Let’s go to Nepal & India!

I remember sitting on the plane the first time I went to India in 2013. We hadn’t taken off yet when a bare Indian foot came stretching through the seat crack next to me… wriggling and popping… and then took up shop on my arm rest. I looked around in disbelief. “Really? We’re all okay with this?!” I was the only one who seemed disturbed.

That was my second trip with charity: water.

Today marks my tenth, and I’m proud to say that THIS TIME I’M THE ONE WITH BARE FEET UP.

Just kidding. That’s gross.

But I have certainly become more accustomed to the lack of personal space. And more respectful of the fact that the things that make us different are the things that make it fun. (I’ve also become more accustomed to asking the flight attendant for wine.)

Anyway, trip #10 begins today, and I’m excited to bring you along for the ride!

Where are we going?!

Great question. We’ll be visiting rural communities in the Sindhuli district of Nepal (southeast of Kathmandu) to see massive Gravity Fed Systems that are delivering clean water to the doorstep of hundreds of people in a place where you have to be a freaking billy goat to go looking for dirty water.

That’s one week. Then we’ll have a few more days in the Thar Desert of Rajasthan in India (up in the northwest near Pakistan) where rainwater harvesting systems are providing access to clean water for families year round.

Why these places?

For the stories! Clean water is radically restoring health for families in Nepal. And guys… THE THAR DESERT! This is literally one of the hottest places on the planet (here’s an article from last May when they recorded a 124 degree day nbd). It’s a place where people who don’t have access to clean water have to pay 50% of their income to have water delivered to them.

What are you most excited about?

Both of these places are either new countries or new parts of countries for me. I’m actually arriving in Kathmandu a day early to explore, and I’m giddy like it’s my first day of school.

What are you most nervous about?

Woof… snakes, spiders, scorpions, getting miserably sick, camping in the cold in Nepal, sweating in the desert in India, motion sickness on the craziest road you’ve ever seen (seriously, zoom in), being out of shape and having to climb mountains, a general post-ban loathing of Americans.

Really… you’re gonna bring up the ban thing?

Yeah. I am. I think blocking someone from coming into our country because of how they pray or where they’re from is wrong. It’s not how I was raised, and it’s far from what I was taught in Sunday school. People are people. And I think “in need” should be the only qualifier when we’re trying to decide who to help.

That’s fair. You’re a good arguer. And remarkably handsome.

Thank you.

Anything else I should know before we go?

We have an awesome team with us. It’ll be Jamie (our videographer), Ali (our creative producer), and myself… plus our favorite freelance photographer Jeremy Snell. Should be a lot of great stories happening in real time if you want to follow along.

Well now I’m excited!

Good. I’m glad. Wifi will be spotty, but I’ll do my best to send updates along the way. Stay tuned.

Before I sign off, I want to thank you again for following along. You guys continue to make this so fun for me, and I can’t wait to share more. Love you all. See you in Nepal!

PART 2/4
February 28, 2017

An Update from Sindhuli

I remember hot showers.

The way the steam fills the room and the mirror turns opaque. The way hot water hits your skin and itches in a good way. How your ability to breathe changes and you can suddenly access a part of your lungs not normally available to you.

Those are the things I think about while I lay in the bed shivering after the shower I just took.

It’s our last night at a hotel before moving into the community for a week, and while there are some comforts I’m going to miss (a bed, a pillow, privacy while going to the bathroom, toilet paper…), the icy fingers of death that just tried to rob me of my breath away aren’t one of them.

Okay- it’s probably not fair to start by complaining (for what it’s worth though, I’m already into my Oral Rehydration Salts, and it might not take a doctor to tell you what that means).

Let me share some of the good parts from the last few days…

1 — We got into Kathmandu a few days early and got to explore this ancient, chaotic, and magnificent city.

Everything here is ornate. Hand carved wood and stone. We visited massive temples, open markets, and blossoming gardens. We ate momos (kind of like a curry flavored dumpling) and drank peppery teas. It was glorious.

2 — We made it to Sindhuli District about 6 hours away despite a massive road collapse on the one-and-only road.

It took us about 12 hours, but thankfully… we had each other (cue the Golden Girls theme song).

3 — We spent our day yesterday at the top of a mountain in a community that we hope to bring clean water to in the future.

It’s a place where water is incredibly scarce. They have a few water sources — all of them trickling streams that seep out of the rocks and deplete quickly. Families here have to send a representative to stand in line with their water canister and wait for hours.

We met a little girl named Rita who was collecting water when we arrived at 6:00am. She had been in line since 3:00am (!). And because the source empties so quickly, it took another hour and a half before she was finished. Crazy.

But it was a day full of hopeful and moving stories. Kids with big dreams of studying management and commerce. Loving couples and families. One hilarious elderly man who plead for clean water: “just help an old man take a shower!”

Anyway, we’re off to a good start (no matter how often I’m going to the bathroom).

We’ll spend the next four nights in a mountain village so you won’t hear from me until Saturday, but I’ll be anxious to share more stories then! Thank you again for following along. Love to you all!

PART 3/4
March 4, 2017

Goodbye Nepal, Hello India

I remember cold showers.

The way your skin tightens like new. The way adrenaline courses through your body and makes you feel alive. The “ooh! oooh! ahh!” song you sing in between each half-breath.

Those are the things I thought about while standing half naked in a stranger’s home scrubbing a day’s worth of sweat and dust off my bare body with a wet wipe.

We got back from our stay in the Ambote community last night, and before I checked email or looked at Instagram or even texted loved ones to confirm my wellbeing, I took a shower. My first since that one I loathed so much prior to our departure. This time it was the greatest cold shower of my life.

Everything is relative, I suppose.

Four days wasn’t enough for this trip. This community (who received access to clean water a few years ago) was full of stories of change and opportunity.

We interviewed a doctor at the local health clinic who shared that before they had clean water, he was treating 700 patients each month — for things like diarrhea, dehydration, and typhoid. Today he treats 60–65.

We went to the local school and talked to kids from every single grade about what their futures look like. They proudly shared dreams of becoming scientists, social workers, pilots, and engineers.

We met a woman who bragged about her grandson’s appreciation for hygiene: “Just ask him; he’ll gladly demonstrate how to wash your hands or brush your teeth.”

It was an awesome testament to the impact of clean water and sanitation — and the difference was night and day from the community we visited before.

One thing that wasn’t different however was the warmth and kindness of the people in the community.

We arrived to welcome banners draped across woven-palm archways and spent our first hour in a ceremony. We exchanged introductions and explained our purpose. Then we were presented with flower necklaces, scarves, songs, tea, and a spot of red dye for our foreheads (a tika) — as a blessing.

I found out later that our local partner organization asked the community to keep the welcome ceremony to a minimum. They politely refused.

Beyond the welcome, we were given beds within homes in the community. We were fed (often over-fed) from family farms and gardens. We sampled homemade booze (called raksi) and were gifted proper diarrhea medicine (… related?). We sipped tea on porches. We were even treated to a dance party on our last night.

It was four days of simple but beautiful life in the mountains. And though it was far from glamorous, it was also far from anything you could put a price on.

Laying on my stiff wooden bed, not quite ready to go to sleep, entombed in a Russian doll that goes sleeping bag > mosquito-repellent sleep sack > outer layer of clothing > inner layer of clothing > me, I spent some time thinking about life, the things that make us different, and the things that make us the same.

Earlier that night I had watched a room full of Nepali people singing and laughing the night away. The instruments were unique and the songs were unfamiliar, but the biggest difference from a Riewer family reunion was the absence of wine.

My conclusion was that the only things that truly make us different are the ways in which we treat each other. The character we demonstrate. Who we welcome. What we share.

When we said our final goodbye yesterday, the entire community came together once more. Familiar faces this time. Again, we exchanged messages. And then another round of tikas. But this time it wasn’t just one tika. Instead, our friends lined up with baggies of red dye and marked our foreheads over and over again; each person getting to share their own final blessing.

Moments like that outweigh every cold shower and wet wipe bath.

Tomorrow we fly to India to begin the second part of our trip. It’ll be hard to top Nepal, but I’m anxious to see the impact of clean water in such an extreme desert environment.

Once again, I’m not sure what kind of internet access we’ll have, but I’ll try to send one more update before we come home. Much love from Nepal!

PS- I’ll spare you the details, but it was a Top 3 diarrhea moment. I’m back to normal thanks to that Nepali medicine that fell from the sky like a Hunger Games reward. But I appreciate all of the prayers poop emojis.

PART 4/4
March 8, 2017

Day 15: Coming Home

At 4:30 in the morning, the long road from Jodhpur to Balanagar is completely dark. There’s very little electricity in the desert. A few lights dot the horizon, but the road itself is visible only in headlights, so fellow travelers (motorcyclists and vehicles often without tail lights) appear in front of us almost out of thin air.

It’s terrifying. But nowhere near as scary as the trip home after the sun has gone down. That’s when the streets really come to life with stubborn cows, wandering goats, tire-nipping dogs, and humans who are clearly much more at peace with the idea of death than I am.

It’s Frogger meets Minesweeper, and every bit of it reminds me that I don’t tell the people I love that I love them enough.

But we made it.

After two 16-hour days in the desert, it’s finally time to come home.

This second half of the trip has been so different from anything I’ve seen with charity: water in the past. Much like the lack of electricity, there’s no water in the desert either.

People here are so desperate, that they dig massive holes in the ground to collect rainwater during the monsoon season. When the holes run dry (and they always run dry), people have to pay to refill them from tanker trucks.

Families are spending 20% or more of their annual income… on dirty water.

Quick pause.

What do you spend 20% of your annual income on? Anything? I don’t. Not food. Not clothes. Not travel. Rent is probably the closest it comes (but I live in New York City and work for a nonprofit organization, so…).

Now think about it the other way; imagine that 20% is extra money. What do you do with it?!

The answer to that question was the highlight of our trip.

Our small but determined local partner organization in Rajasthan is providing an improved version of that hole in the ground for families in the Thar Desert. It’s a massive concrete cistern (called a tanka) that safely stores 20,000 liters of rainwater, so each family can have enough safe drinking water to last all year long. And it’s bringing people a whole new world of opportunity.

Parents in Balanagar excitedly talked about building new houses, buying more goats, constructing toilets, paying off debt, and taking better care of their families. Everyone was so happy and eager for the future.

I’ve seen clean water improve health, give kids time to go to school, restore dignity, and make someone feel beautiful, but this is the first time I’ve seen it eliminate a financial burden. And it was just so freaking powerful.

Between our time in the community and the car rides to and from it, I’m feeling pretty thankful for the things and people in my life; I too am happy and eager for the future.

We’re homeward bound now, so that’ll be it for this email series. Thank you as always for following along. Thank you for the notes and kind words. And if I haven’t said it to you lately… I love you.

Until next time!

When I was nineteen, I went to Rome by myself for spring break.

I didn’t mean to go by myself. A girl that I liked suggested that a group of us go, so I bought a ticket… I turned out to be the only one who did.

I spent that week wandering around my first non-english-speaking country sweaty and often lost. I carried a map like an oaf, had no money to spend and tried to get by on more Spanish than Italian. I was mistaken for a homeless person and almost tossed out of the Vatican (which, surprisingly, was unrelated to the homeless thing). It was rough.

But it was also the best trip I’ve ever been on.

I learned more about myself in that week than I did in four years of college. And it was because I was the only person with me.

Turns out that when you don’t have someone to rely on (or impress), you’re forced to make decisions for yourself. And adapt when things go wrong. Find your own lemons. Make your own lemonade.

Not being able to speak the language meant not speaking much— period. Instead, I spent most of my time thinking. Observing. Looking for clues.

Besides a name, what makes this a tobacco shop? How do you even play this sport? Dear God, there aren’t pictures on this menu — what do I order?!

I learned that you can pause for a second, look around, and figure it out (sadly, that’s an important lesson today).

And the lack of human distraction gave me time to think and dream. Confront myself. Talk to myself. Come up with new ideas. Thoughtfully answer my own questions instead of just reacting to what was happening in my life.

I think we all have the ability to chameleon into our friend groups. For me, traveling alone was like not having a color to turn into. And I got to find out what I liked about that.

On that particular trip, I learned that I enjoy the adventure of being lost. That I love watching people. That an 11am beer tastes way better than a 9pm beer. That I can make myself laugh. That I don’t actually love to read— I just tell people that because I feel obligated.

And beyond all of that, I also got to see myself be myself. Which was more rare than I realized.

This trip wasn’t more significant because I was in college and trying to figure out what to do with my life… even today, I am the truest version of myself when I travel alone.

If you haven’t done it, you should try it.

You don’t have to leave the country. Just go somewhere unfamiliar. Go get lost by yourself. Go mess up and figure it out. Go adapt. Disconnect. Pay attention. Talk to yourself.

Go be alone for a while. I guarantee you’ll learn a little bit more about you.

You’ve heard people say “time is money.” Maybe you’ve even said it. I certainly have.

I spent eight years in advertising, writing and blogging and engaging on behalf of brands in a world where time is very much about money. Where every fifteen minutes matters. Because that’s how you bill your clients.

You don’t put in a full day; you put in 80% billability.

And that’s not uncommon in the work world.

The problem is, I don’t think we realize how infectious that idea is. “Time is money.” You learn to work that way, and it gets inside your head. It changes which of the two you value more.

Soon you start to attribute dollar amounts to all of the time in your life.

Seriously, mom… hang up the phone. I don’t need an $80 call about dad’s knee surgery.

or

Super… this slow-moving line at the grocery store just cost me $25.

It’s dangerous.

And we forget that it doesn’t have to be that way!

About a month and a half ago, I started working at a non-profit organization called charity: water, and my world changed.

Honestly, we go longer and harder than anywhere I’ve ever worked before in my life. Late nights. Lack of sleep. Tons of coffee. Little social life.

But I love it.

Even when I’m done working, if there are people in the office, I don’t want to leave. I find things to do. Because we’re a team. And what we’re doing is valuable.

Value. That’s the key here.

Suddenly, what I value isn’t money; it’s what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with. It’s the potential result of the work and the fact that we did it together.

These people— all of us— want to work. And we want to work harder.

How many hours a week do I spend at the office? I have no idea. And for the first time in my life, I honestly don’t care. It’s not about the time; it’s about what I’m doing with it.

There are 800 million people in the world who don’t have access to clean drinking water. Women and children, walking for hours every day to collect water from the nearest water source. And it’s water that’s making them sick.

It’s far from superlatives and product features. In fact, it’s not marketing at all. It’s telling real stories so people can see what we see. It’s changing the way people think about charity. It’s purpose.

That’s the difference. My time isn’t money anymore. My time is my time.

And this just happens to be the most valuable thing I can do with it.

Time and Money. was originally published in charity: water on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Eight years ago, I was at a birthday party with a girl I had a crush on, when I got a text from a friend that said, "Luke Wilson is eating dinner across from me right now!"

This was in Lincoln, Nebraska.

I didn't believe it, but Luke Wilson was in three of my favorite movies at the time (Wes Anderson ones... not Legally Blonde), and I wasn't going to miss out if she was right.

So I walked out of the party without saying a word.

I got to the restaurant, joined my friends, and ordered a beer. Luke and his brother Andrew were just getting ready to leave.

When our waitress came back over, I asked if she knew where they were headed. She said they asked for bar recommendations and she told them to head downtown -- where there were plenty of options.

I paid for my beer without ever taking a drink and headed there as well.

For some reason, I needed to find him. To say hello. To introduce myself. To shake his hand. Whatever. My naive, glass-overflowing-with-fullness mind believed that there was a reason for this, and that if I didn't do it, I would always wonder.

So I wandered in and out of bars downtown... searching... hoping.

Thirty minutes later, I came into a bar and found Luke and his brother Andrew seated at the counter.

Holy shit. This was it.

I played it cool. I ordered a beer and took a seat at a table across the room. It was a weeknight. Not too busy. I had time.

What I really needed was a reason to walk over there without looking like a crazy person.

I filled a basket of popcorn, casually approached the counter and said, "Hey, I don't want to make a big scene here, but I did want to say hello. Popcorn?"

Crazy person.

But it was fine. Luke declined the popcorn (having just ate... what was I thinking?!), but was incredibly pleasant. We chatted for a bit. He shook my hand.

I walked away feeling incredible. I had just met one of my favorite celebrities... without coming off like a total weirdo. It could not have gone much better.

I finished my beer, waved goodbye and walked back over to the party. No problem.

But there was a problem. People had noticed my disappearance. My date, Angie, in particular. And they had questions.

So I explained what had happened.

Angie was excited. She wanted to go meet him too. But this put me in a predicament. I couldn't go back over there and risk exposing my stalker side, so I offered to wait, and she took a friend instead.

Well five minutes turned into ten... which turned into thirty. Eventually, I had no choice. So I walked back over to the bar to see what was going on.

The four of them were exiting just as I reached the door. Angie said, "Tyler! We're going to another bar! You should come with us!" And Luke said, "Tyler! I met you earlier! You should come with us!"

Get out of town and take a bus, you say? I know.

We walked five blocks to another bar, mostly making jokes about sorority girls. It was awesome. And now, once again, I felt like my night could not get better.

As we reached the other bar, rumor had begun to spread. People were calling their friends and shouting "hey, Baumer!" on the street.

The place filled up instantly. And suddenly, I was kind of on the outside again. But it didn't matter. I felt content. Eventually I went up, shook hands again, said my goodbyes and left.

Really. Felt like the best night ever.

I got home and I couldn't sleep. I was giddy. And as I lay there, I had a thought.

Luke Wilson plays golf. I play golf.

Quickly, I called my friend Angie.

"HELLO?!" (loudness)
"Hey! Are you still with Luke Wilson?!"
"Yes! We're going to give him a ride back to his hotel!"
"Awesome. Will you tell him that I'd be happy to take them golfing tomorrow if they want."
"Sure! I'll let them know."

End of conversation.

Now, it was late. It was loud. People had been drinking. My expectations weren't high.

But my phone rang immediately. It was Angie.

"Oh my God! He said they'd love to go golfing! Can you pick them up at their hotel at 9?"
"WHAA- YES!"

That was that. And I promptly went back to not being able to sleep.

Early the next morning, I called the my uncle (the Executive Director of the Nebraska Golf Association... huge bonus) for help. He worked a little magic, and suddenly I had two sets of rental clubs and a tee-time at one of Lincoln's best private courses.

I posted a quick message on our work intranet, "Hey, might not be in today. I'm golfing with Luke Wilson. NBD. Call if you need me." and headed to the hotel.

I was early, so I waited. It was 8:50. It was 9:05. It was 9:15. Dammit, I thought. They probably didn't even remember.

I didn't know what to do. But I figured I had nothing to lose, so I approached the front desk. Would you ring Luke Wilson's room and tell him that Tyler is here.

She dialed the number, delivered the message and put down the phone. "He said to say sorry... and that they're on their way down."

Pee in my pants. I couldn't believe this was happening.

They came downstairs, I escorted them to my rust-ridden Honda Accord and away we went.

I won't bore you with the details of the golf. But I will mention a few things:

1. I crushed my drive off the first tee. This was a high pressure situation and a lot of people might have snap hooked one into the trees, but no... I handled it like a champion. Sweet relief.

2. Luke recognized my sand wedge as a Hubert Green , and I've proudly referred to it as such ever since.

3. Just to give you an idea of how genuine these guys were... Andrew once hit into the group in front of us and felt so badly about it that he rode up and apologized.

4. I still owe one of them $1 from a terrible shot that I had on a Par 3.

Anyway, it was an amazing day. We finished 18 holes and made our way back up to the clubhouse for lunch where we sat, ate and laughed some more.

We decided another 18 holes were in order but only played 9 before opting for afternoon beers instead. Paradise.

By the time I dropped them off at their hotel, we were like old pals -- cracking inside jokes from earlier. It was surreal. And just strangely comfortable. I felt like it was the first day of school and I had met two kids that I knew I was going to be friends with for the rest of my life.

We hung out again that night. At a bar. And then with a few other people back at their hotel room. Around two or three in the morning, I said my final goodbye.

Both Luke and Andrew were extremely grateful for the golf and hospitality-- and insisted that I come play with them at Bel-Air Country Club next time I find myself in LA. Luke gave me his phone number.

And that's kind of where the story ends.

I called his number (a voice mailbox) and left a message a few weeks later -- with some bunk story about a "work trip" that was going to bring me to LA.

Several months went by, and then one day I missed a call from an unknown number. I checked the message and it was Luke Wilson saying, here's a better number to reach me. Let me know when you'll be in town.

Whaaaat. I know.

I called him back immediately. He answered.

We shot the breeze for a bit. He was working on a movie, but we discussed some possible dates -- and decided that I would get back to him in a day or so with what worked.

Just planning a trip to LA to golf with my buddy Luke Wilson. Not freaking out or anything.

But then the worst thing in the world happened...

The very next day, Paris Hilton's phone was hacked into. And every phone number she had was listed on the Internet. Including Luke Wilson's.

His number changed. A little while later, my number changed. And time went by. Eventually I just accepted that as the sad, but very poetic ending to the story.

So that's where it stands. I've since changed my mind... I don't believe that's the end of the story, but we'll see what happens.

I'm working on my golf game just in case.