People often ask me which country I've visited so far has been my favorite. After thinking about the cruelty of the question, I usually respond with, "I love them all so much, but Nepal feels like home to me."

In an email from my former teacher Mr. Henry, he wrote, "You may ask yourself along the journey as I did when I was a young man living in Africa - How can these people who have so little economically be so happy? Why do these little kids so impoverished smile so readily? Its because they have each other!"

There is no denying that Nepal has its hardships-- from losing thousands last year due to earthquakes and a blockade that has been described as a massive human rights violation. But even though Nepal may not be rich economically, it is rich in love and a definition of family that penetrates genetics. The people around you are more like your family, and your family is more like an extension of your own being.

After spending a few weeks on childcare and building projects, I felt unfulfilled with what I had been doing in Nepal. I came because I wanted to make a difference in people's lives after many had suffered so much, but I didn't feel truly content with what I was doing. Like my typical self, I kept these feelings buried because I didn't know how to react to them. Luckily my friend Richard expressed the same concerns and decided that he was going to leave the project we had been working on to find a better way to spend his time. Because of his outspoken criticism and honesty, I gained the courage to follow his lead. 

I wasn't sure how I wanted to spend the remainder of my time in Nepal, and after spending hours talking to my friends, family, and Phil, the head of EHN, I finally knew what I wanted to do. I mentioned the idea of going back to the village I had been to, and in reference to Harkapur, he said to me, "Don't underestimate the power of just being there." His words gave me the goosebumps. On my previous visit I felt that I was just another mouth to feed, but now I vowed to contribute in every way I possibly could to the people who took me in and considered me family. A four hour bus ride and three hour hike later, I heard the trickling of a water spout and was greeted with a great "Namaste" from my Auntie. I had finally made it home. 

There was no feeling like being back in Harkapur. From the moment I sat down with my family again sipping on our dudh chia, I knew I had made the right decision. Over the next few weeks I kept to my promise of doing everything I could to contribute to the village. This ranged from harvesting rice, spinach, and corn to shepherding goats and teaching the villagers English. Being the only volunteer and native English speaker in a remote Nepali village posed many challenges, but the experience was the most remarkable thing I have ever done. I emulated the village lifestyle as best as I could, following cultural and religious customs despite my hesitations or ignorance. 

Although at times the language barrier made communication more difficult, my time in Harkapur taught me how to communicate with people in ways other than speaking. Body language became much more important, and Phil's words repeated over and over in my head. "Don't underestimate the power of just being there." Even though I couldn't speak fluent Nepali or understand much of their conversations, it was a high compliment that out of anywhere in the world, I chose to be in their small village. And they chose to have me back. 

I have many fond memories from Harkapur, like having my Amma and Didi show me how to shower outside as the entire village crowded around and laughed at me. There was also the feeling of riding down the mountain with Arjun on his motorcycle, and seeing my village-dwelling family have a day off to celebrate the feeding ceremony of our nephew. There were also the cold nights spent with my family huddled around our wood fire making kua from bufallo milk. There was the wonderful feeling of being invited to other houses for tea or a meal. In Harkapur I felt a profound connection to the people and world around me. I felt I had returned to an earlier time in which technology and electronics hadn't overpowered the importance of human relationships. I learned how extremely important it is to be present and surround ourselves with people who love us and who we love the same.

On my last day in Harkapur I packed my bag and said goodbye to my great big Nepali family. The hardest goodbye was to my Amma, who had taught me so much about love and hard work since I had been there. When I opened up my arms to hug her, not the typical sort of affection that Nepali people show, she welcomed me in an embrace and hugged me back so tight I could barely breathe. In that moment I knew the time I spent there was as important to the villagers as it was to me. With flowers again in my hands, I headed down the mountain and back to, as many would call it, "civilization".

Since returning home, I often think about all the lessons I have learned over the last five months of traveling and volunteering. I miss the smiles in the Philippines, the beautiful people of South Africa, and the love in Nepal. The places I've been to and the people I've met have taught me that just because society is telling you something, you don't have to listen. Material goods and technological advancements will not make you happy or fill a void you may have. A bigger house and a new car won't replace love. The happiest people I've met are the ones who have followed their desires to travel, to volunteer, or to turn their wildest dreams into a reality despite any hesitations or lack of support. 

The world will keep on spinning, the sun rising and falling, and it won't stop for anyone. So ask yourself this-- Do you feel fulfilled? Have you found your passion? It is never too late to start a journey. You could be a Richard who encouraged me to follow my instincts, and stopped what he was doing to set up an organization to help rebuild Nepal (http://www.sdfnepal2015.org.au). You could be a Phil who taught me the importance of having genuine human relationships and the power of presence. You could be a Niko who was my best friend every day in Nepal, supporting me, riding on the roofs of buses with me, and, of course, never failing to make fun of me. Most importantly, you have the power to create a newer, happier version of yourself. I certainly have.


To everyone I met in Nepal and to the country itself, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You challenged my perspectives, made me laugh and cry, and encouraged me to live a life full of passion. You taught me that what I do, what I think, and how I act truly matter. Dhanyabad.



"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." - Nelson Mandela

Following the 7.8 Richter scale earthquake that devastated Nepal on April 25th, the Nepali government focused its attention on completing a new constitution. It has been promised since the culmination of a decade long civil war between the Maoists and government forces in 2006. Joy overcame most of the nation in late September with its long-anticipated promulgation. However this joy soon dissolved as India instituted an "unofficial blockade" in response.

Nepal, a landlocked country bordered on three sides by India and one side by China, relies heavily on its southern neighbor for imports to keep the country going. Although it is exciting that the Nepali government finally came through with a new constitution, it is clear that the document has its drawbacks. Many are concerned with the lack of rights granted to women and various minority groups, along with other grievances such as the break up of individual states.

For the last two months Nepal's southern border has been a site for conflict and unrest, resulting in deaths on both sides. The Terai region in the south is home to Madhesi and Tharu people who have been striking for three months now in response to the constitution. These groups are unofficially supported by India and their combined efforts have created a humanitarian crisis for the rest of Nepal. India denies there is a blockade—but with the severe lack of supplies entering the country—no one is buying it. 

The embargo has had effects on just about everyone living in Nepal. People have to wait in line for up to three or four days just for a few liters of diesel or petrol. Systems were implemented to have even number plates on the roads one day and odd plates the next. Hindi television was even banned for a day. Prices for food and transportation have increased dramatically. Small businesses such as restaurants can't offer their usual items, and people have run out of gas and must find alternative methods of cooking food. Schools and other institutions have had to close as they can't provide food and transportation. After all the trauma that Nepali people have already faced this year as a result of earthquakes, aftershocks, and landslides, it seems unfathomable to me that the Indian government would institute a traditional war tactic as a political move.

It is a busy time for Nepal. The big holiday season is here with Dashain and Tihar, and a new Prime Minister has been been elected. It is also the annual high tourist season where Nepal's economy is boosted through an influx of people coming from other countries to go on treks and experience the various landscapes of Nepal. But with the shortage of fuel and all the accompanying effects the blockade has had, the tourist industry has been hit hard. The monsoon season is over and people would have been able focus their attention to rebuilding homes, schools, businesses, and places of worship, but now the blockade has prevented this from happening and has become the main focus here.

The blockade has highly affected my time in Nepal as well. After spending my first few days in Kathmandu visiting cultural sights such as Bodhnath and Patan, I was supposed to head to Harkapur to start helping people rebuild their homes. With the shortage of petrol it was too hard to get there, so instead I spent the following few weeks on a childcare project. Although I hadn't planned on volunteering at a daycare center in Nepal, I am so glad that I've had the opportunity to do so. I was placed at Maitri Griha, a care center for children who have Autism and Down Syndrome. I have never before worked with people who are differently abled, and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. The children are bright, intelligent, friendly, and incredibly happy. They greet volunteers and care providers with smiles and hugs and they have a kind of innocence I've never before experienced. I spent time with each kid and tried to better understand the severity of their conditions. We worked on dexterity through coloring and sewing, we challenged them with puzzles and writing exercises, and we played with them on the swings and with legos. The kids at Maitri Griha taught me about much more than just their conditions. They taught me patience, selflessness, and a new sense of family, in which I am their "Didi," or sister.

Due to the lack of petrol, Maitri Griha resorted to opening every other day. However soon enough it had to close completely, as there was no petrol to pick the kids up and drop them off each day. As a result I again had to be flexible in my plans. I spent a few days visiting Pashupatinath, the most holy place in Nepal for Hindus, and traveled to Nomobuddha monastery with my friends to catch a glimpse of life there for Buddhist monks. Then I traveled with a head of the organization I am volunteering for and his family to the village of Harkapur. Going to Harkapur ended up being one of the most remarkable experiences of my entire life. I have never met a more welcoming and loving community of people than those living in Harkapur. From the moment I entered the village I was greeted with tea from each family, offered accommodation, and received an abundance of questions and compliments. My Harkapur family quickly became like my own family. They welcomed me into their culture, their language, their home. Their generosity was so sincere that it reduced me to tears on multiple occasions.

Village life is magnificent. People are hard at work before the sun even rises. They are tending to the fields and the animals and preparing the first meal of the day while I’m still struggling to keep my eyes open. Nothing gets wasted—we eat the crops, the dried crops get fed to the cows and bulls, and their feces provides fuel for the house. The sense of community in Harkapur is overwhelming. Each family cooks and takes care of their own property, but when there's downtime everyone comes together with contagious laughter and beaming faces.

Harkapur was a sort of cleansing from the life I had been living in Kathmandu. There is nothing like waking up every morning, walking right outside, and drinking tea made from the milk of a buffalo as I look into its eyes and over at the mountain view in front of me. It reminded me of the importance of family and the negligence of the material goods that have become a central part of many of our daily lives. After all, who needs alternative forms of entertainment when you're being woken up at four am by the sounds of your neighbors screaming at monkeys to chase them off their crops. In Harkapur I was able to join my family in the beginnings of their celebration of Dashain, Nepal's biggest festival. I was greeted each morning with a puja and tika, and watched my family plant the seeds that would grow into jamara, or grass, and be harvested on the tenth day and worn by Nepalis all over the country. I also gave some love to the village goats that would be beheaded and eaten during the second week, providing people with a large protein intake before the winter months. I went to a Brahmin wedding taking place in the village, and I participated in a feeding ceremony where Nepali babies are fed solid food for the first time.

Leaving Harkapur after having such magnificent experiences was very difficult for me. Although no one there was injured in the earthquakes, their area was greatly affected. The hospital and school are in ruins and many houses have been reduced to piles of rubble. Those in Harkapur have put up temporary shelters until rebuilding can take place. Although they aren't ready to rebuild yet—when they are—I hope I can give back to them like they've given to me, even if it's just a little bit. As we walked down the mountain with flowers from the villagers in our hands, I was overwhelmed with the compassion I had experienced so far in Nepal. Natural disasters and political unrest may damage the nation, but it will never hinder the love that Nepali people foster.