It has been one year and one day since I landed in Kathmandu, Nepal, and I’m not sure I can believe how much time has passed. It has been three months since the earthquake, and I can’t quite believe that either. For a while, I intended to write one final post—the last in the “five senses of Nepal” series. It was supposed to be sight.
The appearance of Nepal has changed since I left, and yet, I am sure that much remains the same. It is still a land of color, especially now that the monsoon rains are washing away the dust and rubble. Women still walk around in jewel-toned saris and kurtas and their children still run to school and back in fading navy blue uniforms. Men still wear topis in varying patterns of red and orange and green. The paddies are verdant, the jungles are emerald, and in the early morning, sharp white peaks rise above slate-colored clouds racing to swallow them from view.
I remember reading in the blog of a previous ETA that Nepal is like a bouquet of wildflowers. It is vibrant and ragged and messy and organic and tenacious. It is an indescribable conglomeration of different ethnicities, beliefs, and customs. In some homes, shelves proudly bear statues of Buddha, Jesus, and Ganesh. Monks hog the Wi-Fi in internet cafes that serve traditional Nepali dhal bhat alongside pepperoni pizza. It is not a country that will ever or should ever make sense, and it is beautiful in its chaos.
I intended this to be the final post of this blog, but I have changed my mind, and here’s why: I’m going to write a book. A book about Nepal. The purpose is twofold. One, to raise money for my village and school, and two, to tell the stories that I never had time to tell on this blog. So over the course of the next few months (or however long it takes me), I will post updates, photographs, and passages for your perusal. Thank you, my readers, for having stayed on this journey so far. I hope that you enjoyed the adventure.