Tea and Challenges in the Himalayas

by Ashley Newport

Nepal is known for so much: its mountains, its rhododendrons, its prolific landscape, its colourful buildings and its warm people. It’s also known for its challenges — the poverty, the power outages, the rampant traffic and the scores of beggars traipsing through the dusty streets. It’s a country of contradictions, but one thing is for sure: it treats its visitors well and fosters lifelong connections over heaping helpings of dal bhaat and warm cups of sweet masala chai.

Nepal for two whirlwind weeks in the winter of 2013, I tell them my journey to one of Asia’s most beautiful and troubled countries was something I really just fell into.

In late 2009, I was 25-years-old and about to graduate from my second post-secondary journalism program with no (at the time) immediate internship or job prospects. That fall, I attended a fundraiser run by my good friend’s (and eventual travel buddy) boss in support of a tiny Toronto-based grassroots charity called WELNepal (Women’s Education and Literacy in Nepal).

The benefit — which I had actually attended before, mostly to support Diana (my aforementioned friend and travel buddy) — was fun as always and I saw an opportunity to rack up some writing experience and good karma. I asked David Walton, WELNepal’s president and founder, if I could write a story about him and his organization for an international edition of my school’s newspaper. He said yes and we stayed in touch. A few months later, I asked if he needed any help with copy-writing and social media. He needed help with both and I became WELNepal’s resident editor, copy-writer and social media maintainer.

Later on, in 2012, I seriously began to consider a trip to the country David (who soon became known as David Daai) spoke of so often. So, after much (not really) contemplation, I booked a trip to Nepal for February 2013.

The Journey There

The trip to Nepal was tiring. There are no direct flights from Toronto to Kathmandu, and I decided to take a roundabout trip to Nepal’s chaotic capital by stopping in Beijing to see a then-boyfriend off, flying from Beijing to Chengdu, sitting in a steel chair in the spacious Chengdu airport for 11 hours (thank you to the wonderful staff for the complimentary water and crackers), flying to Tibet (thanks to the Lhasa airport staff for the free spicy soup and to the wonderful traveler who helped me work the hot water machine thing) and then flying to Kathmandu (thank you to my wonderful seat mates for pointing out that I had spicy sauce on my face and sweater, I at least got to take care of the facial staining — the sweater had to wait).

I must say that I hadn’t adequately prepared myself for Kathmandu. I was already infatuated with the idea of the city. I had romanticized it in my mind, picturing exotically dusty, old-world destroyed. Or at least mine was. I had experienced muscle pain before. In fact, after one ill-advised cardio kickboxing session in 2008, I could not sit on a toilet without extreme pain for two days. This was that times 1,000. I had to physically move my limbs after sitting, standing or lying down for too long. If I had to walk uphill, I would make swimming motions that inspired great pity in shop owners who would offer to help me up the hill (and into their store). Sitting on a toilet — a squat or western-style one — was enough to make me moan in agony.

But as time healed my stiffness and the memory of the difficulty of the trek faded, I felt a sense of accomplishment I had never experienced before. I had done it. I had gone slowly and I had selected the easiest trek, but I still did it. I lost toenails and I couldn’t have been more proud of my battered feet. I had a chance to walk through some of the most challenging and beautiful terrain in the world, and the life lessons were profound.

After the trek, we boarded another Green Line bus to the gorgeous Chitwan region, home of a famous national park, which teemed with elephants, rhinos and Bengal tigers (we did not see any tigers, unfortunately). It was After enjoying the requisite jungle tours, a challenging elephant ride and the kindness of strangers (an extra special thanks to the night guard who walked a group of terrified tourists back to their hotel after they stayed out too late and couldn’t navigate the terrain in the dead of night), we met up with a few of WELNepal’s dedicated organizers and took an exhilarating motorbike journey to the women’s groups that surrounded the charity’s Sauraha, Chitwan headquarters.

The women, sitting on the cold ground with books and children in their laps, didn’t look at all disgruntled with their Spartan classrooms. Quite the opposite — they were excited to be learning and excited to meet WELNepal’s Canadian supporters. The women asked questions: where were we from? What did we do? What did we think of Nepal? They told us how they needed help in other ways, especially for the underprivileged Tharu (a group of people native to the lowlands of Nepal), the children of Nepal. They needed more, they said. More classes, more income generating initiatives, more outreach programs for people in need.We so admired their honesty and their ded- ication. One of the main benefits of education is empowerment, and these women were not too shy to be frank about what else needed to be accomplished. We left with so, so much to think about.

No one from that remote part of the world is ever far from my mind.

Editor’s Note: This story was filed before the tragic April 25, 2015 earthquake in Nepal. Our correspondent was not in Nepal when the disaster took place.

Ashley Newport is a freelance writer and journalist from Toronto (well, a city just outside Toronto) who specializes in food, restaurants, business and lifestyle writing. You can see her work most frequently on insauga.com, a lifestyle, news and entertainment blog dedicated to life in Mississauga. She also copy-writes for WELNepal and maintains their social media accounts.

www.welnepal.org Twitter: @welnepal Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/welnepal/