wedding bus

Four.28.13

I showed the Indian-Kiwi to room five and then she asked where the mountains are. I turned around and pointed out Annapurna 2’s cone  quietly appearing behind a white veil and she let out a gasp, “they’re so close”, a wisp of awe and immortality catches the eye at your doorstep.

No one in the rooms wake up for the sunrise, they’re sleeping good in the silent forest and with the exception of the crazy dog, nature provides. I believe today a venture into the city for a haircut and shave is appropriate.  I also smell, sprinting the steps between the tap and the kitchen with tall silver water basins at dusk brought it on. 

Last August I came to Sarangkot weighing a hefty 178lb.  Today 162lb.  What’s the secret, ha, it’s no secret; vertical exercise, a simple diet, no fast food, a beer once in a while and yada, 16 pounds shed. 

9:13pm—A haircut and shave in Pokhara, a suit that might look good, another pair of shoes that don’t exactly fit (if I wear plastic bags instead of socks, I’ll be ok) pizza with a cockroach under the cheese, a downpour that chased shoppers for cover and then shocking thunder booms that made everyone jump, two samosas and curry at a bustling restaurant with three large rooms full at two in the afternoon, and around three Laxman and I returned to Sarangkot with wedding clothes and a block of cheese. 

The accountant hiked to Naudana and then caught a bus to Dhampus and returned the same way.  He is tired and not happy he’s carried these ridiculous cameras and has yet to see the Himalayas.  But you’ll sleep well Kim, so turn off your computer again before you sleep.  A couple in room two I know nothing about, a foursome from Dhaka in room six, and the pretty Ukraine who in one unknown state of exasperation wished she was from Kenya and her daughter and husband along with a friend take room five after yet another late arrival to the mountain.

Isn’t Kenya the most obvious choice for someone from Kiev to wish they were from? 

4.29.13

Today is Harry’s big day.  The 28 year old teacher will begin his third job, marriage.  I don’t mind being on this sideline.  The traditions and the customs are so far beyond where I come from, take it in like a show.  Just be happy, don’t look bummed which means control your thoughts and remain positive or remain in silent neutrality, keep all negativity out, even if you’re sweating your polyester gonads off and a headache one two’s you into a corner and cigarettes aren’t helping, your chillum isn’t helping either because you left it in the room.  I did? 

 Must I show remorse for my poor behavior, yes, if it offends and troubles others.  People who know you well enough should understand.  I understand.  I understand I can be difficult.  And guarded.  Even here, most especially here. 

There is no alternative for human face to face communication.  Why live in a flat screen when you have human interaction?  When did we become on-line narcissists? Do we like each other less? 

Will I keep changing or will I be the same?  Paul was certainly spot on, the battle of two natures rages and simmers and boils and slowly quietly there is peace.  Is peace more fulfilling when you choose neither nature and remain in the middle? 

8:28pm—In the hole, the party continues.  After a variety of traditional wedding rituals beginning this morning the party loaded up on two buses and headed for a rented tent in Pokhara for more ceremony, a meal, and the customs and traditions continued until six and it was back to the mountain homestead where the singing and dancing continues. 

And how do you feel now after two liters of beer?  Sad.  A family is a community and there is strength, you can feel it in the children who fear no one and where everyone knows everyone.  Not even did I know everyone in family reunions, this is something I wish could have been different.  Growing up in the flat-lands I wanted to run.  Would I have done this if I grew up in Pittsburgh?  I’d wager no. 

The gal is pretty and she really dolled herself up today, her younger nieces were more willing to acknowledge my presence and yet I had to remain distant and not give her any indication that in twelve days I’ll leave and forget the mistake.  I wish Sumjana the very best of luck in luck and love.  Really.  From all my heart, there will be no jealously.

4:30:13

8:31pm—For the first time in eight weeks I wrote in my journal, but I didn’t right much.  The heat in Pokhara was hot and left me with a headache. I got my last visa at the new immigration office next to the main police compound.  The nice lady saw on my extension request this would the last one and wanted to take all of money, jokingly of course.  I walked back to lakeside and I knew I wasn’t going to be in any shape to climb up, Laxman meanwhile on two hours of sleep was at another wedding came through and we returned to the top to magnificent panoramic storms racing East. 

And I almost forgot to note of this apparently ridiculous coincidence.  I thought perhaps I’d be done with them but after posting a Mitch Albom story on family staying together I get the email regarding upstate New York.  What’s the connection except spending time with family, that’s all.  No it isn’t the story, it is the order in which I posted one article and then received her email. 

So whaddya think?  It it’s meant to be, resistance may come.  I still need work, we will see. 

under a big tree

four.26.13

A clear fresh morning and whoa! A wedding invite to the cousins ceremony in three days.  Here try this jacket on.  I’ve never worn a gray suit, it could look sharp. 

Business has dropped like a car going off a cliff.  It does afford one to take care of business off the mountain and so be it, or sleep.  I will remain here, showing rooms, making tea, serving beer, don’t ask for any food the chefs are out. 

It is time for a haircut what to do.  Pokhara, it’s two bits with Laxman, in Lakeside, five bucks.  I could take the scissors meself and do it if necessary, I got two.5 days.

It has rained every day for a week or so but in the last three days only briefly.  An hour before sunset yesterday, skies darkened so I put the cushions inside, took my dry clothes from the line and put the pile in the room, returned to the line and began removing sheets and pillowcases when without any advance droppings, BAM! it came down hard and fast.  Thirty minutes later the cloudburst drifted east and that was that for the day.

These intense and short storms are good enough to provide everyone who’s got a bucket to catch their own, thus reducing traffic at the taps and reducing the number of times we climb.

12:17pm—At the helm in the dining room, the village rests, gusty winds, hazy cloudy.  Prem Maya’s shop is closed again, her husband’s younger brother ‘s marriage is taking her away for whatever in the world she’s got to do. I should learn to say kudos in Nepalese. 

And the plan to return hasn’t changed much, I get the feeling not having a plan is better, you think? No, not really, it’s the chicken or some kind of egg thing, can you get a job without an address, not really.  Ok, then, maybe LA has better resources, SD surely helped and by godly, the weather was nice. And there’s no reason to rush.

Voices from below on their way to the top, finish your cigarette, bring in the cushions rain spits, stack the chairs, leave a few out, rain stops.  Hungry for anything?  I think a couple of eggs are my speed.   An omelet with toast?  That would do it.  The internet isn’t fast enough to watch anything, we’re buffering long, far too long.

The rain falls harder, thunder rumbling, the dining room darkens.  Hard boiled eggs anyone?

4:42pm—Darkness descends on the mountain, chickens and children go on with Friday afternoon, louder rumbling cascades through and over the valley’s confluence.  Kem came by for a black tea and smoke, Baba stopped in, no Maya, no Suraksha! I remember Family Circle and the paths Jeffrey took, how different are they going up hill?  More like a zig zag, a lot of lateral switch-backing.  The rain picks up.  Close the shutters?

4.27.13

I should be afraid of what isn’t planned.  Going to America like an immigrant, hoping for a better life, no, hoping to survive. 

A 59 year old Korean checked in after seven last night, I guessed he was 45, ‘oh I dye my hair’, well it works, an accountant who worked somewhere in New York, a Baptist?  ‘I want to learn more about Buddhism’.  Say you should.

It’s Saturday but it doesn’t feel like it at all.  I suspect many will venture to the top meanwhile tranquility reigns except for the crazy dog.

I’m seeing more summer jobs in San Diego, how could I make it work, oh sorry, how can God make it work?  How can a spirit who may or may not be around anymore make it work?  You doubt ‘Job’ is around, I don’t know really.  Manifestations are rare, coincidences don’t say anything, they only confuse and leave me drifting in thought, which isn’t a good thing when you’re trying to cut tomatoes, onions, garlic and cabbage.

I’m not returning to the states to visit, it’s about work, it’s about establishing residency to get a driver’s license, it’s about finding a place to sleep.  I told Baba yesterday I’ll sleep under a big tree and we laughed and then he sees my eye and knows I’m not joking, if there are no ants, and it’s grassy….  I don’t know what he’s thinking, ‘why is he joking about sleeping under a tree, he’s American, no family, no house, problem, but you’re American.’

Before six thirty the Himalayas have disappeared, the accountant in room one headed up at five thirty seven, he was told it takes only three minutes to the top, a full two minutes faster than last month.  We need to time it.

10:26am—The accountant returned from the top carrying two large cameras.  ‘Thees too much, too difficult.’  How could anyone find sympathy in their heart for such suffering.  And don’t show me your pictures, anyone can take a good photo with a year’s salary around their bloody neck.

It is unfortunate after nine months I cannot follow conversations amongst these 30 year olds.  It surely is important, animated, low whisphers, inside jokes, sarcasm, endearing thoughts, reading a face, and hearing intonation amounts to nothing more than a few comprehensive percentage ponts.

3:59pm—Sun brings people and with 15 in the garden for lunch or a drink.  The ticket is in hand, a well in my stomach, o Lord.  I checked in a Chinese couple in room 3, sure I’ll give ya a dollar discount.  Is this your daughter?  Very nice, anything to eat, ok, let me go find the cook.  And a phone booking, we’ll see if a single lady with a guide arrive.  Thirty bucks for a deluxe, no bargaining, we are good customers.

8:49pm—dark bloody orange moon rising, stars and crickets are in sync.  The Chinese are out.  What a presence resting on the city’s aura, oh to have a camera, how can I describe it here with any justice…flashes go off from the veranda…a busy day and how long does it take to get into working shape after three days of no work.  Last thought before lights out and I lost the thought that fast!! Oh right I remember, working in a restaurant on a beach, oh it’s so hippy dude, but really?  A beach bum without a cause.

well let's declare

4.24.13

Overcast morning, patches of blue sky, clean air, sunrays spill out below the horizon, the only issue with room eight is the absence of plumbing and that’s ok for now because You made it!  No more anniversaries to waste time pondering what won’t happen.  The days of my future have passed.  Time to plan, you got 19 days. 

When the journey takes you to an impasse you do two things; you wait until the impasse has resolved itself naturally or you take a sword and make a new trail.  Fraught with dangers and disappointments, quietly you’ll wander and expect you, that’s right, you, to take care of me.  Doesn’t sound too Americana, dude, where’s the confidence.  Give me direction, a little coaching, a meal now and then, shelter once in a while, ha, this isn’t working. 

6:50am—A healthy jungle expresses life and keeps me tuned in room eight while a slow sunrise keeps many at the top.  Yesterday I said I’d not be taking this computer because it was too heavy and the only thing I’ll miss is photoshop. 

For her birthday she got billed for a one way ticket to the west coast.  Some celebration there wasn’t yesterday, which is ok, because the two events are clearly unrelated.  Right?

Communities bond with one language.  On the outside for a long time, how’s it gonna be going in again, almost three years to the day I last left, these aren’t arlo Guthrie times anymore.

A cousin is engaged in the village.  In five days the handsome man will be married.  Do it right, do it fast.  They only have to look at each other one time and isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?  I think a drink might be a good thing real soon.  Let’s drink and sleep for the rest of the day!!

2:00pm—A big rain comes and goes.  We fill up buckets from the dining room drain pipe and fill up buckets in the toilets.  The sun comes out and men in a big truck shovel out sand and stone at the new building across from the banyon tree rest stop.  The dude with the crazy dog’s going to add a third floor.  I will not be here to see it built.

If I found a summer job in San Diego where would I live?  I know a place that’s 25 bucks a day, not far from the baseball stadium whose name I forget right now.  Isn’t that what you want or need?  San Diego.  A most temperate kind of place. 

The children went with their father to Pokhara for the beginning of cousin’s wedding ceremony.  Maya cleans rice, Didi washes clothes, moves about between rooms one and five and takes smoke breaks.  I understand.

4.25.13

Lining up contacts, slowly as she goes, a beautiful sunrise, cool air, I need a toilet.  For the last week I’ll move into one of the rooms, indoor plumbing is a great invention. 

There won’t be much to write about now that the past is no longer relevant.  Coincidences have become blasé, signs, symbols, yawn, what’s it to me now I am no longer under any spell.  That’s right I can’t listen to Coldplay’s misled lyrics anymore. 

This engagement and marriage of Tika’s brother in five days is a big deal here.  Well, he’s a well liked individual and it’s the beginning of the let’s tie the knot month.  How are you?  I’m fine.  I’m eager to wrap things up though, beautiful sunrise one after another, on top of the hill for nine months it’s time to share confident wisdom to any poor schmuck who may sit next to me.

He knows and I know whatever is given will be sufficient.  A seven am sun warms and heals, what are you leaving the mountain with, o holy wannabe?  Well, I know what I am not leaving with, wool socks though they might be needed until the end of June. 

12 noon. My checklist is pretty simple but it all begins with shelter. The sun is out and it is nice.  Almost all of my clothes are being washed, a good day to do it.

I made my own cup of coffee this morning, the family busy being family.  I have been quite reluctant for the nine months to make myself anything in the kitchen.  Eating with the family on their schedule has worked out well enough it’s only on occasion do I feel a sudden need for coffee, like last night, coffee.

My writing sucks, how dare you type on without correcting it first.  It certainly inhibits the free flow, and it doesn’t help this computer hasn’t been exactly friendly, either.  Oh, did I say I’d go up so Maya could sleep?  Hmm…ok, let’s go up. 

8:00pm—This was by far the quietest day since I arrived in Sarangkot last August.  This afternoon Maya went to bed, Laxman was out, the VDC is drilling for water at the buffalo pond, and I sat in the garden, nodding, meditating, and reading a rather refreshed and new look at Romans chapters one through eight.  There was one sentence, however which I need to note for today I pondered a defense for proposing a realignment of the NT:

“This will take place on the day when God judges people’s secrets through Jesus Christ, as my gospel declares.” (2:16)

What I need to demonstrate is Paul’s letters, while considered inspired, were difficult and divisive and while we know the Anatolian was one sharp dude his opinion, plainly noted, can’t be as inspired if it is only his ‘gospel’.

The almanac says tomorrow is a full moon but it looks very full tonight with a light gold glow.  Last night it looked full but it was too bright to see well and now all is calm save for one wedding band further below.

© There, an inspired idea

4.22.13

Five am--Earth Day begins with steady rain and bloody thirsty mosquitoes.  Four years ago I saw Coldplay on Earth Day in Abu Dhabi and imagined a huge thunderstorm begin just as the band began.  The day before a member of the group tells a newspaper they would match the cost of energy it takes to do this show and donate the proceeds to a wind farm in New Zealand. Did I imagine a coincidence somewhere there? 

I sure got crazy with this one, eh?  A message from the universe, HA!  A message from Coldplay, HA! Four years later and not a god can’t be damned bloody thing has changed. 

9:23pm—The band below the banyan tree stop is in full throttle; snake charmer’s tin horn, a drum, a tambourine of some kind and the occasional chorus of men and boys make a wedding complete and thanks for letting us go to sleep in twenty minutes.

After a local trek through the jungle below the zip line leeches overwhelmed and enough enoogh said right here.  Not in a happy mood this morning, better tonite.  An itinerary is put in motion, there really is no point in waiting anymore for something you want to happen happen.  It’s back to the motherland. Tomorrow though, is simply Tuesday.

4.23.13

Jesus didn’t have a home, Buddha didn’t have a home.  Neither of them owned very much.  You want me to follow their example, it isn’t hard.  Detaching isn’t difficult.  The value of possessions in this room is relative. And shedding everything to travel light isn’t new, I’ve been doing it for fifteen years.

A stunning  five am pre-sunrise, a crack of light gold between overcast skies and the ranges.  Keep it gold, Johnny.  There is much to do if you want to, guests in rooms five and six, no Didi today so I hear, and nice skies.  The people will come.

The stomach grumbles. A serene and photo worthy sky keeps me from going up.

A cup of tea, toast and an egg, swept the dining room floor, wished Maya a happy birthday, carried one bucket of water from the tap and I’m still waiting to use the toilet.  Yesterday’s mid-day painful forest dump apparently left a lot of room.  It’s only 8:39am.  I can take a walk or have a smoke and listen to psychedelic music to distract impermanent desires.  Oh wait, I smell rice and potatoes…

So are we going to do anything special on this day and recognize the chaos that was? Well, let’s look for a job, a place to sleep, places to eat.  Survival hasn’t been that difficult if that’s all you need to do in any given moment.    

A week from today a final visa extension. How can I use ideas and find ambition from them has been a lifetime mystery and we’re told if the confidence were there, you could you do whatever you want and you’d be a lot happier.  That doesn’t necessarily work though, for the rest of the world, but John, Jack, Job, whoever the hell you are, you are not the rest of the world and the rest of the world is not you, even though on the other hand we are pretty darn connected in spiritual ways that speak no language.

While the parents are in Pokhara Suman takes an order and into the kitchen he goes. His cousin, Susmita, follows.  I will remain here at the table with the window open a milk coffee that ought to wake me up a little.

The day’s brilliant morning sun gives way to a variety of dramatic clouds and strong winds.  Vultures and paragliders, flies black-red mosquitoes, a lot of movement going on here.

A familiar idea came to mind this morning and left me feeling very heavy, as if such an idea was really dangerous, though I consider hours later it is more daunting than dangerous.  Consider for a second, The Bible.  Who owns the rights of this collection of stories?  The International Bible Society says I need permission to copy a certain amount of pages.  Who gave them the authority to make such a decision? This is God’s word and I am not proposing to add or take away general or specific revelation. 

While not a jot or tittle would be removed from the New Testament, I see a reorganization of the letters beginning with the Gospels, followed by the letters of John, Peter, James et. al, and then the letters of Paul.  14-13.  Paul, the 13^th Apostle.  You could end the divisiveness in Christendom.    

With an idea like this I don’t think I could go to a publisher unless I had the capital to publish it.  And then who would buy it?  Well, how persuasive can you be? An influential man could do it, no one stopped Jefferson from his liberties with the word. 

Should I copywrite this idea now?  © There, an inspired idea, protected by God’s law. 

How much would it cost to make a prototype? 

The spirits anticipated something and they were bloody wrong.  What happened that left them anticipating? 

The largest ghost town in the world

4.19.13

Five forty two pm, back in room eight after an afternoon of idleness until dusk and two rooms are booked. Maya wants me to give my dirty laundry to Didi for washing and I continue to decline, later, maybe tomorrow, nothing smells and that’s ok.  I wonder how many men wear the same clothes for days or weeks with no hassle.

7:56pm—The wind howls, the rain spits and stalls.  Everyone expects a big one but not yet. After breakfast this morning I took a 45 minute nap, I don’t know if it’s the heat and the altitude or just the heat.  Now only eight o’clock and I’m ready for shut eye.  What an exciting life you have, Jackie boy, brush the teeth and turn out the lights.

4.20.13

At the banyon tree rest stop a woman in red lights a candle and walks about the tree three times.  How do you define Hinduism, if everyone in your family and community say you are Hindu, then you are Hindu.

A thin blue veil lightly shrouds Lamjung at five thirty this morning, wispy clouds luxuriate the ranges.  Saturday, what in God’s name am I going to do today?  Wash clothes?  The children returned last night after four days away, and yes, I did feel like a ghost, unseen, unknown, taking up space.  A family member for hire it is sometimes.  Don’t take it personally I tell myself, but are children a reflection of what they hear and say? I hope not though I know better, it is a depressing way to begin the day.

Another tooth breaks while eating a fried roti.  It wasn’t the roti I know, it is a lifetime decay.  It is so wrong to hope anything will happen on the twenty third.  Shameful wishing, coincidences are supposed to be some kind of cosmological acknowledgement but what do they really say, they don’t encourage hope that’s for sure.

And no cosmic calendar indicates any kind of anniversary is recognized. This decision to write off four years of wandering because nothing happened is simply my efforts to stop the brain from guessing and anticipating such madness.   

I walked over to Ram’s and watched the men slaughter a goat.  There are many reasons to be squeamish but if your father was a butcher and you grew up in the suburbs you wouldn’t mind a masterful execution and completion in ninety minutes, one kg for each of thirteen families in on this animal, each receives an equal amount with equal parts.

I need to leave the country in forty two days.  I can’t go to any other country on earth without a job except for one.  Sometimes I feel a need to be there, to hear my language again, to help somehow but there is no direction.  I have had this loony idea in my head to start a business for a long time, would it help to share it here?

 Big D Tours

The World’s Largest Ghost Town

How much capital would I need to start up a fleet, how much for advertising, planning and so forth?  I know what you’re saying already…it’s just an idea which are always free need I remind you.  I know I’m no businessman but it’s dreamy to imagine visiting historical vacant buildings and prairie fields where Tom Dempsey kicked a 63 yard field goal with half a foot and then it’s coneys for lunch.  For an extra charge people could light a house on fire or visit a crack house. 

Locals with children are on the veranda.  I haven’t heard Maya or Suman up there with them, I’ve been feeling somewhat reclusive today, overcast, not a bad day to take a walk, really, isolated and angry clouds in the valleys heading east fast, thunder and downpours fly past, but we’re dry here and oh two guides settle in room seven, one of them is dragging the stack of plastic chairs across the tearable linoleum floor so it’s time to get up.  They’ve brought a Japanese dude.  Konichiwa, bro.  These fellas look like sherpas. 

9:40pm—I ventured out of room eight and in the field right below I helped Del-Maya plant ginger and popcorn corn, using at times a 2000 year old spade to till the earth.  With a wobbly back I went to the top and it sure was busy and spent the rest of the day sweeping, carrying water, prepping in the kitchen with all the rooms full again.  Thankfully, Suman was there to help, and one of the sherpas pitched in and cooked. I’m not sure what it is but a cigarette leaves me dizzier than usual.  Am I smoking too many or not enough?  I don’t know it’s time to sleep.

4.21.13

The first big rain of the season came last night and at six this morning the dark overcast greets no one.  Everyone sleeps and the rain continues to fall. It is this kind of weather that makes meditation connect, of course as long as you’re not hungry and you don’t need the loo.

People walk slowly in the morning, even when it rains hard. 

4.23.09  I brought it on.  A journey that started because I had too many questions.  Rocket fuel, there is no where to go on this planet for the answers and four years later the answers my mind created leave  more questions because the answers were not correct.  You can’t trust people, you can’t trust spirits, you can’t trust your mind.  Trust in Jesus, trust in the silence, my feet are freezing.

I considered everything I had to be a loss, I thought I had been given the news, the scoop of the ages, too wired, too connected, too doped up in a cognizant and fully aware kind of way, all of it, the illusion, was created in my head and assumed it was true until I assigned specific dates, now I sit in a grotto, numbers don’t add up, coincidences mean nothing more than their occurrences.

I remember the events that took place on this date, why write anything here, well, if everything was created in my head why talk about it anymore.  It isn’t doing you any good. 

Listening deep is putting me to sleep.  What the hell am I going to do today?  Sunday.  In the real world below maybe I’d go to church, have breakfast, watch Charles Kuralt, read the newspaper, go to a ball game, read, watch a movie and go to bed. 

So what the @#$%& are you doing, get up and do it.  How can you feel guilty desiring such a life you used to have, why not return to that and begin again.  Detroit.  If I can line up a job there, get the driver’s license again, re-unite with movitation to at least not be dependent on others or some interdependency would be good too, then I’ll accept whatever inevitability comes along. 

And here comes the year’s first fog, c’mon cheer up and stop looking at homeless shelters.  Ok, maybe I’ll just crawl under the blanket for a few minutes. 

Winds sweep away fog, rain continues, Didi cleans the rooms, lucky sod, when someone knows their lot in life, it’s sure easier to manage the what ifs and what the’s.  Yes, her life is harder than mine, but she’s got children, a job, money, what else. 

So you don’t know your lot in life, yeah, it sucks,  a jubilee on the planet and has the gompa on the mountain prepared you to return to the flatlands once more we will see.

8:52pm—I walked down the road to Balarum’s property for a very pleasant sunset in the east and figured on return that I should return to the states in mid-May.  I need to make these plans very very soon for fear the fares will change from their reasonable rates now. 

I think I’ll be able to work it out for three or four months and then return to the desert, and if it is meant to be then it will happen. 

I am planning for the inevitable crash because there is no other way and because I can plan for the crash it won’t be that bad.  It will be shame I never saw or heard from doctor laura of Larrabee, and there's no interest in going their either, but what a shame for it to happen and then not be able to explain it.  A lot of loose ends there are, Lord, hanging us out on the line to dry, so typical, eh?

There, that’s enough.

no sidearms necessary

4.17.13

Let’s take a reality check while we can here on living in SE Asia.  It’ll always be hot and when it’s wet, it’ll destroy a lot of your clothes if your accommodations are not dry and that can’t be understated.  Tropical means mold.

It will present a challenge, hey, wow, with a nice camera (?), a new city discovered, that would be cool, the weather, shit, it’s the weather.  I have to adapt to power outages, no, not really, ok, maybe in a big city in an apartment with not even a fan and walls perspire and rashes persist.

Give me a decent room and I’ll deal with everything else.  Really.  Memories of Huizhou are not pleasant when one asks about housing, food, everything to be too honest.

I think I’d need _________to live there before I saw a paystub and that includes getting there.  Lord, it’s just too much to ask. 

And really, are you gonna ditch the land of the droopy gonad and the country of your last employer in exchange for this, whatever this is, we’ll talk in a few days.

Oh well Jacky boy there goes plans to begin your retirement fund.  What to bloody do.  Have another peanut cookie and settle down. 

6:20pm—I walked to the grandparents for milk and sat on their porch watching Fantasia like clouds swirl dark and darker, the winds howled, thunder rattled and…no rain.  Here’s a new kind of pattern after three days when the ominous has no bite but what spectacular clouds they are outside room eight now, flaming red and orange skies above Annapurna and Lamjung with flashes and gusts keeping it going. I hate to whinge but if my writing were better than taking photos with a beat up camera I wouldn’t desire a nice camera, but please allow just a simple indulgence what life as a photographer would be like.  Ok, that’s enough.

9:19pm—A light rain falls, hardly enough to keep the dust down.  Before I went for milk a threesome checked into room three and came to the dining room for lunch. “I no pay this ten percent tax because we no pay tax in last place we stay.”  Maya, not wishing for conflict, said ok, perhaps a little too fast because a relationship of distrust had just been established.  No where in Pokhara or Kathmandu can you get away with not paying your tax and yet for some reason the Spaniard with a lisp and the Romanian dude thought it was in their rights to make this call. 

And while I was gone Maya gave the Romanian a second Gorkha beer and conveniently couldn’t remember when he was told he was going to pay for two and then says maybe I will go to another hotel.  Their guide, a squirrelly man with a baseball hat pulled low over his shady eyes, accused Laxman of cheating them and ya know, it begs the question how the Buddha or Jesus should handle Romanians and Spaniards with lisps who take the law into their own hands.  Who takes the loss?  Oftentimes it’s the Nepalese who depend on tourism and don’t wish to upset anyone.  A guide falsely accuses, a Romanian refuses to pay the tax.  A fine pair of hoodlums here, sleep with one eye open friends because the police are right around the corner. 

4.18.13

I don’t think the Dalai Lama would find that last paragraph too compassionate.  In Northern Ireland today, talking the culture of compassion, and the feeling I get is an unfounded anticipation.  Are there spirits who are just dying (no pun intended) to go somewhere in the end but are just as frustrated and losing hope fast that nothing is going to happen in this lifetime? I dare the gods.   

Don’t interpret everything, don’t interpret anything.  Accept whatever symbolism and stop your sitting. 

A pleasantly chilly yellow filled sunrise with the mountains returning, snow covered, behind a thin grey veil.

2:04pm—The skies rumble and threaten but nothing is happening.  The forecast for the next seven days is the same.  They look like rain clouds, they smell like rain clouds but for reasons I know not, they move ahead, holding on to that precious cargo.  Last night’s brilliant light and cloud show above the mountains left them snow covered so why not down here. 

A busy lunch and rooms two and three are occupied.  Room one is temporarily unattractive due to a stone that shot out a panel of glass facing east.  Within minutes of telling Laxman, two policemen dressed in blue army fatigues were on the scene and a young man quickly confessed.  Faced with going to prison and paying a fine or replacing the glass, the boy chose the latter and he managed to get another pane but he didn’t put it in, I suppose he doesn’t know how but now the glass remains unrepaired.  Would you sleep in a room with a broken window. Yes, you’d have to lower the price pretty good I reckon.  Postscript—window was replaced, all is good again.

Cold mountains appear.  The two guides who brought the two Frenchmen in their early sixties sit quietly across the white-bearded gentlemen and watch the grey steely skies darken.  Not even three and it feels like dusk, more people come, I help Maya prep the pizzas, veggie and chicken chow mein, chicken and veggie momos, chicken soup, vegetable soup and ohoy! Laxman arrives. 

When all is dark, the wind settles, silence brings children, chickens and a dining room full of people to focus.  I sat outside on the front porch with a cup of tea and a cigarette, next to the shop when the woman I haven’t spoken to in four years comes up, too late to move, she can’t not notice I see her and she sees me and her indifferent eyes speak the pejorative adjective that continues upwards.  I told Laxman she can wear this full length purple dress in America and people’d think she was Mennonite. 

Outside Beem walks by with a full basket of greens for the buffalo.  Rain falls lightly and hooray, steadily oh wait, it’s petering out, a little wind, the guides in room seven chat on their mobiles, the younger one wears the real red crocs too big for Suman now and Maya just isn’t gonna wear them.  I tried them on once and my feet started to sweat.  What is the attraction to wearing plastic or rubber on your feet unless you’re diving I don’t know.

What is it about FB and skype that leaves me skittish?  Once it starts I guess I’m ok but not initiating anything concerns me a little.  Oh, I see the red croc dude is an uninhibited soul and now sits on the bamboo chair behind me clipping his nails.  He speaks not a word of English.  Ok, I’ll go ahead and be free, now he wants to play with my mobile and let’s see if we can see the Dalai Lama in Derry.

The rain stops ten minutes later and painter’s palette fills the sky, orange hews, shades of blue white and grey, a masterpiece changes eastward.

The trio in three are purebread college students from America and I’ll not engage with any of them unless it’s business though one of the two girls is awfully cute, too cute to even think about and that is a good thing, right Kevin?  You can look at another gorgeous woman and think nothing of it because there’s no desire and when there is no desire there is…ta da…no temptation. 

Since that trunking system was officially turned on there has been a police presence in the village.  As long as they’re not wearing side arms welcome boys. 

I know of no such things

4.15.13

The Thais in rooms one through six slept with the lights on the entire night.  Is there a genuine forest fear of tigers and mongoose who know how to pick locks? Come on ladies, red spiders don't bite Thai people unless of course you're covered in a green coconut curry. Breakfast finished, 22 visitors are content, the mountains a no-show at half past five, a fading outline is all they got and it is not yet hot. 

Four years ago today Keith and I went to the view top for sunrise, a wall of haze and nothing more except for the loud Chinese amateur photographers.  As the rest goes the earthy atheists followed us back to the Hill Top Café and Sumjana and satan’s spirits swirled like the amateurs they were, and then they left.

Today the Chinese ambassador to Nepal is going to make a stop at the top, in say 30 minutes.  I’ll be honest, thinking of immolation while making up the beds brought me to tears.  He’ll be attending the ceremony to introduce a digital trunking system that will improve police communications.  Yes, I saw the four huge solar panels, solar panels used to listen in on your conservations over dal bhat, comrade?

Surely loud and obnoxious Chinese four years ago have nothing to do with a Chinese ambassador today, no, except they were Chinese, and the odds of that happening are what, 200 to 1?  There is one date left on my ‘it’s time to forget the past nothing will happen’ checklist.  4.23.09. The day the spirit crashed my party.  A week from tomorrow, great.  Are we reminiscing too much?  

4.16.13

Fares for flights to the states in two weeks and at the end of May aren’t too different, about a hundred bucks, a hundred bucks. No summer work found, I am not happy being dependent and I'm not happy about not being happy about being dependent. Isn't this what they've been saying since I arrived eight months ago?  We are family and it's perfectly natural to be dependent on each other.  Ok.

Another slow orange red sunrise, so quiet and majestic, it’s the least I can say for my thoughts.  The inevitable will happen, Jack, unless you’re surprised, unless someone saves your scrawny neck at the last moment, unless you do something about such precarious loafing. 

For the first time this year the rooms are vacant.  It was an amazing stretch of business, how do you survive the summer months when nary a soul climbs to the top, when fog and rain disillusion, when  there’s too much water.  Hunker down and budget each meal.  Life is not easy and don’t you dare make it more difficult for anyone.

2:08pm—I’m told a dozen ladies and a few men jockeyed for water after midnight this morning.  Now Laxman is waiting for power to hook up and begin piping water into the tank.  Power went off at six this   morning and hasn’t returned.  While everyone generally accepts power cuts and water shortages as par for the course, it still sucks.

I did my bit of cleaning before the afternoon sun and strong winds prevailed; garden cleaning, step sweeping, showcase arranging and rearranging, and empty beer bottle relocation.  The children are happily about, Maya moves from chore to chore, Didi is off today and tomorrow, the dining room is quiet and an English family of four checked into room five after lunch.  Water rationing is still in effect.

I will say this now I am guilty of associating any events that will occur a week from today as coincidence.  Maya’s birthday is a coincidence though there is no relation at all.  How lame am I?

Here’s a plan that just came to me.  I need a summer job so, go to Thailand.  If you like the job and the money is enough, what's to keep you from leaving?  well…as for the driver’s license and police clearance, I can do the latter later and the former, well…I’ve managed without it for four years though Salalah could have been exceptionally better if I had one.

7:23pm—The children are away for the evening and it’s so quiet you can hear crickets.  The five to eight millimeters of rain predicted hasn’t fallen though it is still overcast and strangely calm as well, thunder grumbles in the southern horizon, and throughout the village candles illumine the darkness. 

Dinner is finished, a fine pumpkin soup/curry with rice, Maya is at the tap, and Lalena and Maria pay their bill and return to the Lake View.  Lalena is/was a most attractive woman living and working in Bali with short rastafari hair who’s got four inches on me and when we stepped outside to share a cigarette I laughed when I saw her broad shoulders and imagined she was a hot Bay City Roller.  Do you have Roller Derby in Moscow?  I know of no such things.  

remember not

4.14.13

A heavy haze greets the throngs, a red-orange ball rises majestically.  Happy New Year, a reason to rejoice?  A reason to sing?  A reason to be thankful I’m still alive on this dusty planet?

An interview in three hours.  How prepared are you, well, we’ll see.  Just sing a little Audioslave and be yourself and drink a few cups of coffee beforehand. Fifty percent chance of rain this afternoon, plllff.

We stayed in the room, three hundred rupees a night, ordered masala tea on the kitchen roof a month before the tower was erected, waited an awfully long time for that tea and told the pleasant woman busy with other things, oh here come people for sodas.  Two hours to go, I’ve read up on the university, it’s country, does it have Taco Bell, yes, Starbucks, of course.  We’re doing ok.  The haze is keeping the spring sun heat to a minimum but the glare blinds.  Time for a smoke?

As we were leaving the room a bee came in and Keith and I tried to wave it out, but to no avail.  When we returned the bee had died, suffocation I presume, and a colleague of the fallen bee flew into the room, saw his buddy overturned and went right after me! Stinging me in the arm like I knew his friend had hours to live and I was responsible.

We left the view top and I saw a woman standing on the steps in front of an entrance to a café and here we stopped for chai.  I can’t say I wasn’t too sympathetic with my colleague’s anguish; three girlfriends, a new jeep, more money than he knew what to do with, I knew a cosmological bit of colluding was in the works but there was no way to explain anything then.

The rain and tornadic winds come mid afternoon from the north and now a dark cell sits right over the lake rumbling and blowing, such clean air refreshes, the multitudes heading for the top have vanished, except for the big group, I hear above, 4:44, Sawaddee Ka! and the winds turn vicious bending trees and umbrellas, the group is happy to have arrived in the booms and crackles.

My recollection of the first time I met Sumjana is fuzzy but we talked about plans for the future, strikingly similar or she was parroting my plans and I was naïve; she took down our email addresses and phone numbers, which we learned later was something she took from many, perhaps a result of growing up on top of a touristy mountain; I asked Keith what he thought of this woman, albeit she was young, she was playing a role she’d soon regret, standing next to me, the top button of her blue jeans open revealing red undies and all I get from him is I can do better.  This wasn’t the time to slap him in the head and he knew I wouldn’t but I needed all my restraint.

And here, somewhere in the discourse the eighth daughter of eight daughters alleged coincidence occurred and I thought she had been somehow chosen for me and it took four years to scrub this from my intellect.  A mistake.

I am glad the storm came today, it seems righteously appropriate.  As for the interview, I felt I blathered a bit, thinking hard of history to recall, going back to graduate school, I don’t know.  Class sizes are overflowing, the country is ranked number one in the world in its growth rate at 4.9, and they need teachers, well, dude.  If we’re gonna get personal, you’ll lose every time.  Hire me you won’t regret, my trade, my profession, how can I walk away without a plan, without a buck, without a prayer, apparently.

Maya arrives among the Thais.  I greet the guide in front of room three, the same one in December who snarled at me like I was the prototypical bad American who has comes to her country and given it a bad name.  ‘Oh you’re still here’.  If she weren’t attractive I’d put a few extra chilies in her chicken curry, we’ll see.

A thought occurred in the toilet; what if I were to simply overstay the visa three months and pay the fine.  I figure it would cost less than five hundred clams, a lot cheaper than any flight to the states, though I need a driver’s license and some kind of police clearance or a good citizen certificate, yikes, I’m a good citizen, blah.

The air is calm again and the Thais stand on the terrace retelling experiences.  Another language I am a foreigner of, what a bloody shame it is, and they’ve gone up for masala tea.  I’ll stay in room eight a little longer.    

9:38pm—The twenty Thais had dinner at the Lake View and will have breakfast here.  All are safely in bed and are quite happy with their time in Nepal.  Today we also saw the wind and the rain blow in, clearing out the haze and such are the stars with a crescent moon in the northern sky. 

And finally nothing supernatural happened.  Four years and as each day passes the illusions become distant.  It’s hard to keep the faith when one feels foolish. 

2070

4.10.13

The twenty percent chance of rain stayed on the other side of the Himalayas and surprisingly strong winds cleared the clouds by late afternoon, how about that Clementine, your mountains, nothing like them French Alps, oui oui?

I cleaned the dining room windows today of nature’s infinite insect population.  The next cleaning project, the kitchen floor. Then it was the beds and the bottoms of the feet are black again and an hour nap after a headache prompted retreat.  So, maybe a shower tomorrow.

Four years ago this week, on top of a mountain high above the city lights the beginning of rain and the first lightening blasted away just as I turned on the shower.  I laughed and thought what a ridiculous coincidence.  The Chicago dude and I and our guide Subash, now in Afghanistan, had just returned from a day of hiking and meeting with a shaman to the two-room Super View Lodge when it occurred. 

A coincidence with nature probably only means you’re in sync with it, farmers are probably more in sync with nature than anyone else.  There is so much time to think through the silence and feel earth resonate, in the fields you think of one thing while at the same time that inner clock, the subconscious, the guiding spirit, Jesus, St. Francis Xaiver, who’s on call, leads you home. 

Gonna sing my Lord, for all that I’m worth.

4.11.13

After a hot, blinding dusty walk to Baba’s for sugar, salt, beaten rice, moy-e, flour and an always delicious glass of buffalo milk tea I returned and took the hot bucket shower and once again feel clean.  It makes me know I told you so showering every day really isn’t as refreshing as taking it once a fortnight. 

A week of no rain, another chance, unlikely it looks, a better chance in a few days, but this is the build-up to the monsoons, the hot, dry anticipation though it kills business when it comes.  Nature seems to survive better than humans who depend on nature. 

I can’t help but laugh when I think even for a tenth of a second that the Nepali New Year 2070, this Sunday, the 14^th, and arriving in Sarangkot four years earlier on the same day have anything in common with a scheduled interview with a university that morning.  Oh, and a big group comes in this day, taking all the rooms.  And I will predict here to combat the absurdity of connecting anything and everything that by the end of this day, nothing will have happened supernaturally. 

So why even write about it if nothing is going to happen?  It’s just this month ya know, it’s keeping me from moving on.  The end of this journey is coming, and I’ll be terribly disappointed and greatly relieved.

4.12.13

How can you explain when an entire community decides to sleep in?  Forty minutes since sunrise not a soul stirs, not a single tourist has ventured up to the hazy top.  It’s the heat, the dust, all forecasts for precipitation have dried up.  The driest part of the dry season is keeping us in bed a little longer. 

Two tourists in room one drank ten bottles of coke last night.  They’re lucky it’s so calm and they have the whole place to themselves.  On Sunday a big group comes I hear.  A little bit of rain will be appreciated.

9:36pm—The days can be so fast I hardly remember the significant and the insignificant but to sum: a grocery trip to Pokhara with Laxman, carrying foodstuff in a backpack and resting on my left leg a box filled with loaves of bread is not a big deal unless you’re sitting on the back of a motorcycle and with all your strength you’re trying not to fall right off the back because you’re going up hill.  A headache ensued and before I knew it it was time to close the shop, put away the chairs and cushions, lock the doors and decorate a table for Baba’s sixty-eighth birthday which was a mostly entertaining affair of tradition, breaking free of tradition and I’ll leave it at that. 

Whaddya think, 2070, 4 years ago, an interview.  No relation at all between them, but you so dear want there to be, you @&#$%#@#&@%

4.13.13

A slow red sun rises at six, officially five forty four or so elsewhere.  An insect bite at the base of my left thumb itches and spreads under the skin.  Room eight has big spiders who stay away but there are a lot of other things who don’t care.

The internet hasn’t worked so we’re in the dining room, newly arranged for twenty tomorrow or the day after. Slow rising party goers are, for the moment, not restaurant owners, rather homeowners, assessing only the step in front of them, no orders, no cleaning, wash your face, trim the bushes, the children sleep, and why not it’s not even seven.

Walking back from the paternal homestead the heat saps strength and it’s in bed for a two hour nap.  Today Ram’s new son was given a name by the guru, Hindu priest, eleven days after birth, and the family is happy, a healthy boy whose name I cannot pronounce let alone spell. 

Next to the banyon tree rest stop a group of men slaughter a male buffalo.  I am glad to view the work from this distance. 

There’s no way to avoid the contemplative moment, four years ago we arrived in Pokhara, went to an outdoor new year’s celebration and that’s all I remember.  When I think I’ve only lived abroad for 13 years but not consecutively, wow what an unlucky number, it doesn’t seem like much.  And in those years I learned to keep anticipation at a lower than average barometer, a pessimist you might say, but overseas learning to expect nothing is a far safer way to live among different peoples. 

So what happened four years ago, well nothing but anticipation drove me from continent to continent, shedding everything to keep moving and in the end, splat, nothing, brown mud, transparency a sick illusion.  I anticipate tomorrow to be like any other day.  To expect anything will lead to disappointment.  I can be content in the middle, a safe place to be.

Didi walks by with a basket of organic fertilizer for the plot right below.  I face a very very strong possibility I will be without shelter when I leave here.  Does listening to Neil Young make you feel bummed out?  A man needs a maid?  I never let maids clean my flats. 

Families are so connected here, relations rooted long and deep, even sentences demonstrate, though not briefly, the extent in which everyone in the chain is recognized, and most likely remembered.  My wife’s mother’s sister’s daughter’s boyfriend’s father’s brother was taken into custody yesterday.

The alien and the little  girl met in the early morning, amongst the mangroves and sunlight illuminated the dense green and all is well for thirty families of lower castes who will eat meat tonight.  A man in a yellow shirt takes half swings with the axe at the ribs and it sounds like he’s cutting wood. The parts are partitioned on a clean sheet of corrugated tin. 

9:45pm—Dinner finished, dining room locked, teeth brushed, the pulsating booms of dj music from Lakeside ruins an otherwise perfect night.  Happy 2070.  We’re in the future and how does it look for you, I don’t know.  Sleep looks good right now.  See you next year from the mystical, good night.