Kathmandu, Nepal. Thursday, October 8th. noon.

Got in late and slept like a baby til 7am. Breakfast on the veranda in the rain. Egg, stale corn flakes with hot steamy milk, masala tea, toast and jam. It is 11 hours and 45 minutes ahead of LA time. Explain that one to me. Just been trying to sort out the travel permits to Tibet. I think someone tried to sell me some hash. I mean maybe not. He just sort of randomly spit out the word “hash?” into my ear as I passed by. So it could have just been a symptom of hash turrets of some sort.

I had cow cheese on toast with hot lemon water for lunch. Walked around the Thamel neighborhood most of the day.

Nepalese people are so sweet! They have a very gentle spirit about them. One young man was so polite as I walked by he called out “Excuse me, may I F#@* you?” May I! My goodness such nice grammar! I tried to match his good manners with a sweet smile and a wink as I flipped him off.

I found a jeans tailor. That’s a tailor who makes jeans. The cost is 1000 rupies wh

ich is the equivalent of about $15. I later took a taxi back into his neighborhood, a part of town where there aren’t many tourists, to drop off my old jeans for him to replicate but the traffic was so bad no one could move. The taxi driver would turn his car off for a few minutes then when there was a little room he would start up his car and move forward 11 1/2 inches. Many times I suggested that I get out and walk but he wouldn’t have it. Eventually I just popped open the door a few inches and squeezed out, instantly blending in with the crowd. When I arrived the tailor and his whole family were waiting for me. I showed him my jeans and then he asked me to try them on in the dressing room which doubles after hours as their bedroom. He came in a little too soon which embarrassed him more than me, but then when I saw a picture of his wife I realized it might have made him a little bit happy too. So now I have my own personal jeans tailor.

After we were done he offered to have his son give me a ride to my guesthouse on the back of his motorcycle.

It’s amazing how the drivers here manage to squeeze into the tiniest of spaces, like a mouse squeezes into a hole half its size.

P.S.

Have you ever seen a squished rat? His tail was still intact. That’s how i could tell it wasn’t a large cat or a small dog.