kernals of rain

8.23.2012

Last night Mana sat on my lap and we watched the Rabbit of Seville on youtube.  He didn’t laugh at all.

A changing morning, Lamjung and his companions make a brief albeit spectacular appearance before clouds and fog sweep in.  The sun peaks out brilliant heat then flees. 

 

Yesterday’s forecast at the Annapurna Base Camp had temps in the mid thirties with heavy rain every day for the rest of the week.  How much is that going to change in two weeks, maybe three?  I can wait, I guess until mid September.  Parchese mountain intrigues.  It’s not far, two days to reach.  Dark fog always feels ominous, as if it can physically take and shake you of all your mental belongings. 

Laxman is out, Suraksha is at school, Didi and Maya cleaned my room, god forbid anyone see a bathroom that hasn’t been cleaned in three weeks.  Why let it go?  Well, I don’t know.  Because I’d have to clean it every day to keep it as wonderfully clean as it is now? 

So, I sat in the reception room, A few Good Men is on again.  I watched it three times in Salalah.  Ok, Maya calls me away, pani pani, the rain picks up.  It is such a bright fog that hurts and itches the eyes.  And I am quite thankful there has been no serious issues with the intacs.  In the corneas now for seven years.  One supposes they have adjusted to the age of my eyes and thus far the results are what they were when Dr. Grim implanted them. 

Rain on mountain tin amplifies gradually.  I can still hear WGBH Classical, I turn my volume up, nature turns hers up.  Who can’t be creative in a foggy thick thunderstorm accompanied by fading French horns?

Ah, a mug of Maya’s world famous masala chai with buffalo milk. 

So, what’s on your mind?  I stood and leaned on the reception door frame looking at tourists going down, smoking a cigarette, unshaved for a week, no shower in three days, wrinkled, and I knew that click was aimed at me and three Japanese travelers sitting in the dining room holding big cameras looked at me then at each other and then at me and I said it was ok.  I didn’t tell them to remove my belly in Photoshop please.  Cute adult-kids these Japanese travelers were in bright shiny new outdoor clothes.

Rain good.  On a mountain the only danger are landslides.  The foundation here is solid.  I picked 10 ears of corn from the patch under my room.  Mice and birds eat too well, Maya removes the kernals for a fried or boiled snack.  We sit and chat.  In a very small community it is close to impossible to not talk and not know what is going on with everyone.  It is a form of self-policing gossip I suppose.

A family of seven Poles come in from the fog, five children aged 15 to 4, ordering cokes, water and an $11 bottle of wine someone has to rush down to Shiva’s a buy a bottle.  Yes, this is good.  Oh, I see, Maya comes up, a bottle in each hand.  I hope it’s not Nepali wine.