Ke Garne

Jacqueline Tran
Jul 10, 2016
4 min read

I hate pictures.

I hate videos.

I hate our 21st century tendencies to want to record every little detail of our lives - to document for the future.

I hate movies because they create ideals for life that never reflect reality and are therefore impossible to fulfill.

Goodbyes are not those glorious parades and slow scenes of tears, hugging and kissing. There are no flowers and confetti showered on the person leaving, and no heartfelt farewell speeches. Rather, goodbyes seem to be incomplete and rushed. Things that were planned to be confessed and photos that were meant to be taken never happen because one is just too caught up in the moment to really remember the original plans. Too overwhelmed with a chaotic whirlwind of feelings and blurred vision from the tears, the right pictures aren’t taken and the right words are not said.

My goodbye to the kids at the Child Care Center in Pokhara was going to be awesome - I was going to get a huge group picture, shower everyone with kisses, and take some awesome goodbye footage. Instead, it’s 6:30am and the children are all still in a bit of a morning daze. I kiss and hug them all farewell but they don’t really seem to understand why I am suddenly being so loving and what is happening. I keep my composure until I get to hug Karma - the little brother from another mother and the shy kid who holds back on showing the love. I give him a big embrace and he actually, for the first time ever, hugs back. Next thing I know I am using Auntie’s shirt to wipe away the constant stream of tears on my face. After some final embraces, I send the kids back off to sleep and walk with Lama and Jodi to the front door. No matter how many times I say goodbye, it doesn’t seem to be enough. Two of the newer volunteers, Apple and Ksing, walk with me to the bus park, and I thank them for helping me avoid a lonely, depressing 20 minute walk. On the bus, I thought of all the things I wish I could have done and all the famous last words I could have said.

I'm going to miss these kids so much

(above: stuck in traffic and lovin' it - or at least I was. don't think Bhushan did)

(above: Bunny dusk mask. Suits my personality and haircut, don't you think? It was either this or a bright pink one with leopard print...)

In the one week I spent in Kathmandu before leaving Nepal, I admit that I felt a bit restless mainly because I could not find anything to “do” or to “see” - aka not enough tourist attractions or activities that I could occupy my time with. I was guilty of believing that I had been in Nepal for long enough and had seen all Nepal had to offer. It wasn’t until one of my very last days in Kathmandu on a motorcycle ride with my friend Bhushan back from Bhaktapur did I really understand how wrong I was. Riding down the highway, the skyline view of Kathmandu city appeared, complete with a thick hazy cloud of dust. I was weaving through Kathmandu’s chaos and glory without a foreigner in sight, and realized that I knew absolutely nothing at all about this country. It was a picture worthy moment. A movie worthy scene, driving in and around Kathmandu surrounded by the smell of exhaust, the constant sound of cars honking, and the flood of people rushing around and about. It was a beautiful moment, only captured by my eyes and recorded in my internal memory bank. Like the moon’s brilliant reflection over the rice paddies during my hike to the village Astam, it is these beautiful moments that, even with a camera at the ready, could never fully explain just how eye-opening of an experience it was.

(above: spotted a Rhino)

(above: and then he came up to the shore for me <3)

I think that I can finally say that I have fallen in love with Nepal. There is an overwhelming amount of dirt and noise, particularly in Kathmandu, but there is a certain kind of charm to the country and to the people that I have not been able to find anywhere else. Perhaps it is the overall mentality Nepalese have, summed up with their saying “Ke Garne” meaning “what to do?” which may give way to an extreme amount of patience. (On my way to Chitwan from Pokhara, the bus ride was supposed to be 5-7 hours long. The only foreigners on the packed bus were me and a French guy named Pierre. The bus ride ended up being 14 hours long, and it took an excruciatingly long time to move a couple meters down the road because the traffic was that terrible. No one knew why there was so much traffic, and all the while we are waiting to move a few inches again, each and every passenger is just pelting sweat. The only people that were openly frustrated about the situation were the two foreigners. Everyone else made do, because what was the point of making a fuss over something that is out of our control?)

(above: was laughing because I just yelled at a 12-year-old not to cut the line and let me take my picture)

Aside from that there is also an incredible sense of sheer genuine intentions and quality hospitality. Where else have I been invited to sit down with a random family and have tea just because I was hiding under their roof from the monsoon rainstorm? Or free motorbike rides?

Now I sit in my hotel room in Kanchanaburi, Thailand, enjoying the plentiful amount of electricity and water, yet still longing for everything that comes with Nepal - from the abundant street cow waste to the breath-taking Himalayan backdrop. I enjoy many places, such as Japan and their crazy flavored KitKats, or Germany and their amazing beer, but Nepal seems to be where it hits home. I did not want to leave in the end, but my goodbye to Nepal was easy, because there is no question that I will be returning over and over again in the near future.