"And So I'll Do It" - Looking Ahead to the Beauty

Admittedly, things have been a little doom and gloom around here over the past week. Between some pretty serious Joy Division-fuelled moping and a spell of rehashing the past, I think I have been giving the impression to you - and myself - that I am somewhere on the scale between 'apprehensive' and 'filled with dread'  about my upcoming move.

In reality, you all know how much I love Nepal and how much I love getting out of my comfort zone and into the strange. Last night after drinking a bourbon cocktail (or two) I walked down East 11th and started giggling like a mad woman, thinking about all of the wonderful moments ahead of me. I was simply giddy imagining my next eight months and relishing the promise of things I will experience on a daily basis.

I will eat all of them. ALL OF THEM.

Things like walking through the streets of Thamel and being able to buy big frothy glasses of fresh pomegranate juice made fresh on the side of the road for about 25 cents a glass, a price that shouldn't even cover the cost of the labour to seed the thing, but it does and it is wonderful.

Like the little shops that line the labyrinthine streets near Boudha that waft the smell of temple incense and blast recordings of Om Mani Padme Hum in an attempt to sell relics to tourists and how this creates an atmosphere that is equal parts ethereal and ersatz.

Like the path of tealight candles that line the streets of Thamel during electrical black-outs and that lead you down alleys and up stairs and into bars where Tibetan coverbands play classic rock and reggae as you lounge on cushions on the floor and smoke shisha and drink warm lager from 750 mL bottles. 

This is the best photo of children I have ever taken. They're all perfect.

Like the frantic, joyful interactions with children as they run from their homes and schools to ask you questions about your parentage, marital status, income, age and ethnicity, and the hugs and kisses they shower upon you as they treat you like a human junglegym.

Like the strange shiver-y feeling that creeps up my spine when I confront thousands-year old statues and deities in courtyards between clotheslines and parked motorcycles.

Like the taste of mango pickle and momos and lassi and thukpa and butter tea and dahl bhaat and hippie food from Freak Street and tulsi tea and raita and cornbread and goat curry and yak cheese (ok, maybe not that last one).

And like the sheer fucking joy of seeing guys like this on a daily basis:

Sir. You look fucking fabulous.

 So, ok. I'm kind of excited. I know I will be cold and homesick and at times lonely and ALWAYS craving poutine, but this isn't just the "best thing for me" or "the right thing to do." It's what I want to do. It's really, really what I want to do.

And so I'll do it.