October 11

4:57 PM

Right now, I am lounging on a bed of cushions. I lounge in the bar/hut pavillion at Last Resort. Everything here feels organic. The walls are made of stone, different sized, shaped and colored stones layered upon each other. The roof is made of a base layer of wood slots, covered with more individual stones. All the furniture here is beautiful dark wood, blocky and big in design. It gives the same comfort as an oversized shirt or sweater that you know has more than enough room for you to move about in. There is small chatter, low though, so the insects still reign the auditory realm. We have found an oasis here. It has got every bit of relaxation, wonder, and adventure that one would imagine of a resort found in mid-jungle on the Nepalese-Tibetan border. Stone pathways. Woven wood columns. Bamboo gardens. Butterfly-littered waterfalls. Exotic flowers. Sauna. Hammocks. Beds with cushions. I'm sorry, what? BEDS. WITH. CUSHIONS. PEOPLE. Cushions, so you don't flop about like a fish out of water all night. You do what people do on beds, sleep. The whole resort is (and I'm not using this word mindlessly) flawless. Flawless and very far from how we found ourselves this morning. I vomited in a bag.

Let us delve in to it.  We were due at the Last Resort office in Thamel at 5:45 am. Because of this early hour, we left the orphanage the day before and found a cheap, cheap hotel close to the Last Resort office. Once in Thamel, we decided to grab some food. With safety calling for no uncooked/fresh fruits or vegetables, we've been avoiding them at all costs.(Fresh tends to implied rinsed and with the state of water in Nepal, you really don't want anything that hasn't reached a certain bacteria-killing temperature.)  But on this day we went to eat at OR2K, which claims to wash their lettuce in iodine water then rinse it with boiled water. We gave in. The craving for fresh vegetables came only a few days after having none, zip, zero. We'd also been craving meat and cheese. There has been none of those either. We at so much salad. And a cheese platter. And two baskets of fries. I don't know what else we would have eaten if we hadn't removed ourselves from the table. Good night.

At 5 am, the alarm goes off. I yell to Chanel instantly that she needs to get up already, though half asleep, I still hadn't moved. As soon as I sit up, nausea.

I try to eat something. Try to drink some water. It comes and goes, and we have to leave. No time to be gentle and stay still. Not only do we have to  leave our hotel to make it to the Last Resort office. I guess I should say why we're going there to begin with. We had to be at the Last Resort office at 5:45 am, to catch a bus, to drive to the Tibet border, to cross a 525 foot bridge, so Chanel and I could jump off of said bridge.

Now is not the time for nausiousness. Not this day. I tell myself to get it together. By the time we get on the bus, I'm already breathing deeply, in and out, and rocking back and forth. And Chanel is very concerned but poor darling. Sleep has a pull on her unlike  most. So she'd wake up from my shifting and ask if there was anything she could do and then abruptly, I am alone again. It's me. A very sensitive stomach. A bus. And some of the windiest, narrowest roads. And good lordy, they've got to be the bumpiest. Oh. There was one bag there, too.

The ride starts and I try to sleep it off. Eyes close, bad. Okay. So, eyes open? Bad. Dizzy. I can handle this. Look at something in the distance. Oh goodness me, we are so high. Eyes closed. Giant bump. Is it possible these tires are not circular? And we're just unevenly bouncing around? Or maybe not made of rubber at all? I don't know. I didn't look at the tires. What's wrong with you! You're in a foreign country, traveling up some of the world's largest mountains in a top-heavy, discounted, illegitamate greyhound bus and you didn't check the tires? Eyes closed. Calm yourself, lady. Nope, bad. Why do I keep trying the eyes closed? No bueno. I even tried chanting the words "no vomit" to myself. It ended up taking the beat of "My Humps" and that helped for a few minutes. Then, back to eyes closed.

There was a girl Margaret that we met the first day we arrived in Nepal. She was also staying in the hostel and she was from Latvia. She spoke English simply and with a very thick Russian accent. Adorable little blonde, she was. And on this morning, on this bus, I kept playing a memory of her. She was sitting on the hostel bed laughing at her experiences in Nepal and one experience in particular. She had been sick and called Hom (Global Crossroad's Nepal Country Coordinator). She told us, laughing through her entire story, "I call him. I tell him,'Hom. I am dying.' It was really funny."As the roads get higher and more narrow, the memory of her changes from her holding her own stomach in laughter to that hand now being extended and pointed towards us and it had become my story. But I didn't share Margaret's enthusiasm.

About two hours in, I decide if it's gonna happen, bring it on. "Smite me, oh mighty smiter." I grab a plastic bag and set it up in front of me.

Not a single person on that bus noticed. Not a one. I even had to wake Chanel up. Chanel rubbed my back. But when the rubbing stopped less than two minutes after the ordeal, I look over. Hand on my back, head back against the seat, sunglasses on, mouth open, she was out cold. Cher sister.

I hope to feel better but this is when the bumps in the road start getting serious. Srsly serious. We get some air off of our seats on two of them. It think about tapping Chanel, "Uhm. I hate to wake you but I really think we may have just run over something and no one else seems to be concerned and...I don't know..maybe a yak? Or a colossal boulder..maybe a small hut?" But I didn't.

I tried to become one with the tao and breath. It worked and then we arrived and we had to cross the bridge we were about to jump off of. As we walk onto it, I look back at Chanel, who is clearly following a different train of thought than I am. I can see on her face the thought of bungy. That incredible smile that she is known for is stretched, taking up her entire face. While I am looking at her, consumed with just making it across the swaying bridge, whispering to myself, "Why does everything in this country have to wobble? Whyyy? Even their heads. No yes or no shake. Everything is a wobble." And when Chanel says, "Risse! Look!", pointing to the beautiful heights, I stay to the course and reply abruptly, "I will not."

We made it across the bridge! And once I did, all was better. We placed our bags down and gather for bungy debriefing. We were put into groups and split up, dependent on weight. Due to the injuries that Chanel endured to her ACL a few years ago, she did the smart thing and opted for the canyon swing rather than the bungy. Canyon swing puts zero pressure or stress on the legs. Plus, it is the largest free fall in the world. Pretty gnarly. And I got to watch our Nellie brave it!

I was in the second group. It took about an hour and a half for the first group. During that time I was sitting on the viewing deck, trying to stake a flag in my own nervous system, claiming it mine and under my authority. I sat there and in a moment of calmness my voice said aloud, "There is no spoon." It startled me as if someone else had said it. Okay. I'll go with it. There is no spoon.

One crew man calls me over and asks my name. He says, "Okay, Carisse. I'm going to hug you." and wraps the harness around me. The tightness of the harness on my core is comforting. Then he sits me down and puts on the ankle harnesses. They are so tight, it feels like they might leave bruises and therefore, another comfort. As I'm sitting down, waiting through my last two minutes, I look out and start to say it but without hesitating metaphorically slap myself across the back of my head. "You're ridiculous. That is a big, big, large spoon." So, I stop with the montra and just stick with "Don't think".  There are a few things not allowed on the bridge during bungy- your camera, your bag, and your brain. Don't try to use it. This is not a matter for the brain's input.

They strap the bungy to me. I walk up. No brain. He scoots me to the end of the plank. He says wave to the camera man. I do. No brain.

3.2.1. BUNGY.

And I fly. I didn't think. I didn't hesitate. I just jumped.