Normal

I think I lost my definition of normal the moment I stepped on that plane over one year ago. We all have experiences and preconceived ideas that shape our view of the world and define our boundaries on normal and perhaps the not-so-normal. Or in some cases plain out right weird and even wonderful. I am constantly reminded, challenged and tested on my boundaries. My comfort zone has been stretched to the max, and in some cases exploded. I have been profoundly smacked in the face with my fears and perhaps even harder still, the harsh bite of reality has given me a round or two. All of these things make life interesting and rewarding, sometimes challenging and heart breaking – but for the most, I guess it is what keeps me here.

Some of the places I have visited in the last year have truly tested me. From the rubbish and poverty in India, the orphans in Nepal, the crime in Guatemala.....but it was also the unexpected that I found challenging. The incredible waste in London, the obscene retail scene in New York, the harshness of the people in Paris – all of these situations you would say were once my “normal”. Cities like London, Paris and New York actually freaked me out more than any amount of rubbish in India. I felt out of place and foreign. It is something I have not thought about much, my definition of normal.  It wasn’t until recently when I had hung some washing out on my balcony only to come home and find my one and only yoga top missing. There was not much wind that day, so I thought it would be weird that it had been blown away. Highly unlikely someone would be able to get on to my balcony to steal it. Where could it be?? I was telling my friend and she said “oh the monkeys would’ve stolen it”. Of course. How silly of me to leave it there in the first place. 

Another blanket helps fight the cold outside.....

Monkeys stole my washing and I don’t bat an eye lid. It has become my normal. I walk past the piles of rubbish, the cows eating the piles of rubbish and I don’t even blink. The power goes out yet again and I simply light a candle. There is snow outside and I don’t have heat in my room so I wrap another blanket around me. And I won’t even begin to tell you about dating in this part of the world. That is a blog unto itself....out of the ball park for “normal”. So as I sit with my blanket around me for warmth, waiting for the power to come back on, I realise my sense of “normal” or what it used to be got left somewhere on that QANTAS flight. I was reminded yet again when I spoke with my Dad last night and he asked “how was your week? “ And I replied “pretty normal”. I began to tell him about tutoring students, oh then Wednesday we dressed in the traditional chupa and attended a prayer vigil for the Tibetan people who have lost their lives fighting for their freedom. Oh and then Friday we went to the temple to see His Holiness the Dalai Lama welcome Archbishop Desmond Tutu after which we had tea at a momola’s house (old lady) before heading out on Friday night where my friend DJ’d at the local “dance party”. My Dad laughed,” is that normal?? “I guess it is not, but in my world, it is really just a “normal week” in Mcleod Ganj.