It’s 4:15 pm, I’m waiting for my turn at the water spot. One village shares one water source, wonderfully clean Himalayan water that pours out of a hose onto a stone floor with matching stairs leading back to the jungle pathway. This stone area does not look out of place, though, but I do. I’m holding my towel, soap, hairbrush, and clean clothes as I wait for the women to be done washing clothes. It’s kind of a Jungle Book scene, except for me, because this is not my normal life, or is it?
To me, I don’t think twice about public showers, each time I get more skillful about washing my body with clothes on. To the locals, this is life, there is no hot water and a rainfall shower head to look forward to in x amount of months. These women hike down the mountain to this spot for laundry, drinking and cooking water, bathing, washing dishes, and they will teach their daughters the same. I only have a few more days “roughing” it in Gorkha, and to call it rough seems prideful, as if my way of life in America is more full than the simplicity here.
Thinking of America makes me sick. I want to be there, I am very excited to see my family and go the school in the fall, but when I think about it my chest tightens, my heart beats faster, and I feel like I could puke. To say I’m nervous to come home is an understatement, I like my new normal. I’ve seen so much I would never take back, despite how it affected me in the moment. Mutilated bodies begging at temples, kids sleeping on the street, people digging through trash, how could I prefer this?
One day I’ll be back in my cozy bed, and these 9 months will feel like a dream. Did all the crap really happen? Did I actually get 100 rupees from an Indian women as a blessing because she didn’t have grandchildren? Did I really have dance parties with Nepalis around a fire of burning trash? Did I really eat that much rice? I can’t wait to see how many selfies of me are on Facebook thanks to all the Raju Babus I met in India. I think the mud on my tent and backpack will remind me of the stormy nights in Nepal, and the dusty African roads. I think my new outlook on life will jog my memory. Mom and Dad, if you could see me now! Actually, if you saw me now you’d be shocked. I took steel wool to my skin and the dirt didn’t move, but I got rid of my ringworm. Just one of life’s mysteries.
