Post from Tim:
Somewhere in life I picked up the notion that Athens was a polluted city with crazy drivers. But having just traveled in India and Nepal, I feel I've arrived to a relaxed spotless wonderland. Nobody is coughing up gooey wads of phlegm from the depths of their lungs as they do every five minutes in Kathmandu. Nor are vehicles zigzagging at top speeds and full horn through twisted pedestrian lined streets as they do in India. It seemed so clean in Athens that when I looked down at the trash-free sidewalk, I had the disgusting thought that it was clean enough to lick!
On the other hand, costs are much higher and the mentality of the west is freaking me out. I am now sitting in a coffee shop with a cup of black coffee that costs five times more than it would in Asia. It is essentially the same coffee, even if it tastes like it has been smoldering on the burner all morning. Gone are my days of lounging in Asia at pennies a day - they have been replaced by the European need to move. Time is money. Even sitting here, cell phones break my peace and I feel the cost of my hotel nearby.
Everyone in the west moves with a purpose. The streets are no longer full of people with idle hands and lots of time. Instead, the masses are hustling from place to place or hidden away in office complexes being productive. In this respect, the streets feel almost dead. In many ways, the life of a small village in Nepal feels more alive than the huge city of Athens.
The mentality of the west is efficient - like the woman in the sandwich shop in Athens who prepared food at a pace unseen in Asia. She was a one-woman production line who oozed perfection and made every movement count. I was amazed as she lined four bread rolls up and sliced each one with a quick swipe, concurrently checking her computer screen for orders. Then her hands went to work in a flurry of motion customizing orders and handing them out. Her movements ticked with all the precision of a Swiss watch.
The pace of her life was as "west" as the pace of a travel agency we visited in Kathmandu was "east." When we purchased tickets in Kathmandu for a simple flight, it took three people three hours to complete the task - they offered us tea, the office power went out, the modem connection was lost, and we chatted about the small things. The hurry was gone, replaced by casual conversation and a slower pace of life.
The mentality of the west is also material. It is a place where shiny glass and advertising frames stores selling luxury items such as designer clothes, cell phones, digital cameras, and leather shoes. At home I remember a feeling - a sick hunger almost - that urged me into stores and made me want to buy. This feeling literally made my mouth water and filled me with the anticipation of pleasure - a promised prize awaited my purchase, whether I bought a new CD or a new computer. And yet here in Athens, the advertising messages that surround me don't seem to have the same effect. I've slowed down to the pace of countries where the advertising is less conspicuous and people have only a fraction of the disposable income of the west.
When you trek in Nepal, there are no televisions or billboards. You have no need for fashion, as you wear what keeps you warm and you are not out to impress people. Your attention turns to your surroundings - to places that are magnificent. But after almost three weeks in the mountains, I leafed through a German fashion magazine that a tourist left behind in a mountain lodge. Its glossy content promised all image and no substance. I saw the whole fashion industry in a new light - where I once saw glamorous women, I now saw emaciated models with ridiculous makeup and clothes that cost more than the average yearly salary of a Nepalese porter. I laughed. The existence of the life in the magazine felt light years from mine.
So what will I be like when I have a new job and money? Once the precise targeting and name branding of western advertisers makes its way back into my consciousness? I'm sure I'll revert back to my old habits. But perhaps I'll be a little wiser all the same.
On the other hand, costs are much higher and the mentality of the west is freaking me out. I am now sitting in a coffee shop with a cup of black coffee that costs five times more than it would in Asia. It is essentially the same coffee, even if it tastes like it has been smoldering on the burner all morning. Gone are my days of lounging in Asia at pennies a day - they have been replaced by the European need to move. Time is money. Even sitting here, cell phones break my peace and I feel the cost of my hotel nearby.
Everyone in the west moves with a purpose. The streets are no longer full of people with idle hands and lots of time. Instead, the masses are hustling from place to place or hidden away in office complexes being productive. In this respect, the streets feel almost dead. In many ways, the life of a small village in Nepal feels more alive than the huge city of Athens.
The mentality of the west is efficient - like the woman in the sandwich shop in Athens who prepared food at a pace unseen in Asia. She was a one-woman production line who oozed perfection and made every movement count. I was amazed as she lined four bread rolls up and sliced each one with a quick swipe, concurrently checking her computer screen for orders. Then her hands went to work in a flurry of motion customizing orders and handing them out. Her movements ticked with all the precision of a Swiss watch.
The pace of her life was as "west" as the pace of a travel agency we visited in Kathmandu was "east." When we purchased tickets in Kathmandu for a simple flight, it took three people three hours to complete the task - they offered us tea, the office power went out, the modem connection was lost, and we chatted about the small things. The hurry was gone, replaced by casual conversation and a slower pace of life.
The mentality of the west is also material. It is a place where shiny glass and advertising frames stores selling luxury items such as designer clothes, cell phones, digital cameras, and leather shoes. At home I remember a feeling - a sick hunger almost - that urged me into stores and made me want to buy. This feeling literally made my mouth water and filled me with the anticipation of pleasure - a promised prize awaited my purchase, whether I bought a new CD or a new computer. And yet here in Athens, the advertising messages that surround me don't seem to have the same effect. I've slowed down to the pace of countries where the advertising is less conspicuous and people have only a fraction of the disposable income of the west.
When you trek in Nepal, there are no televisions or billboards. You have no need for fashion, as you wear what keeps you warm and you are not out to impress people. Your attention turns to your surroundings - to places that are magnificent. But after almost three weeks in the mountains, I leafed through a German fashion magazine that a tourist left behind in a mountain lodge. Its glossy content promised all image and no substance. I saw the whole fashion industry in a new light - where I once saw glamorous women, I now saw emaciated models with ridiculous makeup and clothes that cost more than the average yearly salary of a Nepalese porter. I laughed. The existence of the life in the magazine felt light years from mine.
So what will I be like when I have a new job and money? Once the precise targeting and name branding of western advertisers makes its way back into my consciousness? I'm sure I'll revert back to my old habits. But perhaps I'll be a little wiser all the same.