quiet, slow town with very friendly people and no other foreigners in sight.

The sun rose early. We'd wake up at 5am to find that the sun had already been up and shining for who knows how long. By the time we came back from the surrounding villages around 5pm, the sky was already dimming drastically. The nights were cold. I had forgotten to pack my hat, which I had planned to use while sleeping, so I had to sleep cocooned under the blankets with not even a hair sticking out, leading to many restless nights. The days were hot. I sat out on the roof to read for a few minutes before breakfast and came inside with a fresh sunburn.

Out of all the places we visited, I still think that Tukche was the most beautiful. Surrounded completely by mountains. Everywhere you turned, there were beautiful views of river beds, farms, valleys, snowcapped mountains. It's a humbling and beautiful thing to wake up to the Himalayan mountains outside of your bedroom window. It is even more humbling and more beautiful to walk through the dusty mountain paths, touching the trees, hearing the exotic birds, and watching the locals go about their day. Definitely the most beautiful place I've ever been.

Why I Travel

This will be my last blogpost for a while. For about three months, to be exact.

You see, I have a busy summer planned. I'll be visiting the Midwest, hiking the Himalayas, spending time in Bangladesh, and working at an orphanage in Haiti. Leading right up to my senior year of college. 

Why?

Why is a twenty year old girl quitting her jobs, leaving her friends, and emptying her savings account?

Everyone is different. The reasons I am traveling could be completely different than the reasons of the man sitting next to me on the plane. But this is why I travel. 

At first, I wanted to travel for a simple reason - We don't know when we will die so I want to get as much out of life as I can. I want to experience everything, take pictures, try new things, die happy. Sounds like a good life, right?

In fact, this was my mentality until about three weeks ago. But now my reasons have changed.

Yes, life is short and we don't know when we will die. But rather than trying to get the most out of life, I want to put the most into life. 

When I die, let's be honest, no one will remember me after a few years. All of my memories will die with me. All of my trying new things and checking things off my bucket list, while is fun and an important part of life, will not mean anything to anybody but me. And all of the pictures I take, no matter how artsy, will be forgotten or lost or ruined.

Now I travel to enjoy nature. To meet people and make them feel important. To breathe in new air. To hold orphans and tell them that I love them. To learn from other cultures. To grow. To change. To become the best person that I can be. To teach others. 

Maybe somehow, someday, I can change the world. Or a little piece of it. Maybe I can help a sexually trafficked girl feel like she is worth more than how much money she makes in one night. Maybe I can encourage an orphan to trust again. Maybe I can be a good example of love. 

And of course, while I do all of that, I'll be checking things off my bucket list and having the time of my life. But that's not the goal anymore. That's just an added bonus.

So that's what I'll be doing this summer. I'll be living it up and pouring out love all at the same time.

I cannot wait to journal my stories and eventually share them with you all. For anyone who remembers, thank you in advance for praying for me. I know I'll need it.

I leave in three days. I'm ready to travel the world. 

To Fly, To Be Free

For a long time, I was sad because of things that happened to me. I was discouraged because of things in my past, things that I never told anyone, things that no one would guess happened to me.

"Jessica is the quiet, innocent one," people will say. But that only makes me even more sad. If they only knew.

I found a poem a couple weeks ago that I became obsessed with.

to fly

right through the walls

to fly

right out the window

to any place but here

- Charles Bukowski 

I liked this poem so much that I made a painting inspired by it. The painting was of birds. I imagined myself as one of them, flying away, running away, forgetting everything. 

Everything that happened to me was terrible. I would not wish it on my worst enemy. When I think about it all, I feel so overwhelmed. How can so many bad things happen to one little girl? I get angry and sad and so tired. I want to fly away, run away.

I know that running away wouldn't help anything. The memories are still there. The effects of my past are still there. The scars are still there. But just the idea of flying sounds so wonderful. To fly. To be free.

I don't feel free at all. My past haunts me. My mistakes haunt me. Things that were never even my fault haunt me. It's like I'm standing here, trying to live my life, but a big gray cloud has surrounded me and is slowly turning into steel bars. I'm caged in. 

I was at an open mic night tonight. One of my friends sang the old song His Eye is On the Sparrow. There is one part of the song that she sang so beautifully that I nearly cried. It inspired everything that I am writing about; God revealed so much to me through just two little lines of the song. "I sing because I'm happy. I sing because I'm free." 

Here's the thing. I am free. Everything that happened before, it hurt and it was terrible and it left the ugliest scars. But I'm out of that situation. I'm out of the abuse and the fighting and oppression and the lies. I am free. 

I feel haunted because I think about it. I entertain thoughts. I lie in my bed and wonder how life could have been different. I cry over wasted years. That big gray cloud that is hindering my vision and that huge cage that is holding me back - they are not real. They feel real; they feel so heavy. But they're not real. There is nothing holding me back. I am out of that situation. I am free.

I'm still sad and mad and frustrated about the things that happened to me. And my scars are still just as ugly. But they have no control of me anymore. I am not caged in by them. My past is not a part of my life anymore. I have grown up and moved on.

That painting, the one that was originally inspired by Charles Bukowski's sad, hopeful poem, has now taken on a whole new meaning. I still imagine myself as one of those birds. But instead of flying away, I am singing and flying and dancing and living because I am free. I am soaring through the air. I am flying toward the sun. I am happy. 

So let me sing and let me fly and let me dance and let me live. I am free. 

(Photo: original artwork inspired by Charles Bukowski's poem)

Becoming Brave

I have a great plan for my life. It's exciting and adventurous and wild. I want to backpack Europe and then live in the rainforest and then hike the Himalayas and then roadtrip through Mexico in an old jeep. My plan is perfect.

But what if my plan isn't God's plan?

Everyone quotes Jeremiah 29:11. I don't doubt that God has a plan for my life, but what if God's plan is for me to be a stay-at-home mother in Pennsylvania? That wouldn't be a bad life and plenty of women daydream about doing just that, but for me, I can't imagine ever settling down in one place. I'd rather be homeless on the streets of France in the middle of my backpacking adventure.

The last couple months have been really tough as I struggled with this. How am I supposed to know that God's will is truly better than mine?

I had to write a paper this semester on the book of Romans. I chose the passage of Romans 8:1-13 because it was some really nice Scripture and it seemed like I could get it done fairly easily. But as I read it, I was hit with conviction.

The whole passage is about the difference between a person who lives according to the flesh and one who lives according to the Spirit.

If a person lives according to the flesh, he is controlled by his own desires. While this sounds terrible, like a desire to cheat or a desire to murder, in my case, it was simply my own future desires that were controlling me. I wasn't trusting God and was instead focusing on what I wanted in life. I was pursuing what would make me happy, what would make me comfortable.

Now, I don't want to run away to Europe just to make memories. I would want to befriend people and share the love of God. I'd want to help out in anyway possible. Isn't that a worthy cause? Isn't that acceptable? Isn't that a fair reason to choose my plan over God's?

Verse 8 says simply, "Those who are in the realm of the flesh cannot please God."

Even though I have good intentions, I can never please God if I am purposely choosing my way over His. And this was the biggest slap in the face.

I want to please God. I want my life to mean something. When I get to heaven, I want God to be proud of me and for my bravery of letting God take control of my life.

Because that's what it is. It's bravery. To let go of control takes a lot of guts. For the last couple of months, I've been too scared that my life wouldn't be great if God was in control of it. This is where faith comes in. This is the difference between living by the flesh and living by the Spirit.

If I lived by the flesh, I could do whatever I wanted whenever I want to. But to live by the Spirit means to be willing to do whatever the Spirit wants whenever the Spirit wants.

While I studied the passage, the last verse (Romans 8:13) says to put to death the deeds of the flesh, of your sinful nature, of your own desires. When Paul wrote this, he wrote it in the present tense. This means that we must constantly, daily put to death our own fleshly desires and give control back to God.

And that means maybe I won't get to ride a motorcycle across Ireland or work in an orphanage in Thailand. But I know that God gave me an adventurous spirit, and I don't think He would let that go to waste. So I'm trusting in Him that He'll send me somewhere, anywhere. I just have to have the faith that wherever He leads me will be better than my own plans.

Because let's face it - doing it myself hasn't worked out so well lately.

It's time to have faith and live by the Spirit. It's time to see where God takes me. It's time to live out the amazing plan that God has for me. It's time to be brave.


Photo credit to Natalie Hagen photography.