It’s green. Green like a National Geographic cover photo. A herd of goats play follow the leader over a mound of rubble. A lonely cow stands belly deep in mud surrounded by the most beautiful rice paddies your mind could imagine. Water buffalo chew their cud tethered to a tree I’ve never seen before. A rickshaw spits up dust in the distance, its honk directs two kids covered in purple ink to the side of the dirt road. Rebar tangles lifelessly from the top of every brick building in hope of the future. The sun is winding down, igniting the horizon into an illuminated frenzy. The smells of spices linger out the front door of a shack, Err… house. Yeah, house. Piles of cow patties are stacked proudly along a makeshift fence. Kids in uniforms smile shyly as they pass by. “Photo?” Does any of this look even remotely the same as it did when Prince Siddhārtha Gautama walked these fields? Was he as inspired as I am by its sheer beauty? Is this why he found enlightenment under the Bodhi tree only a short walk away from where I’m standing? There’s something here. I hope I can get out of my own way.