JUMANJI...

I came home yesterday to...you're thinking, a nice clean room, a hot shower etc...uh no, to a kitchen/house that was RANSACKED.

By monkeys! Seriously, monkeys were in my house, jumping around and tearing it up. Literally, TORE up. Glass was broken, a chair was knocked over, rice curry chillies you name it were strewn all over the house creating a trail out to the deck in my roommates room. I peeked outside, and spotted his big fat brown ass lounging out on the deck, he might as well have been curled up on one of our pillows.

I slammed ALL the windows in the house, and the door to the deck, and in a fury began plotting how to whiddle down one of the mops into a spear, because let me tell you the next time I see one of those fat mofos, I will spear it.

Oh and the next time I just happened to see one of them was, well this morning! In my house. I saw him rustling around in the tree outside, and ran to tell my roommate. The next thing we know, I am staring him down in the hallway. Naturally my first reaction was to scream as loud as I could and slam the door on him, but we realized that left the entire house for him. So armed with our mops, we charged back through the door to Liv's room, yelling at the top of our lungs. There were two, by the way. At this point, I am not sure if monkeys are known to attack humans, but you can be sure I will be taking no chances with this one.


We may or may not have awoken the entire neighborhood with our screams, and we made our Didi come down to give it a go as well. One of them, cheeky little bitch that it is, actually snatched one of Liv's shiny purses, and clutching it in his mouth, started to run away with it. Naturally I wanted to yell, Theif! but I don't think it would have had much affect.

So now apparently, as the scorching summer months approach I have to sleep with all the windows closed because in Nepal, they typically don't have too many screens on the window. You know, those mesh things we use in the States to keep out mozzies and flies. Well supposedly now I need a screen to keep out the monkeys, no joke. Can you imagine waking up with one sitting on the edge of you bed?


When I told Chiara what happened, her first response was,
"um, are you playing that board game or something, you know the one in Jumanji?" hah

but literally, I think my life has taken a nose dive into that board game.

Maybe I was jaded, but I used to think monkeys were kind of cute. And if you told me I would get to cuddle with monkeys when I came here, I would have said, Sweet..at least there is something that wants to cuddle with me!

Now though, I hate monkeys. These are not cute little cuddly ones either, they are massive, fat, and in my opinion, down right ugly. I guess I am the girl who cried...monkey. Who knew.

shite

I bought a pretty new pink scarf. Thick wool, bright deep pink. It makes me feel happy. Maybe that's silly, but I put it on whenever I need to lift my spirits. Yesterday I decided to go for a walk to Assan, an open market area in Kathmandu. It's a bustling mix of street vendors selling fruits and veggies, and open stalls with beautiful copper plates and bowls. I was prancing along reveling in how gorgeous the day was, a perfect sunny almost summer like day it was. La di da, life is beautiful...and all of a sudden as if someone had bent out through their window and poured an entire bucket out....I felt an oozing splash of liquid on my head! I got shat on, big time! So what better way to come and rain on my parade, apparently a full flock of pigeons. Geez.

So I pouted my way home, cussing under my breath, thinking of all the worst swear words I knew, and angry for how quickly my morning plans had been foiled. Not to mention, since we have, oh approximately four hours of power during the day if we are lucky, there was no power when I got home. So dunking my shit stained mess of hair under the freezing cold tap, I took the coldest shower of my life. Not to mention, my beautiful new scarf is now tainted, and being the opposite of a house wifey, my cleaning skills are not up to par.

Not to be a whiner, but it was actually kind of hilarious. Imagine me walking around in the busiest street of Nepal, with a royal pout on my face, and bird shit covering my hair, and a thirty minute walk to any sort of safety. I mean, I get stared at enough as it is, but really come on now.

I am taking this as a sign of good luck. In many cultures being shat on is great luck, so maybe this is a new turning point in my life. Let's try to be positive about this, great things are to come. That's what I was telling myself amidst my little fury.

I went on my first run in Nepal this morning! Maybe this does not sound like such a great accomplishment for all of you that have gorgeous green parks to run in, or secluded gyms devoid of staring eyeballs. It felt great, and it's nice to know that my legs are still in working order after so many months of becoming a sloth. However, I think I may have contracted black lung from the trucks and traffic spewing pollution, and the Didi's sweeping dust up in my face. I've been coughing all morning. Uh oh. So when I return from this never never land, don't be alarmed if I greet you with a raucous smokers cough, I quit smoking months ago I swear!

Plans for my return are underway, so for any of you out there who have suggestions for a home, a job, or have a couch for me...keep me in mind. Gracias a todas.

over and out.

mi apartamento...nice how i throw spanish in there when it should be nepali.

I think I am in love. Big Time. It just feels so right.

With my new apartment, that is! I feel so lucky these days, it is hard to even describe how things have slowly fallen into place for me. I really think the stars are aligned or something.

Saying goodbye to my friends the other day, who left me once again for China, I was left feeling a bit confused on what my next move should be. After talking up my hotel for the last few weeks, mostly in attempt to make myself feel better about the situation...this apartment literally fell into my lap. A friend of a friend was looking for a roommate, so I though why the hell not, might as well have a look.

So during another infamous power cut, I met up with Liv (pronounced Lou, a little ironic I must say) to check it out. Even in the dark I could tell this would be the best move I could make. Now I'm second guessing my decision to come home to Seattle this summer, knowing what lies ahead of me, and the next time I will actually have a place this nice...hhmmm.

I am so happy to get the hell out of Thamel. It's nice for about a....minute, but no longer. I think I had already long overstayed my welcome there. The past few days, I almost a breakdown on the street a few times, and you know those are always fun. There are 15 kids that sit on the corner leading into Thamel. They sniff glue. They sniff gasoline. They are little kids.

There are blankets piled up in this one little corner, where they nap together and pass the days. Some are more bold than others, and often roam through into Thamel to hit up the passing tourists.

This is a corner I was walking by everyday to go to work. Normal thoughts that run through my head go like this: I really need a new pair of shoes, I'm sick of looking like a boy in my dirty tennis shoes; I wonder what will be for lunch day; omg there's Obama's pictures again, I love Obama; I really don't understand why honking is a reflex, and why everything thinks it's necessary to honk at all times of day for no reason-then I'm brought back down to reality again, every single day- shit, there they are again, sniffing glue and living homeless. They don't have anywhere to go, and they have no one that looks after them. They should be somewhere warm eating something delicious. WTF.

Long story short, while I need these reality checks every once in a while (and no, not all of my thoughts are shallow) it is starting to be a huge challenge coming to terms with the fact that I feel so helpless; utterly powerless. There is nothing I can do, unless I decide to devote my life to these kids.

Twice in the past few days, one boy in particular has come up to me on the street. He definitely recognized me -or if he is flying as high as a kite I'm just another whitey to him-and he grabs me around the waste. Wrapping his little arms around my back, and grabbing my hand with his other hand, he asks "one biscuit, please..come on just gimme one biscuit." He is not necessarily rude, just aggressive and I don't like having people touch me.

Maybe if I were Mother Theresa, or if I had even enough money to fund myself (which most days I barely do) I could buy him all the biscuits in the world. I could buy him a hot cup of Chai, a clean shirt. A pair of shoes, for God's sake. Unfortunately, I am neither of those; I end up just feeling like a bad person because I know none of those solutions are sustainable anyway, and I wonder what I am really doing here. Then I feel guilty for having extreme OCD and wanting him to get his hands off of me, and for thinking that I hate being violated like that. I am at a loss for words. This place is full of conundrums, and life goes on. It always does, so what do I do now?

I just thought I would share that because it has been on my mind a lot.

On a lighter note, I moved out of my hotel last night! I packed up everything that I own into bags, and utterly disgusted/shocked at how much stuff I have magically accumulated, I vowed to never buy anything again (until today when I bought things for the house, whoops.) I had to make two trips, about a twenty minute walk one way, so I was huffing and puffing back and forth for a good couple of hours. Each time, at least three people would ask me where I was going. Barely able to catch my breath (and sweat dripping down my back through my sweater that I couldn't take off because I had too much stuff) I just said, "don't worry I live here, just around the corner!" Really thinking, shit I wish someone would pick me up and give me a ride.

With my last bags finally packed on round two, I had some heavier items in a paper bag. Books, a photo album, some dvds etc. I bought a celebratory beer to drink while I was unpacking, and carefully positioned it on the top of this load. As I was leaving my room, the string handle started ripping, so I had to carry it on my hip like you would carry a baby. While I'm checking out and saying goodbye to my friends at the hotel, and thanking them for everything they did for me (like sneak me extra candles every night) I attempted to bend over, with my already bulging backpack on, to pick up the paper sack. Full to the brim, and already ripping at the seams I lost my grip and it slipped, crashing to the floor and shattering the beer in a million peaces on the floor. Beer sprayed everywhere. I just looked at them bewildered, "Okay thanks, See ya later!" Haha, no just kidding, I helped clean up.

At least I went out with a bang, and they will have a good laugh when they think of that clumsy girl who spilled her booze all over the floor. Good job.

So best news of the day, I have a wonderful apartment. A big bedroom with massive windows and sunlight. An awesome new roommate, and a sweet neighborhood. I could not be happier. Now I just wish you all, who actually read this, would come visit me!!! That would make everything even more wonderful.

over and out.