My sister, Katie, has been living and working in Nepal since November 2008. It's an adventure (to say the least) and a period of her life that she can look back on and feel proud of the work she accomplished, the friendships she made and all the cities in various countries she got to visit.
Living in a third world country has it's benefits - cheap food, clothing and other miscellaneous items you didn't know existed - as well as learning how to survive without all the comforts and conveniences we take for granted.
Don't get me wrong, I've been on the receiving end of a few long-distance chats with Katie about the hassles of living in a country with 11-hour power outages every day, drinking water that will give you dysentery, animals snacking on the garbage that piles up in the streets, traffic jams that put the highways of Los Angeles and New York City to shame and a post office system that makes the Pony Express look like the greatest invention of all time. But despite all these things, she continues taking the challenges (and accepting the joys) of her life in Kathmandu - which is why it took little convincing for me to travel 40 hours one way to experience Nepal for myself.
As I look around my room and wonder, "Do I need these shoes? How many shirts do I need to bring? Will all my books fit in this bag? How much candy can I jam in this suitcase without going over the airline's weight limit?" I realize I don't actually need any of it. But I want it. I want to bring it all. I'm the typical materialistic American - wanting all the comforts of home while anticipating having an "authentic trip" of a lifetime.
The last few days I've caught myself thinking about the "last time" I'm going to experience a hot shower, a comfortable bed to sleep in while the white noise of my fan lulls me to sleep, a pizza hot out of the oven, drinking water from the tap, turning on the lights in my room so I can see the path to the computer where I check e-mail, the news and Facebook, or picking up my phone to chat with family and friends.
Tonight, as I prepare to zip up my suitcases after taking one final look at all the crap I've packed for this journey, I know none of it will play a major role in my month-long experience. It won't matter what clothes I'm wearing to the orphanage I'll be volunteering at or the week-long Buddhist retreat I'll attend. No one will care what shoes I have on my feet or who designed my purse. What matters is seeing my sister, the connection I'll have with the people of Nepal, laughing with the kids at the orphanage, listening to the lessons and meditating at the Kopan Monastery (pictured above), and wandering the streets as all of my senses are attacked by the unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells of daily life in Kathmandu.
But what I'm looking forward to the most will happen after my trip, as I find myself back in my comfortable bed with the fan whirring, realizing just how much this trip changed my life. Even though I'll go back to taking cell phones, hot showers, traffic lights, and movie theaters for granted, I know I will never forget just how wonderful life is without them.
