"You don't care anymore, do you?" Emily said as our taxi narrowly avoided colliding with a dog and another car simultaneously.
I tried to suppress the smile…but no, I didn't care anymore. On our last night in Nepal, on the way to a final dinner with Emily's Nepali family, I felt as light as I've felt our entire time in Nepal. Knowing that the next morning would bring a non-stop flight to Mumbai, Kathmandu could do what it wanted – I didn't care.
In the hour and a half prior to the near-collision/comment moment, the entire spectrum of emotions and typical happenings had gone down in our hotel room.
Emily finished her packing and was busy feeling sad about leaving Nepal. We discussed changing our plans, extending our visas and changing our flight date. She thought it through, but decided that it wouldn't really give us the chance to do much more than we've done. It was just the thought of leaving Nepal – which she loves so much – that saddened her. She realized it would come one way or the other and felt it was time to go.
Just then, as I went back to the bed to continue working, the power went out and for whatever reason, the hotel decided not to run the generator for that afternoon's blackout. I was literally about to press the button to post the blog when the Internet went down. Of course, access to my work disappeared as well.
Emily still had battery left and her USB 3G modem, so she continued working for a bit and then handed it over for me to re-type the blog into her computer so that it could be posted on-time.
Initially there was some tension. I needed Internet and so did she. Time was limited because we had the Nepali family to meet for dinner. I had plenty of work left to do as well as packing – and so meeting people for dinner suddenly looked a lot less attractive. Emily preferred me to blow off my work since it was the last day of Nepal anyway. We both needed the candle – Emily to work by and me to use the restroom.
It was a classic moment of frustration and tension caused by diminished resources. Five minutes before, we were happy and tender with each other. As soon as the power went out, we were like two people on a desert island – only Internet was our food and water.
And this is precisely why it's time to go.
Mumbai may be bigger and crazier, but it's also far more technologically advanced. It also offers 24 hour electricity. With the right technology back at our disposal, we might start to get out and do things again.
At the end of our month in Nepal, Emily and I remain divided in our view of Nepal. She sees wonder and magic. I see nice…not thrilling, but nice…. Where Emily sees a way of life that captures her heart, I see "Really? That? Really?"
I feel about Kathmandu much the way I do about Bangkok. There's nothing inherently horrible about it – and it has some nice points – but there's nothing great about it either. Of course Bangkok's infrastructure – technological and otherwise – is far more advanced than Kathmandu's.
To be fair to Kathmandu, there have been some amazing changes since my first visit here eight years ago. At that time, there were very few ATMs and my friends and I had to cross town to use one. Today, the ATMs might outnumber school children and definitely outnumber the cows. I have no idea who is taking out all this money – but whoever they are, they can do it on any block of the city and surroundings.
Vehicles have changed too. Eight years ago, every car was a beater – it was only a question of just how beaten up they were. Today, there are a shocking number of new, nice and even large vehicles. The wealthy have definitely gotten wealthier despite a Maoist insurgency and civil war.
"Broadband" Internet has also become a fixture in Nepal. While the speeds may be slower than anything we're used to in America - and largely inadequate to Emily and my needs – the days of 15 computers sharing a couple of dial-up connections are over. They weren't when I was here five years ago. Nepal even has 3G wireless within a section of Kathmandu. Speeds aren't guaranteed anywhere and power outages affect the telecommunications companies – so there is no reliability. But there's progress.
I find myself thinking of 2002, when my friends and I flew from Kathmandu back to Bangkok where I was living at the time. I remember getting on the plane and realizing just how exhausting Kathmandu was for all three of us.
I also remember taking a taxi to my apartment, looking out the window, seeing ATMs, convenient stores and malls as we sped along a smoothly paved and flowing expressway. For the first time, I saw Thailand as a developed country and found Bangkok restful. In fact, we were all so exhausted that after showers and changing into clean clothes, none of the three of us wanted to do anything. So, we went to the first class cinemas, sat in giant recliners and watched a movie.
Despite staying at a much nicer hotel, avoiding public buses and having a wife who speaks Nepali – I don't feel much different today. I know Mumbai will be chaotic and in some ways very rough – but I also know it will be more developed and will give me more city perks for my city hassles. Emily has taken to telling me I'm a "prince" lately. I like to think that I'll occasionally slum it, but I don't really like to rough it.
Emily feels I'm very "wah wah" (in the tone of Charlie Brown's school teacher) about Kathmandu. So, let's talk about what's right with the city. Emily's Nepali family and friends are all gems. I didn't meet one person I didn't like or think was a pure and genuine soul. We visited kind, fascinating, intelligent people who are all ambitious and deeply caring about their society. If Nepal has something to offer, it's people like these.
On the way out the door from last night's dinner with "the family", we thanked out hosts. Emily especially thanked them. One of them, who she calls "Binaju" which means brother-in-law – because it took her a year of living with the family before she learned what it meant and that it wasn't his actual name – said to her, "You do not need to say thank you. We are one family."
There are other aspects to the Nepal experience and story that despite a month of being here and writing daily, I haven't been able to tell. My eyes don't see them, but I know they exist when I look at Emily's eyes. I've spent weeks trying to understand from her what she sees. I have also been trying to get her to write a blog and tell the Nepal story her way – because it's probably more interesting than anything I've written.
Emily doesn't feel comfortable writing for a public forum. Instead 99 percent of the photos we post are hers and she feels her voice is carried through them.
Perhaps as time passes, our adventures pay out and I have the chance to reflect on this time, I'll come to the understandings that come with hindsight. I may look back at this blog in 20 years and wonder why I missed something amazing right in front of me. But the story told here isn't just a report on events and places – it's the story of us and our journey. My perspective and views are as encompassing or limited as they are at the moment.
As we turn in our key at Hotel Vajra and begin our venture through the subcontinent, I'm excited and hopeful. We learned many things in Nepal – the most essential of which is that our freedom to move around the world comes with limits. We need infrastructure. We need hotels that have it – and those tend to be a little nicer than the ones we stayed at five and eight years ago. Most importantly, it turns out we really like that.
If nothing else, in Nepal we revised our self-images. Nothing is what it once was – but that doesn't make the experience or the place any less worthwhile.
