Unusual birds that I haven’t ever heard before are warbling their sweet morning melodies. A man is making some sort of clanking noise. A woman is arguing with one of the sale’s people at the town store. An unusually white dog is running around making friends with everyone. A huge truck rolls by, blaring its horn to announce its arrival. The sun’s warm rays are slowly melting the frigid morning air, making the temperature bearable and lightening the cold landscape. Some Indian music is playing its haunting tune in someone’s home.
Welcome to Mungpoo, India.
Tucked in the Himalaya Mountains of northern India, up a narrow winding road, you’ll find the town of Mungpoo. It reminds me of a village you’d find in the Swiss Alps. Large, towering trees provide more shade then anyone desires. Poinsettias dot the landscape. Majestic mountains surround this tiny village, nestling the town in their shadow. It’s a serene scene, one that demands my awe and respect.
The only thing that keeps me from running barefoot and shouting down the dirt path to the school is the bone chilling cold. It’s really not that cold (only about 50°F)… it’s just that you can’t escape it. It’s like camping without a fire. Plus, it’s humid here. That means we’re fighting a wet cold, which makes everything feel ten times colder. Gloves, a scarf and wool socks are going to be my best friends.
Yet, through all this cold, I feel a strange warmth emanating from the smiling faces of the students here at the school and suddenly, I don’t notice the cold anymore. The girls stare at me. When I look at them and smile, they turn away and giggle among themselves. They’re probably about my age. Most of them can’t speak English, but the ones who do try to talk to me. It’s hard to understand their broken English covered by their strong Nepali accent. But they do communicate.
I’m not as tired as I thought I’d be. I was probably asleep within the first minute I was in bed. Cuddled up to my Nalgene bottle, I slept like a log. When I awoke, I came to the realization that there’s nothing comfortable about my bed. It’s a mattress, maybe 2 inches thick, on top of a wooden board. But it sure felt like a cloud when I hit it the night before. I’ve been told there’s nothing comfortable about India.
And I think they’re right. Taking a bath in less than 40° weather isn’t the most pleasant. And when you're told to end your semi-hot bath with cold water... brrr. But hey! At least you feel on top of the world when you step out of the bathroom/shower room. I find it easier to end with the cold if I let out a series of hoots and hollers when I pour the freezing water on my head. Makes the girls talking outside the door giggle and talk wildly.
Also worth mentioning is riding in a small car, with six other people, trying to share a seat with four of them, sitting on the edge, being jolted around for 3 or so hours. Yet, I threw the window open and sucked in the air. Sure it smelt of burning trash, cow dung and car exhaust. To me, it smelt like Guatemala and Bolivia. I reveled in it! Who cares if I'm cramped and squished?
I've realized, that my attitude changes everything. I could look at all these things, the bathroom, the traveling, the cold, the bed, and every other inconvenience, and be miserable. Yet, as I try to find beauty in my surrounding, something in me changes. I just make tea when I'm cold. I holler when I take a bath and end with cold water. I just cuddle close to my hot Nalgene when my bed seems uncomfortable. I marvel at the skill my driver has in maneuvering the roads. And I'm not cold anymore. I'm not tired and cramped driving. I'm not sleeplessly tossing and turning. I'm not miserably forcing my way through another bath.
And I realize... I'm learning gratitude and contentment. What an amazing quality to gain! Rather than gripe and groan, I can learn to enjoy being here! I can learn to love the people! What freedom!
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