The banana farmer

                                                                10.8.2012

 

It does appear that the monsoon season has ended, another day of clear skies, cool winds and lots of sun.  The mountains haven’t been particularly clear here’s hoping for that to come soon.  Monday morning, Suraksha made an early visit, knowing I had been in Pokhara yesterday, she smells chocolate and seeks the bag until she finds.  After school, we agree, we’ll take a look at this Belgian chocolate, 72% pure. 

There’s a local artist on the mountain who does animal carvings and paints portraits.  Yesterday he told me a single painting was five thousand rupees.  In Pokhara I went to a gallery and saw a wonderful painting that was four times the size of the local artist’s work for the same price.  I look out from the dining room and see regular stream of tourists stop to see his impressive wood carvings of birds and insects.  Laxman and I paid a visit and I offered two paintings for the price of one and he refused.  How art is assessed is very speculative and I don’t see how he can justify the price so good luck to him.

Laxman handed me a banana.  Beem had brought up a stalk from below.  Jungle bananas, sweet and it was discovered I had planted this tree last year.  The farmer extended his hand after he learned I had planted it.  Nice job he seemed to say.  Well, yes, sure anytime you need a banana tree planted, just let me know. 

A week ago I agreed with Balarum to go to Pame today.  Plans changed.  It’s hard to explain the change but let it be said, I’d hate to see his wife in prison.   

The walk up the mountain yesterday took 90 minutes to reach Moti’s Panoramic Guesthouse, and just in time for a rather restrained sunset.  Moti uses an Italian coffee maker so it’s always good and he has a really stupendous viewpoint of the lake, and to his east, Manaslu.  The dry season is here, and he worries about water.  Really, where in the world is he going to get water for the next five months.  It is a concern shared by every person on this mountain.  The superview has four 1000 liter tanks and under the rooms a 15,000 liter.  This tank, I am told, has run out.  So, while my much needed and most appreciated shower in room five may have come very close to excess, perhaps a few minutes more than is reasonable, I will try to be more conservative from now on.  I will propose to Laxman we put up notes in the toilet asking people to take it easy with the water.

Walking past Prem Maya’s last night she was at the water tap.  It was the closest we had been. I kept my head down and said nothing.  I was happy to hear her laugh when asked of something by someone in the house but heard nothing else.  The day before yesterday she and her four nieces enjoyed the day’s last hour of sun on the roof, and I am happy she is not afraid to be in public knowing my atma is present.  And I didn’t wish to let her see me on the other roof.  There’s no reason to plant a seed for bad talk and gossip to grow.

Tourists have checked into room five.  Good thing I removed all the body hair from the shower this morning. 

A beautiful sunset with clear pink mountains.  I went up the steps quickly and turned left before the temple and headed to the helicopter pad.  While I ought to have expected it a row of Chinese from an amateur photo club were snapping away.  It actually made for what I hoped was a nice photo or two.