Monsoon season is underway, and I haven't seen or felt real sunlight in over a week. The sky becomes a bright greyish white when the sun is out, and it usually proceeds to rain all afternoon, with a break around dinnertime, and then all throughout the night. I can now empathize with individuals who justify tanning and looking orange in the winter by claiming seasonal depression; I no longer think that they're simply vain and trashy. It's hard to feel upbeat and energetic when its gloomy 24/7. Perpetual rain makes running challenging, as I have to be ready to go whenever there's a pause in the late afternoon. One plus is I get agility training by default, as the poorly paved roads provide a minefield of muddy puddles to dodge along with motorbikes and the occasional wandering bovine. I have developed muscle in my legs that I didn't know existed.
I committed an egregious tourist sin by submitting to my desire for familiar food and went for a snack with Shehrish at Pizza Hut, conveniently located next to a KFC to accommodate Nepal's ever growing demographic of white trash tourists. I don't even like Pizza Hut, and haven't eaten it since the cafeteria at DePauw had pan pizzas in stock, but the familiar signage was too much to resist. We entered, and unlike the tacky, antiquated decor of American Huts, this particular Hut was decorated in a fancy and luxurious manner, and I felt underdressed in jeans and a collared shirt. The menu was expansive and actually made the food look good. All of the Huts I have ever been to are filled with downtrodden families in faded NASCAR shirts, guzzling pitchers of beer and cleaning out the buffet of dessert pizza and the grayish-brown pudding, with at least one neglected infant in a high chair screaming its head off; in Nepal, we were surrounded by young families, and all the kids looked thrilled shoving breadsticks and pizza in their faces. I went conservative and ordered a personal cheese pizza. It came out piping hot, and the first bite may have been the best thing I have eaten in months. I have been good about trying anything and have enjoyed all of the food, but was sick of Indian food and wanting something familiar. It was greasy from top to bottom, plastered with salty cheese and liberally sauced. So thank you, Pizza Hut. It was everything I could have possibly wanted, and a reminder why Americans struggle with obesity and heart disease.
We hit up the Chinese market today to load up on pirated DVD’s and support organized crime. The area was really muddy, and at one point I was literally up to my ankles in wet mud. Another drawback to monsoon season is the mud, as it gets on your pants as well as all over your shoes, and cars/bikes driving by soak you by going through puddles. I usually try to buy copywrited media, as it looks and sounds better, but in Nepal I don’t have a choice. Getting an entire series of a TV show for Rs. 900 (about $13) is pretty sweet, and individual movies are about 3 for $1 USD. Unfortunately, season six of my bootlegged Sopranos series is a blank disc, but I do have the option of having two different forms of Chinese subtitles and previews of Hindi cartoons.
The men’s Wimbledon final is about to be underway, and I find myself watching tennis for the first time in several years. Afternoon/evening is pretty thin these days, as my other current options include Die Hard 4, India’s Most Desirable and Jersey Shore, which would tempt me if I hadn’t already seen it. Tennis it is, go Djokovic.
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