Tag Archives: Nepal

Sibling Revelry

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Brothers and sisters, lend me your ears. Today’s topic is siblings.

Many of us grew up with siblings. Now that we’re older and “not exactly retired,” we may remain close to them or, alternatively, not speak to them at all.

 

 

I’m lucky. I have two sisters — Ruth and Nancy — and we all get along well despite being very different people. We like each other’s spouses, too.  

However, we live in three different states, so getting together beyond weddings and other family events requires coordination and commitment. It’s easier than when we were working and had children living at home, but we still need to plan months in advance. 

 

 

We’ve been doing this enthusiastically recently, notably with a series of “heritage trips” to the hometowns of our three spouses to see where and how they grew up.

We started several years ago with a group trip to Nepal to meet some of Champa’s family and learn about her birthplace, which I knew well but my sisters had never seen. That’s us and some other family members in the photo above at Kathmandu’s Durbar Square.

 

 

Last year we met in upstate New York to visit the town where my younger sister’s husband, Joel, grew up. The photo shows us at the Airbnb farm we rented, the former home of renowned children’s author Maurice Sendak.

 

 

This past week, we met up in Butler, Pennsylvania, the hometown of my older sister’s husband, Irv. It’s where Donald Trump was shot in the ear two years ago during a presidential campaign rally at the field shown above.

We spent a day there, learning how Butler was the birthplace of the Jeep and a major producer of railcars and other industrial products before declining along with much of the Rust Belt. We had lunch with one of Irv’s family friends, saw the schools he attended and visited the cemetery where some of his relatives are buried. 

 

 

Then we shifted our focus to nearby Pittsburgh, where there was much more to see. We kept busy there visiting the Andy Warhol Museum (above), the National Aviary, the Duquesne Incline, the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens and other places, along with hanging out at our Airbnb in the Shadyside neighborhood. 

 

 

The highlight was touring the University of Pittsburgh with our granddaughter, a student there. That’s Paula in the photo with us beside Pitt’s Cathedral of Learning. 

 

 

Earlier, on our way to Pittsburgh, we visited her sister, Maya at West Chester University, above. We also stopped en route at the Flight 93 National Memorial near Shanksville, paying our respects at this field where the airplane crashed after passengers stormed the cockpit and prevented 9/11 hijackers from flying into the U.S. Capitol.

 

 

The six of us have also traveled elsewhere together, such as to Alaska and Argentina’s Patagonia, below.

 

Wait, you may wonder, didn’t my sisters and I ever fight when we were children? You bet we did, and we still know how to push each other’s buttons. Now that we’ve reached this stage of life, though, we better appreciate how fortunate we are to have each other, and our spouses, and to make time to spend together.

Even better, we no longer have to share a bathroom.

Top photo: Pittsburgh skyline, from the top station of the Duquesne Incline.

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How Indonesia Moves

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How would you react if you saw the family in the photo below riding down the street? They’re all on a single motorcycle. Neither kid has a helmet. The daughter is reading a smartphone while her dad drives. 

Would you be amused? Worried? Outraged? 

Since arriving in Indonesia several days ago, I’ve developed a different reaction: unsurprised. It’s something I’ve seen repeatedly here, as with this family:

In America, we have more than 30 cars for every motorcycle. In Indonesia, there are about five motorcycles for every car. In Nepal, where we also saw families routinely riding on motorcycles together, the ratio is similar. In Vietnam, whose motorcycle traffic awed us, there are ten or more scooters and motorcycles for every car. 

Motorcycles in these countries are much cheaper to buy and maintain than cars. They use less fuel. They’re better at navigating traffic jams and are easier to park. 

In all three of these countries, and in much of the world, scooters and motorcycles are the backbone of the transportation system.

These photos show just some of the many ways people use them in Indonesia — not only for their families, but to transport everything from building supplies to crops.

Indonesians who order a ride on Grab — like Uber back home — are more likely to choose a motorcycle instead of a car. It’s cheaper and faster for navigating the dense traffic in Jakarta and other cities.

Another option for short trips is walking, but many sidewalks here are uneven or nonexistent, so pedestrians end up walking alongside fast-moving traffic, breathing vehicle exhaust along with the smog. Buses are often packed and slow. 

The predominance of motorcycles here is a big contrast with our own country, where we have a car for nearly every person. Motorcycles are mostly recreational, not primary transport, although situations obviously vary. 

Road speeds are generally lower in Asia but motorcycle accidents can still be devastating and the sheer numbers and limited emergency care response amplify the toll. Head injuries are one of the leading causes of death in road accidents across Southeast Asia. 

Helmets dramatically reduce that risk. Yet in many countries, enforcement of helmet laws is inconsistent. 

I wish these kids were all wearing helmets but helmets cost money, especially if they need to be replaced regularly for growing children. I also recognize that some Americans who ride motorcycles would prefer to forego helmets. More to the point, visitors to our country might be just as critical of our gun violence, our giant SUVs, our obesity and other things we consider normal.

Champa and I own a single car, an aging Prius that’s equipped with airbags and other safety features. All of our neighbors own cars and most have two or more. We’re all privileged to take our cars for granted. 

If we’d been born in this part of the world, we might be crowding together on motorcycles, too. Not that four of us would ever fit on one. 

Nepal

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I fell in love with Nepal more than 50 years ago — first as a trekker, then as a Peace Corps Volunteer. It’s the birthplace of my wife, Champa, and it remains close to my heart. I’ve returned to Nepal many times and have written about it often on this blog. Here are some favorite posts:

Animal Market

Bandipur

Champa’s Family

Cheese Factories

Currency, Changed Appearance

Death-Defying Mountain Taxis

Earthquake, 2015

Falgunanda and Limbu Religion

Family Trip Video 2015

Former Student Reaches Out After Years

Gorkha

Grandchildren Visit, Video, 2022

Ilam

Indigenous Filmmakers

Jomsom

Kathmandu

Maanghope Religious Ceremony

Momo Dumplings in Australia, New Zealand

Mountains Compared to Others Worldwide

NY Times Op-Ed Article I Wrote About Nepal

Peace Corps Service Compared to Moldova

Prosperity Relative to India

School, New, in Samalbung (with video)

Sunrise Peaks

Tika Ceremonies on the Forehead

Peace Corps

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I served twice as a Peace Corps Volunteer — in Nepal and Moldova — and have been active in the Peace Corps community. Here are some of my posts about what it means to be a Volunteer and how Peace Corps service has changed

Older Peace Corps Volunteers — a special section

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Balancing the Three Peace Corps Goals

Champa’s “Full Circle” with Peace Corps

How Tech Changes the PCV Experience

Older and Younger PCV Friends

Peace Corps Macho, Glorifying Sickness

Touching Lives, Years Later

‘Wealthy” Neighbors of Developing Countries

Why Volunteers Serve

WorldView Magazine Profile

The Hopeful Horizon

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We did a lot of traveling in 2025 but we couldn’t escape the chaos of what was happening back home.

Champa and I decided after last year’s election to spend more time abroad. We journeyed from Australia to Sri Lanka to the Balkans, pursuing our passion for travel while trying to put America’s troubles in our rearview mirror. 

But we couldn’t avoid them, no matter where we steered.

We passed this van in Galle, Sri Lanka.

When we visited New Zealand at the beginning of the year, we had dinner with a group of Canadians who asked why our country was disrespecting them despite Canada being our closest friend. In Kathmandu, we had lunch with friends who live next door to an apartment complex where USAID employees were in the process of moving out.

People held candles at this October gathering in Frankfurt that celebrated Germany’s reunification and embrace of tolerance and diversity.

In Dubai, we visited at the same time our president was in town toasting the country’s autocratic leaders. In Germany, we attended a candlelight ceremony honoring diversity and cultural inclusion — the same values under siege back home. 

Our friends in Moldova, where we served in the Peace Corps, wondered why the United States was slashing its support of their neighbor, Ukraine. Throughout our travels, our hotel televisions aired discussions about the United States turning away from its democratic allies.

Our visit to Sarajevo was a powerful reminder of war and genocide’s impact on future generations.

We spent about half of the year in the United States, where we watched some friends lose their jobs helping developing countries and other friends struggle to continue their life-saving scientific research. Several people I hired at Duke University more than a decade ago were forced out by budget cuts. 

When we had dessert at a friend’s house in Durham, one of the other guests told us her fiancé had just been locked up by ICE. Another local friend said she was reluctantly changing careers because there’s so little funding for public health. At a community organization where I volunteer in Durham, they’re facing serious budget pressures. At another Durham nonprofit where I help prepare and serve food, they’re coping with layoffs and program cuts.

We saw road signs for USAID projects in Nepal and other countries we visited.

Both at home and abroad, it’s been impossible to escape the ugliness that defined America this past year and metastasized beyond our shores. Even in remote areas of Nepal, where Champa and I traveled to dedicate a school we helped to build, we saw road signs for USAID projects that have since ended.

We plan to continue pursuing our travel passion in 2026. We’re leaving town again in a few weeks and will embark on an extended Asian trip in March, with West Africa and other destinations to follow. We’re at a stage in life where we want to keep going while we still can, always aware of how privileged we are to do this. 

This memorial in Christchurch, New Zealand, recalls how former Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern embraced members of the city’s Muslim community following an attack on a mosque — a striking contrast with what we’ve come to expect at home.

As we look ahead, though, we’ll no longer pretend to ourselves that we can, or should, separate ourselves from what’s happening. That’s proven impossible. Instead, especially as the midterm elections approach, we’ll broaden our volunteer focus and spend more of our non-travel time working to help reclaim our country.

I keep reminding myself that it’s always darkest before the dawn. During this holiday season, at the end of a stressful year, I’m grateful for our family and friends and counting our many personal blessings, but I’m also looking to the horizon.

Top photo: One of our year’s highlights was helping to dedicate the new school in Samalbung, Nepal.

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Ten Years

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It’s been ten years.

One decade ago this month I walked away from a job I loved to shake up my comfortable life and try something new. 

I stepped down as the head of news and communications at Duke University, surprising my outstanding team. We’d been working together for years to respond to research discoveries, sports championships, weather emergencies, campus protests and more, as well as to the rise of social media and other dramatic changes to the media landscape. 

With Keith Lawrence at the Durham Bulls Athletic Park. The photo I’m holding, signed by my colleagues, shows a sign tracking the number of days since Duke’s last scandal.

Duke sent me off with a big reception at a local theater and, as shown in the photo, an informal farewell at the Durham Bulls baseball stadium.

Less than a week later, Champa and I embarked on an 11,000-mile drive around the United States, followed by an extended trip to Nepal. That’s where the two of us met in 1977 when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, posted to the same school where she was teaching. 

Visiting the Soroca Fortress in Moldova.

Finally, after a short break, we got rid of much of our stuff, rented our house and moved to Moldova, in Eastern Europe, to begin serving together as Peace Corps Volunteers.

I chronicled our three-year adventure on this blog and in my book. Since returning to Durham in 2018, we’ve continued pursuing our “not exactly retired” lifestyle, joining a growing number of older Americans who have been redefining retirement as more than leisure — and redefining themselves in the process. 

Several news outlets profiled us as examples of this trend, which in our case has meant extensive travel, volunteering and spending time with family and a network of friends that reaches around the world.

I’ve never looked back. 

I enjoyed my career and still miss my Duke colleagues, some of whom recently lost their jobs because of federal funding cuts, but I knew it was time for a change. Just like when I graduated college and chose to backpack across Europe, Asia and Africa with a friend instead of following my classmates to graduate school, I wanted to grab life and see what else it offered.

Visiting Tallinn Town Square in Estonia.

As I’ve approached this ten-year milestone, I know how lucky I’ve been. I left my job before the Covid pandemic and current funding crisis. Champa and I finished our service in Moldova before the pandemic and war in neighboring Ukraine forced the Peace Corps to halt its operations. We’ve been fortunate with our finances, health and family responsibilities. We could have encountered some disaster while traveling abroad, or at home, but we’ve been fine.

I launched this blog to share with friends our initial drive around the United States, never expecting it to continue so long or to reach people in more than 100 countries. I’ve loved hearing from readers with questions about the Peace Corps or early retirement, or just seeking encouragement to make a leap themselves.

Some of the other older volunteers who served with us in Peace Corps Moldova.

As I’ve told them repeatedly, my message is not “join the Peace Corps!” That’s a good choice for some people but not for others, assuming they get past the rigorous application process. Rather, I’ve urged readers to be intentional about their lives, to choose instead of drift, regardless of their interests. We all have dreams, whether it’s to launch a business, start a nonprofit or master a new skill. It’s often possible to pursue that dream, even on a limited scale, while respecting the real-world complexities that come with it.

Champa and I plan to keep going as long as we can. We’re traveling more than usual now so as to remain outside the United States during its current turmoil. You’ll see soon where we’re heading next. As we approach the next election, however, and as we get older, we will reevaluate. One of the main benefits of the past ten years is how comfortable we’ve become with uncertainty and change. 

Delivering food for the Food Bank of Central & Eastern North Carolina during the pandemic.

Veering from our traditional American lives has enriched us immeasurably. These riches have come not in additional paychecks but in the people we’ve met, the places we’ve seen and the memories we’ve made, all while remaining centered with our family and friends. As we’ve learned on the road, we are far from unique in doing this. Many other older people with widely varying budgets and circumstances are also traveling off the beaten path and blazing their own trails. 

I know how privileged we are to be among them. Not everyone can do this; family obligations, finances, medical limitations and other constraints are real. But it is possible to resist letting fear or habit prevent us from living with purpose. We can choose to make room for what truly matters to us.

Visiting the new school we recently helped build in Samalbung, Nepal.

An old Peace Corps slogan says: Life is calling. How far will you go? As we wrap up our first decade of being “not exactly retired,” Champa and I are grateful for how far we’ve gone and still looking forward to whatever comes next.

Thanks for joining us on the journey.

Top photo: Resting after a camel ride in Morocco.

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Dazzling Autocracy

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Dubai and Abu Dhabi were impressive when we visited last week. Our overlap with President Trump’s trip to the region was coincidental but instructive.

Millions of people have flocked to the United Arab Emirates from around the world. They seek higher-paying jobs and better lives amid growing skylines, bustling airports, a modern metro system and luxurious shopping centers.

What they don’t find are democratic institutions. UAE’s citizens, who comprise a small percentage of the population, cannot change their government and have limited human rights.

The same is true of Qatar and Saudi Arabia, which President Trump also visited last week. Thanks to their oil riches, all three nations have transformed over the past half-century from poor agrarian societies into modern global powers. Champa and I visited Qatar’s capital, Doha, two years ago, and were amazed, just as we were in the UAE.

Yet I wouldn’t want to live in any of these countries. As an American, I am unwilling to compromise my freedom to speak out, criticize the government and write an article like this one. 

I recognize my good fortune in asserting this. If I were poorer and felt no stake in the political system, my overwhelming concern might be to improve my economic situation.

The UAE exemplifies the beguiling appeal of autocracy. Its royal families can act with few constraints from courts, legislatures, reporters or protestors. They have used their extraordinary power and wealth to build schools, hospitals, roads and shopping malls, creating jobs for millions of people while enhancing their own fortunes.

You can make a similar case for China and some other nations that have prospered over the past several decades. Their leaders have immense power and can be ruthless and corrupt, but they often get things done.

In our own country, by comparison, our political system struggles to solve anything, from the price of eggs to protecting our borders. Recent successes have been limited.

It’s not just that these Mideast monarchies have so much money. Consider Bhutan, where we spent several days before flying to Dubai. It’s vastly different from the UAE — poorer, Himalayan and Buddhist. It is remote and idyllic, with a “democratic constitutional monarchy.” Yet its unelected king retains enormous influence.

Here, too, the people we met — a tiny sample — enjoy living there. Bhutan has made great strides in reducing extreme poverty. It’s currently building a “mindfulness city” that was glowingly profiled on 60 Minutes. Many of its young people have left to pursue opportunities abroad, including in the Gulf, but Bhutan has been a success story compared to many of its neighbors. We traveled there from Sri Lanka and Nepal, two fragile democracies beset by poverty and political strife.

Of course, during the past year we’ve also traveled to Portugal, Canada, Australia and New Zealand — countries with both strong democracies and healthy economies. At the other end of the spectrum, I’ve visited autocracies that provide neither freedom nor prosperity. And to be clear, I am appalled by the corruption and cruelty taking hold in my own country, and by the recent attacks on science, education, diversity and other ideals central to my career.

Furthermore, I know the people I met in the UAE may have hidden what they really believe, and people everywhere are motivated by more than economics. Autocracy’s rise in our own country has many roots.

So all of this is complicated, to be sure. And, no, this trip didn’t change my mind about what I value. Yet traveling to the UAE, especially while Trump was there, made me think anew about why so many people, including fellow Americans, are willing to accept autocracy. I don’t agree with them. I think we must solve our problems ourselves, without autocrats who often make things worse. But after seeing these gleaming cities up close, I find it easier to understand why some people might make choices different from mine.

When autocracy dazzles, it’s hard to see anything else.

Rethinking Bhutan

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Bhutan has been widely hailed as the champion of “gross national happiness,” but I had my doubts.

I’ve never forgotten its mass deportation of ethnic Nepalis in the 1990s. More than 100,000 people languished for years in refugee camps. Ever since, I’ve avoided going there. Until now.

I kept hearing glowing reports from friends who visited Bhutan. There was also no denying Bhutan’s leadership in showing how a country can advance while protecting its own culture and environment.

So, this past week, I finally traveled there with Champa from Kathmandu. We arranged a quick tour with an excellent local company, visiting Thimphu, Punakha and Paro. 

And now, I have to admit it: Bhutan is pretty wonderful.

It’s like Nepal in many ways, with terraced fields and snow-capped mountains, but it’s cleaner, calmer and easier. As we drove from the airport in Paro to the capital, Thimphu, there was no trash on the road. No blaring horns. The rivers were clear. The air was pure. Everything was well-maintained. 

Many people wear Bhutan’s distinctive national dress — the kira for women and the gho for men. Every building has traditional architectural motifs. Prayer flags are everywhere. So are photos of the royal family. Bhutan’s beauty surrounds you. 

We visited many of the main tourist spots, including several dzongs, or fortified monasteries, and the breathtaking Dochula Pass, whose 108 memorial stupas frame white peaks of the Himalayas. We climbed partway up a mountain to view the Tiger’s Nest monastery, which clings to the side of a cliff (top photo).

We visited a “fertility temple” along a path whose shops feature ornamental penises. We bathed in tubs heated by hot stones, tasted the local momos and drank homemade alcohol with a Bhutanese family. 

Like I said: pretty wonderful. 

So now I’ve joined the ranks of Bhutan’s many admirers. Bhutan requires visitors to travel with a guide and imposes a hefty daily fee, so it’s more expensive than a typical trip to Nepal, which is why our own trip was short. But Bhutan is also gentler for Western visitors, especially those who haven’t experienced South Asia previously. 

Personally, I’m much more likely to return to Nepal instead of Bhutan in the future. That’s where our family is and where my heart lies. I speak Nepali and feel at home in the chaos of Kathmandu traffic and the paths of Champa’s hometown. Nepal is also a much bigger country, with a population of nearly 30 million people versus 800,000 for Bhutan. 

Yet I’m glad we finally gave Bhutan a chance and I’d recommend it to anyone wanting to explore the Himalayas. The scenery is stunning, the people are friendly and it’s fascinating to learn how this small country is charting its own development path based on gross national happiness — something we could use a lot more of ourselves back home these days. 

New School Video

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The school we helped build in Nepal is now open. (See post.) This video tells the story. Also on YouTube.

Samalbung’s New School

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The new school we’ve been helping to build in a Nepalese village has finally opened!

The local community dedicated it on April 30 in a colorful ceremony filled with dances, songs, speeches and food. We traveled there to join the celebration.

The school is more beautiful than we’d dared to dream and the community couldn’t be happier. 

The Vidhya Mandir Boarding School in the eastern village of Samalbung has 126 students, many from indigenous and marginalized groups. School fees are low and some students receive full or partial scholarships. 

The attractive two-story structure, with a lovely view of the Himalayas, is a huge improvement over the previous school, which was in terrible condition. The students now have a much brighter future. 

The two of us have spent the past year working with a team at the school to design and construct the new building. We also raised funds for the project through a GoFundMe site and direct contributions. 

We were overwhelmed by the response from family, friends, Not Exactly Retired readers, Returned Peace Corps Volunteers, Friends of Nepal and others. 

Their generous contributions totaled more than $24,000, which covered a significant share of the costs. The two of us funded most of the budget. The school community prepared the site, donated money, contributed labor and supported the school in other ways, from providing wood from their trees to feeding the workers.

I’ve posted some photos here and produced a short video so you can see the new school and celebration for yourself. You can watch the video above or on YouTube.

We are grateful to everyone who opened their hearts (and wallets) to assist these young people. We extend special thanks to Santosh Khapung, Bindu Suwal, Shankar Limbu, and Pooja and Sabin Shrestha for all of their help to us during this project. 

Thank you — and enjoy the video.