Cooking

I love to cook. I love it. I love creating new things and not following recipes and eating delicious, miraculously healthy food. I enjoy being in the kitchen and letting my mind settle into the familiar pattern of chopping, cooking, arranging. My hands know what to do. I may not be great at following directions but I can improv the hell out of some meat and fresh veggies. It makes me happy.

Wait, why does cooking make me happy? Let's explore this for a little while. Cooking is something I will most likely be doing almost every day for the rest of my life, but the prospect brings me warm fuzzies. Not my usual reaction. Typically, if you told me I'd be doing the same thing every day for forever I'd run for the hills. Literally, I'd be out of here. Nothing makes me cringe more than that thought. So why am I staying put?

I've written before that one of my favorite places in the world is the middle wooden stool in front of the island in Mom's kitchen. I wish I had kept count of how many hours I've spent sitting on that stool watching Mom cook while we talk with our family and friends. It's refreshing and restorative. It makes me feel like home. I long for my kitchen to make people feel the same way.

I was just discussing marriage and relationships with a long-time friend. I want to be married. I really do. I can't wait to do life with someone. Not make-believe Stepford married life but actually doing real life with someone. The messy parts too. I was made for that, as so many of us are. But if I'm totally honest, as much as I want that life, I mostly just want someone to cook for. Marriage itself can wait. I can say with total confidence that, today at least, I'm not in a rush. Marriage can wait but cooking cannot.

Making a meal for someone I love makes me feel incredible. Has that caught on yet? I get to nourish them. I get to feed their bodies and their hearts. I get to give them something that feels like home. I get to make it with my own hands and watch as something cold and unyielding turns into wonderful sustenance. I've recently developed a new addiction for dinner parties. Our little apartment fills up with new and old friends. Sometimes I wish I could watch from the porch, listening to laughter and loud, inappropriate jokes spill through the windows. I wish I could have all the people I love, every night, eating at my little table. Or on a stool at the kitchen bar.

Cooking makes me feel like I can make a difference, even if only for an hour. Someone can sit near me and we can unpack the day while my hands work at something they were crafted for twenty four years ago. It fills my heart with such sweet, familiar joy. And hope. Hope in the future of that relationship and the kindness of hearts. You could say I'm making this into a much bigger deal than it really is, but think about it for a minute. We have comfort food for a reason. The food itself doesn't really matter all that much, but the human who made it does. It's a little bit of home in a world that becomes increasingly unrecognizable the more we explore it. Cooking, laughing, sharing life in a world that screams for us to be silent and keep our heads down. This is massive, my friends. Make something, bring your friends together, and share the evening. Evenings like that will turn into a life you have lived well.

I know a lot of different things that pique my interest, pretty much everything really. I know fewer things that set my heart and imagination on fire. I love dancing at inappropriate times. I want to see the world. All of the world. Really. I want to have a family one day. I want to love my friends well and provide a home for everyone who steps through my door. And I want to cook for them and make them feel like they are important enough for me to heat up a skillet and make something warm for them. Because they are important enough.

A Little Grace

I listened to a TED talk this week about vulnerability. It kicked my ass. I'll post a link below so anyone who has time can watch it. Brene Brown talked about a lot of different components of vulnerability, but the one that snagged my mind was being kind. I'd like to think I'm usually pretty kind to the people around me, although I know I can be calloused and profoundly, immaturely mean at times. However, I was struck by the idea that I am quite unkind to myself.

Yes, women these days are horribly unkind to themselves, with the pressure to look, act, and feel a certain way, but I never counted myself among them. I was raised by a loving, strong, hard-working mom who didn't accept excuses. Don't misunderstand me, she is without a doubt the most incredible, faithful mother I've ever known or even heard about. However, don't come down her stairs complaining of sore legs, because I hate to be the one who tells you, but "It's good for you." "Quit your whining." "Cut your hair." I was never taught to feel sorry for myself, I was taught to fix the problem. But somewhere between college and now, I started putting myself down to get those same tough, respectful results. Mom taught me to grab life and enjoy it fully, not wallow in things going badly. I, however, and many women like me, decided that this meant letting my inner voice be harsh.

Please hear me when I say that I still have very little tolerance for complaining. It improves nothing. But neither does speaking to yourself in a way that leaves you feeling less than respectable. I am flawed. I can ramble off fifteen things I'm trying to work on at the moment, but that's just the point. We are all still in progress. This is an idea I come back to time and time again. No one wants the finished product. Who wants to be around the girl who has it all figured out? Sorry, not me. I want to be around the girl who loves herself enough to have fifteen things she's working on and still laughs at her mistakes. I want to be around the girl who lifts up the people around her because she has the grace to give herself room to grow. I have been struck by the realiation that I cannot be sweet to people if I am not sweet to myself.

There is a fine line between having grace for oneself and self indulgence. I plan to find that line and live joyfully on the graceful side. There are a lot of points Brene made in her talk that I will work through in the coming months, many things about vulnerability that I am both excited about and intimidated by, but I'm starting with kindness. To myself. And it's going wonderfully this weekend. I've cooked delicious, healthy food. I took myself shopping. I've watched three lovely movies. I haven't worked out since Monday. Dont worry, Meggie dearest, I'll start again tomorrow. But tonight? Tonight I'm enjoying my wine and reading my book.

http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.html

Seasons

You know those days you feel so full you feel like you might explode? Not full of food, thought I've had plenty of those days as well, but full of life and joy. This week has been like that. I woke up this morning with so much happiness and thankfulness I can't decide what I should do. I mean, I'll go to work in a little while, but until then I feel like a kid who just got a huge present and I'm just pacing around in my brain smiling but no one is looking at me yet. I wake up around 5 since being backing in the States so I really don't have any friends awake yet at whom I can smile.

Everyone talks of going through seasons in life. Dry seasons, happy seasons, sad seasons, fertile seasons, all kinds of seasons. I had a season in college during which angels would sing me awake every morning. Not audibly, but I would wake up with a huge smile on my face and float through my day like Cinderella bestowing my gifts aplenty to woodland friends. Obviously this is an exaggeration, but there was a time I felt like that every day. All day. It must have been so annoying for the people around me. Then came graduation.

If anyone tells you they graduated with everything figured out and moved to the perfect place with the perfect set of friends and the perfect job and never felt scared or out-of-place, never introduce them to me. I don't want to hear their story. Not yet anyway. The year (or two) right after college is not an easy one. It's miserably weird. You still have friends in college living the good life. For months it seems like everyone you meet is either married, engaged, or obnoxiously well-adjusted to their new lives. Then, miraculously, you meet someone who is just as confused, lonely, and scared as you. I was lucky enough to move in with a dear friend from college who helped me walk through the yuck of this odd year (two), but even with her friendship and encouragement it was a challenging season.

A year and a half after moving to Atlanta I finally joined a small group (committment terrifies me, keep your judgement to yourself) and in God's infinite wisdom and indulgent blessing I found women just like me. Very different from me, but so much like me. They were real. They were honest and funny and smart. They weren't scared to be frustrated with God and weren't scared when I talked about my frustrations, many of which they shared. They enjoyed God. I started to learn about who I am now, an adult who doesn't live across the quad from all my best friends but who gets to celebrate both old and new friendships. I wrote a few weeks ago about becoming more myself on the trip to Nepal and that transformation began picking up momentum when I met the incredible girls I see once a week to unpack life.

Then I went to Nepal. I didn't feel a huge difference in myself or my mood while I was living in Nepal, but upon my return I've found a new season taking shape. I am full again. I love people well again (it has been pretty iffy lately). I learned and changed, not because I was trying to, but because I've been crying out for change and freedom for two years. I've found that seasons don't come because I will them into existence, but because I draw near. I had to draw near for a very long time before this one came. There will be times when I have to seek for much longer, but God is faithful. He is good. It will come.

While in Nepal I read a story about celebrating change even before it comes. I started to thank Jesus for the freedom I had been asking for. It wasn't there yet, but in His faithfulness I thanked Him for the hope of glory. I thanked Him for the transformation I had no idea would happen upon my return to the States. I am once again in a place that feels warm and cozy and full of life. A sweet friend I haven't seen in too many months, one I respect and whose opinion I care very much about, pointed out the change she saw earlier this week. I needed that encouragement. I didn't know if anyone else could tell and it made me excited to know I wasn't going a little crazy over here. It is a visible shift, one that started long ago and one I get to enjoy for as long as I can. Paying attention to how I live in this season, trying to make myself aware of all that is going on, celebrating by loving people well and bringing glory to the Father who faithfully brings change when we need it most, these things are my reality for the next little while. And I love it.

AND I LOVE THE FALL!! It's the most wonderful time of the year. Halloween through New Years is the best time. I just love it. And spring too, and summer and winter until it gets annoying.

Roll Tide

 

Videos

I'm not sure why my videos won't load correctly right now but I'm kind of glad. So, if you want to check out a few of the videos I made in Nepal follow this link:

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLuvXUYDEm5365nKYdlPTyJOJIxp9yGvOq

Thanks!

Fall Time

I love Falltime. I love when it gets crisp and chilly. I love scarves and cardigans and layers and boots. I love holiday treats and planning meals. I love parties and late-season football. It feels cozy and wonderful, like everything is just a little magical.

This first week back at home has been lovely. I've put up my fall decorations and gone through my first round of man chili. I've walked all around the Dunwoody shops and relieved Goodwill of all its oversized mason jars. I was able to celebrate the upcoming wedding of two of my favorite friends and eat delicious food with their loved ones. It has been a wonderful autumn week. All I've been missing is baking. My sweet friend visiting this weekend helped me fix that.

 

Warm, ooey-gooey Pumpkin Oat Chocolate Chip Bread. I don't think it needs further explanation.

 

15 oz pumpkin purée

1/2 stick butter, melted

1/2 cup coconut oil

1/2 cup honey

1/3 cup sugar

4 eggs

2 cups oats

1 cup whole wheat flour

2 t. baking soda

1 t. salt

1 t. cinnamon

1 cup chocolate chips

 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix first 5 ingredients until blended. Stir in remaining ingredients in order, adding 1/2 teaspoon each of nutmeg and cloves if you want. I filled 9 muffins and 1 loaf pan (8x4) and placed I the oven. 20-25 mins for the muffins and 50-55 mins for the loaf. Let cool for 10 minuts and enjoy with a glass of milk!

 

So Long, Nepal

We're sitting in the Kathmandu airport waiting to leave for Bangkok. I am extremely excited. I mean, little kid waiting for a present excited. I've loved our time here. I've learned so much and seen things I never thought I would see, from the tallest mountain range in the world to streets covered in poop. I have met people that will stay in my heart for the rest of my life and learned about myself and how I react to so many situations. I have found our time in Nepal uncomfortable and real and exhilarating. There is a cat prancing past me as I write this in the airport. And I'm ready to go.

We head to Bangkok in a few short hours. We will arrive in a modern city and take an express train to our fancy little hotel in the center of town. I'll take my first real shower in 5 weeks and go out for a nice dinner, unafraid to eat what they serve me, and slip into sheets instead of my sleeping bag when I go to sleep tonight. Yes, I have loved Nepal and trekking, but I am ready for a little vacation. I'm ready for three days on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world. I'm almost giddy at the thought of American football and game day chili. There will be a time, perhaps in a few hours or days or weeks, during which I reflect on this trip as a whole and how it has impacted me. I will draw truths from my experiences and wrap up this learning process. While I could name quite a few off the top of my head at this moment, instead I am choosing to just relish the excitement of this day. My boarding pass feels like a little piece of treasure in my purse next to me.

I have always loved traveling. I enjoy meeting different people and eating different food. I look forward to learning and discovering, but something I always find myself looking forward to is coming home. What a blessed life I have been given. I am one of the lucky few who looks forward to coming home. I don't miss the routine or the everyday-ness of life in the states. There are things I don't respect about America and myself when I think about my habits and thought processes. But there are also things I think we do very well, and I am excited to return to those things. I am eager to work hard and contribute and establish my little way of life in this world. I look forward to working in my garden and taking lessons I've learned on this trip and applying them to life at home. I can't wait to eat Char's food and watch the Tide. I'm not wishing away time. But I'm so excited.

 

Living Right

As our time in Pokhara draws to a close, Abbey and I have been thinking back over the past few weeks. We went through a roller coaster of emotions during our time here. From not sleeping the first week to extreme frustration the second week to impatience the third and happiness the fourth, we have seen quite a bit. We have come to a few conclusions after our time here.

Living somewhere for a month is different than visiting. Being in a house, staying with a family of five, and working at a small local hospital all made us feel like we were living here, not just visiting. We fought conflicting emotions the entire time, of feeling like we should be out experiencing all Pokhara had to offer and of being tired and wanting to hang out at home. There were days we wanted to sit on the porch and talk with our family and days we wanted everyone to just be quiet. It was difficult, but once we accepted that it is okay to need time alone (away from kids), we felt a lot better about our time in Pokhara.

Own your trip. It took almost four weeks for me to realize that no one is looking over my shoulder. Yes, I want to explain everything well to the people back home, but they aren't here living this trip with me. If I want to sit on the couch and watch an American movie after work, I can do it. No one can judge my time here but me. It is okay to crave comfort. It's okay to be frustrated and maybe yell once or twice at the men who KEEP STARING AT YOU even when you stare right back. My eyeballs are looking in your eyeballs! I see you staring! That's just rude, man. We're all people.

The best experiences we have had have been spontaneous. We decided to go to Sarangkot when neither of us could sleep at 4 am. We hiked up the mountain behind our house and found 360 degree views of the entire mountain range and the valley of Pokhara. We found the perfect route home after getting fed up with the dust and traffic on our first day of work. We have had some incredible planned day trips for sure, but there are so many blessings in the unexpected.

We unexpectedly found ourselves sad to leave work yesterday. We had been counting down the days, I'll admit it. We have been ready to hike and see something new, but we were pleasantly surprised at our sadness in leaving. It is odd to leave a place you have been for a while. I don't think I will miss that hospital, but it was unsettling to leave knowing that their lives would continue on in much the same way, as ours will take us on a few adventures and then back home. I started to feel sorry for them a little bit until I realized that doing so is not only arrogant, it's incredibly closed-minded. Just because they live a life I don't want doesn't mean they don't love it. I have been surprised and relieved to find that life in Nepal is not what I expected. It is also not the life for me, not now anyway. Dreams of opening a clinic here no longer seem like the future I desire. I'm so glad I found out now.

I think one of the most important things we have done during our time here is constantly take stock of how we're doing. Constantly check in with ourselves and find out why we are frustrated, or what exactly has made this a great day, or how to best deal with today and prepare for tomorrow. There should be consistent evaluation and notice taken. After all, if we don't know what we're feeling or why, we have a smaller chance of getting what we want or need the next time.

Our best advice for traveling, or living, or visiting, or anything? Checking in with Jesus. Constantly. Consistently. In need and joy and worship and in asking and seeking and rejoicing. This isn't a season in my life in which I feel the overwhelming or sudden presence of The Lord. I'm not swept up in the Spirit. But I am diligently seeking and pleasantly surprised by what I have found. I find truth every morning when I read my devotional. I find answers and focus each time I journal and pray. I feel peace that surpasses all my understanding when I listen to a sweet song of praise. Instead of the huge peaks of passion I used to feel (and yes, I think seasons like that will come and go again in my life), I feel a constant humming of activity in my heart. It's as though God started a lawn mower in a yard down the street and the sound just stays with me all day, comforting me. I find smiles that creep up on me just because. It's not groundbreaking (although, really, it kind of is) or earth-shattering. But it is very, very lovely. It's a lovely world and a lovely God.

PS I drove a motorbike today and only almost died twice. Good day.

Fears

I used to be terrified of flying. Not so much flying itself, but any turbulence at all. And when they down-shifted once you got to cruising altitude. Horrifying to me. I always thought the engines were stopping. Any slight disturbance, any stray from the norm, and I was positive we were going down. Then I took a ride in a tiny four passenger plane over the mountains near San Diego. Our little plane got tossed back and forth in the air currents and I swore we were going to crash, but everything was perfectly normal. Since then, a little turbulence doesn't make my heart skip a beat.

I also used to be terrified of tornadoes. We would have tornado warnings a lot when I was in elementary school, and every time I thought I was going to get sick I was so scared. I can remember huddling down in the garage at Char's house one time and thinking that either the hail or the wind would do me in. I couldn't breathe I was so scared when storms came. Then I met some friends in college who decided storm chasing was the thing to do, and we ended up a few hundred yards away from one of the most destructive tornadoes in Alabama history, running (hobbling with my leg brace) into the music building for cover and praying for safety. Tornadoes don't scare me much anymore. I respect the storm and know it is incredibly powerful, but for the most part, I've seen the enemy. And while the enemy could still kill me, at least now I know what it looks like.

The unknown is scary, as everyone already knows, and it always will be. I am scared of so many things. I'm scared of PT school and whether I'll make it, of falling in love, getting married, taking care of patients, parenthood, and a million other wonderful things. I'm scared of bad things as well, but who isn't? It's fear of the good things that gives me pause. I'm excited, I want those things, but they still scare me. I can't wait for all of these things to happen, but man! Talk about responsibility. For this short little period of time, it's just me hanging out. Yes, I have the responsibility of not disappointing the people I love and of taking care of myself, but when compared to the list above, those two responsibilities seem manageable. I have duties at work and school and to friends and family, but really I'm just taking care of myself and exploring my options. I have this tiny window during which I'm allowed to be unabashedly selfish. And the responsibility to come is beautiful, breathtaking in its magnitude and sweetness, but this little window I'm in right now? It's roomy. I get impatient, but I can breathe pretty easily here. Too often I wish it away when I should be savoring its specialness. Is that a word? I've been sitting here trying to think of the right word to put there, the right word to describe this time that is unlike any other I will have in my life, but I can't nail it down. It's just special. There is time to learn. There is time to read and listen and wake up early and go to bed late and get lost in the woods with my iPod and no pressing need to answer to anyone when I make it back to the car. There are wonderful things to come, but there is so much wonder here as well. I'm afraid of losing sight of that just as I'm afraid of what comes after it. Fears all around, healthy ones and unhealthy ones, but fears just the same. Overcoming them, getting to the unknown and walking through it, that's where life is.

 

Motorcycles

Abbey and I went to meet the pastor of a church in Pokhara this afternoon. We got to talk and laugh with his daughter and learn about how he became a Christian and started this church. We shared tea and encouraged Nabaraj to go to church with us for the rest of our time in town. It was incredible to meet believers whose stories are so different from ours but whose hearts made us feel right at home. What a great afternoon. But the real kicker? I took my first motorcycle ride.

It was wonderful. It felt like riding a bike down a really long hill that I didn't have to pedal on. Go figure. I absolutely loved it. Watch out, world. Or perhaps more accurately, watch out, boys with motorcycles. Here I come (music to my mother's ears I'm sure).

I never thought my first motorcycle ride would happen in Nepal. First of all, I swore them off when I got to the city after I saw how the locals drive. Lanes don't really matter much here. Secondly, they're more like a motorcycle's wimpy kid brother. Not quite a moped, not a full motorcycle. We just call them motorbikes, but it sounds way cooler to say I rode a motorcycle.

I wanted to learn about the world on this trip, but I also wanted to learn about myself. I wanted to try new things and discover new interests and ideas, and I've done both. I've discovered I love riding motorcycles on poorly paved roads in Nepal. I enjoy hot tea in the morning, especially when it has a ton of sugar in it and is served with a side of biscuits (cookies for kids that I eat every morning and sometimes before bed). I've learned that mountain goat gets stuck in between my teeth and ramen tastes a million times better in Asia.

I think what I've most enjoyed learning about myself so far on this trip is that I know myself. I will always grow and change and develop new ideas and ways of thinking, but for the most part I have discovered who I am and I like that person. When I was younger I always dreamed about coming back from summer break totally different. You know those girls who would go to camp in another state for the summer and come back with cool hair and an older boyfriend and miraculously bigger boobs? Everyone wanted to be that girl. When I left on this trip I wondered how I would change and if I would come back a totally different person. I'm delighted to realize that I will most likely come back just a little more myself. A little more comfortable in my own skin. A little more assured of my ability to handle uncomfortable situations and meet uncomfortably, beautifully different people. A little more in love with Jesus. It's a messy transition from college to "real life", but it's one that has firmly and deeply rooted me in faith. The challenges I've faced over the past two years are nothing compared to what I will face in the next twenty, but I can now feel the stability of the Rock beneath my feet. It is scary and peaceful and invigorating. A little like riding a motorcycle.

 

Noise

Have I talked yet about how noisy it is here? I can't remember. I'm going to talk about it.

It's so loud here. Everything is loud. I think I complained about this in a previous post in which I ranted about all things Nepal. As I've settled in and adjusted to the culture, this may be one of the things I'll never get used to. Everywhere we go it is loud. Right now the tv is blaring, there is a child toddling around who will undoubtedly start screaming in the next five minutes, and music can always be heard from down the street. I use the word music loosely. And don't get me started on the dogs. Roosters I can handle, but dogs all night? Nope.

Our favorite part of the trip so far, our little lookout on the mountain (foothill) used to be the quiet place where we could get away, and it will be again very soon. However, with Dasain still lingering, (seriously longest holiday ever) our little sanctuary of peace has even been transformed into a blaring speaker of heinous music. Yes, I understand that they find their music beautiful and alluring. But hell, no I do not agree. And while I like to think I am accepting and open-minded, that music is where I draw the line. It's like screaming cats and squeaky mice and screeching kids were thrown into a room together with drums, a sitar, and an out-of-tune clarinet, and asked to see who could make the others' ears bleed first. And they all won. And kept going.

There is one loud sound, however, which warms my heart on this trip. It has faded in the last few minutes, and the enormously loud sound of the television is now blasting into our sweet little room, but for ten lovely minutes it roared outside our doors like a comfy blanket. The rain. It quiets the dogs. It drowns out the music from the temple. It sounds like a storm at the cottage and waves on the beach joined in a chorus with the most peaceful, contented sigh. In case you hadn't guessed, I love the rain. So rain, rain come every night. Clear up every day so we can walk to work, and stay away during our trek, but come on and rain all night in Pokhara.

 

Solitaire

I've played quite a bit of solitaire this week. It's been rainy the past few days and entertainment has become scarce. On Saturday night we loved the idea of rain. Rain, it seemed, was the only thing that could make the incessant dog barking stop. Monday afternoon, however, as we wrung out our clothes and hung them on the staircase, I no longer appreciated the rain. We need to be outdoors. For longer than a soggy walk around the block.

Solitaire has always been a wonderful game to me. When the rest of my family sat reading at the lake, before I caught the reading bug myself, I could play for ten, even fifteen minutes. That is an eternity in bored-kid time. Now solitaire is a way to engage my brain and wake it up, or provide my eyes a little relief from reading. I enjoy being quiet and focusing on something completely for a little while.

Solitude, on the other hand, has always been a bit trickier. I need to be around people. I feed off their energy and feel useful and included. I also am exhausted by them. I need time to recharge and be alone. I straddle the introvert-extrovert fence in a way that often confuses me and leaves me frustrated. But one thing I am not confused about: solitary travel.

I have met more than a few people over the past two weeks who love to travel alone. They enjoy exploring new places on their own and having the freedom to go where they choose. I love their passion for travel and admire their independence, but I do not count myself among them. I don't enjoy traveling alone. I find it lonely. Give my a day to myself exploring and discovering new things and I will be such a happy girl. I love walks on my own and finding out-of-the-way places and eating by myself. But an extended trip by my lonesome? No, thank you. I want to see things and point them out. I love hearing what someone else thinks about what we've seen and done. I need someone to bounce ideas off and get advice from. No, solo travel is not for me, but solo exploring most definitely can be.

My favorite thing about this trip to Nepal has been the people I've met. They are fascinating and different and weird. I love getting to know them and hearing their stories. Most of them travel on their own and meet other fascinating people along the way. At first glance, they make me feel inadequate. Why don't I love traveling by myself? Am I not independent enough? Am I, heaven forbid, needy? And then reason settles back down in my mind and I realize that I am not the only one who longs to share experiences when I travel. As Abbey so eloquently put it just a few minutes ago, I want to come home and know that someone else felt just the same as I did. It doesn't mean I'm immature or scared or needy, it means I love to travel with people. And one day I could find a place I feel so comfortable in that I want to experience it alone, and that will be a wonderful thing, but for now I'll keep my solo day trips and solitaire. And when I meet them along the way, my friends and I will buy those solo travelers a beer, or an ice cream, and welcome them into our little traveling home for the night, and listen to their wonderful stories. Traveling, in its purest form, is about the people you meet and the God you love along the way.

 

Sarangkot

This could have just been any ordinary day. Yesterday we didn't get down to Lakeside, via city bus, until about 11:30, and it was wonderful. Today we got to Lakeside around 10:30, but we took a slightly different route.

I awoke around 4:15 to pee and realized I was actually pretty awake. I thought I'd catch a couple hours more sleep before Abbey and I headed out to hike up to the Peace Pagoda. As I flipped over to possibly doze back off, I heard Abbey thrashing in her sleeping bag. Hmmm, I thought to myself, and jumped out of bed to look out the window. It was pitch black but I could see some lights on the far hill. I ran to the living room to boot up our computer and check the weather. 6% cloud coverage. Today just might be the perfect day.

I ran my idea by Abbey and we both hopped out of bed, scurrying to brush our teeth and make peanut butter and banana sandwiches for the road. We inevitably woke Shailee up, who made us some tea and woke up Nabaraj to help negotiate a taxi for us. Once we had finally agreed on a price, we began our ascent.

My heart beat faster and faster as we climbed up the mountain, realizing that the sky was beginning to lighten before we made it up to the top. We finally came to where the road ends, threw our money at the taxi driver, and began our steep final ascent up the mountain. We didn't make it in time. However, we did find a nice patio mid-way up the mountain to catch the first stages of the sunrise. I'll post it once photostream actually catches up.

After catching the first rainbow-like stages of the sunrise, we decided to leave our crowded little post and head for the top. Sarangkot. We quickly realized that we weren't as close to the top as we had guessed. Thirty minutes later we arrived, drenched in sweat (me) despite the chilly air, and set up to watch the rest of the morning light soak the mountains. It was breathtaking.

We took a ton more photos than this, but wifi here isn't great so getting them posted is a little difficult. After we hung out and had some quiet time on Sarangkot, we decided just to walk back down to Lakeside. Turns out just because it's downhill doesn't mean it's easy. Our legs were jelly but it was so worth it! Nothing like a couple hours sliding down a mountain to make you appreciate that taxi ride up.

 

Dudes with Cameras

I don't know if Abbey and I looked fantastic yesterday or if we had boogers on our faces that we didn't know about, but people could not stop taking our pictures. We've been very aware of everyone staring at us since we've been here, something understandable since we live in a part of the city that rarely has non-Nepali visitors, but we were pretty astounded by the level of attention our pale faces got yesterday.

We have both been very sensitive about the pictures we take. I think I may only have one picture in which the sole purpose of my photo is to show a Nepali person. We'll get to that in another post. We like to take pictures of the experiences we have here, and yes of the family we stay with, but never try to make the locals feel uncomfortable. Apparently it is not customary to return the favor.

We first realized the extent of our stunning beauty yesterday morning on the way to work, wearing our typical hiking pants, dri-fit shirts, and chacos. We were rounding the corner before our favorite bridge when two teenaged boys stopped walking on the other side of the street. They started to laugh and one took out his phone, aiming it at us. We were both a little confused and just continued to walk, a bit stunned that someone would blatantly take our picture, even if we do look very different from them.

The next paparazzi encounter came later that evening in Lakeside, the super touristy part of town down by the lake (go figure) where people from all over the world can be found at any given restaurant or shop. As we walked along the length of the river back towards the restaurant to meet some friends, we both noticed a man a little older than us taking a picture of a sleeping dog on the sidewalk. We had overheard his conversation with friends on our first pass, which stood out because he was speaking English with a British accent, something which always catches our ears in a foreign place. The closer we got to Telephoto Lens Man, the more confused our facial expressions appeared, as it seemed that the dog was not the subject of his photography. We finally passed right by him, his lens following us the entire time as he turned around in his seat to get a better look, and we each gave him our meanest faces and picked up our pace. He put down his camera and smiled as he muttered "Sorry," and we continued our walk in amazement.

We were a little surprised by the local boys who took our picture that morning, but were so confused by the grown British white man who followed us with his camera in touristy Lakeside, where people who look like us can be found in just a few minutes of people watching. Then again, I can't say I blame him. If I were a guy and hadn't seen a cute (cute=freshly showered) girl in a few weeks I'd try to capture her image forever as well. Too bad we were mean-muggin.

 

The Porch Men

I imagined a lot of things when I imagined what our lives would look like in Pokhara. I pictured mud huts, sandy streets, grass fields, and animals everywhere. Some of this is true, but actually being here is so much more.

We live on the bottom floor of a two-story home on a back road in Matepani. Nabaraj and Shailee have three kids, ages two, three, and five.The floors are always a little dusty but it is a cozy place and we have our own room. Shailee makes us incredible food every day, rice and lentils and a few veggies, and I've started to enjoy her tea in the morning. It's super sweet. Life with the family has been relatively easy to adjust to, but the men on the porch have woven their way into our story as well.

We first saw the men as we stepped out of our late-night taxi ride home from the bus stop. As we approached the front door of the house, we saw two people sleeping on mats under the front steps, just below a window. Turns out that was our window. Turns out there were four of them. I vaguely remember it being noisy, with unfamiliar music and dogs barking, but sleep came quickly and sweetly that first night.

Night two. Zero sleep. Zero. None. After nearly 50 hours of no sleep over the weekend, I was pretty fed up with staying awake all night. I could deal with the snoring and even the occasional dog bark, but those men! They played music all night, talked on speaker phone with people the didn't know, and yelled to each other throughout the night. How dare they interrupt my precious sleep!

By night four we had had enough and directed all of our frustrations towards the four young men separated from us by the thinnest of walls. We banged on the window and even stepped outside to ask them to be quiet, something that seemed frightening to us at the time, and then miraculously on the fifth day we returned home to an empty porch. We high-fived and asked Shailee how she got them to leave.

The men had been sleeping on the porch because their employer, a man who owned a construction company, had been telling them for a week that he would pay them tomorrow. He kept the money allotted for their housing during the construction project and instead put them on the porch of another house he happened to own. They probably played music and talked on the phone because they were uncomfortable and unable to sleep, wanting to leave just as badly as we wanted them to go. He finally ended up paying them a small portion of what they were owed, and they headed back to their village.

As much as I would like to say I felt mortified at my selfish attitude when I heard their story, I also still felt a bit relieved they would be gone. After my third night of less than four hours of sleep, my exhausted brain couldn't quite grasp how awful I was acting. It still hasn't hit me yet, they severity of my calloused reaction. For the record, I still haven't slept well since, so it's not all sunshine and roses, but I'm glad this encounter happened. I'm glad I started off my trip with a very blunt realization of the condition of my heart.

As we start to settle into our new home, I hope my heart towards these people and this place changes to one of joy and delight. I love the people I've come to know and enjoy exploring this town, but constantly have to check my thoughts and frustrations. It is difficult to fully experience an unfamiliar place when I crave comfort. Not a plush bed and a real toilet, but people who don't stare at me or laugh at me and who understand my jokes. I crave sleep, just normal sleep, and quiet. But I'm in Nepal, a place I will most likely never be again. I get to hike up to a monastery with Abbey every night and talk to our monk friend whose name I still can't pronounce. I get giddy when I buy an oreo and 20-second cold showers have never been so refreshing or effective. This place, covered in clouds and rain this week, is still the most stunning place I've ever been. And the clouds will clear one day soon, and I'll stand face to face with the tallest mountains in the world. Five weeks to go. I can't wait to see what happens next.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Well I've learned my lesson about waiting too long to blog. It seems like so much to describe in just one post, so I'll start with the trip over here and see how far we get.

Turns out sleep doesn't come easily for this girl on planes. The flight from Atlanta to Seoul was incredible, 4-seater row just to ourselves, lots of leg room, plenty of areas on the plane to stretch. My food, however, was horrible. I decided to request kosher food for the trip. Why would I do this? I mean really though, why? I thought to myself, "Hmm, if they have to prepare this a special way I bet it tastes great!" It doesn't taste great. Frozen pickled veggies, some kind of olivey loafy pate thing, jelly rolls. It was not the best. Luckily, Abbey shared her grapes with me.

The airport in Seoul is absolutely incredible. They had sleeper sofas upstairs, massage rooms, free showers that were surprisingly nice and clean, and tons of things to do. Unfortunately, we only had a few hours to spend in this place. We hopped a six hour flight over to Bangkok for our next layover of ten hours. This airport is not quite so easy to sleep in, but after a sleepless ten hours and some wonderful thai food, we boarded our last flight to Kathmandu.

After squeaking by the menacing customs officers (two women who just waved us through impatiently when we tried to show them our customs forms), we walked into the dusty heat to find a man waiting with our names on a piece of white paper. He gave us necklaces made of beautiful flowers and went to negotiate a taxi ride to the bus stop. As we waited, I was somehow conned out of ten dollars. As someone who prides herself on streetsmarts while traveling, my pride took a much bigger hit than my wallet.

The "bus stop" turned out to be a gravel pit on the side of the road in dusty Kathmandu. And when I say dusty, I mean dusty in the most foul sense of the word. We were ushered onto a 15 passenger van and squeezed into the last row with a man and his young son. "Tight squeeze," I thought to myself. Ha. Over the course of the next twenty minutes we managed to squish another woman and her toddler into our seat, while five other passengers stuffed themselves into the other rows. We settled into our six hour bus ride with positive attitudes fully intact. For about an hour. After stagnant heat, an hour and a half stopped on the side of a mountain because of a tipped truck, and our first encounter with the infamous Nepali "toilet" we finally found ourselves at the last bus stop in Pokhara. A jovial man hopped onto the bus and rescued us from the backseat as he introduced himself as Nabaraj and loaded our packs into a car bound for his family's home. Nabaraj and his wife Shailee would be our family for the next four weeks, and we settled into their modest home exhausted and grateful to be in our own beds.

Much Ado About Something

Many of my friends complain about their parents nagging them to do things, which usually surprises me. After all, we are adults now. We own our cars, pay rent, have jobs, cook food, provide for ourselves to a certain extent. So why, I have wondered, do some of my friends still feel that their parents nag them? Or, more importantly, why do they still listen to it? I always thought they had a choice and were simply incapable of "cutting the cord" effectively. I will no longer sit in judgement, my friends, and I apologize for writing off your complaints while I sat on my high horse of non-nagdom. I decided to finally write this blog because my mom, incredible, strong, patient, funny, wise woman that she is, nagged the hell out of me. (Notice, mother o' mine, that I did so because of your silence on the subject for the past week. It was noted and appreciated.)

In my mother's defense, I am a master of procrastination. I have often heard a wise saying that mentions not putting things off for tomorrow when one could accomplish them today. I would counter with my own wise saying, something along the lines of "Umm, because I could just as easily do it tomorrow, and today it's sunny." While I have come a long way in accomplishing my work faster and have learned to appreciate just getting things done so I can relish my free time, a few tasks still fall through the cracks. This post being one of them. So here it is, no real purpose or direction, just a daughter's duty to appease her nagging (in the most affectionate way) mother.

I leave for Nepal in eleven short days. I am halfway packed, halfway prepared, mostly excited, and a little apprehensive. I've traveled before, some trips short and some long, but for some reason this trip has me a little stumped. I have no doubt in my mind this will be one of the most breathtaking places I'll ever visit. I think I am just a bit scared that I haven't prepared enough. Maybe I haven't prayed enough to really experience everything I can while I'm there, haven't focused on getting my heart and mind ready. What if I get back and realize I completely missed something? What if I have crazy culture shock and can't appreciate anything? What if I get annoyed and don't want to get to know people? What ifs are terrible little creatures and I won't allow them on this journey. Just decided. The fact that I am aware of these fears means that I will (hopefully) be able to recognize them if they crop up. So instead, I'm going to stop worrying, trust that you guys are praying for my trip, and enjoy my last few days before I leave. No what ifs allowed.

In the meantime, I'll be breaking in my new hiking boots and taking as many showers as I can before baby wipes and creek baths become the norm. I'm off to hit the trails, tiny though they may be compared to what is just around the corner, and hope this post will calm the seas for a few days.

Lova ya momsy!

 

Books on books on books

I've been thinking a lot recently about what qualities make a book one of my favorites. 

That's not true, I've been recently trying with very limited success to control ridiculous, panicky, stressed-out thoughts. However, about a month ago I did think to myself "Hmm, what if I had to pick a favorite book? What would be my criteria?". I'd like to revisit that idea today.

Tell me something good

Perhaps this is a given in your mind, but my first requirement for a solid book is that it tell a good story. Tell me a story and you'll have my heart forever. I just can't get enough of them. Dad used to have this incredible story book he would read to us before we went to sleep. I can't remember all of it, but it had sweeping tales of princes and dragons and giants. I could sit all night listening to him tell me stories that lit my imagination on fire. But my grandmother could blow even the greatest of story-tellers out of the water. My fondest memories are those of me and Jane and our cousins lying in Grandmama's big bed listening to all the mischief Brer Rabbit got into. And her voices! Don't get me started on those. Each character had his own voice, constant over years of story-telling. One of my greatest fears is having a child who will never hear Betty Ruth tell her a story.

A whole new world

One of the most fascinating things about a good book is the world the author creates, whether it be a fantastic one filled with spren or the muggy streets of 1960's Jackson. The physical setting doesn't much matter to me, rather the characters themselves do, how they interact, the obstacles they encounter, the whole feeling of the world in which they live. I should fall completely into it. When I read Pride and Prejudice I thought with a British accent for weeks. When I read Harry Potter I would quickly pop my head back in the room to see if the faces in my pictures had changed when I wasn't watching. When I read the Boxcar Children I would build my own boxcar forts in the slides at recess and gather food (leaves) from the woods outside the fence. As I grow older and more boring, I can escape just as easily to these worlds as I sit on my patio or float on the lake, letting my imagination do the work while my body relaxes. It is the sweetest contradiction, this new world, a wonderfully solitary place I can escape to all on my own, only to be met by characters I have come to know as friends and fellow adventurers. Anyone who has experienced this sense of losing yourself in another place can attest to the frustration felt when someone cruelly shakes you from your new world. I'm not being rude if I don't respond, I just can't hear you over the sound of my friend explaining how he plans to regain ownership of the shipyard he lost while he was a prisoner in Nazi Germany. Maybe just wait a little while, I'll hear you in a few.

I think I can

The most intriguing books I have read are those that made me really think. In order to be the kind of world I want to fall into, it has to engage my mind and make me question things going on in my "real world". How would I respond to the discovery of a house left in my name in a country I've never visited? How exactly would I go about researching all the owners of a 1,000 year old Bible? What if my 8th grade yearbook photo looked like Tina Fey's, would I recover with the same grace and sense of humor? Would I have what it takes? Would someone want to write a book about me? Make me wrestle with myself and my heart's condition, you can totally earn a place on my bookshelf.

Books hold a special and most beloved place in my heart. They were an escape from whatever was going on around me, a chance to live an adventure I never thought I could. They have unfortunately become a luxury instead of the norm. Someday soon, someday when I have the time or the perfect chair or someone to read next to or just a damn good book, they will again take center stage in my life. I cannot wait for that day. If asked today what my favorite book is I would respond that it is the one that makes me hopeful, one that leaves me smiling contentedly and in awe of the people I just met and followed on their journey. Which book is that? I am ecstatic to say I can't remember the last time I could easily narrow it down to one. Each is so different and special, I could never pick just one.

But it's The Giving Tree.

Char thoughts: 

I was having the most awful day today until a 45 year old man gave me a fist bump - I miss happy hour apps and wine at Char's house - Do other people like being in nature like me? Or do they think I'm weird - I need to make something today, like I need to accomplish something - I'm not ashamed of how excited I am to watch Grey's Anatomy tonight - I miss Aunt Holly

Raise your hand if you're excited but lazy

I'm happy to report that I will be going to Nepal for a Physical Therapy internship in the fall! I'm so excited AHHH!!!! However, as excited as I am, I'm also quite lazy right now and not in the mood to write a full post on my decision yet. So, I will copy my essay (not really) that I used to apply for a correspondent scholarship through the program. It may cover 3% of my total cost if I get it. Woo!



I have always been fascinated by the idea of travel. To get away from the hum-
drum of normal life and go somewhere new, that prospect has always caught my
attention and imagination. However, soon after leaving for my first mission trip out of
the country I quickly realized that the realities of traveling are quite different from what I
often romanticize in my mind. Different, yes, and much more valuable.

I have had many different experiences during my travels abroad. I’ve learned to
try things that make me uncomfortable, love people who scare me at first consideration,
and cope with being mistreated and misunderstood. I’ve learned to express compassion
and acceptance without the convenience of a common language and found that often it is
more easily conveyed without words. I have embraced, albeit sometimes reluctantly at
first, cultures much different from my own and gained perspective I never knew I didn’t
have. These few treasures and lessons I have expressed only scratch the surface of my
passion and love for the people and places I have encountered.

In a world so obsessed with the fastest, latest information we can miss some of
the most simple, profound experiences around us. I want to showcase these experiences,
from the laugh of a child, the same in any language, to the profound stillness found on
the summit of a Himalayan mountain. And if people want those experiences shown in the
newest, fastest way, why not take a video camera along for the ride? Because it will be
one monster of a ride and I cannot wait to share it with the world.


Alrighty, off to Florida to celebrate my sweet cousin's long-time-coming wedding day!! Later gators!

The Art of Life

My friend Pat sent out an email today with an article about how important your 20s are. I started skimming the article, intrigued by the science behind the points the author made, and soon recognized a steady increase in my heart rate. I felt motivated, discouraged, overwhelmed, encouraged, and determined. I felt my usual rush of emotion followed by Char's voice in my head saying, "Quit being dramatic, Meg." I was quite affected by the article and the importance of how my decisions and actions now shape how I will respond and engage later in life. This is serious business. But I also heard Monica's calm, grounded voice reminding me to never take myself too seriously. Such is the usual back-and-forth in my brain. Welcome to the mind of a girl.

Where, you might ask, did I land after this inner dialogue? Who knows, it's only been twenty minutes. This article spurred some thought about the paths I do and don't want to clear for myself. Certain paths my parents made and solidified in their lives certainly seem worthy of imitation. I can't tell you how many mornings, afternoons, and evenings I spent sitting at the island in Char's kitchen watching and learning as she cooked and taught. I can think of countless golfing trips with Trace during which he patiently, joyfully taught me and spent time laughing at and with me. Neither made a big deal out of these experiences but both must have realized, on some level, how special they were and are. How can I let go of the control I so love and relax enough to teach and learn and just be with people? Ask me again in six years, hopefully I've figured it out by then.

I sat down recently (ten minutes ago) and wrote down the habits and goals I want to have for the rest of my life. I thought about building a business that cares for its clients and employees the way my company does now. I thought about how I've somehow lost sight of the things I used to love about how I treated my friends. When did I stop encouraging people because I was scared they would think I'm silly? Forget that, they can get over it, I'm doing it. I thought about the communities and resources I want to help build in Nepal. I thought about all the things I want to learn to do and all the people I want to get to know. I thought about the letters I want to write and the prayers, the PRAYERS, I want to pray. What is the point if none of this is absolutely drowning in prayer? If it is not intentional, not sought after, not divinely given, it will all have been for nothing. No, I don't think my prayers will determine God's will for what happens. But I know that how I respond to whatever happens in this life with be directly affected by the time I've spent grounding myself in the truth and grace of the gospel.

I want to be someone who prays fiercely, laughs often, and still dances in the rain when I'm old and gray. In fact, I'm not worried about the old and gray part, I'm worried about still dancing in the rain when I'm 26 and the reality of life has left me heavy and consumed by self-preservation. That is the time I need to remember that I love dancing when it's inconvenient and frowned upon. Our time is short, our hearts too heavy, our time so often wasted on things that don't matter when considered through the lens of Love. God created us as masterpieces, his beautiful artwork. Shouldn't we be seeking lives that are diverse, surprising, intentional, fun works of art? Because if you aren't enjoying it, what are you doing? No, I didn't think through this post before I wrote it. Yes, it wanders. Life, my friends.

Char thoughts
- There is a day when you stop trying to keep yourself awake and start trying to find excuses to leave so you can go to bed early. That day was a few months ago - Sometimes I try to do my toothpaste just the the commercials but it never looks as cool - I used my jury summons as ID to buy a bloody mary after church a few weeks ago. It worked - Don't dream the small dreams of other men