I arrived in Kolkata after an all night flight from London while changing planes in Abu Dhabi; receiving news that my Bhutan consultant work visa was denied during my one hour layover.

My friend Chhimi and I had discussed several projects to work on in Bhutan over the last 6-8 months that would make me feel more useful. This has been in the works.

Not having slept on the flight, arriving at 3:30 AM and Kolkata being a blistering 95 degrees, I opted for a hotel near the airport. With an early check-in and air conditioning, I slept and caught up on plans and strategizing with Chhimi on next steps.

After catching up on sleep and a nice workout, I jumped in a taxi to central Kolkata to get to my $5 a night hostel.

Stepping out of the cab near mid-day in Kolkata was as if someone had decided to wrap my entire body head to foot in one of those hot towels they put on your face before a shave.

Everything stuck to my now intensely sweating body as I dodged filth and feces and folks sleeping on the streets. Food stalls, traffic, temples, dogs, kids, sadhus and complete disorientation welcomed my re-entry to land I love. I was home.

A city of incredible history, clash of cultures, history and religion and some of the friendliest people on the planet.

In this ramshackle hostel tucked in the corner of a non-descript neighborhood, I was the only foreigner at first. And certainly the only westerner.

After weeks of “hanging out in Europe” and cleansing my liver from a solid year of travel and catching up in Bellingham, I needed a quiet and mellow place where I knew no one and could settle into obscurity and relative simplicity. And wait for my visa to Bhutan.

Since the AC in the hostel dorm rooms didn’t come on until 7 PM, and the temperature varied all if maybe 5 degrees during the 24 hour period, I planned my next two or three days to accomplish the tasks at hand and to take my mind off the heat that would hit me like a tidal wave the minute I left my room at 9 AM when the AC was cut.

I remember walking thru the neighborhood near the hostel taking in EVERYTHING that is, well, India. A place of beauty and contrasts that is so impossible to describe. Only to experience. The smile on my face was large as I jumped on the local bus at mid-day to giant Howrah train station to secure my 15 hour sleeper train ticket to the Bhutan border; hoping Chhimi would work his magic on the consultant work visa (he did).

As I dripped sweat on the 70s something women sitting next to where I was standing, I not only reveled in my ability to want to, and to be able to, still travel like this, I focused on each and every one of my decisions that day and their impacts on the people there and The planet. Buying a sleeper ticket in an AC car, taking a taxi home to the hostel instead of the bus, giving money to beggars, buying glass bottle Pepsi instead of plastic, ordering chicken with my rice and lentils I purchased on the street. I kept going back to what a luxury it was to travel rough and live in the margins when you don’t have to. Food, clothing, shelter. And A/C.

How I receive an incredible perspective on the world, albeit a somewhat false one since it’s a choice. I’m sure the people on the bus were like “Dude. What ARE you smiling about you sweaty bastard!?

Receiving news of my visa and purchasing my train ticket within hours of each other, my trip was set. The previous night, the boys running the hostel invited me for a beer, a smoke and some local street food as they celebrated their friend’s bday.

The five of them all grew up together and were celebrating the 25th bday of one of them.

They took me into their circle and took turns talking religion, politics and love like only Indians can. I was invited into that world as if by magic and luck and for over two hours talked music and travel and the far reaches of India we have all visited. Just wish I had my guitar this trip!

You may or may not know, that Bhutan is the land of Gross National Happiness and 100% renewable energy. Since they have only had TV since 1999 and a democracy since 2008, we are watching them grow up right before our eyes. And I get a front row seat through my good friend Chhimi and my third trip there since 2012.

They are cracking down on the visa process since it is being abused. Tourist visas are expensive if you go on a tour. My previous trips I came on a “friends and family” visa which is free. This time, I really wanted to work on something where I could useful. And of course see my friends. And I have a few there now! A consultant work visa is also free. I hope it’s not an indication of the value of any input I may give! Those are your only three options. Well, unless you’re Indian. I’ve begged Chhimi’s wive’s parents to adopt me!

Like Charlie in Willy Wonka, I had to lay in wait for Chhimi to get me the Golden Ticket to the land of the Thunder Dragon, Guru Rinpoche and penises drawn on buildings to ward off evil spirits. Emma Datse, momos and butter tea. Yaks, temples and prayer wheels!

I have it. I’m in. To be continued!

As I make my way to the Himalayas to work and visit the places that make me smile, I have to reflect and share my amazing seven weeks at home in Bellingham.

Never before have I come back from an extended trip and turned around to leave for another so soon! It is like being on vacation in your home. From the time I landed, I got to enjoy and be present with my good friends for seven weeks.

It started with having to get around for nearly a month as I waited for the van to arrive. Biking, Uber, borrowing cars. I re-integrated into my ever-changing and growing town of Bellingham. We are growing way too fast and as I returned from living in my van in South America for over 5 months, even my small house and rural setting was like a slap in the face. Money, money, money. Growth. Building. Consumption. Mainstream America is squarely on the doorstep of Bellingham WA. My oasis and happy place is being invaded. Don’t take it the wrong way. You wanna live there? Great. But we are being invaded by the almighty dollar. In search of a return on investment. Ugh.

I got to kayak and crab and eat from my garden. Catch up on hiking, yoga and most importantly, my friends there. Knowing my time was short there, I got to be present and enjoy every moment and laugh with my friends. I felt the love.

The van arrived in Tacoma and I quickly shot south to see Joe and Jenny and the girls (and my nephew Andy) in Oregon for a few days. Music, hiking, camping and (to the best of my ability) godfather duties. Elena and Thea are such good little girls. Elena laughing while she says “Uncle Bob! You’re silly!” melts your heart.

From the moment I got the van, the summer (or what was left of it) accelerated at breakneck speed. Joe and Kimber (their dog) and I raced north back to Bellingham. Once Jenny arrived, I was delighted to know my buddy David from Argentina (remember him from the eclipse?) would be arriving with his buddy Sergio as they are traveling the US.

Well, within two hours of arrival they were whisked off with us to the annual folk fest in Bellingham, The Subdued Stringband Jamboree. Three days of camping, friends, kids, beer, music, and friends. They somehow pulled off a traditional Asado for all my friends (I mean these Argentinians can make an Asado ANYWHERE!) and stepped into small (ish) town life in ‘merica. By the end of the festival, I was not known as Bob, but as the dude with the Argentine boys staying with him.

Having them stay with me the rest of my time home was amazing. It was like having two nephews with you who want to do all the cool stuff you want to do and you get to practice Spanish! My friends adored them.

Sergio knows English and David is learning. So it was back and forth in both languages all day and night. They worked for some of my friends that needed help and joined in on all my outdoor stuff. Backpacking the North Cascades (twice), hiking and swimming in the Chuckanuts, crabbing and kayaking in my neighborhood, bioluminescence swimming, music at the local pubs. And pretty much bringing their all-around amazingly kind Argentine brotherhood to Bellingham.

Argentina has such a friendly sharing culture that is definitely different. On the way to the festival, I asked who wanted a beer. As David cracked ONE IPA out of the six pack and passed it around, Joe looked at me and took a sip and passed it on. Later he was like “THAT’S how they drink beer?” I said, “Yeah, they share everything. Great huh?”

They were awesome houseguests, first camping in the yard (and me in the van) while Joe and Jenny and the girls slept in my house. Then sleeping downstairs in my living room while I got a few weeks in my bed before I hit the road again.

They helped cook and clean and were just awesome to have around. Quite a soft landing from my time abroad. And as usual, I learned things about life and perspective from these 20 something “chicos” as I called them. Their kindness, positivity and going with the flow. Hanging out with younger folks is rarely about drinking and socializing yet that certainly occurs (and did). It’s more about connecting with youthful hopefulness and lack of jadedness. It’s about keeping an open mind and sharing in life. Not waiting or expecting negativity. And willing to go! And not stop.

By the same token, I got to connect with many of my friend’s children while home. And I, of course, adore them and enjoyed it all. And Uncle Bob gets to enjoy and connect. Then head out to return again soon. I’m spoiled in that way and it’s by choice. And it’s not lost on me.

It was hard saying goodbye, knowing I wanted to enjoy them even more. It was also hard saying goodbye to all my friends, even though I felt completely present with them most of my time. It kept me focused.

I really struggled coming home this time for all the shit that is going down in the US. Getting caught up in our shit can be painful. People I know are getting priced out of Bellingham. And it had me start to take an even deeper look at moving.

But as I left yesterday and valued all the time with my friends, I just realized how fortunate I was to have my health and to let the positive energy of my friends and family give me refuge from the shit storm that is the world today. And to allow me to just do my best to inject as much positivity into my life and relationships, while not turning a blind eye to the reality of the world today. And I try and force myself to feel it more deeply but I’m not sure it’s possible. I feel it deeply. And that why it means so much to me when I do. Leaving allows me to value it more. It’s my way of seeing and focusing. It doesn’t always work. But it did this time. And it’s hitting me big time as I leave. It meant a lot to me. I love my friends there.

And of course…

The Himalayas await (again)……