After lunch, we arrived back at camp to a period of silence. It was a sunny day without shelter, so many of the foreigners thought it would be a good time to check in at their embassies. Communication had been out for over 12 hours, so I followed suit in order to get a message out that I was safe and to also call my family. I left most of my things at camp and brought a small backpack with me carrying essentials should something happen again.

1:30pm - "I am at the embassy... I just stopped by to check in and get a message out that I am safe. And then a 6.7 hit. I am so broken right now. I just left a group of Nepali people that were so kind. They welcomed me into their home this morning because we hadn't eaten and they wanted to give me rice and eggs. We shared my backpack as a pillow huddled under towels as it started raining in the middle of the night. I left a parking lot full of people just 20 minutes ago. They were surrounded by bricks and unstable buildings, and I'm not there to help... My family will disagree with this decision, but it feels so wrong to be here with TV, military meals, internet and shelter that I cannot share. I have to go back... Please understand that I have to. I can't stop crying. I will come back and post here when I can. Please pray for our continued safety. More than anything, pray for the people of Nepal."

I had been to the embassy a few days prior to drop off my passport for renewal. When I arrived this time, I was met by a woman collecting information outside. She took my name, contact information, where I was staying, and who she could call on my behalf should I not get an opportunity to call myself.

"Do you have a safe place to stay tonight?"

I shook my head side to side, still in a trance and remembering my guest house had been locked. I told her about the parking lot where people were sleeping unsheltered.

"Well that doesn't sound safe. You can stay here tonight with others. Go inside and let them know you're staying. They are just serving lunch so help yourself. There's wifi available and a phone to call your loved ones. If you need a hot shower, there are bathrooms available as well."

I just nodded without saying another word and walked in. I was still in a trance, perhaps in shock from all of the previous day's events. I was pointed into a dining hall. There were maybe 50-75 people there. Lots of families and children running around. People sitting at tables in conversation. I walked slowly, eyes glossed over, and headed towards the back table where they were handing out packets of food. It felt like the longest walk of my life. No one even acknowledged me. I was covered in dirt from sleeping on the floor and could barely hold it together being faced with this new environment. I finally reached the barrels of food packets and picked one up. Veggie lasagna. There were instructions. Astronaut food. Needed water to heat. I stood in line surrounded by people all fussing to figure out these food packets. I just stood there and couldn't even talk or bother joining in the debate.

A woman comes from down the corridor with who I believe was her husband. She confronts another man, raising her voice as if purposefully creating a scene.

"Don't you ever talk to me like that!" As she stuck her finger in his face.

She continued provoking the situation and nudging her husband to do something. At the man's request, they take the argument to the other room while I stood there and wondered how people could be arguing over such fickle things in a time like this..

I needed to find a place to sit and eat my packaged lasagna. I began walking the other direction along the same corridor. I went table to table, but seats were taken and still no one acknowledged me. I reached the back of the room. There was a woman sitting alone with five empty seats around her. I asked her if it was okay to sit down for five minutes so I could eat. She said no, and that the table was full. I couldn't believe her response, so asked again just to make sure I heard her correctly. She just kept shaking her head and waved me away. I didn't have the energy to try and plead my case, but wondered why this room felt the way that it did. I eventually took a seat on the floor, in a corner, with my packaged food staring out at a room filled with my own countrymen that had yet to acknowledge another person's presence.

That's when it happened. The 6.7 hit.

I crawled under the nearest table and pulled who I could underneath with me. It wouldn't stop shaking. There was a woman there, begging for her husband to get underneath the table with her. As the earth shook, he just stood there smugly with his arms crossed saying how he didn't believe in the safety of tables.

I knew a place where they didn't even have shelter from the rain and here someone is complaining about a table…

The room stabilized, aside from the sounds of crying children. I gathered with others around the TV which showed only destruction. I couldn't stop thinking about that parking lot. All the buildings that surrounded. Had they held through the latest quake? It was then that I saw a familiar face. A girl that I had met in Manang before taking the second pass.

I approached her and said, "hey, I know you.."

She looked at me and threw me a robotic, "oh yeah, how are you?"..

I tried to answer, but I couldn't hold a straight face. Squinted, swelled up eyes, tightened brows pulled towards the sky. I held up a finger as I turned around to hide my face in shame. I couldn't hold it any more. And I sobbed. The kind of sobbing that makes your shoulders shake. I faced the wall, gasping to find my breath as my face bathed in tears held back for far too long. I felt everything. Every energy both inside and outside that embassy and I knew I was standing on the wrong side of the equation.

I excused myself to contact family and friends. When I got to the internet room, there were two computers and a phone sitting in front of someone's desk. There was no privacy, and I could feel the glares as I cried while typing my message to the world left behind. I had made up mind, I couldn't stay and I had to go back. When my parents answered that phone call, I couldn't get a word out… I could only mutter a few phrases at a time

"I can't… I can't stay.. Please understand that I have to go back.."

There was confusion. They thought I was getting kicked out of the embassy. I could hear the helplessness in their own voices as they wanted to provide a solution to my situation but couldn't grasp what I was trying to tell them.

"I can't stay here.. Please understand and know that I love you.."

When I hung up the phone and walked out the room. A woman stopped me. She had been listening to my call.

"Where do you think you have to go? You don't have to leave. You're safe here and you should stay."

"But that's exactly why I have to leave. How can I hide here while others cannot?"

I walked away and headed straight for that food counter. I grabbed what I could and left.

I tried to wave down a taxi, but it was full, so a random Nepalese motorcyclist stopped in front of me instead.

"Where are you headed?"

I told him about the parking lot, and he said to hop on. Not another word. Sitting on the back of a stranger's motorcycle, food packets in both hands and I knew I had made the right decision...

6:30pm - "Connectivity came back, but don't know for how long. I am back in the parking lot surrounded by people. It has been quiet since the last tremor, but we are here bracing for night two. It looks as if it might rain again, but we are more prepared with mats for the dirt floor and tarps should this turn into anything more than a drizzle. We have food and everyone is sharing all resources. Helicopters are passing frequently overhead. All the restaurants and hotels that braved through last night are closed following the 6.7. More people are coming here to try and sleep. Tonight feels different. People are prepared and the spirits and positivity are on the rise… The buildings held through the last shake and we are hoping the worst is over." 

Night number 2. Indeed, the thunder and lightning have showed their presence. The locals have gotten creative stringing up tarps to cover half of the parking lot. They've dug waterways using a stick to keep rain from puddling. I am huddled up under a sheet that is losing its waterproofness with nine other people. Not safe to go indoors, the elements giving us their best shot, yet still, we sit hoping that this too will pass. One tarp goes down, we all rearrange and squeeze in more tightly. Tonight I have a sleeping pad and am sharing it with two other people. Candle light everywhere. People passing around snacks that were picked out of the convenience store around the corner. My sleeping pad popped a few hours into the night.. So again, we slept on the rock filled dirt floor. There was only enough room for my torso under the tarp, so I left my legs out in the rain. The environment wasn't pleasant, but I came to be with the people that opened their hearts to me earlier. None of the other foreigners that had breakfast with us came back. So I was glad that I was there. I wanted to show these people that I had the same faith as they did that everything was going to be fine. That their resources were not just mine for the taking, but that anything I could provide, including presence would be theirs as well.

April 27

1pm - "...There were two more aftershocks - one at 10pm and another in the middle of the night. The sun is shining today which makes it seem as though the worst may be over. People seem to be getting used to the mini aftershocks and almost waiting for something bigger. People are still outside in open spaces and a few restaurants were open for breakfast this morning serving limited menu items..."

I visited one of those restaurants. They only had eggs and toast. It was pretty much the only one open and because I was in Thamel, I was again surrounded by people from other countries. I needed to charge my phone, so I sat there for over an hour and watched the room around me. I watched people yell at the restaurant owners, I heard others complaining about getting dirty, flights not going out, not having water to shower, wifi not working, roads being closed and their plans being disrupted. People talking about the parties and food in their embassies. Complaints because locals didn't know when 'other food' would be available here. People telling their stories about how they got drunk and fell asleep indoors the previous night. Comparing when and how they were going to escape the country for somewhere safer.. That was the first question out of everyone's mouth - so when are you leaving?

Back at camp, the foreigners there were doing drugs and drinking heavily. Even saw a few others riding past on mopeds taking gopro videos… Others shoving cameras in people's faces. Why?? Could they not feel the humanity that surrounded all of us? What sort of stories were they going to tell others at home? I doubt anyone would tell this one… Maybe it was different in other areas, but it's what I saw. It's what I felt.

Two worlds - a harsh and outrageous contrast between the two. One looking to self serve, numb reality, and eventually leave. The other looking to care for others and survive. Where would you stand?