Fast fact: Most of the world’s population agrees that vacationing creates memories that last forever. As I sink back into the warm little niche that resides in my head, my laptop in front of me, and words and ideas flowing out of my mind, I can’t help but agree.
As an Indian of Nepali origin having travelled to various countries and lived in a few, I’ve been asked about my background on several occasions. My background or story is not really what one would call an exceptional or a poignantly catchy one. Oddly, however, mine seems to stand out in a way hard to describe. It has helped mould my identity along this never-ending, exploratory pathway through life.
Seventeen years. Seventeen countries.
This is my story.
My “hashtag: travel-diaries” life has been nothing short of a thrilling and adventurous coaster through a melange of various lifestyles, cultures and people. And while some insist that such an amalgamated life experience lessens the true essence of character and origin, I only beg to differ. I believe in the idea that travelling and seeing a little more of this colossal world each time a suitcase is packed and a backpack zipped acts as a substantial element in shaping a being.
From the gorgeous verdure fields with cottages a-sprinkle in Switzerland, to the refreshing openness of California, to the warm cosy houses of Milton Keynes, and to the vibrancy of the lifestyles in Mumbai, every memory contributes to the precious collection that I so carefully store in the little drawers of my brain; memories that span my life living in four different countries and traveling across seventeen. Me? I revel in the stimulation of these stored experiences, these memories. My background introduced me to the eclectic world that I have still only just glimpsed.
One thing that really fascinates me is the fact that each place brewed in me a passion that I slowly but strongly began to develop. When I was five years old, the musical beats and rhythms created by masked men in the Fasnacht parades of Basel inspired me to pick up elastic bands and an old shoebox and annoy my whole family with “guitar” melody sessions every evening.
More than a decade later now, I play the guitar in a trio band and look back to the masked Fasnacht men, silently thanking them with a grin.
I owe my profound love for doodles and sketching to my toddler years in Fremont, where scribbling on the porch steps with chalk was all I’d do throughout the afternoons. My passion for reading roots all the way back to the large bricked libraries in Milton Keynes, UK, where my twin and I would run around frantically, searching for the right book with trembling joy. A good eight years in India has given me the opportunity to chase each of these passions and dreams whole heartedly. (I can only imagine the brilliant times that four years in Wisconsin will bring in the near future!)
What’s funny is that I have never really seen each place as a separate culture within itself. While I could recognize that the people, social traditions and customs were all uniquely individual and distinct to the places they represented, I began to see the world as one much bigger community instead.
Epiphanies would strike me when we’d shift; teary goodbyes were exchanged between family and friends, which would eventually turn to bright sparks upon realizing that the next day was to be a brilliant new dawn.
I have learned to adapt to differences, and just the very thought of traveling stirs a deep sense of thrill in me. It is probably this that has led to my love for adventure, risks and challenge.
Seventeen years, seventeen countries -- all of which have influenced the adventurer who lived it. (That's me!)
