Happiness only real when shared

It’s a quarter past five in the morning when the Hindu chanting echoes from the Manakamana Temple up the hill, music seeping through the open front door of the base house into my bedroom, jolting me awake. I turn over in my creaky top bunk, maneuvering down the shaky ladder, trying not to get caught in the mosquito net on my way down in the darkness. I walk, half-asleep, to the drop toilet down the bamboo staircase before the line gets too long and make myself a hot cup of jasmine tea to sip in silence before the other volunteers wake. At ‘lights-on’ at 6am, the kitchen is a madhouse. 7am, we’re out the door, purple t-shirts and boots tied tight, yellow hardhats under one arm.

When we arrive at the work site, we break into teams and brace ourselves for back-breaking work that lasts until 4pm (except for a one-hour break for dal bhat). We race each other down the dirt road back to base, waving ‘namaste’ at the five families who live along the way, stopping to pat their newborn baby goats, or to snack on aloo chop and milk tea, squeezed fresh from the cow's udder. We line up for cold bucket showers before our mandatory 6pm meeting, eat dal bhat dinner at the Stable next to base, rush back through the gates for 8pm curfew, and make sure our teeth are brushed before ‘lights-out’ at 9pm. The next day is the same, and the day after that.

Our neighbors harvesting rice for dal bhat

When I left my job in August, I wanted to explore more of the world, but the highlight of my trip was to volunteer for several weeks in Nepal. I signed up for three weeks with All Hands and Hearts to help with earthquake disaster relief in the Makwanpur district, joining a project whose goal is to rebuild the Manakamana Basic School that was destroyed in the 2015 earthquake. After months of prep and fundraising, I still had no idea what I had gotten myself into.


We worked 6 days a week, Sunday to Friday, and I’m not exaggerating when I say the work was back-breaking. I arrived at the very start of the project, which meant not just diving into building a school, but preparing the work site and building the base for the volunteers to live. Clearing rubble, moving bricks and boulders, digging trenches for the foundation of the school, and if we were lucky to be on ‘base duty’: burning the shit-soaked toilet paper from the toilet bins and clearing rice terraces for volunteers to set up their tents.

Day 1 volunteers

Despite the hard work, the experience was wonderful. Once my muscles recovered and got used to the hard manual labor, I had a blast showing up to work every morning and learning new things -  how to hand mix cement like a beast, lay bricks, build bamboo benches and huts made of sheet metal. I got stronger. And I also saw some mad progress on the foundation of the school in the short time I was there.

Two foundations laid, one month into project

But like every other part of my trip, the people are what made these last few weeks magical. After all, when you’re spending every waking and unwaking second together, you become family really quickly.

It takes a very special type of person to leave their life behind and step into a remote village at the top of a mountain in Nepal to do hard, unpaid work for months at a time. It was the first time on this trip that I was surrounded by people who never asked the question of “what do you do?” because each person’s story was much more complex than that. Most of us had left jobs, family, friends - some for a few months, some indefinitely - and it was more important to get to know each other’s passions rather than how we made the money - sitting in an office or standing behind a bar - to get us to this point. It was comforting to be around people who were also seeking something bigger in this sometimes-fucked-up world.

I never once felt alone. I fell into a group of incredible people who had also been affected by loss, fear, death, divorce, addiction, depression. We had all struggled with things in our real lives, we were all running away or toward something, and we were all looking for something within ourselves and within each other.

My favorite moments were the ones spent with this family I found in the mountains of Manakamana. Sipping tea in the morning silence, dancing around a pile of half-mixed cement, learning Nepali words over dal bhat dinner, giggling under the full moon, celebrating Diwali on a night bus to Kathmandu. I fell so deeply in love with this group of people, and with this project, I extended my stay, spending five weeks on project. 

Stable Gang

One of these wonderful souls shared with me one night that all he wanted in his life was to make other people smile, and I wonder, why do we strive for more than that? Why do we kill ourselves at jobs that bring us no joy, to make money to buy things we don’t need, and all the while we are consumed with worry. We get lost in our heads, we isolate ourselves, when what we should really be doing is connecting with others, living simply, making others smile and laugh because that makes us feel good, too. That matters.

When I left for this trip, I was in search of something. But I will admit, even I didn’t know what that was until now. I’ve discovered that I may have a unique soul that was put on this earth to play with other unique souls. To make them feel heard, to make them laugh, to make them think, to bring beauty and art to life through whatever work I choose.

What I am discovering, too, is that life doesn’t have to be so complicated. Here we were, in the middle of the mountains, cut off from the rest of the world, no wifi, no mattresses, no toilets or showers, no mirrors. We ate, slept, shit, and showered side by side. And we were happy because we had each other and we were doing something good. That’s it.

Sunset over our 'home' in Manakamana

I arrived home on Friday morning, emotional from so many hard goodbyes, but excited to reunite with Nate, a comfy bed, and some fresh veggies. While it's good to be home to my husband and some coastline, integration back into normal life is just as hard as I thought it would be. Not only do I miss my people in Nepal, but I'm also struggling not to lose sight of the person I want to be. I hope to hold on to my inspiration, to hold on to the friendships I've made, and to hold on to the magic I've felt these last months as I move forward.

Thank you to everyone who followed my journey, and to those who donated to this amazing cause! 

Solo

It’s hard to believe that it took me almost 29 years and 26 countries to travel solo. It’s something I’ve always told myself I would do one day, another thing to push me farther outside of my comfort zone. But when I said goodbye to Nate last Friday night, standing out front of the Alobar1000 hostel, I had knots in my stomach. I didn’t want to leave him, I was nervous about feeling lonely, putting myself out there to meet new people. I carried my backpack upstairs to a tiny dorm room and settled into my bottom bunk, took a deep breath, and steadied myself – preparing to switch on for the next week, hoping to find some good people to spend my days with while in Kathmandu.

It wasn’t hard to find them. Alobar is the home base of so many solo travelers, and within minutes of settling myself on the pillows on the floor of the candlelit rooftop, I felt myself also settle into a community of likeminded people. First-time and seasoned travelers, trekkers and volunteers, wanderers and free-spirits. I met wonderful people from New Zealand, America, Germany, Belgium, Israel, Australia, and the Netherlands. I’d forgotten how easy it is to form connections with others while traveling, but was instantly reminded of the easy bond that comes from sharing a unique experience at the same time in the same place as another.

With no plans for ten days, I could do whatever I wanted. I extended my stay in Kathmandu. I met the sweetest Dutch girl who joined me on a spontaneous trek through the Kathmandu Valley to Nagarkot and Namo Buddha. Eline and I walked for four days in the heat, up thousands of stairs, through jungle, and on busy Nepalese roads. We adopted a dog along the way, as well as an American backpacker named Nate. We got lost. We watched the most beautiful sunrise over the Himalayan mountains. We shared stories for hours and walked in silence when we needed it. We sat in bed and shared what we were grateful for each night. We barely knew each other when we strapped on our boots and bags, but we saw each other at our dirtiest, stinkiest, grumpiest, and most vulnerable, and we became close friends.

Sunrise over Nagarkot

The road to Namo Buddha

Within minutes of returning back to Alobar at the end of the trek, a crew of mates formed from around the world. While I thought I would have time to relax before heading off for three weeks of hard manual labour at my volunteer placement, I found myself saying yes to every experience. We’d wander the streets of Thamel together in search of chocolate momos (yes, they exist), the best late-night hole-in-the-wall dal bhat, the cheapest patchwork overalls. We’d pick up strangers along the way, sip saffron tea with locals, or just settle into the rooftop of our hostel to play spoons late into the night. On our last night, we watched the sunset over the full moon at Kathmandu’s monkey temple, and it was so special to share the beauty of that moment with some truly wonderful and inspiring new friends.

 

Julie, me, and Eline at Leopard Cafe

The week was not what I expected. There were ups, downs, and plenty of adventures. There were deep conversations and hard goodbyes, despite only knowing these people for a short while. There were plans to meet again and hopes that the universe would throw us onto each other’s paths somewhere down the line.

Today I left Thamel, and it was hard to say goodbye to a place that has felt a little like home for me over the last few days. Tomorrow I head out to Hetauda with All Hands and Hearts for three weeks, and I hope this solo travel experience will only get better from here on out.

Trekking Poon Hill

The first thing I noticed upon arrival in Nepal was the quiet. Sure, I arrived in Kathmandu – the capital and largest city – but even with busy streets, there was a noticeable difference coming from India. There were no car horns. No people knocking on car windows to beg for food and money when we stopped in traffic. The first few days in Nepal were refreshing – the people are incredibly kind; there is natural beauty in the cities, national parks, and on winding roads through the countryside; the food didn’t make me sick.

Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu

Nate met me in Kathmandu on the first night, and we continued on to Chitwan, about 4 hours south. We met a lovely Kiwi couple who were getting ready to trek to Everest Base Camp, and we spent several days in the jungle together – sipping Ghorka beers riverside while spotting crocodiles, dodging leeches on rainforest walks, chasing wild rhinos in the back of a jeep in the pouring rain, and sharing stories over dinner at night. We parted ways after two nights and headed on to Pokhara – a lakeside hippy village and a hub for trekkers in the Annapurna region.

Wild rhino at Chitwan National Park

We arrived in Pokhara with our trekking guide, the most wonderful Nepali man named Kul (cool), and ate lunch overlooking Phewa Lake before heading off on our trek.

The Trek to Poon Hill

Pokhara – Nayapul – Birethanti – Ulleri – Ghorepani – Poon Hill – Tadapani – Ghandruk – Birethanti – Nayapul – Pokhara

Our journey began in a mad rush – running with 15 kilo backpacks, sweat drenching our clothes, exhausted from a 6-hour bus ride from Chitwan to Pokhara. We made the bus from Pokhara to Nayapul with only seconds to spare, settled into our seats to catch our breath, ready to nap on the hour and a half bus ride. But within minutes of starting our journey, we realized this bus ride would be anything but restful. The roads leading into the mountains are barely roads, and the ride felt more like a roller coaster than a bus ride. Potholes, loose rocks from landslides, winding roads slick with rain. We flew out of our seats with every bump, and some of our bus mates even flew so high they hit their heads on the ceiling. The bus ride took three hours (I suppose that is 1.5 Nepali hours…), and when we arrived in Nayapul, the sun had set long ago and the rain was pouring down.

We thought we were staying the night in Nayapul, but it turns out we were starting our trek that night. With guest houses available in Birethanti – a half hour walk from the bus stop – we were ordered to strap on our packs, our boots, grab a big green garbage bag to cover ourselves, and we headed out with headlamps into the monsoon. Pitch dark, rain in our eyes, moths fluttering around our headlamps, aching backs, knee deep puddles of mud. We scrambled over slippery rocks, across questionable suspension bridges, got lost, and finally found our guest house for the night. We were drenched from head to toe and hung our dripping clothes around the damp room, attempting to dry off before using the squat toilet in the shed out back.

The start of our trek from Birethanti

I won’t lie – I was worried about the trek. I quit my gym membership over a year ago (after it sat unused for six months), I had a big old blister on my foot before even starting the trek, and I was nursing a hamstring injury. I was nervous about the altitude – our highest point would be over 3,000 meters into the sky (the night before, I’d googled some of the highest hikes we’ve done in Australia, and they fell around a puny 500 meters). And don’t even get me started on the rain.

But the trek was one of the greatest things I’ve done. It became a meditation, waking up every morning with no worry but putting one foot in front of the other until we reached our home for the night. The rain didn’t stop for five days, but it didn’t matter. We tied our boots tight, pulled our socks up high to protect us from leeches, wrapped ourselves up in big green plastic bags, and we walked. We walked up 3,000 stairs on our first day to Ulleri, through rainforest and jungles of bare rhododendron trees, over streams and through the mist of waterfalls, through fog so thick it looked like a white wall. We watched for colorful birds and butterflies camouflaged into the leaves, caught stick insects for good luck, and made friends with dogs who’d join us on the trek for several hours or a whole day. We listened to the quiet, and we also talked with Kul. A lot. He told us stories – about Buddha’s enlightenment, the importance of meditation, the meaning of mantras, about Hindu gods Ganesh and Shiva, the formation of the Himalayan mountains, and about every aspect of Nepali history. He taught us Nepali hiking songs and we sang Resham Firiri for days on end.

Hiking through the rain to Ghorepani

We took our time. Slowly, slowly was our mantra. We stopped at resting places to drink ginger lemon honey tea and rest our legs. We chatted with other trekkers along the way. We refueled on snickers. At night, we stopped at cozy guest houses to strip off our wet clothes and warm up around hot furnaces. We ate dal baht for every meal, taught each other new card games, took cold showers, and slept hard every night.

Magical Nepal

On our third day of trekking, we woke at 4am to hike to Poon Hill, the summit of our small trek – 3,210 meters in the sky. On a clear day, you can see the sunrise over the Himalayan mountains, but the rain and fog kept the view hidden. Instead, we bundled up, sipped hot chocolate in the clouds, and Kul prayed to the gods – asking the mountains to know we were there, calling each peak by name.

Nate, Kul, and I at the top of Poon Hill at sunrise

After five days of rain, we woke on our last day to clear skies. Perhaps the gods were listening after all. The clouds finally parted and we saw the Himalaya for the first time. The snow-capped peaks literally took our breath away, and the journey back to Nayapul took much longer with constant stops to take in the views. We could not believe those monstrous mountains had been around us the whole time. Even without them, the journey was beautiful, but with them in sight, it was magic.

Annapurna shows its face

We thought it would be nice to get back to clean beds and hot showers, real toilets and soap and toilet paper. But as soon as Nate and I arrived back in Pokhara, the quiet hippy village we were excited to get back to, all we could notice was the noise. It was no longer quiet to us. It was no longer magical after experiencing the enchanting villages in the Annapurna mountains. All we wanted was to go back.

Less than two weeks into Nepal, and I’m in love. Not with the cities, but with the real, rugged Nepal. Nate and I are already planning our next trek in this region, hoping to spend more time exploring the Annapurna villages and at greater heights. I’m also realizing that 6 weeks here is just too short, and I’m starting to understand why everyone falls mysteriously in love with Nepal. It’s a place that pulls on your heart strings and brings an inner peace that is hard to replicate anywhere else.