travel

that time i didn’t die in nepal

Hailing as far back as the days when we shared a bedroom and I threatened the your-side-my-side thing with tape, my sister and I have often been at odds. It’s in our natures. When she walks into a room, there is light, color, and the ambition to think highly of everything. Openness. I walk in with arms folded.

Nepal pried my arms open with a crow bar. Mostly, it hurt, and I didn’t like it. But now, with this post at least…and like many other seekers before me who have wound their way around this place… I shall try to open my mind again to this beautiful dusty country.

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My words will be few as the most I can recall of that country are what these pictures hold: monkeys, mountains, dogs, dire illness, and as I said, dust. Oh and Downton Abbey on binge, since there was little else to do between bathroom breaks. But perhaps the pictures are worth enough themselves.

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Stunning peaks

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Henna night with new friends

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Lolz….guess which one I am…

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Poinsettias? They were everywhere!

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Chicken guards outside the bathroom

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Food poisoning strikes! featuring the overnight room at the international clinic and a bottle of saline

Tip 1:

Don’t eat chicken skin.

Apparently, bacteria galore… You could die. (My friend and I ate questionable soup.)

Tip 2:

Drink water.

Even if you throw it back up. Dehydration via IV is not fun.

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Snow patches on the side of the mountain

After biking for four and half hours up into the mountains, we found a misty ledge of snow. It was so foggy and cold, it reminded me of London in the winter. On the way back, I started to lose feeling in my toes. Living in Thailand makes you forget what cold weather is like… We each slept under three heavy blankets that night.

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My sister still has a few things to teach me…but given the choice, I think I would go back. Give this rugged place another chance 😉 Why not?

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biovignette

simran

She moves as if suspended in fluid. Clicking, unclicking the seatbelt. Drawing the mask cords near, not over, her gleaming black braid. Waving at exits. Looking abandoned in the open water of thought, with no means to signal. Or in no hurry to. Continue reading

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