village life.

went to the village, stayed a few days.
it felt like a museum, but it was really their house.
we picked coffee in the fog, and ate pineapples on the patio.
walked out in the dark to milk the cow, but misunderstood
and thought she said "the cow has no milk."
tired and disoriented, i went back to bed.

the house was made of red clay and wood.
i stayed upstairs and the floor was slanted.
i knocked over this really cheap piece of furniture.
it was really loud and i was really embarassed.
everything i did was juto, unclean.
the family was Hindu and very traditional.
and the wife kept wanting to know which caste we were from.

the bus ride was 10 hours, mostly clinging to
side of mountain via the seat in front of us.
bedeshis sliding, laughing on the back bench of the bus
stopped in many incredible little villages along the way
slash i just finished my last parasite-killer-medicine
most likely due to the tasty village fare.

there was a wood fire in the juto kitchen where we mostly hung out.
with the daughter-in-laws of the family.
it was like a campfire, but we were inside and there was no chimney.
the young women fed me and freed me.
and they laughed when i couldn't roll the bread as smoothly as them.
putrid steamy yoghurt and sweet pickled lopsy.
burning dung for fuel and sipping home-grown coffee.
outhouses and stone-grinder-things.
primitivity is good for the soul.
it seemed like i was getting back to my roots
returning home, even though i was never a pioneer.
everyone should spend the night in a one-room-cabin
or a house made of clay - it changes things,
it makes you want to listen more and speak less.
and thank God for your rice.

after the village we
debriefed in Pokhara
paragliding, kayaking,
hiking, crying,
skipping rocks.
we visited a family that lived in
a tiny room just a block from the
tourist area, worlds apart

i leave for Thailand tomorrow
with peace in my heart.
together, nepal, together-apart.