When I was at a cafe today, one of my favorites called Krazy Gecko – you can sit out on the ledge with a picturesque view of Phewa Lake before you – a white cat came up to me, plopped herself in my lap and promptly fell asleep. 

I, of course, quickly became obsessed with her. She purred as I pet her, and for a while, at least until the food was delivered to the other table and she leapt off my legs to go investigate what she could get into, we sat there, her curled up in my lap, me reading and sipping on a coffee. It was like this little creature knew I missed having the comfort of an animal near me; knew that I needed some extra attention today. 

In two days, I’ll have been here for a month. Feels like it’s been two or three. My days here are easy and hard. Life is simple, and it’s not. When I left the U.S., when I sold my things and said goodbye to Magnus, I did not understand the implications of those decisions, what stood waiting for me, the challenges of fitting in and navigating a culture I know nothing about and the extremity of a place like Nepal. When I said I felt like I needed to turn my life on its head, I did not understand what I was asking for. Like that saying: “be careful what you wish for.” My life has most definitely been turned on its head – big time; and I keep trying to turn it right side up again even though it’s where it’s supposed to be, even if it looks a little cock-eyed, a little disheveled. 

I wonder how I’ll think about this time in three months, or nine. What my life will look like then.

Since moving here, I’ve had distinctly good days and very hard days. And through all of those days, moving like an undercurrent that snags at me, is the sense that I am unmoored. A drifter. Like I’m spinning round and round in those revolving doors you see at airports, waiting to find an opening in which I can slip through. In the U.S., I was a rower; an employee for the City of Salem; a dog mom. I went to work at the same time and clocked off at the same time. I had a car and could go virtually anywhere I wanted. I had a closet full of clothes and didn’t have to worry about whether I would have hot water on a cloudy day (hello, solar-heating systems!).

Those pieces of myself don’t exist here, at least not in the same way. Here, I am: tourist; white person; single woman; privileged. Was I also those things back home? Sure (minus tourist). I just never had to acknowledge them. I feel stripped away, a little raw. Of all the things, I didn’t expect to struggle with identity, with figuring out who I am here. Like, yes of course I am the same person. But in many ways, I’m not. And it’s all a lot to take in. One day I was surrounded by everything familiar, so familiar I could sleep-walk through it, and the next day, it felt like I was on another planet. Makes me realize how tightly I clung to the pieces of my identity that have so quickly fallen away. And now I have to face what’s left after those things are gone.

On top of the identity crisis (kidding but also not really), I have never spent so much time with just myself. And when you spend so much time alone, you’re in your head a lot. Like, a lot. Hopefully you like it in there! (I am learning to). Finally, I have begun to meet people, but for the first several weeks, it was me, myself and I for company. Things got pretty lonely. All I wanted was for the group of tourists I’d see sitting at a table in a restaurant to call out to me and invite me over. It’s funny, in the U.S., I’d feel slightly embarrassed about eating a meal on my own. Here? It’s the norm, and I do a lot of thinking during these solo meals. Lately, I’ve been wondering about how I’ll be when (if?) I come back to the U.S. What habits I’ll bring back with me, behaviors (the little Nepali head shake that means ‘yes’ and ‘okay’ is one I hope to take with me everywhere!). In thirty-some days, I already feel transformed. What’ll I feel like in thirty-some months?

On the bad days, I still question, multiple times a day, why the hell I did this. On the good days, I can remind myself that of course I feel different here. Of course I feel a little purposeless and uncertain and lost. Literally everything about my life is different. And while I am settling in, adjusting to my new life, thirty-some days isn’t a long enough time to find an internal groove – at least not for me. The discomfort is normal, necessary, and I can choose to sit with it, and grow in it, or fight it. Some days I cycle through both of those options multiple times. 

But never once have I regretted this. And I am confident that I won’t. So it’s a strange thing to be so sure of something, and yet still question the decision on a fairly regular basis. Maybe that’s a sign you’re doing the right thing. Who the hell knows. 

Today I woke up and felt listless. Like my being here was pointless. I decided to take a long walk to the opposite end of Pokhara. There, away from the rumble of traffic, the shrieking horns, the crowds, things are quieter. That was how I ended up at Krazy Gecko, with the cat in my lap. I stroked her silky fur and cooed at her and wondered if my landlords would mind if I smuggled a cat inside my apartment. That she came to me at a time when I was struggling felt special. She buoyed my spirits. I looked at her, then out at the lake, and decided I was going to be okay.

And I truly mean it: existential crises aside, I am truly glad I did this. There is a song I like, I’m listening to it as I write this, and there are two lines that stick out to me. They go: “People get lost in repetition / Working and watching television…” Whenever I hear that, it reminds me why, in part, I did this. I wanted to feel alive, and for me, uprooting everything was the shock to the system I needed. And hot damn, do I feel alive here. So much so that sometimes I want to shout it from the rooftops. Then the next day, I have to force myself out of bed. Life is a trip. And I am doing my best to embrace it all. Like I said in my last post: we get to choose happiness.

The cute kitties help!

Like the band AJR says, “When all is going wrong and you’re scared as well / what you gonna do? / Who you gonna tell? / Maybe a hundred bad days made a hundred good stories / A hundred good stories make me interesting at parties…” 🙂