in fields of rhododendron

8.13.14

6.51am-The rain fell heavily through the night and hasn’t let up a bit.  The wooden frames sit soaked, no one goes out in this and when will it let up?  Day two of the big rain, throw in heavy fog.

An itching bite on the bottom of my left foot stole from my sleep.  I think what we have here are almost ideal conditions to fast which we’ll do until it’s time to eat.

The greatest fear with rain in the mountains is the landslide. 

9.52am

I said goodbye to Suman in the car, Maya, Manab and his mother were also heading to Pokhara, poor Manab, an insect bite has completely closed his right eye.  I don’t know why Maya is going down, she thought I was going too and I told her so last night in the sitting room but I changed my mind this morning.  The collective pain among my family of broken teeth didn’t steal my sleep.

I see the sun from a reflection of standing water on the terrace.  The rain has stopped, complete and total fog remains and now blinds. 

The man in room six coughs.  I assume he is leaving but who knows.  The Tibetan ladies rise and head up.

There is a scary thought: really conservative religious people cannot be trusted at all because their ‘holy books’ and behavior are not able to adjust in times of change, when common sense is necessary, not doctrine.  They think they’re right about everything and change challenges their dogmatism for naught. 

I suppose I should thank the man in room six for giving this to me for consideration.  Shhh, he’s stirring, the door opens, a window is secured open, he stumbles in the light, unsure which way to walk, considers what he is going to leave behind.  Suman was quite upset with him last night when the guest asked him for multiple requests.  I am not his slave.  You are an employee.  Will the man in room six leave a tip to the employee?  All this man has on his bill is the room.  He brought his own booze and food and he asks everyone to help him.  Buying a goat and feeding children who are not really hungry, I hate to say it, it’s charity strained.  Granted he didn’t know the children are well fed already, though if he looked at one of them he’d see it.

The framers are back. 

4.18pm

I walked to the farm for milk and I didn’t take my umbrella, not a smart thing considering the easing between torrential rain storms was minimal and stayed there for three hours, enjoying a cup of masala tea with buffalo milk, watching Nepalese music videos, talking about government pensions which I will not have much of when I turn 65.  ‘If it’s ok, I’ll sleep next to your buffalo.’  Ha ha, and then POP, a flash, the tv is out and half second, CRACK, right behind the house.  So much for Himalayan girls dancing in fields of rhododendron.

Beem and I sit and watch the unrelenting.  Dees monsoon rain.  It certainly is.  Six hours of it and a break now, a clearing over the valley as if it is trying to breathe before it’s covered again.  And within minutes, it is.  It comes fast and hard.

The young framers finish for the day.  They have installed screens for room two and it looks good.  As predicted they sawed and sanded and leveled and fitted the screens, of which they brought a roll of and cut to fit. And I guess all that rain didn’t hurt the wood, and why should it, it’s wood!

9.14pm

The rain has mercifully stopped and it is calm, transparent clouds drift over the city.  Two souvenirs on the walk to the farm, leeches, both on the left foot and do they itch.  What do I got, tiger balm.  Two young Chinese men check into six.  Their lights are already out.  Let’s see some mountains tomorrow, sounds good.  Hao li hao li.