ETHNIC JOURNEY

Somewhere over the USA

Newark, NJ

Feb 8, 2014

 

It's been 49 days since I've last inhaled the sweet pollutants of Kathmandu air, since I last wandered the bare white halls of the Tibetan Buddhist monastery, and ate my last plate of dhaal baat. The air was cold, dry, and thick with dust in Boudha when I left, making it quite difficult to breathe outside without a mask, and the bitter nights of winter were falling upon the valley. Showers were out of the question and despite my skin protesting against the dryness and lack of care from my part, my smile spread from ear to ear all the way to Bangkok with my fellow adventurer and gastronaut, Ilona. The next week was spent exploring the bizarre food culture of Thailand (all too many feasts of pad Thai and coconut sticky rice with mango and even a fried maggot, salted of course) along with experiencing Thailand's many many ornate Buddhist 'watt' temples, and beautiful beaches whose translucent turquoise waters sparkled under the hot tropical sun. Our food comas only helped us plop down on the powdery sand banks of the most amazing islands I had ever seen.

I must admit, I'm not normally a beach gal. In fact, I resent almost everything about being on a beach. The idea of sitting, lounging if you will, for hours doing nothing but baking your skin cells in a rich bath of UV rays while sweating and trying to remain still without getting sand all up in your business is just not my cup of tea. Yes, it's relaxing at times and the sound of rolling waves crashing against the shore could knock out a wild elephant, but I would much rather be doing something active, say putting my hands in prayer position during a yoga class facing the beach, from an indoor breezy studio. But, these Thai beaches were different. Ilona is the queen of research and her skills had found us the most idyllic beaches on the southern coast of the South Asian country. There were magnificent rock formations, some named after their peculiar shape like Chicken Island and others for their phallic appearances. I swear one island looked exactly like the image of a reclining Buddha, it's silhouette washing a warm nostalgic breeze over the heavenly sense of calm both Ilona and I felt in our surroundings of this picturesque paradise. Besides eating all of the strange and mysterious goo, bean paste, and fresh coconuts of Thai delicacies from every street cart, Ilona and I went kayaking and tracing the coastal reefs of the islands as if we were Somali pirates hungrily seeking natural treasures from the landscape's rich offerings. We kayaked into dark caves, spotted sea snakes and a ton of interesting flora and fauna  (our fave catch phrase of the week). After we lit hollow paper lanterns, released them from the shoreline, and watched in awe as they receded into the night sky, we ventured on a journey by boat to an area a bit a ways from the main islands. The boat took us to a crevasse tucked behind a gigantic mountain of rock lodged in the ocean's hearth. Ilona and I shared a look of nervous jitters as we jumped off the side of the boat, breaking the lulls of the calm membrane separating sky from sea.

To our surprise, the water erupted into a glow around us, wherever we kicked and splashed, tiny sparkles that looked like stars lit up in the wake of our movement. They told us we were immersed in bio-luminescent waters, which sounded to me like a flowery way of validating the glow in the dark ocean in the memorable scene of one of my favorite movies, Life of Pi. I thought this mythical anomaly only existed in movies and could not believe I was fluttering about in such an astounding sight!! Through the clear lenses of my snorkeling goggles, I could make out the infinite blackness of the ocean's depth all around me. I was terrified. Too many summers of shark week and marathons of Sci-Fi films had me short of breath, only to be somewhat paralyzed by the thought of what monstrous or mutated oceanic creature could be lurking beneath, craving the taste of human flesh- an asset of which I had lots to share on account of having pad Thai for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the past few days. As we buoyed on the water's dark surf, my panic only fueled my frantic kicking and doggy paddling in circles, which ignited the microscopic plankton-- these little critters produce a neon glow upon feeling the vibrations of motion. At least,  that's my best and simplest scientific explanation for why I was floating in a night sky, suspended amongst thousands of glowing stars as far as the eye could see. Truly amazing.

My home in the Himalayas will never cease to be real in my memories, although now feeling so distant, but the life I came to know there seems more like a fuzzy dream that makes you question whether or not you ever really woke up. An inception of sorts, bleeding the dreamlike memories into my present and future. I miss everything about Nepal, from the warmest welcoming smiles of all three generations of my Nepali family, the spiritual stone monument known as the boudhanath stupa housing the remains of the 2,500 legendary Lord Buddha, the friendly namaste's from all the shopkeepers that I had come to know and recognize on my daily rounds around the quaint village, the rotting fruits and vegetables bathing under a thin layer of dust and grime down winding alleys, the street dogs that were sleepy amigos during the day and vicious bloodlusting wolves at night, and the blanket of quietness that shrouds this special enclave of the world despite all of the apparent raucous and anarchy spilling from its rusting seams. I miss the long treacherous drives winding through the jurassic mountains above and rushing white water rapids below, trekking from Sherpa village to village for days while surrounded by the stunning panoramic views of the snowcapped peaks, knowing Everest was perched somewhere nearby within Earth's tallest collection of mountains. From my journeys to the East, to incredible India and my home in the Himalayas,  it is now time to fly out West... and keep flying and flying until I traverse the arc of the setting sun all the way to New Zealand. Now, I don't mean to romanticize the notion of traveling around the world to happen upon a beautiful land of natural mystery untouched by man and the industrial footprint..... But, if I were, New Zealand would be my perfect go-to.

From friends' travel accounts and meticulously stalking the photographic marvels that friends of friends have posted on Facebook until my eyes squirm with tears of giddiness and pain from the screen's bright glare, I've heard that New Zealand is a remote oasis floating in isolation from the rest of the world. It's a country of immigrants and indigenous people, a British protectorate that boasts one of the most friendly populations of down to earth, cheerful, and kind souls. The kiwis. Not only the name of their national bird, a small cute little thing that either looks like a plush stuffed animal you'd give to a toddler for his 1st birthday or the star of a Pixar classic, but also the name reserved for local New Zealanders. Organic farms, fertile wine vineyards, mountain passes fit for filming movies like Lord of the Rings (hint hint), lush greenery, jagged peninsulas, hipster pockets of urban cities, tropical islands, and sheep sheep sheep galore.

According to local folklore passed down through the grapevine of curious ears, New Zealand is known for luring travelers with its bodacious natural beauty and enchanting them in such a way that they fall in love with the land, or dare I say a kiwi lad or lady and are never heard from again. Call it the island of the lotus-eaters or whatever, but that doesn't sound too shabby to me!  New Zealand could not seem  like more of a perfect place for me to call home base for these next few months, and who knows, I may not come back! Well at least until July 31st, when my student visa expires and I risk being deported from NZed's shores. But, the best part of traveling happens before you hop into that cab outside the airport's stale double doors after what seems like an eternity of flying through turbulent skies and eating more plane meals than you'd like to admit (not ashamed to say I love love plane food). It happens before you reach your first destination in the newest city you have just devirginized with those very first steps of groggy excitement. It happens before you meet the most interesting mix of international people, people you realize only some higher law like karma could have allowed you to meet after you had gotten lost on your first exploration through those city streets. Or even before you taste the cultural delicacies of curried lentils, a fried cricket, or orange scrambled eggs hidden in a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant you stumbled upon by chance. It happens when you book that online ticket, a one-way ticket, with no definite plans or invisible ropes tugging at you from behind. Ropes frayed from nerves of fear, gnawing at you to remain in your comfort zone, begin to evaporate into the soft field of clouds dyed in crimson and orange pastels as the sun sets outside your window view from seat 34A. Here goes nothing!

More to come
Xoxo Julia