I debated beginning my Thailand blog with a story of getting conned. But that is how my trip began, so that is where this story starts.

It was Saturday, December 28, 2019. My first full day in Bangkok, Thailand. I would be exploring the city solo for a few days until my friend arrived on New Years Eve. I was excited, but slightly apprehensive about exploring this massive city on my own. Unlike Nepal, I didn’t know the language and knew very little about the country. When people heard I was going to Thailand, they told me to “be careful,” often referencing the infamous Red Light District and sex trafficking industry. Later I would learn that sex trafficking is roughly equivalent to shootings in the US. Under-reported when it happens to minorities, over-reported when it’s the upper class. Any incidents are too many. It’s atrocious. Yet the risk doesn’t stop us from leaving our houses each day.

However, at the time, I knew virtually nothing about Bangkok aside from what I’d heard and the small amount of Googling I’d done to prepare for my trip to Thailand. On the day I arrived, I learned to navigate the train and the metro from the airport to my hostel, Warm Window Silom, in a quiet business district. Since that’s what I knew, that’s how I started on my first full day in Bangkok. I walked to Lumphini Park and hopped the train to city center. From there I found Chao Phraya, the major river that drains the Northern highlands, runs past Bangkok, and empties into the Gulf of Thailand. I figured if I stayed along the river, I could explore without getting terribly lost.

As I walked, I observed my new surroundings. Shop owners sold clothing, jewelry, and cheap plastic products in bins. The smell of fried chicken and pork wafted from restaurants preparing classic dishes with names like tom yum goon, laap, phat kaphrao, and khao soi. Later on these names will become familiar, but right now there are meaningless, mixing with all the other unknown languages being exchanged around me. And then there was the street food. All sorts of fruit eaten with wooden skewers, unidentified meats of being cooked over coals, thin crepes called roti often filled with banana drizzled with syrup (a tourist favorite)… all for less than $2.

I grabbed a couple sliced mangoes from a fruit stand and left the river veering towards the tourist district. Specifically, Khao San Road. Khao San is known by tourists and Thai alike for being a raucous party district for backpackers traveling Asia. I was planning to steer clear of Khao San after sundown, but wanted to say I’d been there and earn my Thai tourist badge.

I was a few blocks from Khao San when I was stopped by a small middle aged Thai woman. She told me she was practicing her English. We chatted about upcoming holiday and she taught me the phrase Sawadee Pee Mai, Happy New Year! She asked where I was going. I told her towards Khao San Road and possibly the Chatuchak Weekend Market. She asked if I was new to Thailand. I was. She asked if I was traveling alone. I was. This should have been a red flag for a scam, but the woman seemed so innocent that the thought didn’t even cross my mind. That is, until she gave me a paper with a written price for a long tail boat tour and hailed a tuk tuk to take me to the “Thai dock” where I would find a dozen white tourists like myself about to embark on a $70 boat ride. This was a hustle. She was good. I was an idiot.

I was ushered to the back of a colorful long tail boat where I would sit brooding for the first 20 minutes of the boat ride. After I got over myself, I began to look around and take in the scenery. I payed way too much for this boat ride to not enjoy it! I wasn’t really sure where we were going, but I overheard the other tourists talking about a floating market down one of the channels and looping back past Wat Arun temple. It sounded sort of fun, I guess. So I settled in for the first of many unexpected adventures.

We quickly left the busy Chao Phraya River with it’s barges and cruise boats and entered the quiet channels lined with ramshackle houses on stilts, tropical gardens, and small temples with classic Thai architecture. After about half an hour the boat pulled up to a dock and dropped us off. The driver told us 30 minutes and set us loose. We were at Taling Chan, part floating market, part street market.

I wandered around the street market looking at all the interesting foods. One thing I didn’t anticipate was how much meat & fish was in the Thai diet. Back home I’m vegetarian, however when I travel, I make exceptions. For this trip, I’ll have to be more of a pescatarian. Eating more shrimp and tilapia is sacrifice I’m willing to take.

I picked up a little bowl of pineapple sticky rice and sampled a fried pastry from one of the street stands. I then ventured into the floating market section for my first pad thai, complete with prawns, tofu, and spices that made my mouth water. All for $1.50. I could get used to this.

Soon our 30 minutes were up. I hurried back to the dock so as not to miss my expensive boat ride back to Bangkok. We spent nearly an hour working our way through the canals, passing more houses on stilts, temples, and other colorful long tail boats filled with wide-eyed tourists like myself. I wondered how many of them intended to take a boat tour today.

We emerged back onto the main river by Wat Arun, arguably the most iconic Buddhist temples in Thailand. We crossed the river back to the Bangkok side and stopped at various docks to unload passengers. We did not stop at the “Thai dock” that I’d been thrown on at, so I just hopped off at the last dock. I couldn’t help but laugh at the events of the past few hours: tricked into a tuk tuk ride to a tourist dock where I was taken by boat through a maze of channels and eventually dropped off again at a random dock. Worth the $70 for the 3 hours of boat travel? Definitely not in Thailand. Worth a good story? Absolutely.

Reflections on 2019

I am in my last year of grad school in La Crosse, a city I’ve come to know & love over the past seven years. It will be sad to leave this river town with its hiking trails, bike paths, and active community that I’ve grown a part of throughout college. Although leaving a place is difficult, getting the opportunity to explore someplace new makes it worthwhile! Next summer I’ll be heading to the East Coast for my first physical therapy clinical rotation at the Coast Guard Academy in New London, CT. My second rotation will be spent in Beloit, WI working with a Birth to 3 Program. I don’t have my last hospital clinical assignment yet, but I’m hoping to make it out to explore the Western states for Spring of 2021.

Of course, I don’t need to wait for clinical to explore. In the past year I’ve had plenty of opportunity to explore many states on foot! My 2019 backpacking adventures included the Santa Rita Mountains in AZ, Gila National Forest of NM, Chippewa Moraine in WI, Isle Royale National Park in MI, and most recently, the Ouachita Mountains of AR. I’m always reminded on my backpacking trips how much beauty we have just beyond our back yards!

However, the itch to travel overseas remains. I haven’t been out of the country since Nepal, so when I discovered that we have a 5 week vacation in December/January, I knew it was time to escape to another country. So last month I bought a plane ticket to Thailand, eager to explore more of Asia. I fly out on Christmas day and return a month later. No solid plan, just a wild desire to see and experience the unknown. Travel light & go far!

Reflections on 2018

My life has come full circle this past year and a half. I went from being a student at University of Wisconsin – La Crosse to living in Nepal for eight months to being a student again. I’m now back at UWL, but this time as a graduate student. It was difficult leaving a life of constant travel; the simplicity and constant change; the fresh perspectives and connection. However, I felt I should finish the journey I started five years ago during undergrad and become a physical therapist. 

Graduate school in the U.S. is a different world than backpacking through Nepal. It’s hard to summarize my time in Nepal. I spent weeks backpacking in the Himalayas, worshiped beside Tibetan monks, navigated the dusty streets of Kathmandu, learned to barter in the market, danced in rice fields, and shared more cups of tea than I could count. I have never been so engaged, challenged, and open in my life. It was beyond my wildest dreams.

When I returned to the U.S. in May, it was like someone pressed fast-forward. I visited friends & family on the East Coast. Took a road trip out to the Badlands & Mount Rushmore. Registered for classes and begin preparing for the next adventure: graduate school. Spending the summer in PT school in Wisconsin was a bit underwhelming after a year of travel, but I managed to have a little fun between long hours of study. 

I hoped that a year abroad would quench my thirst for travel over the next three years of grad school. It did not. If anything, it only made my desire to travel stronger. I often catch myself daydreaming about my next escape: Winter break backpacking in Arizona. Maybe slipping in a trip to Isle Royal next summer. Perhaps South America in 2020.  And, of course, Nepal. 

There’s a quote by Mark Twain that goes like this:

“Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails.”

I’ve thought about these words often during the past year. Although I love this quote, I believe what it asks can’t be done. By doing one thing, you will always be missing out on another. By going to grad school, I may be missing out on opportunities abroad. But by remaining abroad, I would miss the boat to becoming a physical therapist which opens channels to seas I never knew existed. I realize that I don’t have time in this life explore every sea. No one does. All we can do is continue to sail and expand our maps.

I stood in a stuffy waiting area outside of Tribhuvan International Airport, craning my neck to catch the first glimpse of the three travelers whose plane had touched down in Kathmandu just 30 minutes ago. I’d been at the airport for nearly an hour, pacing the floor, trying to contain my excitement. It was April 14th and I had been in Nepal for almost exactly seven months. I’d been keeping in touch with family and friends over email and the occasional phone call, but today, I would see some of them in person. This was my first step in returning home. 

For the past four months I’d been keeping an ongoing thread of emails between my mom and two of our trusty travel buddies, Jenny & Mary. My mom had decided early on in my journey that she would join me for my last couple weeks in Nepal. Mary & Jenny were the perfect additions to the group. We’ve traveled with them around Uganda & Turkey and knew they weren’t afraid to go off the beaten path. Excited to show the trio all the things that made me fall in love with Nepal, I planned an ambitious itinerary – trying to pack my seven months of travel into 17 days. I created a list of places & dates, contracted a driver, set up hotels, and reached out to all of my host families. This would be the finale to my time in Nepal. And I would get to complete my journey with the people who inspired and supported me before it even begin.

Finally, I saw them. I waved my arms wildly and smiled widely. They walked slowly, suitcases in hand, eyes scanning the crowd of dark faces and jet black hair until… they saw me. Despite the fact they had been traveling for over 24 hours and were experiencing some serious jet lag, their eyes lit up and they waved back. I wanted to jump over the barrier, past security, and give them the biggest hugs of my life. But I followed the rules and waited until we met outside the airport to give each of them the hugs I had been saving for seven months. Together at last.

After much excited chatter and a few happy tears, we loaded up the hired van that would take us to our lodge in Patan, Tajaa Pha Heritage Home. I had briefly met the gregarious owner, Shailendra, during my time with the Dragons program and sensed he would be an excellent host if I ever stayed in Patan. The quiet Newar community of Patan had always been one of my favorite areas of Kathmandu, a nice escape from all the dust, noise, and hustle of the big city. I’d been reluctant to book it as it was very expensive, $50 per night for a gorgeous room with running water and a view out onto a historic pond and stupa. After living in Nepal for 7 months and never paying more than $15 for a room, the price seemed steep. However, when I told my travel companions the price, they reminded me that was a bargain by US standards!

It was dark when we arrived at Tajaa Pha, so my travelers didn’t get to see the beauty of Patan until sunrise. We ate breakfast prepared by Shailendra’s wife & daughters on the rooftop overlooking 600-year-old Pimbahal Pokhari pond. Throughout the neighborhood we heard the chimes and chants of morning prayer. I was glad that I’d chosen this place to introduce Nepal. Many travelers who land in Kathmandu hate the city, but I will always maintain that they just aren’t going to the right places. Patan is definitely the right place.

The first day I’d reserved for acclimation, both to the culture and the time zone (12 hours & 15 minutes ahead of Wisconsin). We walked the cobblestone streets of Patan and wandered into various shops lining tight alleys. I’m not very helpful to Nepal’s economy when it comes to buying souvenirs, but my mom, Jenny, & Mary made up for what I lacked. Scarves, singing bowls, scarves, tea, scarves, spices… Oh, and did I mention scarves? They were every shop owner’s dream customers! I reminded them that this was just the beginning and there would be plenty more shopping opportunities to be had over the next two and a half weeks.

Before leaving Kathmandu and heading North to the Himalayas, we had an important order of business: my mom, Jenny, & Mary needed to meet the Basnets, the big, loving Kathmandu family that hosted me over a month during my time with Dragon’s. They had insisted that we stay with them during our time in Kathmandu, but I politely declined, knowing that living in a small Nepali apartment with 11 others would be a bit too much culture shock for my travelers. Instead we agreed on dinner, a Nepali dinner at the beginning of our trip and an American dinner at the end.

As fate would have it, my ama and my mom met each other on the Nepali Mother’s Day! Although neither spoke the other’s language, the connection was instant. While my ama & didi’s were hard at work in the kitchen preparing what would be the first dal bhat for my travelers, I introduced the rest of the family: Avishik, Arvin, Akriti, Aditi, Aroshi… Too many names to remember, but what they would all remember was their warmth and outgoing personalities. As well as their love of card games & winning at all costs, even if the methods were less than honest. Arvin explained, “cheating is a kind of talent.” Not wrong.

Being guests of honor, we were served right after Hari, the grandfather and patron of the house. We ate dal bhat in traditional Neapli style: sitting cross-legged on the floor using our hands to shovel down the rice, lentils, vegetables, and an egg (a special treat!). Watching my mom, Jenny, & Mary experience this new way of dining was comical and had everyone roaring with laughter. I imagine it was similar to my first genuine Nepali dining experience!

With bellies full of bhat and sore from laughing, we hopped a taxi back to Patan. We had to rest up for our 10 hour van ride North the next day, towards Balamchaur and another wonderful host family that I would have to say goodbye to.

The next night was spent in Besisahar, the same city where I started my Annapurna Circuit Trek just over a month ago. Everyone was in awe of their first views of the Himalayas… until I told them they were just looking at the dadas (foothills)! In the morning they awoke to the actual Himalayas towering beyond the hills, snow capped and awe inspiring.

After breakfast, we met Becca, the Peace Corps volunteer serving this area that I’d befriended during my time with Dragon’s. Without her, returning to Balamchar would have been difficult and probably would not have happened. With Becca as our trusted guide, we began our hike up to Balamchaur, the Gurung village set against a stunning backdrop of the Himalayas. Here we would stay with my didi, Ritu, and ama, Manu. We stopped halfway up the hill for tea with a local woman, a classic Nepali gesture of kindness. After an hour or more of hiking, some decided to take advantage of the local shuttle truck on its way up the hill. I kept hiking, loving the familiarity of the path that I’d taken several times throughout the past seven months. I wondered it this would be the last time.

As I entered the Balamchaur, I was greeted by villagers calling out “Laksmi!” the Nepali name I used when “Laura” was too hard to remember or pronounce. I smiled and gave a “Sanchai Chha?” (How are you?) in return. Finally there was Ritu and Manu. I bowed my head to Manu and gave Ritu a big hug. It truly felt like returning home.

The next few days were spent introducing my mom & friends to the village and all its people. They watched Ritu work her magic on the loom, tried Manu’s strong rakshi, and talked with Becca about agriculture in Nepal. We spent one night up at Ghale Gaun, a well known Gurung heritage site, a few miles up from Balamchaur. Straight UP. The slogan of that trek became, “What’s up…? NEPAL!” However, everyone agreed the breathtaking views of the Himalayas at the top was worth the hours of hiking in the heat. This place is sacred to the Gurung people. Looking out over the misty valley below and the mountains towering above, we understood why.

All too soon, our time in Balamchaur was over and the white truck was pulling up to take us back down the hill to Besisahar where we would catch a bus to Pokhara. Before leaving, Ritu and Manu gave us the traditional Nepali goodbye by placing tikka on our foreheads and draping prayer scarves around our necks. We gave gifts, but could not repay the hospitality and love we’d been shown by these people from the other side of the world. I quickly knelt to touch Manu’s feet, the ultimate sign of respect, before she had the chance to stop me. She clicked her tongue at me and smiled. I gave Ritu one last big hug. I told them that we would meet again. I wondered if that was true.

Pokhara was a 180 degree flip from the remote mountain village of Balamchaur. We stayed in a beautiful hotel with private rooms, hot running water, a balcony, and a lovely courtyard. It was $22 a night. A little above my price range, but what the heck, it’s vacation! The hotel was just a short walk from Phewa Lake where we hired a boat to take us over to the trail leading up to the Peace Pagoda. From the top we had an unusually clear view of the Himalayas and the iconic Machhapuchhre (Fishtail Mountain). On our way back across the lake, we convinced the boat driver to drop us off at Crazy Gekko, the best treehouse hangout along the lake. We ended the day with a lake view sunset dinner at my favorite Mediterranean restaurant in Nepal, OR2K. After rugged village life, we felt pretty posh in Pokhara!

From Pokhara we hopped a plane to Chitwan to visit the last of my thee host families, the Adhikari’s. The journey that took me a whole day by bus took us about 30 minutes by plane. It’s nice to travel with people who have money!

We were met at the airport by Babu, my host mom’s brother who owns a car (a luxury only high class Nepali can afford). He drove us to the village of Sukranagar where I was greeted by Tara, Anjana, and their children, Akriti & Anunta. Anjana was especially excited to meet my mom & friends. They bonded immediately. It was no surprise; who wouldn’t love Anjana?

We only had a few days, but made the most of our time. We went on a jeep safari in Chitwan National Park where we saw elephants, wild boar, sloth bear, and numerous rhino. We startled one particular rhino who later sought revenge by charging after our jeep. We had just narrowly outraced the rhino when our driver stopped and put the jeep in reverse. We all asked him what on earth he was doing. He simply said, “You want to see rhino?” We told him we’d seen quite enough of the rhino. It was a little too close of a wildlife encounter for our taste.

Back from the safari, we strolled around the Sukranagar, stopping by Anjana’s little shop and childhood home. That night we celebrated Ananta’s 10th (or 9th) birthday. In Nepal you are 1 when you are born as it is your first year of life. So when you travel to Nepal you are considered a year older than what your actual age is by Western standards. Traditionally, birthdays are not a big ordeal in Nepal. Most older Nepali don’t even know when their birthday is! However, Western culture is creeping into Nepal and most young Nepali celebrate birthdays with cake and presents. And dance. Because no celebration in Nepal is complete without dancing!

That night I also said goodbye to the neighbors who I had passed by nearly every day for two months while living with the Adhikari’s. I gave them sweets from the US and received gifts of gundruk (dried fermented lettuce) from the neighbors next door and a hand sewn kurta from the sweet little seamstress that lives by Tara’s school. I hadn’t realized how many people I actually knew in the village until I returned. For the third time, I felt like I was back home.

Not for the first or last time during the trip, we hugged our gracious hosts and said goodbyes before heading to the airport to catch a flight back to Kathmandu. 

Back in the city, our trip was nearing the end, but it was not over yet. My mom, Jenny, & Mary had gotten a genuine Nepali experience during the homestays, but they had yet to see the attractions in and around Kathmandu. After a night of restoration at Tajaa Pha, we loaded into our personal van and headed just outside the city to Thrangu Tashi Yangtse Monastery. This was the only monastery I stayed at during my time in Nepal, but the experience was incredible and I was eager to go back. It did not disappoint. We dined on chana, Tibetan momos, and butter tea amongst a sea of orange robes worn by monks young and old. We walked up stone paths lined with prayer flags to get a glimpse of the surrounding hills with villages tucked in between. We attended worship and prayed as the monks chanted their mantras and beat steadily on drums. Just like the first time, it was magic.

Our return to Kathmandu was a bit cumbersome. It had rained the days we were at the monastery, reducing the road to a giant orange mud slide. To make things more interesting, a traveler who we had offered a ride back turned out to be rather high maintenance. She was not accustomed to traveling through mud on foot and had quite a bit of luggage with her, including a large suitcase of philosophy books. To make a long story short, we have plenty of good karma saved up from that memorable trip back to Kathmandu.

We finished the trip in Nepal how most travelers start: seeing the Buddhist Temples. We hiked up to to Swayambhunath Stupa (called Monkey Temple by tourists) and had tea overlooking the hazy Kathmandu Valley. In the late afternoon we made our way over to Boudhanath Stupa where my mom, Jenny, & Mary could satisfy their shopping needs. We found a rooftop restaurant as the sun was setting and watched the stupa light up as darkness fell. I’d never seen Boudhanath at night before. It was striking.

As promised, we returned to visit the Basnet family to prepare and serve them a classic American dinner. This consisted of cucumbers with tuna salad, toasted almonds, mac-n-cheese, salad with ranch dressing, and olives (not loved by all). For dessert we had brownie pancakes topped with peanut butter. Okay, so it wasn’t your classic American dinner, but it was certainly a cultural experience! After dinner we were given the traditional Nepali send off with tikka, prayer scarves, and small gifts. This was the final goodbye to my last host family. Soon I would be saying goodbye to Nepal.

The last day I turned my travelers loose to buy any remaining items they had on their list along with more scarves. I took the day to meet up with a friend I’d met while backpacking the Annapurna Circuit. By coincidence, we were both flying out May 1st, and therefore were both staying in Kathmandu. We finished off souvenir lists of our own and grabbed pizza & tiramisu in the backpacker district of Thamel. We talked about past, present, and future travels. We both agreed that we would return to Nepal to trek around the Himalayas. Someday.

On the taxi ride back to Patan I held back tears while the driver chatted away in Nepali. This was it. My last night in Nepal. The next day I would board a plane a watch the country disappear beneath a blanket of clouds. Nepal had been home for 8 months. It had become familiar, comfortable, even normal. That is how I knew it was time to go. I was flying back towards the US and back into the unknown: grad school. I thought this year away might change my mind, but it hadn’t. I would go to school for physical therapy. I would get my doctorate. Because the opportunity is there. Because it is a privilege. Because I have the potential. Would physical therapy become my be-all and end-all? I don’t know. But there are two things I know for sure: (1) Wherever I end up and whatever I end up doing, I will always be a traveler. (2) Someday, I will find my way back to Nepal.

Pheri Bhetaula  —  Until we meet again