Traveling between different countries might feel sometimes like traveling between different worlds or planets. It’s fascinating, but it is also confusing. We realize that time, borders, customs and even centuries are all relative…literally ( different calendars, for example in Nepal it is 2069 but it feels like 1969 or before)
I flew with some 300+ Napali men to Malaysia last night, who were treated like animals on the arrival to Kuala Lumpur, and ordered to kneel on the stone floor in front of the emigration officers. Everyone else was allowed to stand, but those men who left their families for months if not years, who were frightened and in most cases flew for the first time in their lives, who were unable to communicate, were treated like dogs. The emigration officer did not even use words to communicate he just waved his hand down, the way I order my dog to SIT.
Nepali spent most on their fly time in the… Toilets. They must had been very nervous. They also did not know how to open the toilet door, or lock the them inside, they were frightened and uncomfortable. But they were helping each other and eventually I saw a few smiles…

Malaysia was hot and humid. I had an early flight to catch so I decided to stay at the airport hotel, which I almost never do. The Tune hotel in Kuala Lumpur was a cell, you open the door and walk into a bed and a toilet with shower. It was hot and humid and I started
to miss the Himalayan dry and super cold weather. The morning with freshly squeezed juice (passion fruit with pineapple and kiwi) and flat white made the morning successful.

Singapore….airport next. Yes, it’s so clean and it’s so boring. ( sorry) And the music !!!! I wish they could just stop it. It’s either Pop classical piano hits or Christmas music (THE CHRISTMAS is OVER by the way). I have 4 hours to kill so I try lobster soup
(disgusting) and cheesecake ( fake taste) and I sit next to couples glued to their tablets and phones, not even looking at each other…..not exchanging a one word for hours. I see women walking proudly in their design clothes with beautiful bags and perfectly done hair
and make ups. I see hours and hundreds of dollars spent on appearance and impressions. And than I think about the Nepali men in their smoky, tired clothes, who had to leave their
country to be able to feed their families…who were just asked to kneel down like dogs,
because their hair were unwashed and their clothes were not in fashion, and who were unfortunate to have a passport from a poor country. It reminded me of my past…