Nature Journal 7

Tatopani, Nepal – March 19, 2019 – 8:00 a.m.

My classmates and I woke up early to pack our bags because today we were trekking up to Khibang village, the village we would be staying in for a week. I walked out of the room that I shared with two of my friends and I am welcomed by the sight of Nilgiri, one of main peaks in the Annapurna range of the Himalayas. The trek would take about four hours, so we ate a big breakfast at the tea house and started on our way. Before we left Kathmandu, one of our last language lessons was trekking vocabulary. We learned words for swinging bridge, rest points, and steep cliffs. As we walked up, we practiced our language skills we our teachers (when we got back to the city, we had our final exams).

I have asthma so I stayed a little behind some of my friends. I am thankful for this ailment because it forced me to take many mini breaks to catch my breath. While walking, I kept my eyes down on the rocky terrain but during these breaks, I looked around and admired the views. After a few hours, we came across a group of construction workers who were working on a road. They stayed in tents while building so we stopped to take a break and chat with them. There were goats nearby, so my classmates and I gravitated towards them. We were able to play with some of the babies.

I ran out of water before we got to the village. I was able to fill up my water bottle at a small shop, but I had to wait 30 minutes before I could drink because I was using iodine tablets to purify my water. It ended up working out because soon after, we saw the distinctive blue roofs of the village. Seeing our destination inspired a second wind in the group and we pushed on towards our home for the next week.

Nature Journal 6

I found Leonardo DiCaprio’s documentary “Before the Flood” to be incredibly engaging. His educational journey to learn more about the issues related to climate change is similar to my own. I was first confronted with the reality of our world’s consumption habits when I was living in southern China in the summer of 2018. I took a ferry from Guangzhou to Hong Kong and saw countless shipping craters, ready to take all of the world’s stuff to the ends of the earth. I had my eyes glued to the window for the entire four-hour journey because I had never conceptualized what it means to be the world’s producer. I saw the waste and pollution that comes with it, as the Chinese government tries to keep up waste management policies in a booming city with 13 million people.

Fast forward a year and a half, I’m talking with farmers in rural mountain regions of India and Nepal. Their crops are irrigated by waters that melt from the glaciers in the Himalayas. They attribute many of their problems with crop yields and pests to global warming and climate change. We were instructed to take their testimonies with a grain of salt; many of them blame climate change because it is an easy scapegoat. Regardless of the scale of climate change effects, it is real, and it is having an adverse effect on some of the most vulnerable populations in the world. This is what stuck with me. I can choose to ignore these issues because my life in the U.S. is easy; I’m not confronted with the consequences of my habits.

After my semester in Nepal, I spent the summer in Europe. I spent a few days with my German friend at her home in Coburg, a small city in northern Bavaria. We got to chat about environmental policies in her country and what actions her and her family are taking to reduce their footprint. They are growing almost all of their produce in their garden and are considering buying livestock for meat. My friend said that this isn’t an isolated movement within her family, that many people in the countryside are moving towards this kind of lifestyle.

my Indian homestay family's livestock

planting corn behind a team of oxen in Nepali village

Nature Journal 5

Whenever I have a chance during my week, I like to drive to Trinity Park off of University Drive and set up my hammock for a few hours. Today I had the time and my homework assignments could wait until the evening, so I packed up my bag with my hammock and a book and was on my way. There are two trees that I always set up between. They aren’t far from where I park my car but this location isn’t near a playground or popular walkway so I feel somewhat secluded. I like to watch the leaves blow in wind and the sound is relaxing. It’s the middle of the afternoon, so the trees block me from the sun, but some of the rays break through the limbs and leaves and reach me. I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth.

One of the most difficult parts of living in a city is feeling like I can get away from the pace of life and all the people. Before moving to Fort Worth, I lived on a farm in Indiana. I fell asleep to absolute quietness and took morning walks out and around the field. Now, I feel contained and constrained by people, buildings, and cars. Even while I hammock, there is a highway across the river and the sounds of cars make it impossible to escape. I watch the cars go by and I try to imagine all of the people in each of the cars. I struggle to comprehend the amount of people who live in cities, since I only see and interact with probably less than five hundred but millions live here.