Now the lag is starting to make me sag, and it’s only 4:30pm. My first Happy Hour Friday in Kathmandu, and I’m ready for bed. I guess i have to let nature (body and bio-rhythms off-kilter) take its course, so I can get back on course.
I reckon I’ll have the cup of tea and garlic toast (?) I just ordered at the “New Orleans” bar and then I’ll retire on the funky bed at Mont Blanc. Stomach pain is also starting to kick in; I do not know what that’s about. Could be nothing, could be something. I’m pretty amazed at the chill factor on the streets of Thamel; I guess this really *is* the off-season. I don’t like, though, that the shysters and dealmakers are spotting me as easy game in the thin crowds on the street and they’re pitching hard sells. “Madam, you want tour guide, porter, rickshaw, hash, marijuana, massage, tiger balm”? (omigod, how they pimp the tiger balm...) I must figure out how to brush ‘em off without putting them off. They’re just trying to make a living and a buck.
The littlest fly just landed on the opposite page briefly. I hope that’s all that’s flying around tonight...I’m leery of mosquitos on this still, humid evening as I sit in an outdoor garden, wondering about my next move & maybe my next breath. In my frenzy of leaving Fort Worth, I forgot to grab my anti-malarial medicine. Here, a mosquito bite could yield more than an irritating itch.
Well, it arrived @ my table: garlic toast. Minced raw garlic between triangles of slightly-buttered wheat toast.
Gonna munch it quick and then call it a night by 6pm.
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