“Every spring is the only spring- a perpetual astonishment.”
-Ellis Peters (quote seen here)
Another early morning wake up. My alarm went off sometime before 4:00 am. I got ready, eyes nothing but narrow slits still filled with sleep. The van climbed up the dark hill, twisting and caressing its steep curves. We were the first ones to arrive. Someone found strong, sweet chai and shared with us. Someone else passed out cookies. We nibbled and sipped, looking out over the navy blue valley below us, waiting for the sun.
Soon, others showed up, tourists, just like us. Everyone was tittering with excitement, setting up tripods, taking selfies. There were people from all over – Japan, China, India, Canada, England. Some of the men with fancy cameras turned them on us and shamelessly snapped photos. We posed like superstars, exuberantly throwing up peace signs. Looking back, I wonder where I found this energy and sass.
The crowd grew, and soon, every standing and sitting space was filled. Then one last person showed up. There was nowhere for him to go, but he parked himself at the ledge where I stood, practically on top of my feet. He’d found someone he knew, leaning against the ledge beside him. One of the girls traveling with me poignantly described him as “that guy who was dressed like a typical traveller,” and it was true. You know, the type who just puts on whatever, wears all the hemp and local clothes, just for the hell of it. He had on a mismatched colourful cotton shorts and graphic t-shirt combo. His hair was worn in dreadlocks, tied back with a bandana. He wore bracelets all up his arm and sandals that were nearly falling apart. My favorite part of all was the peculiar choice in green and blue nail polish he sported on his toes. He spoke loudly with his friend, as if he’d been here before, as if this was all old news. He turned to one of the other girls who was traveling with me. “Where are you from?” he asked. “Norway,” she replied. “California,” was his offering. The Norwegian said, “You seem like you’re from California,” and I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that.
We were all there waiting for the sun, and while it would have been unsurpassable to have had that mountain to myself that morning, the people around me provided some interesting entertainment, like the Indian man who sneaked pictures of us with his mobile, the traveling Californian in front of me and the Japanese tourists practicing with their enormous cameras to get the settings just right.
That little morning was cloudy, and soon the sky behind turned from gray to white, and if I didn’t know better, I would have thought I’d missed the sunrise. Then suddenly, the first rays of light appeared like cream coloured paint on Fishtail, one of the highest peaks of the mountain range before us. The cameras began to click furiously with this development.
Minutes later, like a hot metal blade, the first ray of sun pierced through the clouds, emerging triumphant from the night. A resounding “ooh” and “ahh” rose from the little group around me. I too felt my heart flutter at the sight of what we had come to witness.
Then goes the Californian, “Oh my god, Sun! You did it again! You know… we weren’t sure this time, but you did it again. Boy, am I relieved.”
Half of me wanted to say, “Hey asshole, shut up,” and the other half of me really didn’t care. The quiet part of me won, and I enjoyed myself nonetheless. But I couldn’t help but wonder why he had bothered to come to see a sunrise if that was to be his reaction. Yes, the sun rises every day, and yes, this act is nothing special if you look at it as just another sunrise, identical to every other sunrise that happens 365 days a year.
Though my experience hadn’t suffered from his presence, I still wondered where my initial irritation came from, why his words had unseated me. It didn’t become clear until I saw the words quoted above on my friend Katie’s blog. The guy from California was looking at the sunrise all wrong.
We are in Nepal, dude.
Actually, I don’t need to say anymore than that, but I will… because you can sit out in your backyard every day of the year and never miss a sunrise, and each one should still be special. A new day has come – for you, for all of us, and no matter how much you might try to argue that a sunrise is a sunrise is a sunrise, it’s not. Each time you look at the sky, the variables in that moment will never, ever be repeated.
Also, this.
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And just so we’re clear, I love California and people from California. This particular Californian just so happened to be a bit of a turd. Listen, we all have ‘em. Yep, even polite Canada. On that note, Happy Canada Day!
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