End of an era: Final days in Kathmandu

In less than a month, I fly out of Tribhuvan International Airport for the last time.

At least, the last time in a long time.

Three years I’ve been here now. Kathmandu, Nepal has undoubtedly been the strangest host I could ever hope for. The thing is, I never imagined myself in Nepal. Or anywhere in South Asia for that matter. In fact, I fully expected to remain in South Carolina for at least another couple years.

Back in June 2015, I had just been offered a position at a local middle school, where I’d be teaching humanities — a dream job I’ve sought for years. Working with underprivileged youth in my home state, a great principal leading an enthusiastic staff, the school a ten minute walk from the house I’d bought just two months prior, what more could I want? Then everything was turned on its head.

In another blog, sometime in the future, I’ll detail the events between that decision point in June and the nine months that followed. It’s not a nice story. For now, I’ll write about Kathmandu. Those stories are better.

I’ve written about the process of moving out here with two dogs, and my first impressions of Kathmandu, as well as a few other stories. What I’ve never written about is how anxious I felt during those first few weeks and months.

One of the running jokes when I arrived was, “Did that building collapse during the quake, or before?” It’s more serious than funny. Nepal is euphemistically called A City Under Construction. It’s a nice way of saying A Total Shit Show.

Many buildings would be deemed unfit for occupation in the developed world. The streets are choked with diesel smoke, dust, bad drivers, and cows. Eating out, you stand a one-in-five chance of falling ill. Eating in, the odds drop to merely one-in-ten. The Kathmandu valley is bisected by the holy Bagmati River, which reeks of raw feces 365 days a year. Local produce is wilted and dirty, and imports are marked up by 200% or more. Just a few of the highlights.

That first week in country, I was terrified of leaving the hotel. Everything looked too dangerous. 

I realize I sound like a typical Expat Princess, griping about how it’s so much harder out here. Keep in mind though, after Indonesia, I no longer wished to work in the developing world. I’d followed The Wife like that guy who exploded social media a few years ago, minus the glamor and with a less happy ending.

By the end of the first year, my marriage had fallen apart, I had contracted Super Giardia, and my salary was eviscerated by Brexit. Two years to go!

This is counterbalanced by many positives. I developed my professional practices and graduated from a pockmarked resume to a pretty solid one. In these three years, I became a great teacher. I mean, I was probably a good teacher before, but what I know now and what I’m able to do now, three years down the road, is incredible. I do not think this would’ve happened had I stayed in Carolina.

I made new friends and reconnected with old ones. I’ve done a great deal of hiking and adventuring around the country, from the highest peaks in the world in Khumbu to the grassy safari lands of Chitwan.  I’ve holidayed in Chiang Mai, Kuala Lumpur, Goa, Abu Dhabi, and Bangkok. I always wanted to fast-boat my way across the Andaman Sea islands, so I did. I spent a lovely week with my family in Tuscany before enjoying a blowout night in Rome.

Aside from that, Kathmandu life is pretty routine. The weekend is a mishmash of social events, usually involving hikes, barbecues, rooftop sundowners, and barhopping. Often, all the above.

In recent conversations with friends, I’ve referred to Kathmandu as a sort of purgatory. Emphasis on the purge. I came in with a whole lot of baggage. More specifically, 350 kilograms of troubled relationship, self-doubt, high anxiety, and desperate need of therapy. Through meditation, mindfulness, psychoanalysis, and a healthy dose of hedonism, I feel leveled out.

As I write, the movers are on their way to collect my stuff. It’s much lighter at just 250 kilos. I leave behind many memories, not all of them good, but plenty that are. I’ll return one day — Annapurna and the Three Passes call my name — but for now, I’m eager to start my new adventure, this time well away from Asia!



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