Americans hike where Nepalis trek

I know I've settled into Colorado because I have three house keys! However, getting from one house to the other is a challenge; I think public transportation is worse here than in Nepal (although something can be said for having a published time table and a little bit of breathing room on the bus). I thought to augment the bus and train systems with a bicycle, but it's having issues with the rear tire and/or brakes, so I've opted for inconvenience over potential accident for the moment. When I return from hiking segments 7 and 8 of the Colorado Trail with Julie I'll take the bike over to a local shop and have it sorted out.

This hike will be lots different from the trek (why do folks in America 'hike' while those in Nepal 'trek'?) Mark and I did in Nepal. On the Colorado Trail there are no places of lodging or to stop food or tea (I miss 10AM and 3:30PM tea times...). The mountains aren't as tall, and there will be no monkeys in the trees. Julie and I may see deer, bears, and certainly less animal excrement than is on the trails in Nepal.

So, with that said, I'm off to negotiate the Denver public transportation system to get to REI and then Julie's house. Though I'm not the tallest, whitest person around anymore, I will be the one on the bus with the largest backpack, so wish me luck entertaining the locals!

Photo: Sunset looking westward from Mark's parent's porch.

Hot water on demand

Photo: Looking west on Mass Ave. in Harvard Square, from the sidewalk in front of Mr. Bartley Burger Cottage.

T-minus seven hours until I have to be at the airport for a flight to Colorado. I have cleaned up the huge sewing mess I created in the last three days, including vacuuming, am mostly packed, and am in the middle of lunching. Rough life, you say? No, not by any means. But I have had some trouble settling back into it.

For instance, I pause before getting a glass of water from the tap to think: do I need to do anything to this water to make it drinkable? Iodine tablets? Chlorine treatment? Filter? Boil? All four? And the reality is my water is probably more filtered than bottled water, given my dad's propensity for gadgets.

And how amazing is it to have hot water on demand? Just twist the left faucet and there it is! No turning on the water heater, or checking one's watch to see if the solar water heater has had a chance to work its magic, or, reality for most of the population, boiling water. Just turn a knob. Just wonderful.

And while I'm on the topic of commodities, electricity 24/7 is certainly a great convenience. "Load shedding" as they call turning off the power for up to six hours at a time on most days of the week, was not as big an inconvenience as not being able to drink the water, for instance, but sure is nice to flick a switch rather than fumbling around for a flashlight for middle of the night wanderings.

Additional adjustments include:
1) Looking left-right-left when crossing the street
They drive on the left hand side of the road, which necessitates looking right-left-right when crossing the street. Took me weeks, and a few close calls, to get used to.

2) Being able to eat salads when I go out to eat.
The fear being the veggies being washed in local water and then served wet; most/all bugs are killed with proper cooking or once the veggies have dried.

3) The American Health Care System
While reassuring in that it has taken good care of me for this long, it was a hassle getting health insurance again, particularly since I had confounded the state's new heath insurance program by not paying and then leaving the country. Oops. On the other hand, unlike in Nepal, in the US one needs a prescription for most medications, although that's supposed to be more of a protection than an inconvenience.

And on that note, we're at t-minus 54 minutes until I must leave for an appointment in Harvard Square, so I must skedaddle.

Back in the States

"You're back in town! How long are you visiting?"

Little did I know I'm visiting; I thought I live here. This is a question I started grappling with before I left Nepal (indeed, I'm back in the States as of 5 June at 0845) and am facing head-on here in Boston; where do I live?

At this moment, I'm staying with my parents at their house in Massachusetts, but is that where I live? Heavens help me, not that I'll admit! But does lack of a home indicate that I'm homeless? A homeless, upper-middle class woman with a storage locker, mailing address, and savings account; I'm certainly not included in the statistics summarizing 'homeless' people.

In response to my statement about needing to find a job, my friend Julie suggested moving to Denver for the summer and couch surfing while looking for work. She realizes Denver is not where I will necessarily end up actually working, but she's offered her back bedroom and internet connection to get me started. Denver's a place I love, where people I love live; not a bad place to call home for a few months, at least.

If it's that easy to change one's concept of 'home' in one's mind, what of one's possessions? How do they factor into the definition of home? I'd been content for four months with just two large backpacks o' stuff; what the heck is in that storage locker?

Buddhist teachings tell us that attachment to people or things leads to suffering, suffering leads to unhappiness, unhappiness leads to additional attachment, rinse and repeat. Seeking freedom from the circle of Samsara [circle of suffering] by means of enlightenment is one of the goals of all Buddhists. But does that include divesting myself of my grandmother's bureau, numerous boxes of books, and my kitchen accoutrements? Depends on why I have them.

The kitchen stuff is functional and, all told, expensive to replace; depending upon how long it's to be in storage it's probably cheaper to store it than to replace all of it. Buddhists would see this as a rational explanation for keeping the kitchen stuff; kitchen stuff stays (hopefully not much longer in the storage locker, though!).

In contrast, my motivation for keeping the few furniture pieces that are in there is pure emotional attachment; one bureau was my grandmother's, how could I part with it? The bookshelf, well, I don't know why, but it makes me very sad to think of parting with it. Never mind the photographs and knick-knacks; oy! Best not to even bring those items to the table during a discussion of Buddhism!

And there is the demon I must tame this summer -- emotional attachment to the contents of a 5x5x8 storage locker in Medford, Massachusetts. My immediate goal isn't even as lofty as enlightenment; I want to put that $40.00 per month towards something else -- plane tickets to see my nephews, maybe sponsoring a child in Nepal. But long-term I have much to gain through freedom from attachment: the ability to be present in the moment without thoughts of that 'stuff', less encumbered geographical mobility, maybe even closer relationships uninhibited by 'mine'.

Photo: Me and my stuff in the back of a taxi to the Kathmandu Airport.

Namaste, Nepal -- the other way 'round

I'm already late for getting to the airport and I don't have to be there until 1513! I spent the morning futzing about making last minute purchases; I have one and three-quarter hours to pack. Wish me luck!

I am sad to be leaving Nepal and my friends here. I am excited to see friends in the US, have safe drinking water pour forth from the tap, and access to internet 24/7.

Don't know if y'all will keep reading, but I imagine I'll have more to blog once I start reintegrating. For now, wish me safe travels.