It’s a little embarrassing to write after such a long break only to report that sorry folks, I’m heading home.
But I am. In a little over a week.
[Mini-factoid: I hate to pack unless it involves a backpack and an itinerary scribbled on the back of a napkin.]
A thousand clichés flash through my mind. None of them quite fits. To sum up all that I have thought, seen, heard, tasted, breathed, felt from the moment I got off the plane at Paro exactly one year ago.*
I don’t know how to say goodbye to this little corner of the world in the mountains. Where I have fed a good dozen or more plump fleas. Where I had the miraculous fortune to meet so many good people, reminding me that it is as important to be good at something, as it is to be good. To be a good person. Where I once ate 3 plates of rice for lunch because the cold made me really really hungry. Where I learnt how divine it is to bask in the sun on a winter’s afternoon. Where I once laid awake at night wondering what in the world I got myself into, and then now wonder, how I am going to get everything packed and get on that plane next Sunday.
But if I had to say my goodbyes, I like the way the French say it. Au revoir.
Till we meet again.
* It was when I started this post, but I write slow. So it’s now 1 year and 1 day.
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