There is a very distinct rhythm to life in the developing world –things happen day after day often enough that you just forget that life could be lived any other way. For me, carrying toilet paper in every pocket of my clothes was just second nature. My whole days in Nepal were built around the timing of electricity for the day. Another fun part of traveling throughout India and Nepal…hand-washing laundry. Ahh, that is one of those things that just becomes a part of the routine.

In India we were able always find an extremely cheap laundry service where a women would take the pile of dirty clothes (minus the underwear – those you have to hand wash all throughout the country) early in the morning then wash ‘em, dry ‘em and give them back in a neat stack at the end of the day. The funny thing about Indian laundry – it’s completely authentic and ages your clothes about one year for every washing…just picture that every item of clothing you have seen me wear in the pictures has been slapped onto rocks, beaten into the earth, and stains were scrubbed clean with stones…the nubs on my clothes popped up within the first washing.

But, not to be a complainer because arriving in Pharping to teach I was informed that my own to arms would now have to scrub and beat the dirt out of my clothing using a small detergent cake, a big blue bucket, and a lot of elbow grease. Within the first washing my fingers were raw from the effort of rubbing clothes together. I began to dread doing the sniff test on my clothes and would pretend that they were clean for days longer than I would have if I’d had a laundry machine at my disposal (and don’t judge! the sniff test is a key secret to backpacker life…I could never wash my clothes nearly as frequently as I do at home…you just have to accept it, embrace it, do it, and move on!).

So with all of this in mind and my day to day life fairly acclimated to the intense pace and generally controlled chaos I headed back into the developed world with dreams of Italian gelato floating through my head. Touching down in Helsinki for my layover was the first time in a long time that I consciously noticed how poorly things work in the developing world! Stepping out of the plane I was greeted by more white people than I have seen in five months, the gleaming glow of electricity, and icy-cold air conditioning blasting through the entire airport – and WiFi throughout when we plugged in our computers!

I walked through the airport with Helen with my mouth agape at the gleaming clean, shining and blindingly bright advertisements sitting behind glossy glass and framed in a sophisticated black. Indians and Nepalis love color – lots of color…color on the walls, color in the clothes, it’s everywhere. Now though, there is more modernism and commercialism within one glance than I have seen in five months…and there I am in my grimy blue Indian kurtah that has weathered 22 hours in Delhi and a loooong flight to Helsinki. Woah…

Helsinki was a big shock…the bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and I had to actively resist the urge to grab some extra and stuff it in my pockets for later use…it took some serious self-control!  Helen and I had an absolutely hilarious crisis moment coming through customs in Helsinki. Helen had just purchased a mini-jar of Skippy peanut butter in Kathmandu (the perfect travel-sized jar) and the man scanning the bags pulled it out and informed us that it is considered a liquid.

In one of our classiest moments to-date we pulled out our travel spoons and began to shove the  heaping spoonfuls of peanut butter into our mouths. The security guard chuckled, the other passengers stared, and we concentrated on consuming the sticky substance as I fought the back a gagging urge to puke. Finally the guard gently removed the rest of the jar from our fingers and told us to move along…I really have nothing to say for myself except that it was born out of a love for peanut butter, a fear of never seeing peanut butter again, and the nonsensical state of mind that comes from 5 months in the developing world.

Helen and I spent our entire first week exclaiming “I forgot this existed!” “The train is on time…it’s here right now!!” or “Wow, it doesn’t smell like cow crap!” We oogled at the huge grocery stores and again…it was actually surreal to be surrounded by so many Caucasians and people speaking English everywhere we turned.

Good Bye Himalays - from plane out of Kathmandu

With a little taste of the first world under our belts we headed boarded our next flight that would take us to Milan, Italy…home of gelato and a meeting spot for Jenn!!  My dearest friend from Florida/LA emailed me several months ago for a rough outline of my itinerary and any of my locked down dates…she took that information, matched her flight to mine and arrived in Milan on the same day to join the backpacking trip for the three weeks through Italy and Croatia!  Jenn shares Helen and my love for hiking (ok, my love for hiking is overstated…it’s more love/hate!) and has a complete 100 percent matching love for ice cream in any and every form. The three of us started our journey with the knowledge that we were going to blow the budget out of the water for the ten days we were in Italy and instead just indulge our food senses on pasta, pizza, wine, and gelato. Welcome Jenn!