Yesterday, I woke up and seriously considered booking a ticket home. I thought about how that would feel. I envisioned being nestled in my little nook with Magnus asleep on top of me, going about my day like nothing had changed. 

Except everything has. 

Even if I did come back home, I don’t have the little nook to go back to, nor my job or any of the other creature comforts I once associated myself with. Of course I could easily establish myself again, but that’s not the point. 

Even if I did come back home, I’d likely feel as lost as I do now. So, I argue with myself, is that really the best choice? To choose the “easier” path because this one feels harder? Choose your hard – that’s a phrase my therapist said to me often. Choose your hard. 

I am craving – grieving, if you will – certain aspects of a life I let go of and won’t get back. I think life can be examined like acts in a play, and there are always distinct shifts in between acts that we can look back on and say, “ah, that’s when things changed.” Perhaps it’s entering into motherhood or experiencing the death of a spouse or getting your dream job and moving across the country. Whatever act you’re entering into, the shift feels big, but the transition isn’t always obvious until you’re in its depths. I wish I’d understood the weight of that shift, had stopped for a minute and really looked around before I got swept up in the new act. I’d tried to, but I’d been so excited about what lay ahead, I found it hard to focus on the present moment. Hindsight is always 20/20 anyway. 

Traveling is difficult, guys. Every day feels like two full days in one – I mentioned that before and I’ll probably say it again. Nothing is automatic and everything from finding where to eat to having a conversation takes extra effort that is incredibly depleting. I do know that in time, these things won’t be so jarring, but damn, it can be hard to keep plodding along in the moment. Nothing is familiar. Being stared at constantly is uncomfortable and can I tell you how much I hate that buildings don’t have interior heat? I hate it. Being cold sucks. Not having clean air to breathe sucks. 

The first few days of being here, I was overwhelmed and overstimulated; it was like my body and mind didn’t have time to process everything. I was being carried by the shock and extremity of my new surroundings. But on my second night in Sauraha, a quiet village that butts up along Chitwan National Park, I broke down sobbing as I finally began to decompress. I debated, again, and in a much bigger way, if I’d made the right choice by coming here. 

On the other side of this, though, are the experiences I’m having that make me beam – so wide my cheeks hurt. A canoe ride along the Rapti River. Getting to see a jackal during a jeep safari. Eating delicious food. Being treated like family at the hotel I’m staying in. Gorgeous sunsets. Trying mo:mo. Tours along ancient temples that make me feel very, very small. Playing tug of war with local villagers and joining in the Tibetan New Year festivities. Seeing a wild rhino up close and feeding a baby elephant bananas straight from my hand.

For every shitty day I have, I have two great days. So, it all balances out. The hard days are hard and feel never-ending, and the good days go by so fast I hope they never end. The emotional whiplash is a little bit hilarious. 

I say all this not to be a debby downer, but I think it’s important to acknowledge how hard moving to another country is, and how I don’t feel as tough as I thought I was. Social media is filled with people who are traveling and all we get are their highlights and the pretty pictures. Nothing wrong with that at all! But, for me anyway, to highlight only the good times feels inauthentic. This blog has always served as a kind of electronic diary for me, and if I never wrote about the bad times, I wouldn’t be describing the whole picture. Plus, I want to remember everything about my time spent traveling, the good and the bad, because each experience, good or bad, will only continue to shape and mold me, and that’s the whole point of this, right? 

During a phone call with a dear friend this morning, she said to stick this out. To stay open and embrace everything that comes my way. And she reminded me that the only way out of something is to go through it. She’s one of the most resilient women I know, and I took her words to heart. I have no idea what’s on the other side of this and I won’t know unless I keep on truckin ‘. Hey, at the very least, even in the depths of my struggles, I’m in a different country on the other side of the WORLD getting to see some seriously cool shit. That counts for something. And I hold onto that. I guess what I’m saying is: I could be struggling back home or I could be struggling here, and I’m so glad I’m struggling here, even if I’m cold a lot and I could really use some Magnus snuggles. 

Before I left, I was wholly naive in thinking my struggles would come along much later. That I’d get homesick weeks or months later; that I’d crave American food later; that I’d question everything later. In my past travels, I’d had a blast starting the moment I stepped off the plane, so I assumed my attitude and experiences would, initially at least, be similar this time. I am laughing at myself for having such wholesome ideals. In my resolve not to have expectations going into this, I had expectations, and so far, almost nothing is going how I thought it would. 

And that is okay. I haven’t failed. I am pivoting and adjusting. The essence of what life is doesn’t change depending on where you’re at, and neither do you. I am still a shy little introvert here, and inserting myself into the culture is as embarrassing and scary as it was when I tried to insert myself into things back home. 

All in all, I am genuinely happy to be here. I met a woman the other night who said when she first started traveling, she didn’t want to leave her hotel room for the first six weeks of her trip. I felt better when I heard that; a reminder that I am not the first person to feel isolated and unsure and unhappy during what is supposed to be a really cool adventure. Life can be amazing even if it’s hard. A bad feeling can exist alongside a positive one. Like, hating every moment of the seven-hour bus ride over here where a lot of people were getting motion sick while also staring out the window like a giddy child on a field trip. Yin and yang. 

Today, I arrived to Pokhara, where I’ll be for the next four months. It felt so good unpacking my back pack and all my clothes and arranging all of my things. The rooftop balcony hosts an epic view of the Himalayas, which are unfathomably huge, and the lake is a 10-minute walk away. I’m excited to get back into a routine and establish myself here for a little while.