Thank you for your support, loyalty and amazing comments that kept us company through more than a year of backpacking. We’ll save you the mushy speech — I kind of already did that — but if you’re keen to follow along on our next journey as we conquer San Diego, find jobs, discover delicious food, beautiful hikes and Southern Californian culture, then be sure to check out my new blog, my SoCal*d life.

Happy travels!

Since real time blogging is near impossible during travels, I’m going to go ahead and interrupt Eaman’s lovely stream of Iran posts to give you an update on what’s next for us because newsflash: Eaman got back last Thursday! And bigger newflash: We’re moving to California in the new year! Yep, our vague notion back in 2011 of moving to San Diego has become a reality. And we’re road-tripping all the way there from the East Coast!

First let’s start with what’s been going on. As you know, I’ve been home for six weeks, during which time I’ve reacquainted myself with my parents’ comfy leather sofa, read, watched TV, frequented Target, got all my doctors appointments in check and caught up with the friends and family I missed so dearly. (Lucky for me I was even here when one of my closest friends got engaged.)

Last Thursday, I headed to JFK airport to welcome Eaman home and during our last few days in Manhattan, we indulged at all our favorite restaurants (Shake Shack, ChikaLicious, L’asso and Habana oh my!), held our stomachs in food-coma agony, saw our friends, danced a Saturday night away, Sunday brunch-ed and said goodbye to that great, great city. In 2011, I ran away from New York; in 2012, I walked away with some sadness. No place like New York, that’s for sure.

On Monday, we traded skyscrapers for suburbs and hung out with my parents in New Jersey for the rest of the week. This Sunday, we’re packing up a rental car with all my necessary possessions and driving to Nashville, where we’ll be staying with Eaman’s aunt and cousins for two nights — a perfect midway stop before we make our way to Oklahoma to spend the holidays with Eaman’s family. We’re going to Thunder basketball games, having a belated traditional Thanksgiving dinner and buying a car, a necessary evil now that we’re moving California. A bit crazy to think we’ll be car owners. So grown-up!

We’re then road-tripping again (in our new car!) to San Diego probably some time during the first week of January. No, we don’t have jobs awaiting us. No, we don’t have an apartment lined up. No, we don’t have a ton of friends there. And actually, neither of us has family out there either. We just loved San Diego during a short trip in 2010 and its sunny impact on us hasn’t faded since. We love the weather, landscapes, healthy lifestyle, fresh food, people, pace of life, road trip possibilities and smaller-city feel. Honolulu was also a very real possibility, but after being away for more than a year, we didn’t want to be away from the mainland U.S. yet again. Plus, I’m not sure expensive Honolulu would be kind to our skinny wallets right now. (That said, we’re missing our Hawaii ohana like crazy.)

In any case, we’re excited to just go for it, try something new and keep our explorer spirits alive in new territory. San Diego, here we come!

And guess what? I loved the blogging thing so much that I’ll be chronicling this next chapter on a new, soon-to-be-announced blog. Check back here for details.

Thanks for continuously following us on our journey. Hope you’ll join us for the next one!

Since I’ve been home, a lot of my friends have been asking me what Eaman and I did in our spare time for entertainment during our trip. (Does eating count as entertainment? It does to us.) We rarely had TV, and even when we did, we were less than thrilled to watch The Big Bang Theory (in Argentina), soaps (in India) or wildly histrionic love-song music videos (all of Asia). We did have WiFi almost everywhere, so yes, a lot of my free time was (happily) spent blogging and, when he managed to pry the iPad from my blogging fingers, Eaman caught up on the news.

But during most of our down time, we were reading — and not just guidebooks. Reading fiction and nonfiction, short stories and memoirs, magazines and newspapers. It was such a nice change of pace to dig into some literature during those long bus rides and before bed, a treat I rarely got to partake in in New York because I was usually too exhausted by bedtime.

Here, a rundown of what we read*, what we thought and, sometimes, what we learned. The list may stack up as short or long, depending on your own proclivity for reading, but keep in mind, blogging (and the laborious photo editing that comes with it) took up a lot of time, and Eaman was busy reading his issues of Entrepreneur magazine cover to cover.

That said, let’s share! (I took a lot of reading inspiration from fantastic travel blogger Jodi of Legal Nomads fame. She has a really stellar two-part post on her favorite on-the-road reads.)

Shantaram. Most travelers have read this one. Yes, author Gregory David Roberts, who based much of the events in the book on his actual life, goes a tad overboard with the sweeping adjectives and a bit off the deep end towards the finale, but he still paints a beautiful and poetic portrait of India. I dare you not to be moved.

The Glass Castle. In this memoir, Jeannette Walls weaves a personal tale about her radical, nonconformist parents, her family’s struggles to simply live and her efforts to break free from their shackles. As awful as her parents sound at times — especially her dad — you still love them in a weird way, which I think is a testament to Walls’ writing. It’s a quick, fascinating read that’s sometimes so crazy, you’ll have to remind yourself it’s a true story.

How Did You Get This Number? There are beloved snarky female writers like Tina Fey and Mindy Kaling, and then there are snarky-just-to-be-snarky female writers like Whitney Cummings. Thankfully, Sloane Crosley and her sharp and hilarious stories, in which she travels through Portugal and encounters a bear in Alaska, fall in the former category. She’s smart, talented and a great role model for funny prose.

Travel as a Political Act. I got this book for Eaman as a gift while we were in Hawaii. In it, travel wiz Rick Steves breaks down barriers and preconceived notions about so-called dangerous countries. He emphasizes how travel can expand our minds and challenges antiquated notions. We heartily co-sign!

Little Bee. This isn’t an earth-shattering work of fiction, but it is a simple, sometimes sweet, sometimes terrifying tale about an African girl and English couple. I shouldn’t say much about the plot since it’ll ruin the story, so I’ll leave you all in suspense!

The Help. The only thing I think of when I think back to my time reading The Help is Eaman vomiting. We were in Cusco, Peru, and he had just contracted salmonella poisoning. I wasn’t feeling too hot either, but he was in bad, bad shape, so while he was wretching in our 8-person hostel room’s ensuite bathroom, I was getting lost in the world of the South, slavery and Minny Jackson. I know the tendency is to sneer at these books of mass popularity, especially when said books are then turned into glitzy Hollywood movies, but I thought it was a really fun read with a great pace to keep me going in that awful hostel dorm room.

Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam. I loved this book by Andrew X. Pham, and not just because it seemed romantic to be reading about Vietnam while in Vietnam. (I know! I’m so clever!) The story, in which Pham travels through his native country by bicycle, is equal parts sad and uplifting, and I felt a little extra something for this memoir, probably because I can empathize with the duality of having roots in one country and an upbringing in another.

The 48 Laws of Power. Considering my pitiful lack of business prowess, this is an Eaman read for sure. It’s all about strategy, business, negotiation and enemies. He loved it, and so did the airport workers at LAX who saw him toting the heavy book, which he had borrowed from our Panama friend Mike, and made it a point to tell him just how much they loved it.

The Geography of Bliss. I used to be a fiction reader exclusively. But as I traveled, in the absence of a job, smart New Yorkers or instant access to The New York Times, I quickly realized it’s a good idea to educate myself beyond the admittedly wonderful conversations we had with other travelers. This nonfiction work by Eric Weiner was a perfect choice, as he explores the levels of happiness in various countries. It fed my travel bug and taught me a thing or two. For example, I now want to go to Bhutan — apparently the happiest place in the world — very badly.

The Hunger Games. I finished Suzanne Collins’ trilogy  well before we left last September and am a huge fan girl. So, during the trip, I constantly badgered nonfiction-loving Eaman to read it, and I finally won my battle when he downloaded it to the Kindle midway through the trip. He read only the first installation, but I beg you, read it all!

Eleven Minutes. Alchemist author Paulo Coelho narrates the tale of a Brazilian prostitute trying to create a new life in Geneva, Switzerland. I found it a bit tedious, and at times, like I was reading a romance novel. Not a huge fan.

Various books on Hinduism, Islam and Buddhism and their histories. I’m not sure you’re looking to read this stuff, but they were all a bit textbook-y and served a specific purpose for us. We were doing some soul-searching, figuring out where our own spiritual sides lie and what the road ahead looks like for a Hindu-Muslim couple. We also wanted to learn more about Buddhism after such extensive travel through SE Asia. As I said before, what we learned is that there’s a lot more same in this world — religion included — than different.

Siddhartha. Along the lines of religious material, we read Hermann Hesse’s classic about a Nepali man’s spiritual journey during the Buddha era. Or rather, Eaman did. I could barely get through it. Though now that I’ve experienced Vipassana, I’m curious to take another stab at it.

The Best Women’s Travel Writing 2011: True Stories from Around the World. This compilation of travel essays comes out with a new edition each year, but this particular volume had stories from India, Costa Rica and Korea among other locales. Reading these pieces was a wonderful way to rev up my travel engine when fatigue began to settle in.

The Lonely Polygamist. I loved morning meetings at my old workplace, and I distinctly remembered that when this book by Brady Udall came out, the staff was abuzz. After reading his novel about a tired, slacking, confused polygamist husband and his circus of a family, I totally get it. Out of all the books I read on the road, this one had me hooked with the greatest intensity. The story is simultaneously sad and mesmerizing.

Iranian Rappers and Persian Porn Stars: A Hitchhiker’s Adventures in the New Iran. Eaman read this book by Jamie Maslin and loved it. In the memoir, Maslin talks about traversing the Silk Road route and winding up stranded in Iran, but much to his surprise — and perhaps a lot of people’s — he’s embraced by the locals, who take him under their wings — and show him Iran’s underground party scene.

*We opted to read mostly on our Kindle and iPad to save valuable backpack space.

It was difficult to choose from the thousands (literally) of photos we took from the trip, but on our last night together in Delhi, Eaman and I carefully selected our favorites, ones that encompass, culture, food, love and beautiful scenery. Here they are for you in chronological order to give you a sense of city-, country- and continent-hopping. I have a feeling I will be clicking back to this post a lot; I’m getting a bit sad/nostalgic already.

Machu Picchu, Peru

I’ve been home for nearly a week while Eaman backpacks through Iran, but before we parted ways, we had a long conversation about this past year, what we’ve learned, what we would’ve done differently and what everything has meant to us. We’ve had these dialogues pretty often and usually spontaneously throughout our travels, but this was the first time that we could step back and really mull over all the time spent together.

So what did we learn?

The day we departed back in September 2011 on the left and the day we ended the trip together just a week ago on the right. Tried to get the exact same pose. Mixed results, but the same clothes!

Well, we learned that picking up a little of the local language can go a long way, that some touristy sites are still magnificent, that you should never eat the raw cheese at Cusco’s San Pedro market, that renting an apartment instead of a hotel room is such a fun and different way to see a city, that Argentinean steak is really that good, that Patagonia might just be the most beautiful place in the world, that the hardest stuff (like trekking for 5 days or WWOOFing) is the most rewarding, that Eaman can learn how to drive stick-shift via YouTube, that visiting friends abroad is always a good idea, that the San Blas Islands are a slice of paradise many people have never heard of, that friends can become family in a matter of three months, that surfing and stand-up paddleboarding are super fun, that Vietnamese street food is some of the best, that Laos will forever and always hold a special place in our hearts, that Bangkok is actually a lovely city and not the congested metropolis we assumed it would be, that I can snatch, squish and kill a mosquito with my bare hands, that going to a place like Myanmar, where tourism is so new, should be on everyone’s to-see list, that Burmese salads are delicious (who knew?), that the world can sometimes be a horrible place but giving your time can make things a little brighter, that you can always come home, that the Taj Mahal is other-wordly beautiful, that taking a vow of silence can give you some much-needed time for introspection and that, just when you thought you knew everything about your partner, a year of travel can make you even more deeply connected and seal a bond that nothing can break.

And would we have done anything differently? Besides maybe getting more fluent in Spanish, nada. It was because of these choices that we came out of this experience as happy and inspired as we did.

But out of everything we took from these last 13 months, three big lessons continued to crop up in conversations.

Hospitality. I already extolled the virtues of all our friends and family, who so graciously gave us everything (and more) when we visited them, but somehow, I can’t seem to get over how much they impacted us. It’s not just about hospitality; these people taught us about kindness in a way no one has ever before.

Passion. Zest for life, joie de vivre — call it what you want, but we’ve realized we want to lead more passionate, interesting lives. We want to be invested in the things we do, and as Eaman said in the last post, engage in activities because we want to, not because we’re supposed to. Along the way, we met so many inspiring people who are so excited about life. A German woman loved horseback riding so she found a ranch to volunteer with. A Burmese student wanted to branch out at school so he took up Spanish. A Thai woman loved seeing new places so she became a flight attendant.

Sure, we had opportunities in New York — actually, really amazing ones that you’d be hard-pressed to find elsewhere in the U.S. — but we just didn’t take advantage of very much of it. “Lack of money” and “lack of time” are seemingly valid excuses, but they’re still excuses. It’s kind of like, ya know, traveling the world. There are always reasons not to go; you just have to one day, bite the bullet and do it. And in the end, what it boiled down to wasn’t about time or money; it was a lack of inspiration and confidence.

We feel differently. Now, we realize how lucky we are to have opportunities. We want to dive into art classes and sports and recipes and books, try new things and be more knowledgeable citizens of the world. Put simply, we want to make the best use of our time and have something to show for ourselves to ourselves. What are we waiting for?

And finally: We’re all a lot more similar than we are different. Just take a look at the news or magazine stand and you’ll see that we live in a world where differences are emphasized — skin color, race, religion, sexuality, socio-economic status, education level, whatever. You know what we realized after 13 months around the world? Generally speaking, we’re actually all pretty much the same and want the same things in life — to be happy, close to our family, spiritually connected, successful and smart. We all just take different paths to get there.

Observing and participating in different religions was a particularly eye-opening aspect of the trip. There were so many practices and rituals that Eaman and I found to be common across various religions. To us, a Hindu idol isn’t all that different from the Kaaba which isn’t all that different from the Jewish tefillin. Are they not all just focal points to make a connection with god (or some greater being if you’d rather call it that)? Are prayer beads not a symbol of devotion across most religions? I’m not trying to be sacrilegious and I suppose it’s in the eye of the beholder, but these eyes see a lot more same than different.

Now that I’m back and have had time to feel my way around my figurative old stomping ground, I can tell you that I, for one, feel completely different. I feel emotionally lighter with much more mental clarity, confidence and inspiration. I still have no job prospects and no apartment, but I feel so invigorated and confident that everything will work out. If you want it to, it will. I truly believe that. And really, I’m just happy. It’s such a simple thing, but let me tell you, I wasn’t happy in New York. Sure, I had a great job, wonderful friends and that Manhattan apartment I always dreamed of, but at the core, I wasn’t happy. Today, I can’t stop smiling because there’s not a lot in my world to be upset about. I have an amazing, supportive network of family and friends, a boyfriend who means the world to me and a travel experience that changed my life.

People have wondered if I’m sick of talking about my travels, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Why wouldn’t I want to talk about one of the most significant, memorable, happiest times of my life? It was at some points scary, frustrating and lonely, but I wouldn’t be as happy or as at peace with my life as I am today without having gone through those feelings. And with that, I chose this chapter of the story.

As I mentioned, Eaman is still traveling through Iran and will have posts about his solo adventures here on the blog soon. It’ll paint a very different version of the Iran you see on the news, a version that we think all of you should see.

For now, thanks for always reading, commenting and staying connected while we were away. Couldn’t have done it without you.

xoxo

When Eaman and I saw each other at the end of our 10-day meditation retreat, we were so eager to tell each other everything. We had been separated (by gender) and had taken a vow of silence, so, to finally be able to spill the beans was a pretty big deal. I let him tell me everything first and then I told him all about life on the other side of the center. And truly, we could not have had more different experiences. Seeing as how they were so different, we thought it made more sense to each tell you about our own experiences. But first, a little background. I’m going to go ahead and assume the questions people will ask us about the course because they’re probably the same questions we had about it ourselves.

I couldn’t really take pictures and didn’t even have my camera, but this photo of the pagoda at our center, called Dhamma Sota, will give you an idea.

What is Vipassana?

Vipassana is a meditation technique with roots in Buddhism that dates back about 2500 years. The goal of this technique is “to see things as they really are.” It involves inspecting the connection between the mind and the body to remove mental impurities with the goal of attaining happiness, a.k.a. liberation. Contrary to what a lot of people think, it’s not about focusing on an image or word or sound to relax; it involves a lot more work that has you zeroing in on the subtle sensations throughout your body. For a more detailed explanation, check out Dhamma’s description.

Why did you do it?
We wanted the Asian chapter of our travels to be less about hiking or socializing with hostel friends and more about focusing on ourselves, both as a couple and as individuals. We looked into both meditation and yoga retreats, but in the end the meditation seemed more challenging and different from anything we had ever done. Plus, the yoga retreats we found were expensive, and we had a hard time navigating among the hundreds of retreats out there.

How did you hear about it?
The other reason we knew we wanted to do a meditation course was because we had a solid recommendation from someone we trust. Pratt (from Hawaii fame), who also happens to be a yoga teacher, has done two Vipassana courses through Dhamma and spoke so highly of it, and since she’s one of our life role models, we said, If she did it, we should do it.

Is it religious?
Despite roots in Buddhism — Vipassana was reportedly founded by Gautama Buddha — Vipassana is non-sectarian.

Why India?
Vipassana flourished in Myanmar thanks to S.N. Goenka, but India is where it all started! Also, we thought the meditation would be a nice reprieve from crazy India. (And it was.)

What was the daily schedule?
Extremely well-planned out in our opinion. Even though we woke up at 4 a.m. and were meditating nearly 10 hours a day, it wasn’t exhausting.

4 a.m. Wake-up bell
4:30 – 6:30 a.m. Group meditation
6:30 – 7 a.m. Breakfast
7 – 8 a.m. Rest/shower
8 – 9 a.m. Group meditation
9 – 11 a.m. Meditation in hall, personal quarters or cell, according to teacher’s instruction
11 – 11:30 a.m. Lunch
11:30 a.m. – 1 p.m. Rest
1 – 2:30 p.m. Meditation in hall, personal personal quarters or cell, according to teacher’s instruction
2:30 – 3:30 p.m. Group meditation
3:30 – 5 p.m. Meditation in hall, personal quarters or cell, according to teacher’s instruction
5 – 5:30 p.m. Snack/tea break
5:30 – 6 p.m. Rest
6 – 7 p.m. Group meditation
7:15 – 8:15 Watch a video discourse by S.N. Goenka (there was an English version in another room)
8:30 – 9 p.m. Group meditation
9:30 p.m. Lights out

What’s with the silence?
It’s called “Noble Silence” and involves zero talking, body language and even eye contact. The only talking you’d do is to a teacher or assistant teacher if you have any questions or concerns. It makes sense considering this is a very personal journey and talking would likely have you comparing your experience to everyone else’s. (But some other student did make it a point to verbalize how bad it was for me to crack my knuckles. Forget the noises of all the bodily functions in the room; Archana’s knuckles are the problem!)

Did they let you take breaks?
I went into it thinking they’d be really strict, but so many people stepped out to go to the bathroom, stretch their legs or get water. The idea is: Don’t go for too long but do what you need to do.

How painful was it?
Very. Of course it gets better as you go, but at times I found the pain excruciating. Eaman fared better in terms of sitting for long hours. More on that below. Props to the old ladies and men who sat like rock stars.

Two meals a day. Yikes. How was the food?
Delicious! Sure, it was a little repetitive, but it was healthy vegetarian Indian food and exactly what we needed to clean out our systems after a year of junk eating. You may be surprised to hear that we were rarely hungry. (That tea break was a more substantial meal than I expected.) Plus, food was served buffet-style, so you could technically take as much as you want. That said, it’s not super comfortable to sit meditating with a full stomach.

What was the setting? Peaceful or prison-like?
The center was located about one hour outside New Delhi near the town of Gurgaon and very removed from most signs of life. We were separated by gender — though I would see Eaman in the meditation hall and during the evening discourse — and the rooms were clean, comfortable, with a fan and electricity most of the time. (No hot water though.) The actual grounds were like a forest meets botanical garden meets zoo, thanks to some peacocks, monkeys, frogs, weird birds and crazy insects that reside there. Watching them was a great way to unwind after those long meditation sittings. The less peaceful part was the barbed wire atop the brick wall that separated us from the rest of the world and the shards of glass in between the first layer of wire and the top of the brick. Not so zen.

Were there any Indian locals there?
Actually, it was mostly Indian locals. There were only about a dozen foreigners, representing Japan, Russia, Italy, Israel and the Netherlands among other places, within the 125-person mix.

How much does it cost?
It’s a donation-based program with the philosophy that a prior student’s donation makes your stay possible.

What did you get out of it?
That answer is a bit complicated. See below.

In His Words.
Two vegetarian meals a day and waking up at 4 a.m. The old me would say that’s a no-go. But I wanted to look past that and do something good (a.k.a. challenging) for myself. As far as the silence, not talking was easy for the first six or seven days, but after that, my mind was like someone with ADD changing the channels on a satellite TV every second. (It’s a good thing silence is broken on the morning of the 10th day and we had a day to re-acclimate because I was dying to get my thoughts out!) But the physical element of sitting nine+ hours a day was definitely physically grueling, especially with my prior knee problems and a dislocated shoulder.

The teacher had said that midway through the course, some issues — metaphysically called sankaras — may bubble up when we meditate and on day six it happened to me. These were issues that were always in the back of my mind but ones I had never addressed directly. So just as he had warned us, day six was the toughest for me. I was angry and sad and consumed and I couldn’t focus. But each day after, it got easier. I had a lot of conversations with myself and also took notes from what the technique teaches you — that your negative emotions hurt you, not anyone else. Over the next few days, I resolved my issues, and it’s worth mentioning that I still feel at peace now.

You learn a lot about patience during Vipassana. During meditation, I felt people staring at me, even though we’re told not to look at anyone else. I got frustrated and annoyed, wondering why all these eyes were on me. After Noble Silence ended, I talked to a lot of the guys and realized they were just really curious about me, my background and what brought me to Vipassana. In fact, I thought I did an average job at the whole thing, but the guy who had sat behind me later said to me that I was the iron man. “You inspired me to sit still,” he said. That was a shocker. It showed me that I need to exercise patience so negative emotions don’t take over me. It made me realize that physical pain and frustration, along with all these sankaras, are really just in your mind and can be controlled. You realize the negativity has no home, and it leaves your system.

I’m the kind of person who’s laid back 99 percent of the time and can explode like a volcano — courtesy of a cheating taxi driver or pushy salesperson — one percent of the time. It can be easy to lose my balance and patience. Since leaving the center, I’ve already noticed a change. During lunch at a kebab shop in Delhi after meditation, we were served under-cooked chicken. I normally would’ve blown up — remember that bout of salmonella in Cusco, Peru? Yeah, I didn’t want that again — but I was calm, explained what happened and didn’t get angry. And when I sat back down, Archana and I both talked about how different my reaction was. We thought, Whoa, that’s a change.

But the whole experience wasn’t just about learning patience. I learned about adaptability, having been taken out of my comfort zone and being thrown into a setting that’s totally different from anything I’m used to. After day one, you accept that this is how it is and you can either have positive energy and make the most of it or anxiously wait for each day to pass. If your mind is strong, you can adapt to anything. That’s a good lesson for anything in life.

It also made me realize religion is more about you and less about rituals and ceremonies, as the technique emphasizes personal experience as opposed to blindly following dogma or theories. Going forward, I want to do everything in my life because it has meaning for me, not because I’m supposed to do it.

It’s only been a week and I’m sure I need to give it some time and continue to practice, so my goal is to meditate at least one hour a day and keep improving myself. I’ll let you know how it goes!

In Her Words.
I began the course as World’s Most Typical Vipassana Student. Day two was hard and day six was even harder, just like the teacher had said. Thoughts in my head were ricocheting like a pinball machine, just like the teacher had said. When he said to feel sensations, I thought, “What sensations?” just like the teacher had said would happen. It was all very typical. Then, I ended the course as World’s Worst Vipassana Student. When you start the course, you take five precepts and one of them is not to engage in killing. I killed some bugs in my room. Maybe that’s where it all went downhill.

I went into this experience, thinking, “Oh, this sounds different. I’ll try it.” I’m not sure that’s the right attitude to have with something like this. I now know that the more you put into it and the more seriously you take it, the more benefits you reap. The whole time I felt like an observer — perhaps that’s the journalist in me — and I never completely wove myself into the fabric of the course.

I was sad to be away from Eaman, which I know sounds clingy, but can you imagine, after one year of 24/7 together, we all of a sudden were separated and, to top it off, in this intimidating situation? I was also really nervous about sitting all day. Eaman had taken to meditation rather quickly in Laos, but I had not. And I was picked on consistently by one of the assistant teachers. (“Don’t braid your hair in the dining hall.” “Don’t touch me [when I tapped her shoulder]. You’re not supposed to touch me.” “Don’t move your seat without telling me.” Or my favorite: “Don’t take someone else’s meditation cushion. That’s very bad.” OK, mine had disappeared, lady, and I don’t love being spoken to like I’m a five-year-old.) I seriously felt like everything I was doing was wrong, and coupled with the fact that I wasn’t having much success with my focusing, I began to feel sullen, antsy and frustrated. By the end of day 7, I was completely and utterly checked out. It was like, You want me to concentrate? I’ll show you concentration! During group meditations, I’d go through old dance routines in my head or think about what recipes I want to learn from my mom when I go home. When we were allowed to meditate in our cells if we wanted, I’d go just so I could sit in there with my eyes open and lay on the ground or do yoga stretches. Like I said, Worst Vipassana Student Ever.

Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t hate it and I certainly don’t regret it because 1. the worst experiences are the ones I learn the most from and 2. I still walked away with some positive elements. I did have good meditation days, days when I could really focus on my breathing and practice all that was being taught to us. I had a few days when I could sit still and meditate for a full hour without changing position, which taught me a great deal about discipline. I grew to like the silence; it gave me a chance to evaluate this past year and also think about any latent issues that I had been bottling up. I loved the food, and being a creature of habit, I loved the routine and totally relished waking up early and falling asleep by 9:30 p.m. It felt good.

I also really loved the evening discourses. S.N. Goenka is a powerful speaker, and there was so much I took from these sessions. I learned about how we always remember the negative and rarely the positive, how meaningless rituals can be without any sincerity behind them, how personal experience should always be the deciding factor in whether you prescribe to something — meditation techniques or otherwise. He says that we shouldn’t learn from the videos because it’s just intellectual and that we should instead learn from our own experience, but even so, the discourses were wonderful food for thought.

I beat myself up about the meditation course quite a bit towards the end of the 10 days and immediately after. I kept grilling myself, “Why don’t you feel like these other people who’ve come out of the course with tears of joy?” “Why didn’t you make that same connection?” Everyone had told me this would be a huge, life-changing experience and I really didn’t feel like that. I know, that’s exactly how not to think, since the entire point of Noble Silence is to avoid comparison chatter.

And then I got real.

I participated in something so physically and mentally challenging, something that so few people even know about and I didn’t even leave early. I still had a lot of positive takeaways and am now armed with a skill that’ll always be in my back pocket. I’d hesitate to call Vipassana a life-changing experience because it can set up such high expectations, but I think everyone takes out of it what he/she chooses and you can still end up with useful building blocks. Remember, it’s not for everyone (not sure it was for me) but still a good experience. As I’ve learned many times this year, something that takes you out of your element, something that can make you want to cry, something that scares the crap out of you is always good for the mind, body and soul.

It might’ve been a little more poetic to end our trip together in some terrible hostel after a crazy bus ride and getting cheated by rickshaw drivers. But we closed it out in beautiful Delhi homes, eating at exclusive social clubs and being treated to massages.

We actually didn’t do a lick of sightseeing in Delhi. (Our time there was focused more on the meditation course. Plus, why sight-see when, unlike so many places we’ve traveled to, we had friends through which we could experience the city?) But what we failed to learn about Delhi, we made up for with some valuable lessons and new role models in the world of hospitality. Let me share some background:

Scenario #1. We were hosted by our lovely friends Kavita and Shantanu; she’s from the U.S. and he’s from Delhi, but they only recently came to India from D.C. after he got transferred to Delhi for work. They were gracious enough to let us stay with them — in our own luxurious room — for a couple of days before our meditation sitting, which was a treat in and of itself. Then they had to go and up themselves by feeding us with awesome food, letting us use their driver to get around town, and hiring a beautician come to the house to give us facials and massages. And they let us stay in their home once again after meditation, even though they were out of town. Above and beyond much?

Dinner at the beautiful Lodi, The Garden Restaurant.

K and S’s cook used to work as a barista at Indian chain Cafe Coffee Day. He made us the most amazing frothy coffee…whenever we wanted.

Scenario #2. Our friend Anand had us over to his family’s gorgeous home in the city, where we ate one of the best meals we had in all of India. That’s because their cooks use a lot of ingredients sourced from Anand’s family’s own farm. We loved catching up with our friend and meeting his hilarious cousin who performed some crazy good raps for us, but I must say, that fresh paneer was the highlight. (Sorry, Anand.)

Scenario #3. We even got to see my childhood friend, Neha! She’s now a married mom with a busy wedding planning business in India’s capital, but we managed to squeeze in a double-date with her and her husband at a members-only social club, where we caught up on where our lives have gone since high school and dined fried cheese balls. (Just because it’s members-only doesn’t mean we can’t eat fried cheese.)

So why is this relevant to anyone except the people mentioned in the post?

Well, like Sergio in Buenos Aires who helped us find an apartment, or Priscilla who made us feel incredibly at home in her  apartment, or Mike and Maylin who sheltered us, fed us and spoiled us silly in Panama, or Craig, Pratt and the rest of our Oahu ohana who took us under their wings (especially Brett, who, just five minutes after meeting us, let us stay for a week in a vacant room in his house when we were homeless), or Fareesa in Hong Kong who sacrificed so much — her time, her bedroom, etc. — to make us comfortable, these people showed us the true meaning of hospitality.

Eaman and I both come from cultures where hospitality plays a significant role, so I’m not saying we’ve been chilly or unwelcoming to any of our guests, but I do think we had a thing or two to learn when it came to really making someone feel at home. Printing out a map, writing down restaurant recommendations or stocking the pantry with just a few extra goodies can do wonders for your guest’s excitement and make them feel more included and less intrusive. It certainly did for us. We were just so in awe of our friends, their generosity and their good hearts that so many times, Eaman and I would just look at each other with bugged-out eyes and jaws dropped, wondering how these sweet people came into our lives. It’s definitely a pay-it-forward kind of thing, so we can’t wait to have people over to the home of wherever we live next so we can practice everything that these people have taught us.

Yes, that’s an invite!

*Contrary to my rather exaggerated headline, we did learn stuff about Delhi, thanks to a drive around town with Kavita and Shantanu. That said, we still never visited Humayun’s Tomb even though it was a five-minute walk from their home. Whoops.

Through good times and bad, we’ve learned a few things about traveling on the cheap in India and would hate to withhold the juice.

1. Thou shalt not lose thy patience. India has required more patience than any other country. From pushy salespeople to conniving rickshaw drivers to complete lacks of efficiency and organization in some respects, we were constantly tested. Fortunately, India has also turned out to be one of the more rewarding journeys for this very reason.

2. Though shalt bargain for everything. It’s not just about bazaars and taxi rides, we bargained especially hard for hotels, which wasn’t as common of a practice in SE Asia.

3. Thou shalt get a mobile. My uncle hooked us up with an Indian phone in Bangalore and at first, I hesitated adding another item to my backpack, but this phone has been a lifesaver — whether it’s to call taxi drivers we’ve hired or to book hotels, who generally didn’t respond to emails.

3. Thou shalt wear closed-toe shoes. India can be dirty. Protect yourself.

4. Thou shalt travel by train at least once. We didn’t mind the buses, but trains are much more comfortable. We booked all of our tickets through the very easy-to-use site Cleartrip.com for a small 20-rupee service charge. Keep in mind that trains do sell out ridiculously quickly, but we heard if you’re the first 10 or so people on the waitlist, you’ll get a ticket. To be safe, we bought available tickets only. And regarding train classes, people scared us into wanting only AC first or second class. For long journeys this is probably a good idea. But for short trips, we preferred the cheaper AC chair car. On two of our three rides, chair car was the only option and it was more than comfortable. We had AC second class seats for the quick three-hour trip from Agra to Delhi but would’ve much preferred chair car. Something about being in sleeping compartments — even if they fold into chairs — felt claustrophobic. (Lonely Planet has a very good breakdown of the differences between train classes.)

5. Thou shalt hire a driver. We hired a rickshaw driver in Jaipur and had a driver on call in Agra, and it was amazing to know we had someone waiting for us. It’s cheap and saves a lot of headache.

8. Thou shalt see at least one Bollywood movie in a theater. It’s fun, silly, colorful entertainment. And you can leave after intermission if you can’t handle the full three hours.

9. Thou shalt not eat street food. I know some people do it, but even my relatives in India don’t eat much street food. That said, you can always trust a deep-fried snack.

10. Thou shalt drink the coffee. It’s the best, especially in South India. Seriously.

OK maybe a few words.

- Agra is a dump. DUMP. See the Taj and get out of there as soon as you can. Except we did meet a cute baby in our hotel. That part was great.

Without further ado…

I think Nawalgarh is the embodiment of what people envision when they think of India. Bright, retina-searing colors, men in turbans, desert landscapes, camels trotting on the road, samosas fried before your eyes — you get the picture.

It’s a small city in the Shekhawati region of Rajasthan, 3.5 hours by bus from Jaipur. Since we had five whole days in Rajasthan, after two busy days in Jaipur, the more rural pace of Nawalgarh sounded inviting. Surprisingly, the bus was a piece of cake. No, it wasn’t luxurious and yes, my allergies flared up thanks to the swirling dust entering the bus, but people were friendly, they told us when our stop came, and the bus didn’t make any pit-stops. Much better than buses in SE Asia.

Nawalgarh is unlike anywhere we’ve ever been. Traveling here is like traveling back in time, even more so than Myanmar. The culture is splayed out onto the streets, whether it’s tailors working on the road, mothers dressed in glittering saris walking hand-in-hand with their children or strolling by an antique building only to realize it’s one of the many ornately painted havelis for which the city is famous.

And compared to other towns in the Shekhawati region, like Mandawa and Jhunjhunu, Nawalgarh apparently has the best accommodation options.

We stayed at Shekawati Guesthouse. On the surface, everything was great. Our mud cottage set in the family’s farm was charming, the bathroom was the cleanest we’ve ever seen in India, the wife cooked delicious organic meals, we managed to bargain the price down to a cool 1400 rupees including two meals, and we even had WiFi!

On our first night, we told her a little about ourselves — how we were a couple, how I was from South India, how Eaman was from Iran, etc.

Wife, to Eaman: “So you’re Muslim then?”

In India, people have asked Eaman this question a lot, but it almost always has been followed by a proclamation about how humanity is all one, and we should never harp on differences.

Eaman: “Yeah, I’m Muslim.”

Wife: “So how are the Muslims in Iran? Are they as backward as they are here?”

Oh boy.

She went on to insult the Nawalgarh Muslim community, telling us about how they don’t send their kids to school and how they don’t pray five times a day. She went on to tell Eaman that Islam is “hard.”

Wait, it gets better.

She then started on South Indians. She told me about how rude locals were to her when she traveled through Tamil Nadu and how none of them spoke (or wanted to speak) Hindi or English. (Heaven forbid!) I made sure to tell her how rude some people have been to us in the North.

She also told me about how it was just idli, dosa, vada — traditional South Indian dishes — in the South. She moaned about how all she wanted was a chapatthi (North Indian-style bread that’s actually found down South, too!) I take offense to that for a few reasons. First, you’re in the South so that’s what you’re going to get. Second, unless you were in the ghetto, you can find North Indian options everywhere.

I got a zinger the night before we left, too.

“I had a couple from Chennai and I had a girl from Hyderbad stay here, and they were very nice. And you are very nice. But usually, I don’t like South Indians. They’re not very nice.”

Yeah. Moving on. Don’t let the story fool you; Nawalgarh is definitely worth visiting. It’s such a real slice of Indian life that you can’t find in the usual tourist areas. Maybe just don’t stay at our guesthouse.

Haveli museum. The word ‘haveli’ actually comes from the Persian world. ‘Hava’ translates to weather, referring to an open, airy house that allows the elements to come through.