There were half a dozen other people waiting for the sunrise and as soon as one person saw a sliver of sun peeking over the horizon, we all bum-rushed the area and whipped out our Canons. My auto feature wasn’t capturing the sunset properly so I started experimenting with aperture and shutter speed, and I would not recommend trying to learn how a camera works in the precious minutes of a Himalayan sunrise. Result: I have 4 decent photos from this morning.

After the sunrise we had tea and omelets at a roadside stand and, oh, every chilly wind, fire smell, hot tea taste and foggy vista reminded me of our honeymoon in the Himalayas. I could have sat there all morning and was about ready to just start climbing to somewhere, anywhere. If I could wake up like that, surrounded by kind people and crisp air and breathtaking mountains (and my husband!), every single day for the rest of my life I would be happy. Sigh.

We made our way down the mountain into the ancient city of Bhaktapur, a World Heritage Site, and since it was barely 8am I got to watch the sleepy town wake up. This time of year is not tourist season so I was the only Westerner I saw all day, and I relished in walking quietly around town and snapping photos of the 16^th century architecture and wood carvings and temples that are museum-worthy, yet just another part of Bhaktapur’s residents’ daily lives.

We were back to Kathmandu before lunchtime and I spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping, eating bad fried rice, crossing incredibly dangerous traffic circles by foot and being indecisive in several Thamel shops resulting in one meager $2 calendar purchase and three paintings and a rug regretfully left behind.

Do not travel to another country without proper entry documentation unless you plan on consuming mass amounts of Tums for the duration of your trans-continental flight and/or like to live on the edge of Locked Up Abroad.

Backstory: On Sunday morning, before my afternoon flight, I managed to write a blog post, cook a batch of homemade macaroni and cheese, prepare a pork roast, homemade BBQ sauce and fennel slaw, dismantle two bookshelves and conduct a Craigslist transaction to get rid of them, and finish packing, all before my 2pm departure.

In the midst of running around the apartment, I had an OH. NO. moment when I realized I never got an Indian visa for my trip. Every time I’ve flown through Delhi in the past, I’d actually left the airport and therefore acquired a tourist visa for my stay. My itinerary this time included 8 hour layovers in Delhi in both directions but given that I wasn’t planning on leaving the airport, I forgot about the visa. Until about three hours before my departure.

True, I wasn’t leaving the airport but my USA-Delhi and Delhi-Kathmandu tickets were booked separately, meaning my bags would have to be picked up and rechecked in Delhi, meaning I would have to clear immigration and customs and go through again.

My stomach dropped. It’s not like me to overlook such a vital part of travel, one that involves legal requirements and documentation and potentially negative, Locked Up Abroad-style consequences, but I’ve been incredibly busy lately with marathon training, fundraising and buying a home that I guess I overlooked it. I began frantically Googling and found several travel forums in which people who traveled a similar itinerary stated they didn’t need the visa for staying in the airport, that someone took care of their bags for them. A slight consolation, I had no other choice but to head to the airport, completely nauseous, and hope for the best.

My first flight, a two hour jaunt over to Atlanta, was delayed by over an hour due to mechanical problems, meaning I would definitely miss my next two connecting flights. I resigned myself to the fact that it was going to be one of those trips, but que sera sera. We landed in Atlanta literally 10 minutes before my flight to Europe was scheduled to depart. As the cabins doors opened, I flew to the front and overheard two gentlemen ahead of me were on my next flight. As the three of us pushed our way off the plane, there was a Delta agent waiting outside the plane in a Porsche SUV. She gestured to GET IN! and peeled away, speeding towards our plane on the other side of the airport, explaining to us that this was a new service for Delta Elite members. We ran up the jetway from the tarmac, were hassled by the crew who were concerned that we were not boarding from inside the airport like normal passengers, and like VIPs, strutted to our seats (in coach. Super VIP-like).

So after explaining and showing my continuing ticket to Kathmandu at all three stops along the way, my nerves were somewhat calmed and I was able to relax for the majority of the flights. Until we were about two hours away from Delhi and the flight attendants handed out landing cards with a mandatory section for visa information. I thought I was going to throw up and or sweat through my clothes since I had to leave it blank.

I closed my eyes and took deep breaths for those last two hours and concocted my best sob story slash explanation that I could tell the immigration officer. I convinced myself that the worst that could happen would be that they put me on a plane back to the US. I’d get to see Mark in another day or two – yay!

The plane landed and I joined the mass of people walking slowly towards the terminal. I stopped to use the bathroom twice and finally, FINALLY I saw my salvation. INTERNATIONAL TRANSFERS! No immigration desk! No need to explain my lack of visa and illegal traveling papers!

The rest of the story is not exciting. They found my bag which actually made it all the way to Delhi, despite my tight connection in Atlanta, and put it on my flight to Kathmandu. They let me back into the terminal without having to go through immigration and my lack of visa was never questioned. I slept a bit, ate McDonald’s for breakfast? lunch? dinner? at 12am and then Domino’s pizza for one of those other meals, I guess, at 6am.

As I paid for my $4 pizza, stress and lack of sleep having gotten the best of me by that point, the Domino’s man exclaimed to me, You are sooooo cute!

And just like that, the pep in my step returned and I vowed to make every minute count these next two weeks in one of my favorite countries. (In case you were concerned, I do have proper documentation for entering Nepal and am safely settled in my former palace-hotel.)

Cool, huh? You should see the facade of this place and let's just pretend this was not taken with an iPhone.

One of the benefits of running is the time you have in the quiet moments of running in your “zone” to think. Yesterday, the overarching theme of my thoughts was generosity.

A fellow runner was struggling more than the rest of us, really straining to push through each footstep, each mile, and my friend gave him one of her highly valuable GUs (energy gel, for the non-runners out there), water and Gatorade just so he could feel the strength to finish the run. To me, it may have been tough to part with much-needed fuel for such an intense long run, but my friend didn’t give a second thought to pulling the GU from her fuel belt and tossing it his way.

And then a handful of other examples of generosity came flooding into my mind, all specifically to do with my efforts for buildOn and the Boston Marathon. People I’ve never met, my friends’ parents, my parents’ friends, my not-rich friends, my coworkers have all given their hard-earned money to support my goal of raising $5500 to help break the cycle of poverty, illiteracy and low expectations through education. Some have given without me even asking and some have far, FAR exceeded my hopes and requests.

I’m so incredibly touched by each gift that buildOn receives through my marathon endeavor and have been humbly reminded of the generosity I’ve experienced in other parts of world; Malawi and Afghanistan, for starters. I’m only waiting for the next person to ask me for a donation for a good cause, because I am ON IT!

[I'm leaving for Nepal today, and I don't know about you, but I'm ready for some culinary adventures! It's been much too long since I've been presented with a grilled field mouse for dinner!]

• 41 – Total miles run in the past two weeks
• 12 – Highest number of miles run in training
• 16 – Number of miles I will run on Monday morning (after a weekend of wedding revelry AND the Superbowl – OUCH)
• 7 – Number of new friends I have made after joining a running group last week
• 4 – Number of miniature hot pink water bottles in my new fuel belt (thanks to a generous new friend!)
• 695 – Dollars I have raised for the buildOn Boston Marathon
• 0 – Number of times I have not felt like running
• 11 – My score on a scale of 1-10 how excited I am for this race

Check out that rockin' fuel belt!

Training while traveling is not going to be so easy, though. I’ve booked my flights for Nepal and will be spending two weeks in my favorite country in the world at the end of the month. I won’t be able to run while in Nepal but I’ve developed a few exercise routines that I can do in my mouse-infested hotel room. Hiking the Himalayas again would be fantastic marathon training, especially at those high altitudes, but unfortunately I won’t get to set foot on Her Majesty, Mount Everest, again. I do plan on visiting Nagarkot, a village outside of Kathmandu which boasts spectacular views of Everest and the Himalayas at sunrise. Next best thing, I suppose.

Nagarkot sunrise (found via Google)

Oh, and seeing these gorgeous children would brighten anyone’s day! I truly “Cherish” them. Visiting and working in Nepal is like a “Holiday”.

Kids, I'm so "Crazy For You"

Pardon the cheesy Madonna references, but I’ve got big news! Madonna and her charity, Raising Malawi, have partnered with buildOn and given $300,000 to build 10 schools in Malawi. Though my marathon contribution goal is slightly less than hers, I am raising money to build a school in Malawi too, which means my connection to Madonna is now one degree of separation less.

Do you want to be one step closer to Madonna? Donate now!

Stars, they’re just like us.

I love running. I love the feeling of accomplishment after both a three-miler on the treadmill or a 13.1 mile half-marathon. I’ve always wanted to run a full marathon but never had quite the right amount of motivation for long run after long run.

Until the organization where I work presented an opportunity for 8 runners from around the country to team up to raise over $40,000. We’re sending a team of high school students from Boston to help a village in Malawi build a primary school which will educate hundreds of children. The experience is life-changing for the urban American youth who spend two weeks in a developing country working hand-in-hand with the villagers to build the school.

I’ve been to Malawi and seen hundreds of children getting their lessons outside under a tree – a school building would mean everything to the families in this village. I’ve also seen the impact that a building like this has made in hundreds of other villages around the world which is why I’ve committed to running 26.2 miles in less than three months and raising $5,500 for this school.

I’m sure you know where this is going. I need your help. In order to make my goal of $5,500 by April 16th, every donation large or small or assistance you can provide me helps immensely!

I encourage you to check out buildOn’s website here and if you want to see what we do firsthand, please watch this fantastic (short!) video on our website.

If you’re able to make a donation, here is the website where you can do so. Please know that buildOn is a registered 501(c)(3) organization and your contribution is 100% tax-deductible. My friends in Malawi and I thank you in advance for your generosity!

FINALLY, please share this post. Send it to anyone and everyone you know. Pass along buildOn’s mission and my big marathon goal. If you know anyone who’d be particularly interested in service learning and education both here and abroad, please let me know and I’d be happy to talk to them. Also, remember that your company may have a donation matching program that you can take advantage of and DOUBLE the impact of your gift!

Okay, enough of my sales pitch. I hope you all know that this is very important to me and I would be most grateful for any help you’re able to give. I love the people in these communities and feel very blessed to be able to help them by running 26.2 miles through the streets of Boston.

Most importantly, my friends in this photo would be eternally thankful for an opportunity for education, for a future that they may not have had otherwise.

I’m a bit late to the “Happy Holidays!” game as I’ve been busy up and down the east coast with family, friends and work responsibilities. We celebrated Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday and New Year’s Eve and I managed not to leave the country for four whole months.

As I sit here in Virginia and prepare for my February trip to Nepal, I thought I’d share with you a list of thirty things I want to do before I’m thirty. Not resolutions, per se, just interesting things that would rock. So here goes.

Thirty Before Thirty:

1. Buy a house
2. Add a little one to our family
3. Visit 5 new countries (Mali, Senegal, Haiti, Ethiopia, 2011 — need one more!)
4. Run a marathon
5. Be a vegetarian for a month
6. Make one of my many business ideas finally come to fruition
7. Be a vegan for a week
8. Try snowboarding
9. Host a big family holiday (Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc) (Christmas 2011)
10. Learn another language
11. Drive across the country
12. Play a team sport
13. Fly first class
14. Ride a horse on the beach
15. Learn how to sail
16. Perfect a very fancy and impressive dessert
17. Consistently volunteer with a nonprofit
18. Read 50 books in a year
19. Get my hair cut short (chin length?), just for kicks
20. Spend a week with no internet
21. Sew something and actually use it (Union Jack pillow, 2011)
22. Pay off debt (Paid in full, 2011)
23. Perfect a solid headstand in yoga
24. Improve my photography skills to better capture my travels
25. Summit the other four 5000+ foot peaks in New Hampshire’s White Mountains
26. Summit Mount Washington in winter
27. Attend a Patriots playoff game at Foxborough
28. Learn how to make a perfect martini
29. Complete a 30 day yoga challenge
30. Foster a shelter dog

They say that telling someone about a goal increases the likelihood of accomplishment by 85% and with this list I think I need all the percentage points I can get. What are your resolutions or goals this year? How are you going to change the world in 2012?

Happy New Year to all and here’s to another year of happiness and changing the world and making it happen!

I follow a funny blog called”Stuff Expat Aid Workers Like (similar concept to Stuff White People Like) and when I saw this post the other day about airport horror stories, having just experienced a minor airport inconvenience myself, I had to chuckle. I’ve got my own treasure trove of airport experiences that I like to break out when the timing is right – Full body searches! Threats of being held captive in the Kabul airport! Dark back-room examinations of visas and passport stamps! Demands for bribes to be set free from the grips of Egyptian police!

Here’s the full, hilarious and totally relatable original blog post:

No EAW [expat aid worker] dinner party or illicit drinking session is complete without an exotic tropical disease story and its companion piece, the airport horror story. Whatever this genre lacks in the sheer terror stakes of the ‘armed militia roadblock’ canon, it more than makes up for with its ample scope for comedic retelling and ‘confirmability’ by others who have been through the same airport (but not, of course, had the once-in-a-lifetime experience you’ve had).

The key to successful delivery of an airport horror story is to tell it with the resigned air of one who has ‘seen it all’ and considers the time you had your unwashed unmentionables strewn across the floor in Karachi while simultaneously being threatened with a cavity search, imprisonment for blasphemy and immediate deportation as nothing more than an amusing anecdote on par with a drinking story from that supposedly ‘dry’ country (more on that later).

Your story must, of course, be more inconvenient, more scary (not that you should admit being scared) and more righteous indignation-causing than the stories of those whose company you’re sharing; women EAWs [expat aid workers] have a distinct advantage in this respect as the ‘down to the tampons’-level luggage inspection followed by overly enthusiastic body search and temporary detainment will beat a ‘heated argument and threat of imprisonment’ story by a male EAW any day.

Where possible, EAWs should gracefully weave a token bribery moment into their story, demonstrating their local nous and survival skills. Airport horror stories also provide the perfect opportunity to segue seamlessly to or from a passport stamp story, especially when it involves actual or threatened confiscation of said passport.

What’s your airport horror story?

Sure, I think takeoff and landing are kind of like a thrilling amusement park ride and I usually love my end destinations and I don’t generally mind all the waiting in line and I pretty much love airport food courts and having dozens of hours alone in which to read or watch crappy chick flicks is fun.

My journey to Ethiopia yesterday was NONE of this. My journey to Addis Ababa yesterday (today?) was more like this:

GRR. Look at that angry, shiny face and big, scary fist ready to punch something!

I have been sick for a week and Mark finally convinced me to head to the doctor the day before I left where it turned out I have bronchitis! I got meds and an inhaler but traveling while sick is never, ever fun.

The plane to Addis was completely full and my seat neighbor was a missionary from West Virginia who was traveling alone and had never been outside of the US before. Needless to explain where this is going but while we were waiting for takeoff, she literally scrolled through her entire contact list and called everyone to shout the following, OH MAH GOODNESS SADIE! Ya’ll should SEE this plane! It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever seen in mah LIFE! Four cabins and let’s see, NAHN seats across! NAHN! Can you believe it?! And repeat.

She asked to get up to use the toilet before we took off and I thought, yes, good idea so she wouldn’t have to get up every hour. I did not know that this field trip would entail me escorting her to the restroom and showing her how to open the door. She was a sweet woman in her sixties and very excited so my patience reserve was still near full.

But then. She had met a girl in the airport and wanted to switch seats with someone so she could chat with her for 12 hours (poor girl!) and after twenty minutes of seat-switching debates and negotiations, she ended up staying near me, promising to chat with me for the WHOLE FLIGHT! (I am not a chat with strangers on a long flight type of girl, if that wasn’t clear).

To make a long, excruciating story short:

• The plane was FILLED with kids so much so that it felt like I was on a first grade field trip
• The crew never turned the cabin lights off so it was loud and bright for the duration
• The only remotely interesting movie available was Bride Wars. If you’ve seen it, then enough said
• Upon arrival in Addis, I waited in line for an hour to get my visa and if I didn’t already know I was in Africa, the lack of personal space that my fellow line-waiters allowed me confirmed it
• My luggage is not with me. I DON’T KNOW WHERE MY THINGS ARE. Deep breaths were taken to type that out.
• Upon arrival to my hotel (after finding out my driver had gotten tired of waiting for me and left the airport, then waiting for him to come back), I was given a room with repairmen in the bathroom fixing a gigantic brown leak in the shower and half of the carpet soaked in water, but promised that I could rest in the bed while they worked. I opted to grab a bite to eat and wait for a dry room.
• I have no toiletries or clean clothing for at least another 18 hours.

I think I’m going to cut back a little on my overzealous declarations of love for air travel going forward.

Welcome to Addis! (I’ve already promised myself that even if my bags don’t come, I’m going to have ADVENTURES in Addis tomorrow, filthy, grimy, greasy hair and clothing are no matter!)

View from my hotel room. From what I've seen on my limited drive down Bole Road, the city seems quite nice and clean, and do excuse the Blackberry photo but my camera cord is in my poor MIA luggage.

January 30^th, 2005

After being in London for about three days, the tube is becoming more familiar and we are beginning to understand the Londoners and their “funny” way of talking. We moved into a nice apartment in a unique Arab neighborhood, and it is quite the culture shock, but exciting nonetheless.

Westminster was our first tourist destination today and we were able to see most of the area on a quick but thorough guided tour through the area. Our first stop was Parliament but because of a misunderstanding and some confusing rides on the tube, we missed the tour. The building, however, was absolutely amazing. There were numerous pillars which were all ornately carved and some looked like they were made out of gold. As soon as we stepped out of the Westminster tube station into the street, Big Ben began to chime the hour, which made me realize I was truly in London. It was an amazing experience for my senses; being able to see and hear and take in all of what Westminster had to offer (including more pub grub—apparently, the pub menu is the same at every single pub in London!)

The tour began with an old building across the River Thames where the Church of England was run out of—sort of like an office building for the Church, right next to Queen Elizabeth’s Bridge painted in red, which symbolized royalty, while the green bridge across the way stood for Parliament.

Westminster Abbey

We also saw very expensive neighborhoods around Parliament where many members of Parliament live currently and have lived in the past. There is a bell that rings throughout Westminster (even in pubs and MP’s houses!) that alerts the MP’s that voting is occurring in Parliament so the area is popular for MP’s to live since they can go vote at the ring of the bell and then come home and “finish their pudding”, as our tour guide described.

She also showed us many boarded up windows in the same neighborhood. During the 1700’s, windows were a sign of wealth, so the more windows a house had, the wealthier a family should be. The British government, however, saw this as a way to increase their revenue, so they taxed the British for every window in the house. Since this was already an expensive area, people began boarding up windows to be able to afford the house payments! The windows are still boarded or bricked up today.

My battery is dying! More tomorrow….

January 27^th, 2005

The trip to London is underway. After the stress of learning that all flights to Washington D.C. were running over an hour behind (which of course, my flight was first to D.C. before London) and attempting to call London from my cell phone (which of course, Verizon Wireless would not allow) and hassling HSBC Bank for my loan money (which of course, was beyond their control), I made it alive to Chicago where I will connect to London Heathrow airport.

Saying goodbye is one of the hardest things to do, especially to Mom, Dad, and Shannon. Being the emotional girl I am, I cried saying goodbye to everyone. I even had a teary eye watching Rochester, New York’s city lights disappear as my plane ascended into the night sky. It’s hard to imagine that I won’t see the United States for over six months. I could either be completely homesick and want to come home early, or completely love London and never want to return.

This trip has so much in store for me, especially never having traveled abroad before. I don’t think I could be any more prepared than I am, except having more than three hundred dollars to my name. I want to travel to Scotland to visit my ancestors’ graves and my many-times-removed relatives, to Ireland to celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day, and to all of Europe of course, to see the sites and say I’ve been there. This is one of the most exciting times of my life and I plan on taking advantage of every minute that I’m in London.

Granted that I survive the seven hour flight across the “big pond” and don’t incur any more significant delays, I should be arriving in London at approximately eleven in the morning on Friday morning, London time, at which point I will begin my vacation!

Mottos for the trip:

VENI, VIDI, VICI! (I want to go, see, and conquer!)

THE SKY IS THE LIMIT! (Actually, the money is the limit, but I’ll live like a pauper to be able to travel!)

LIVE LIKE YOU WERE DYING! (Because who knows when my next opportunity like this will arise!)