A gunman just shot up a school in Oregon, Hurricane Joaquin is bearing down on the East Coast and Donald Trump is still running for president, but you wouldn’t know any of that here in Kathmandu. The big news since we arrived three days ago has been India’s blockade of gasoline supplies into Nepal.

This gas station and others are usually busy with customers. Since Thursday, however, the Nepalese government has banned petrol sales to private vehicles, accelerating a local sense of crisis. A day earlier, we passed hundreds of motorcyclists waiting in a line stretching across several city blocks. Cars waited in similar lines, often to no avail.

India is acting in support of Nepalis of Indian descent and others who have been protesting what they consider unfair representation in the country’s new constitution, which the major political parties recently adopted after years of dispute. Since almost all of Nepal’s fuel passes through India, the blockade was immediately disruptive, including to our own travel plans. As I write this, there are tentative reports of a resolution. We’ll see what happens.

Personally, I’ve been more distracted by the simple pleasures of Nepal, which have surrounded us since we arrived. Champa and I went out to dinner with our nephew and his wife, for instance, and enjoyed local delicacies such as these delicious momos, or dumplings. The bill for the four of us, with drinks, was less than $13. As we took a long walk on Friday afternoon, far from the tourist areas, we passed children playing next to temples, women working in lush wheat fields, ducks waddling across the street and students with ties and backpacks returning home from school.

I’ve also been charmed by the signs on Nepal’s local shops, which continue to use English in unexpected ways. (“Fooding and lodging” remains a standard.) The sign for this tattoo parlor appeals to “ladies and gents.” Nearby was a shop selling Mountain Dew, which is manufactured locally and called “Dew” by everyone. We also passed this Hindu swastika on someone’s house — not unusual in Nepal, but still a reminder that we’re no longer home.

We’ve seen lots of evidence of the April earthquake, which will be the subject of my next post. If you have reactions or comments, please share them here!

This image has been on my mind lately, as we prepare to hit the road again for our next big adventure.

On Thursday, we’re leaving Durham for a quick visit to Maryland, a big family party in Philadelphia and then off to Nepal for nearly two months.

That’s why I’m thinking about the photo. If you think it shows a Nepali home devastated by this past spring’s earthquake — well, good guess, but wrong. It’s actually a home we saw in New Orleans during our cross-country drive this summer. We looked beyond Bourbon Street and other tourist areas to see how the Lower Ninth Ward and other poorer neighborhoods were faring nearly a decade after Hurricane Katrina. Although we saw too many homes like the one at the top, we also saw lots of newer homes like these, built by the Make It Right Foundation — Brad Pitt’s organization — and by individual homeowners.

Shorty after we returned to Durham, the airwaves were filled with retrospective stories about “New Orleans, Ten Years Later.” They showed some of the same neighborhoods we had just seen ourselves. To be sure, our visit to New Orleans was brief and superficial, but still we felt a connection to what was on our screen. As I wrote during our trip, we also came face to face with California’s drought, Western wildfires, the U.S. border area with Mexico and other issues that no longer seemed so distant. Simultaneously, we explored America’s incredible beauty, history and diversity. On the same day we took the photos in the Lower Ninth Ward, for instance, we had a great time strolling across town along the Mississippi River, shown here. In general, we were filled with new experiences and insights every day.

After driving 11,000 miles and visiting 31 states over seven weeks, we were pretty tired when we got home. Since then, we’ve been resting up, seeing family and getting ready for Adventure #2, in the Himalayas.

We didn’t know before we left in July whether we would find these extended trips as invigorating as we expected. We’d always loved to travel but still … that’s a lot of miles, and we were so busy with everything that we barely knew what else was happening in the world. It turned out we loved it even more than we hoped.

Now we leave on an even more challenging journey, this time to the country where we started our life together. We expect to spend some time in Kathmandu, then travel to Champa’s home town of Ilam, in eastern Nepal. Soon after we return to Kathmandu, we’ll welcome several members of our U.S. family, for a group trip and a meet-up of the two clans.

Sorry, but we weren’t able to get a visa for G, the Blue Devil gnome, who will be staying home this time. However, I do expect to post on this blog, depending on the availability of electricity and an Internet connection, and hope some of you will find the journey interesting. Fingers crossed. Off we go again. Until we reach the other side of the world: Namaste for now.

You have to look hard in the William J. Clinton Presidential Library & Museum in Little Rock to find the most memorable event of his presidency.

Champa and I loved the library, which has impressive displays about how his administration dealt with the economy, foreign affairs, the environment and other issues. There are replicas of the Oval Office and the Cabinet Room, a glittering table set with White House china and a powerful video recounting the first presidential campaign.

However, the impeachment battle is limited to a single alcove that emphasizes Republican partisanship. There’s no photo of Monica Lewinsky, no “it depends on what the meaning of ‘is’ is” and no real acknowledgement that Clinton did anything wrong that might have brought on the Republican attacks. Our tour guide pointed out the exhibit, quickly, and then glided us past it.

I voted for Bill Clinton twice and admire most aspects of his presidency and subsequent career. I opposed his impeachment at the time and am glad he remained in office. Nonetheless, I was disappointed by how his library dealt with the impeachment battle, presumably at his direction. It felt evasive and self-serving, at least to me.

I found it to be in sharp contrast with the History Museum of Mobile, Alabama, which we visited three days earlier. Much to our surprise, that museum included an extensive display about the city’s legacy of slavery and Jim Crow. The display encouraged visitors to try on some of the heavy leg irons worn by slaves and to consider the prices white residents of Mobile paid for slaves of different sexes and ages.

When we were in Austin a few days before that, we visited the LBJ Presidential Library. Although less polished and engaging than Clinton’s, the LBJ library included a substantial exhibit about Vietnam. Not surprisingly, the exhibit emphasized the uncertainties and political pressures Johnson faced in the conflict, as well as the toll it took on him and his family. But it made clear that Johnson made mistakes and bears at least some responsibility for what occurred.

While we were in Little Rock, Champa and I also visited the Little Rock Central High School National Historic Site, which is across the street from where one of the great battles of the Civil Rights Movement unfolded as a shocked national audience watched on television. A guide took us and another couple into the school, where the diverse current students recently returned from summer vacation. We paused at several of the spots where the story took place, imagining the screaming white mobs, federal troops and black students whose brave steps changed history. The exhibit hall displayed the white racism in all of its ugliness, even though some of the participants still live in the city today.

Having worked in communications for many years, I know how challenging it can be for people and institutions to deal forthrightly with controversial topics. I certainly didn’t expect the Clinton Library to display the blue dress or Monica’s beret. However, I was hoping for a bit more self-reflection and humility, especially now that so many years have passed, and thought such a presentation would have made the “Republican partisanship!” spin more believable. Apparently not.

“Texas” and “energy” usually go together with “oil.”

Well, here’s another fact to consider: Texas also has the most installed wind power capacity of any state in the country. As illustrated in this photo, we saw lots of wind turbines as we drove east across the state from El Paso to Beaumont.

So, too, in Montana, where these were among the many wind turbines we saw from the highway:

As we’ve made our way across the country, we’ve also seen wind turbines in California, the Midwest and elsewhere.

We’ve been pleasantly surprised to see wind energy becoming more common, at least based on our own limited observations. This isn’t to say the United States is shifting quickly enough from fossil fuels to wind power and other renewables; obviously, much more action is needed, especially as climate change accelerates.

Yet even G has been encouraged by what we’ve seen blowing in the wind as we’ve driven around the country. He posed for this photo in La Grange, Texas, the city immortalized by ZZ Top. We didn’t tell him the windmill behind him is for pumping water, not generating electricity. After all, we figured, it’s still turning in the right direction.

They’re domed, they’re grand and we enjoy them: state capitol buildings.

Admittedly, our interest is a little weird, but we’ve learned that capitol buildings often provide insight into how a state thinks about itself. They’re typically filled with exhibits, portraits and a sense of place that compensates for all of the self-important young legislative aides scurrying across the polished floors.

On Sunday, we visited two capitol buildings, both in Jackson, the capital of Mississippi. The one with the five columns in front is the old capitol, which served as the statehouse from 1839 until 1905. It was restored after suffering damage from Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, and now serves as a museum.
You can see one of its exhibits, which depict Mississippi’s history and, yes, discuss slavery, the civil rights struggle and other difficult aspects of the state’s past. (We were even more impressed by the extensive displays about these topics at Mobile’s history museum, which we visited a day earlier.)

The dome with the scaffolding is Mississippi’s current capitol, located a few blocks away. Nearby are Mississippi’s magnificent governor’s mansion, the Eudora Welty library and other landmarks.

Earlier in our trip, we visited the capitol buildings for Iowa, Washington and Texas, shown here.

Des Moines, Iowa:  Olympia, Washington:

Austin, Texas:

I especially enjoy listening to the tour guides describe complicated historical events or respond to sensitive questions. Our guide in Austin, for instance, kept saying “we” when referring to the Texans who fought the Mexican forces at the Alamo. In Madison, Wisconsin, which we visited a few years ago, our young guide did her best to avoid mentioning the battle then under way to recall Gov. Scott Walker, who is now running for president. In Augusta, Maine, one of the Democratic Party leaders saw us wandering in the hall. She showed us around personally while describing her battles with Paul LePage, the state’s colorful Tea Party governor. It was an insightful — and hilarious — experience we never anticipated.

So, the next time you’re visiting a state and are looking for a fun (and free!) way to learn about it, go visit its capitol building. You never know who you might run into.

I bet that sign got your attention.

As someone who works in communications, I’m always interested in how people and businesses share their messages. Champa and I saw some funny examples Wednesday night as we strolled along Sixth Street, the heart of Austin’s bar scene. Here are a couple of the other signs we passed:

There was even advertising above the urinals in the men’s bathroom:

Here’s one interesting statistic from our evening: Of the nine middle-aged women sitting near us in the restaurant, eight had blonde hair. Welcome to Texas! Here we are, with me doing some research. (We’re drinking water. Really.)

We hope Austin stays weird, as its slogan says. Great town! Now, on to New Orleans.

If this video snippet that we shot along Route 9 in New Mexico looks like nothing more to you than an empty highway, look more closely. What you’re seeing is one of our country’s biggest controversies: its “unprotected” southern border.

We shot the video on Monday while driving from Tucson through Arizona and New Mexico into Texas, where we finally stopped for the night east of El Paso. (We’ve since moved on to San Antonio, to be followed by Austin and New Orleans.)

We expected this long drive to be highlighted by our morning stops in the tourist towns of Tombstone and Bisbee, as well as Douglas, all in Arizona. Instead, since we steered off Route 10 to travel along Route 40 and Route 9, we spent most of the day thinking about our country’s immigration controversy. (We traveled the route shown in blue on the map instead of the more conventional route shown in grey.)

Route 9 straddles the U.S. border with Mexico, which makes it a focal point for the U.S. Border Patrol. It was pretty empty when we traveled it. Minutes might pass before we saw another car. Even though the road is in good condition and its speed limit is 65 miles per hour in most places, it didn’t attract many drivers.

What we did see was the Border Patrol, driving on the road, parked along the shoulder or otherwise making its presence felt. Champa and I kept count: along the 227 miles between Douglas and El Paso, we saw the Border Patrol 11 times.

After we entered El Paso, where Mexico’s Ciudad Juarez is so close you can almost look inside people’s homes, we continued to see the Border Patrol. For instance, we stopped at this checkpoint long after we passed through El Paso.

If you do the math, we saw the Border Patrol once every 20 miles or so. Of course, that’s only what we saw from the road. Presumably, there were many more Border Patrol vehicles closer to the border, not to mention aerial surveillance and who knows what else.

Is that a big presence, given the scope of the controversy? I claim no expertise and can’t even venture a guess, much less offer a solution for the complicated politics, ethics and other aspects of the immigration debate. All I know is that for us, two Americans from North Carolina, it was sobering to confront — and to ponder all the lives, resources and controversy represented by this glimpse. As we experienced earlier with Western wildfires and California’s drought,  we came face to face with an issue that had previously been an abstraction. Our road map didn’t list it but, yet again, we found it just the same.

We stopped for coffee at a Starbucks near San Diego this afternoon. The interior looked pretty much like a Starbucks back in North Carolina, but the exterior, shown here, had a distinctly California feel. Likewise for the Domino’s alongside it.

Across the parking lot was a branch of Wells Fargo Bank, with an appearance quite unlike its counterparts back east. You don’t see many red roofs like that in North Carolina, except maybe at a La Quinta hotel or an older Taco Bell.

Not far from the shopping center was this street in La Jolla.  With its fabulous border of palm trees, it looked quite unlike 15-501 or any other road in Durham. The Art Deco vibe reminded me of Miami’s South Beach.

As we’ve traveled across the country, we’ve marveled at the changing physical landscape, with cornfields in Indiana and Iowa giving way to vast ranges in the Dakotas and majestic peaks in the Rockies. More recently, along the West Coast, giant redwood forests have been followed by scrublands and crashing coastlines. But it’s not only the landscape that’s changed along our journey; so have the architecture and built environment.

We’ve seen our environment change not only in coffee shops and pizza joints, but also in homes and other structures. In Pasadena, for instance, we stayed overnight with our friend Susan, shown here with her daughter Kai. Her home was built in a traditional California style, with a small pool in the back. (Close observers will recognize the pool as the favorite of a certain gnome.)

To be sure, some businesses and structures here look the same as they do in North Carolina and other parts of the country, albeit with tweaks to meet local building codes. We’ve tracked this as we’ve moved along, trying to figure out where and how things are the same or different, and why. It’s reminded me of those high school exams asking you to “compare and contrast,” although it’s been much more fun.

Tomorrow (Friday) morning we’re driving to Las Vegas, and we’re already wondering whether the Starbucks will feature flashing neon. The oddsmakers say yes. Stay tuned.

On Monday afternoon, we saw a lake with no water. The sight was chilling and showed starkly the severity of California’s drought.

Until this year, Lake Laguna — yes, that translates as Lake Lake — had provided a provided a thriving urban oasis for residents of San Luis Obispo and others along California’s central coast. People brought their boats and children played on the shore. Homeowners constructed docks next to their backyards.

Now those docks rest above a parched lakebed. Children play in the lake, not beside it. Fish are long gone. Signs warning swimmers to take care without a lifeguard remain affixed to docks that rise high above the ground.

Champa and I visited the park while in San Luis Obispo. We had a couple of hours to kill and saw it listed on a website as a nice place to take a leisurely hike. The website did not include the new information that Lake Lake no longer looks like a lake.

We chatted there with a young woman playing with her dog, who told us she has lived in the area her entire life and had never before seen the lake become dry. She described the fish stinking as they rotted a year earlier and wondered aloud whether the lake would ever return.

The drought is unavoidable here in California. But until today, it had been somewhat abstract to us. No longer, and the experience only increases my disgust with timid presidential candidates who insist in the face of overwhelming evidence that climate change is uncertain. Perhaps the next Republican debate should be held here at Lake Laguna, the lake with no water.