I am a man of questionable taste no longer...

A new National Geographic book, "My Favorite Place on Earth" ($22.95) lists some preferred destinations of the "It" people: Tony Wheeler, founder of the Lonely Planet Guide Books, chooses Nepal, and fashion designer Isaac Mizrahi goes for Brooklyn. And our own Rick Steves nails it by choosing El Puerto (Edmonds not Mexico...)

Wouldn't hurt a fly...

Tonight at dinner I was in process of trying to smash a mosquito between my hands when I realized where I was--Buddhists do not kill living creatures--Sumi (Gombu's wife), who I am discovering has a wicked sense of humor, informed me that yes, they do not kill any living creature. I did feel much better, when as an occassional lapsed Catholic, Sumi told me that they make exception for cockroaches.

Decent movie too...

A mini-Monsoon (Film reccommendation: "Monsoon Wedding") hit Kathmandu this afternoon while I was dragging Gombu and driver around in search of long-term visa information and future volunteer opportunities. The good news: the pouring rain sends the motor bikers off the streets in droves so the roads become much more tolerable (I have got better on the white-knucke driving: I simply take an Imodium tablet prior to every journey--the passengers are happy and less laundry for me) The bad news about mini-Monsoon: Gombu's driver, while extremely competent and safe, has a strange aversion to windshield wipers and defroster buttons. Today, feeling my "Dirty Pants" tablet wearing off, I finally reached across and switched on the wipers and fans--My actions were met with an icey glare but I no longer felt like Erwin's tank driver in North Africa.

Those rude and arrogant French....

Actually, the Director of the School (www.ecolenepal.com) Monique Dehon, charmed my socks off. She personally met me at the front gate and gave me a tour. Introduced me to all the teachers. It's definitely our cup of tea or pastis as it were. Reminds me of our fantasy school in Manhattan in the West Village--St. Lukes an Episcopal School that's out of our range both in price and probably acceptance (The school rejects about 90% of its applicants and let's face it--our kids our not that smart) The French School was recently certified as an official bilingual school (French-English) by the French Government. Coincidentally, there may be a new bilingual public school near our NYC neighborhood which may give ODC a headstart should we move to Nepal. And the French bus picks up near Gombu's house where we probably be living--the stars are lining up--NYC, then Kathmandu, then Paris...

Like the Lion from Oz...

One of my goals while in Cork was to get a pedi-cab job. However, the Lord Mayor's idea to make Cork, Ireland a bike-friendly city seems to have gone the way of the Celtic Tiger economy. Kathmandu on the other hand seems to have plenty of pedi-cab job opportunities--but I think not for me. Last night I paid a driver several rupees for the opportunity to drive his pedi-cab down the pitch black streets of Kathmandu (Nepal is in the midst of 16 hour rolling power outages--turns out the Maoist are better at "rebelling" than governing) Fortified by a number of Jim Beam and Cokes from the Upstairs Jazz Bar (More on that later), I hurled down the strets toward on-coming headlights but a number of nearly tragic accidents has convinced me to seek other job opportunities--perhaps a life guard at Yost Pool...Off to see the French...Bone Swaah!!

One night in Thamel...

...is enough. Like the French Quarter of New Orleans, Thamel of Kathmandu is best visited early morning when the hippies and trekkers are sleeping it off and the locals are starting their day. Nothing too eventful last night--some decent bars, some poor ones but I came across nothing exceptional as I expected in a one-night pub crawl. You do meet some pretty interesting people here though whose stories make your own life seem pretty tame. This morning (6 am--I didn't hurt myself too badly last night) was a great time to walk greater Thamel--one sight more inspiring and/or bizarre than the next as people find their way through mind-numbing poverty. Off to Lazimpat today (and night)--the neighborhood of embassies and aid agencies and a jazz club (Upstairs). Will also spend some time on my French tonight so I can think of some witty things to say in the interview with the French School Principal in hopes that older dreadful creature may one day be accepted.

Dateline: Thamel, Kathmandu

I have regretfully left my peaceful surroundings in Boudha with my dear Sherpa friends, incredible food, wandering monks, etc.. for the touristy district of Kathamndu. I thought my friends could use a breather from big western guy for a few days. I walked to Daffodil School from Gombu's house today and met with the principal (No torture chamber in plain view but possibly something that looked like used waterboard with partial alaphabet written in crayon) The walk to the school from Gombu's house is exactly seven minutes down little alleyways and one big stairway. The principal was a pleasant Indian man--didn't quite get the same great vibe as I did from HIMS the other local school I checked out. He's concerned about Kate struggling with Nepali and may not be as flexible as to start of school year--Nepali school year starts in April--but, he definitely was positive about accepting Kate and they have a nursery school for Jack. After lunch, I packed up for my few days in Thamel and Gombu's driver took me on a dry run to French School (meet principal Tuesday afternoon) Not walking distance but a 15-20 minute drive which makes it a possible choice (I think the whole family would have to wear diapers for the first few months as we adjusted to the Kathmandu driving conditions.) Now I will try to find a cheap hotel for the night and begin my research. Later in the week Gombu thinks he may have a realtor to talk to about space in Thamel for a bar. Monday I am off to the American Embassy to see if they would consider a visitor visa for Gombu's ten year old so she can visit us and Sherpa family in New York. Unfortunately my writing isn't as interesting without the photos but will post those upon returning to Ireland. Last night myself and the little girls had a dance contest Sherpa vs. Disco--I lost, they could really bust the moves. See you tomorrow!

Surreal moment #2019 in Nepal

If anything could get me to start posting again, I guess a trip to Kathmandu would be right up there. What am I doing in Nepal? Well, I seem to have found a fairly tolerant wife who is willing to send me off on my own for three weeks while she manages the home front and the two dreadful creatures. I should say that because we are living in Cork, Ireland we do have her loving, supportive family around as well as a stable of Irish student babysitters that we picked at random off the internet to care for the wildebeasts. I am primarily in Nepal for a long overdue visit to Gombu and Sumi Sherpa who worked for us in the bar and coffee house in New York but more importantly looked after our daughter Kate and were a constant presence in her life from the moment she was born to three years ago when they returned to Nepal. My other motivation for being in Nepal is to see if there is any way I can sell a move here to the Current Wife (CW) with the kids in about a year and a half (There should be an updated profile on the home page of the blog). Anyway, I have had a great time with Gombu and his family and Kathmandu has changed quite a bit since I was last here eleven years ago. I have visited two schools so far: The Lincoln School is the American School in Kathmandu and it would not be out of place in Manhattan both on beauty of its grounds and price of tuition. Unfortunately, it's on the complete wrong side of town for us as we will most likely be living near Boudha. The other school I visited was the Himilayan Internationl Model School (HIMS) a short motor bike ride from Gombu's house. The children would be breaking new ground as the first westerners at the school but I was told both the families of the Pakistan and Bangledeshi Ambassadors have attended the school. Lovely people and it remains in the mix. I have an appointment at the French School on Tuesday and then will take a look at Gombu's daughter's school, Daffodil which would be within walking distance. The one thing slightly disturbing about the Daffodfil School is that, according to nepalnews.com, its sister school is being investigated for torturing a third level student--and I don't mean spanking or timeout, I mean torture torture (Maybe the beatings Kate has received at St. Maries of the Isle aren't all that bad). I hope to have something suitable to present to CW upon my return to Ireland. I am also going to do some research on the job front (In my "vast" array of talents, writing not being among them, lies a Cambridge University Certificate for Teaching English as a Second Language (CELTA) To stay here over 150 days you need a work or student visa. Gombu is also keen on opening a bar with me in the touristy Thamel district. So as much as it pains me I am going to be doing some research on that front as well.
Ah yes, the surreal incident: So we are sitting around Gombu's house this morning eating breakfast when three monks walk in (I promise this isn't the beginning of a bad Buddha joke) No one at the table (Gombu, Sumi, Sonam, or Parmila) except me gives them a second glance. They start proceeding up the stairs to the Llama room (Gombu's entire fourth floor) which is used for prayer. Mid-stair, they stop and one monk begins pointing at Gombu's refrigerator--beer maybe? I then notice they are pointing at a picture of my daughter prominently displayed on Gombu's refrigerator. Finally Gombu takes notice and translates for me: Five and half years ago these same monks were in Woodside, Queens at Gombu's brother's house doing the annual family blessing. My daughter Kate happened to be there as well because that was where Gombu lived and he would babysit Kate there. At that time CW and I had only recently been introduced to the Sherpa community so you can imagine our surprise when we went to pick up Kate and found our chubby little 6 month old surrounded by three chanting monks. So, the monks had remembered Kate from that visit and then recognized her picture on Gombu's refrigerator (Gombu said the monks don't really hang with that many little white babies so they remembered Kate quite well even though almost six years have passed) In spite of Kate being dragged around the world and hanging out in bars, I think this is a good omen for her. And the monks were at Gombu's house for the annual family blessing--it takes two entire days as they have to read through an entire Buddhist "Bible". I let you know if they cheat at Poker when we are drinking and playing cards tonight. More later and unfortunately will not be able to post photos until my return to Ireland. I need a drink...I mean I am going to do some "bar research". What did the monk say to the New York hot dog vendor? Make me one with everything!