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Nepal for two whirlwind weeks in the winter of 2013, I tell them my jour- ney 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 in- ternship or job prospects. at 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).
e bene t — 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 organiza- tion for an international edition of my school’s newspaper. He said yes and
we stayed in touch. A few months lat- er, 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-writ- er 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 o en. So, a er much (not really) contemplation, I booked a trip to Nepal for February 2013.
e Journey ere
e trip to Nepal was tiring. ere are no direct ights from Toronto to Kath- mandu, and I decided to take a round- about trip to Nepal’s chaotic capital by stopping in Beijing to see a then-boy- friend o , ying from Beijing to Chengdu, sitting in a steel chair in the spacious Chengdu airport for 11 hours (thank you to the wonderful sta for the complimentary water and crack- ers), ying to Tibet (thanks to the Lha- sa airport sta for the free spicy soup and to the wonderful traveler who helped me work the hot water machine thing) and then ying 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 pre- pared 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