These past few months in Nepal have been and on going process of having my eyes opened. It was one thing to sit at home and read about life in under-developed countries or see images of them on TV. But my theoretical understanding can’t even begin compare to the understanding I’m gaining here. Ironically every time I think, “Okay, now I get it,” another experience whacks me upside the head and reveals the next layer. The opportunity I had recently to visit my close friend Parmila’s home village of Harriya was such an induction.

My good friend Parmila had to return her 4-year old daughter Rachanna to her grandparents home in their village because school was starting, and she invited me to come. Parmila’s uncle, Arjun-dai, joined us for the 1-day/1-night trip so he could return to his home to check on his fields and his family for a few days.

In preparation they asked me if I wanted to walk, ride cycles, or take a taxi. I certainly had too much pride to request a taxi, knowing they would only use that method for my benefit, didn’t think walking would be efficient given our time constraints, and thought the 2 hour bike ride sounded quite and fun – not to mention it is the way they usually travel.

Unfortunately, my decision making hadn’t accounted an afternoon with blazing sun and 95% humidity or for the need to ride/pushe our one-speed bicycles over an often flooded rock and dirt road, across sand dunes, and along cow paths in the forest (the reality show Survivor had nothing on this..).

Somehow, after some informative detours and incredible views, several stops in the shade for guavas and chai, and with Rachanna leaking tears of soreness and exhaustion from straddling the rear rack of my bike for roughly 4 hours, we straggled into Harriya.