My Beautiful Journey
I am as American as apple pie, but my extended family still lives in Kathmandu, Nepal. Because I don’t get to visit as often as I would like to, my memory of the places I have seen before keeps changing. I was excited about my most recent trip because I would be old enough to remember better. However, I wasn’t ready for the excursion to the mountainside that my father had planned. Although I had heard my parents discuss the details of the jeep and the mountain lodges, I didn’t anticipate taking the trip on such dangerous terrain. My little brother and I had assumed that the trip would be just another road trip with some Nepali twists, and we were in for quite a ride.
To my recollection, I had never been on a road trip where neither of my parents drove. My brother and I held hands, and I gently squeezed his hand before the jeep driver announced we were ready to begin our six-hour drive from Pokhara to Jomsom.
My friends and family who visit Nepal from America complain about different things regarding travel, but my complaint is a bit different from theirs. I am fine with carrying purified, filtered water, and antacids as I travel and eat out. I struggle with having to leave one beautiful place so quickly after I have just begun to fall in love with it. Pokhara Valley was a dream with the Fishtail Mountain, Fewa Lake, the serene blue sky and crisp air, the clean cobblestone path, the temple in the middle of a lake, and delicious food in Nepali restaurants. I had seen Jomsom in plenty of music videos where the mountains and the pretty stone houses form a beautiful backdrop of people dancing in joy. My expectations were of high altitude, if I may say so.
As soon as the bumpy ride began, the medicine I had taken to fight nausea stopped working. My brother suffered from the same predicament. Our poor mother was helping one child clean up after another while fighting her urge to throw up a wonderful buffet from a couple hours before. After I was wiped out from throwing up, I was in a haze and yet still in awe of the beauty around me. The driver was humming and then singing the latest Nepali hits, which, of course, I hadn’t heard of. When my brother and I stopped retching, the driver started singing folk songs of the mountains. I could make out the words even though I didn’t understand the depth of the lyrics. I remember he sang about the mountain wind that touched the heart and the beauty of a flower that bloomed in the valley. I wished I understood my parents’ mother tongue better, and I wished to see the longing in their eyes and own it as mine.
I could see steep, treacherous mountains through my side of the window and a gap between this mountain and another through my brother’s side of the window. Ahead, the periwinkle sky spread like a blanket. As my neck and back moved despite my will to stay firm on the seat, I held on tightly to my mother, who was now between my brother and me, fast asleep and in peace. I searched my father’s face for something I knew I would never have, a sense of belonging. He was resisting sleep, half-dreaming, and smiling at the majestic view. As if he could read my mind, my father turned around to meet my gaze and gave a knowing smile. We had an hour left to reach our destination before the sun would turn the mountains orange and disappear behind the mountains for the night. I kept my eyes open, hungry for the scene, lulled by the driver’s melodies.
Question
What is the MOST LIKELY reason the narrator mentions the song that the driver sings?
Responses
A to teach the reader about why folk songs are importantto teach the reader about why folk songs are important
B to help the reader experience the beauty of nature in the lyricsto help the reader experience the beauty of nature in the lyrics
C to express her jealousy due to a lack of command on the languageto express her jealousy due to a lack of command on the language
D to help the reader experience the danger of traveling near mountains