I think the best evidence that I’m burning out is that I’m losing my sense of humor. I made a wrong turn on my bike today, ending up through poor Pokhara neighborhoods, and I didn’t notice anything around me, just wondered “when can I get back to tourist haven Lakeside?” My sandal broke on the way, and I cursed. Kids bother me. I bought a snack from a street vendor and a kid just walked up and held out his hand. Nobody (beggar or shopkeeper) takes no for an answer; you have to hardcore shun. And I find this all depressing, not whimsical or even tolerable. I just want to hide all day in a German Bakery with a cup of Nepali organic coffee and copious wi-fi. (these are all ubiquitous here.)

I’m not catastrophizing, though. Most likely I am just a bit burned out, and even when I’m “resting”, I’m getting up at 5 AM to see a sunrise or trucking it to some place I don’t even care about, so I’m not recharging anything. I’ve still got a few days in Kathmandu to try actually taking it easy; perhaps that will help.

If I were to catastrophize, I might wonder why my ventures are less frequently to random unexplored places, and more frequently to whatever tourist attraction I read about. Why I’m not even tough enough to subject myself to the rigors of a guided trek. Why, to put it most succinctly, why I am not Henry Rollins. But this would be foolish, like a beginning piano student wondering why he’s not Mozart. I am where I am, continually learning, and that is fine.

Unrelatedly, a couple of my favorite travel bloggers are in Iran. Here’s why they decided to go there. It’s a lot like my reasoning, actually.