After being back in school for one week after the Dashain holiday break, I am now on another break because of Tihar, which seems like it will be a lot of fun. The autumn weather in Kathmandu is sunny and pleasant, but I am missing the fall weather in America, particularly the leaves changing and the crisp drop in temperature (at least in NC). I was going to say that it has gotten quite chilly in Nepal, but I Googled the temperature and it is currently 75 fahrenheit. The only drawback to losing weight is that I get cold all of the time; I was expecting it to be about 65 at the moment and it's 12:45 pm.
Shehrish and I went to Jazzmandu this Saturday in Gokarna. A free shuttle was offered and we got to the Hyatt hotel as it was filling up. I knew we would be in for an interesting day as a gentleman toward the front was smoking ganja and singing "Danny Boy" at the top of his lungs. The shuttle was mostly comprised of foreigners who were quite displeased that the bus wasn't departing at the scheduled time. One gentleman was particularly incensed, spouting off profanity at a poor Nepali volunteer in a language that made Brad Pitt's pikey in Snatch sound like pretentious English. I'm not exactly sure what he was saying, but the profanity came out clearly. I later found this gentleman camped out at the bar for the majority of the day, perhaps explaining his irascible behavior. We got there around 2 and were lucky to snag a piece of carpet to sit on before the music began. I don't really like jazz, but any live music is good. The first couple of acts were traditional Nepali bands and then the jazz started. The first band was really slow, describing a couple of their songs as 'walking through a rice field' and 'riding on a bus'; more appropriate names would have been 'watching grass grow' or 'hanging wallpaper'. I got up to get something to eat and discovered that completely overpricing everything at concerts is not just an American phenomenon. A plate of 8 momos was Rs. 450, about 4.5 times the normal price. The music went on and as the sun went down it got really cold. The hotel had anticipated this and set up several small bonfires, conveniently locating one right next to the bar. We spent the last couple of hours or so hovering around one of these fires talking with some of Shehrish's friends. Following signs to the gentlemen's restroom, I found myself in the middle of the woods looking at a small trench that was dug on a downward slope. I have never had a problem with communal urination, having grown up going to ball games at Wrigley Field and concerts at Ziggy's where the 'urinals' are essentially metal troughs, but this 'bathroom' also had posted a warning sign to watch out for monkeys. The state of the bathroom worsened as the concert went on, and toward the end I just went deeper into the woods. Fortunately, the monkeys left me alone and we left the venue at 10:00 pm chilled to the bone but otherwise unscathed.
I woke up on Sunday and went for an especially long run, fired up for the football later in the day (I can't call it soccer anymore, people have started to make fun of me). My friend Paavan has been organizing events the last couple of weeks for the big matches, and we went to Cafe Reena in DurbarMarg for the Manchester Darby. It makes my skin crawl to hear the Brits refer to the word 'derby' as 'dArby', and most Nepali people do it as well. The Manchester clubs are kind of like the New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox of baseball; you either love one of the two or hate them both passionately (I fall into the latter category). However, both teams are world class and it seemed like it would be a classic game. The derby/darby started and the crowd at the restaurant was a sea of red Aon jerseys, almost everyone supporting Manchester United. When Manchester City scored around the 25th minute, the room became deathly silent except for me jumping up and screaming. I was hoping for a high-scoring draw but the obnoxious behavior of the Manchester United fans the week before had me rooting against them. City kept scoring and the final tally was 6-1, a ridiculous score for an English match featuring two of the best teams in the world. The United fans were devastated and I left thoroughly satisfied. Then Chelsea played and killed my fun, but I'm not going to write about that. Happy Tihar!
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