Category Archives: Finding Goodness

Welcome! Come in! Tea?

 

“Choi? Chay?”

These Tajik and Russian words will long echo in our ears and our hearts. They are more than an invitation for tea. They are a way into people’s homes and lives. They are reflections of a kind of hospitality people in today’s busy world don’t seem to have time for any more. These words have come to mean “Tajikistan” to us.

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Langar – Khorog

TORNEM A CAMINAR !

FINALMENT REPRENEM LA NOSTRA RUTA A PEU !!!!

Molt breument per qui no hagi llegit les nostres entrades anteriors, direm que caminades Tailàndia i Birmània, reprenem la nostra ruta a peu a Langar, una petita població a la vall de Wakhan, a la punta sud-est de Tadjikistan i davant d’ Afganistan, que es troba a l’ altre costat del riu.

Després de Birmània, no hem seguit per Bangladesh i l’ Índia per evitar el monsó i fem ara el centre d’ Àsia per evitar el seu duríssim hivern.

Per què Langar? Per que és possiblement el primer poble que ens trobarem / trobaríem seguint la nostra ruta des de l’ Índia i continuant per Pakistan. Anant cap al nord de Pakistan i suposadament creuant un trocet d’ Afganistan, entrarem / entraríem a Tadjikistan arribant a la vall de Wakhan. Fent la nostra ruta entrarem / entraríem per Langar, així que és des d’ aquí Langar que reprenem la nostra ruta a peu.

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Walking the Wakhan Valley

 

We round a bend on the bumpy road, and I am immediately spellbound. I want to ask the driver to stop the car so I can fall to my knees and bow in honor the beauty before me. My jaw keeps slipping towards my chest with each rock we roll over. My eyes tear up.

“My god. It’s beautiful.” I whisper over the lump in my throat. I can’t make my mouth spit out the words, “Stop, please, stop. We must see this greatness at a standstill.”

I have never before truly understood what compels climbers to summit the world’s biggest mountains, but now I catch a glimmer into their psyche. Staring at the Hindu Kush from the road snaking through Tajikistan’s southern corner, all I want to do is touch these faraway jagged, snowy peaks. Touching them with my eyes is not enough. I want to touch them with my soul.

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What Would Love Do?

I roll over on the bamboo poles serving as tonight’s mattress. Tired, aching muscles clench both sides of my shoulder blades, and my hips don’t quite fit in the small spaces between the tied poles. I can only wish for more sleep, but it’s a wasted wish. It’s 3:50 a.m., a few minutes before our alarms go off.

I take a rushed and restless breath, and on the exhale,  a single thought floods my brain and body. Thinking about it will consume many hours of many days, and eventually it will become one of my personal carry-on-warrior mantras: What would love do?

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