God seems to be sleeping, eh?

2.26.13

The precocious 22 month old boy bawls after I remove him from the bamboo chair’s arm after almost falling at not being able to reach the drum he banged for twenty minutes.  Three ladies sit in front of Maya’s room talking about their men and where they are.  Two are awol and one is in Pokhara.  After breakfast I showered in room one for the first time in two weeks and the solar hot water left me so fresh I put on a clean white shirt and a cardigan tourists left nine months ago.  They also left long red choir robes that remain in a bag under the bed. 

In two days I return to Pokhara for another visa, number 8, and another razor. I can’t wait more than ten days to shave otherwise the 90rs two blade disposable will nearly rip skin, especially under the nose and the chin. 

Prisma’s little brother is almost three months old and his Hindu head is shaved mostly clean.  Moda is a personable mother who lived in the Netherlands and Belgium.  While Maya made pasta for tourists yesterday she said she preferred the white sauce and I don’t remember the last time I had a white sauce served on my pasta. Surely I must have had white sauce. 

Maya tells me she went to Baba’s house last night at two for dancing and didn’t return home until five.  She is very tired and wishes to sleep but not before cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom.  Meanwhile Didi saunters in, rooms one and three need cleaning.  She gets a long brush, a dustpan, a white bucket, a plastic bottle cut in half holds the soap tourists use and leave behind.  No, wait, she’s sweeping in here for the love of God between children and cleaners there is no peace.

Moda asked for a bucket of hot water and then Maya gave me the woman’s three month old son.  When he is healthy he is happy and the dark brown eyed wonder is healthy.  The boy is a far cry from Kushi, the two year old girl who is frightened when I or Laxman get too close.  This kid coos and caas and holds that blink-less stare and we’re alright. 

Peace comes to the dining room, a healthy elderly couple from the south of France arrive, Bolarum the taxi driver carried their large back-packs in. My stomach rumbles, my throat is sore, Maya might have got a five minute nap and she seems alright.  She’s dressed up with makeup for a one year celebration of Sumjana’s only brother’s marriage up at the Hill Top café.  How many days have the two actually lived together as man and wife?  About a month.  He’s waiting tables at a hotel in the Mauritias-land, she cleans toilets, the one job Sumjana expressed so much displeasure with four years ago.  Cheers to a successful Nepali marriage.  May distance keep your love strong.  I need a cigarette.

Twenty three years ago the college Tianjin Institute of Light Industry paid me $125.00 a month in cash.  I’ve seen salaries today at almost three thousand clams and that is enough to be interested.  But where?  Shenzhen, close to Lo Wu.  Beijing?  What about that pollution.  It hurts.

8:00pm--I told the Japanese trio in room one and the French duo in room three to expect a full orange moon around six pm, the time it came up yesterday.  The orb didn’t show up for another hour.  That moon, not like the predictable sun I forgot.  Nevertheless the trio rose from their dal bhat to admire it outside. 

And with a bright night the drums and chants and bells from the place I tossed two chairs fills the village.  Suraksha comes in to eat one hopes, oh she wants to finish my coke, the last of the rum will be straight, God bless everyone.  Maya has gone up, Reetchi arrives and where is Laxman I do not know.  Oh there he is.  How was your day?  Like yesterday, worthless.  Yuck.  I have those hours but they usually don’t last a day. 

The pope steps down in two days.  How, God, can this not be the end?  Your church needs a purge c’mon stop your snoozing up there and bring us home. Oh I see, there are other ways to finding heaven.  Sure.

2.27.13

When was the last time people were disappointed with a pope?

An American man with round green-tinted glasses came into the garden with his Nepali wife for a look and on his way out we chatted.  A funny man I have to conclude, ‘no one’s gonna find you up here if you decide to stay a little longer’.  Until I have to leave then, and then it’s just a fine.  I’ll calculate it tomorrow at immigration. 

I told the French lady and her husband who speaks perhaps two words in English and one is beer, how much I missed coffee.  Maybe it’s just talking to a Frenchie that I desired coffee and a corner and to drink it with…my mind is blank.  Apple strudels, yes, I think I am unable to desire any of this now.  This palatal desire brings me no good.

However do I desire to stay here longer?  I need to bring in money.  Why was staying here for seven months so astonishing to this American?  I tired of travelling and I found a place with an astonishing view so I stay. 

If I had someone to manage my money would I be happy?  If I made a lot of money I wouldn’t ask that question but if running out like I do is to be stopped, would I change with a someone in the frames.  Yes, perhaps. But this isn’t my call is it. Some things are not meant to be so they say. 

I went to the top for a sunset not hearing Maya’s calls to watch the place so she could go and talk amongst the ladies and sitting with the Pame Valley horizon deep orange sinking slowly I thought and teared of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams and the French and Bastille Day.  Liberty is burned into my psyche so deeply I think the Chinese recruiters feel vibrations in their force.  I can live without Facebook, and I could maybe live without youtube though I would miss some of that human American culture, not a lot, but enough. Watching Led Zepplin in that Kennedy Honors thing was cool.   And I could live without coffee though I’d take that 12 hour train to stock up. I just couldn’t live with anyone telling me what I can and can’t do if I am doing nothing wrong. 

postscript:

CNN this morning 2/28  The Pope says "God seemed to be sleeping..."

So you tell me.  You read what I write.  This morning I read what the pope says.  How many agree that God seems to be sleeping.  God has made promises and in the silence hope wains.