I didn't tell anyone I was coming and when I saw Suraksha first, standing at the entrance outside the guesthouse she told me she had a dream yesterday that I was would arrive today.
Could this be defined as a coincidence? If one explained, simply, that her spirit and my spirit had a chat of some kind, would I have to enact a scientific method of some kind to prove the occurrence empirically?
I finished 'A Million Little Pieces' on the bus to Pokhara. It was good enough to ignore the herky jerky ride for seven hours that a day later now leaves me with a sharp knife pain at the base of my neck and between the shoulders.
The fresh air is as I remember. Two Chinese tourists ask about paragliding while I stand behind the counter as if nothing has happened in eight months. "The sunrise is about seven o'clock, but go up about 6:15 or earlier. In the east you'll also see Venus quite well." I asked two kids at the top pushing tea this morning what the name of that very present bright thing in the sky and they knew the Nepalese name but not the English name which I didn't know.
The family went to a wedding and it is quiet. Except for a dog and flapping banana leaves. And a rooster, distant talk. I paid for a taxi all the way up because my back hurt. A new section of the road that is usually treacherous on small vehicles is paved and it is very nice. Nice enough to have skateboards here.
The power comes on as the sun sets, a power saw below and the fridge behind me. I don't mind drinking warm beer on cold nights. Lamjung slides from the clouds and warms under a faded pink veil. Four more nights and it's back to Kathmandu and then back to the peninsula.
What more is there to say. A lot if I carried a typewriter of some kind. Most ideas fade before I find one which is ok sometimes. I'm fortunate to have seen a planet this morning with my bare naked eyes. It's not an anti-technology thing, it's a thankfully natural thing without having the need for technology to improve the moment.
Could this be defined as a coincidence? If one explained, simply, that her spirit and my spirit had a chat of some kind, would I have to enact a scientific method of some kind to prove the occurrence empirically?
I finished 'A Million Little Pieces' on the bus to Pokhara. It was good enough to ignore the herky jerky ride for seven hours that a day later now leaves me with a sharp knife pain at the base of my neck and between the shoulders.
The fresh air is as I remember. Two Chinese tourists ask about paragliding while I stand behind the counter as if nothing has happened in eight months. "The sunrise is about seven o'clock, but go up about 6:15 or earlier. In the east you'll also see Venus quite well." I asked two kids at the top pushing tea this morning what the name of that very present bright thing in the sky and they knew the Nepalese name but not the English name which I didn't know.
The family went to a wedding and it is quiet. Except for a dog and flapping banana leaves. And a rooster, distant talk. I paid for a taxi all the way up because my back hurt. A new section of the road that is usually treacherous on small vehicles is paved and it is very nice. Nice enough to have skateboards here.
The power comes on as the sun sets, a power saw below and the fridge behind me. I don't mind drinking warm beer on cold nights. Lamjung slides from the clouds and warms under a faded pink veil. Four more nights and it's back to Kathmandu and then back to the peninsula.
What more is there to say. A lot if I carried a typewriter of some kind. Most ideas fade before I find one which is ok sometimes. I'm fortunate to have seen a planet this morning with my bare naked eyes. It's not an anti-technology thing, it's a thankfully natural thing without having the need for technology to improve the moment.
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