Home Invaders

This is what I miss about Nepal. The silence. India is a country of constant and penetrating noise, rickshaws beeping, trucks horning, noisy weddings going on for three full days, vendors screaming, Muhezins singing and happy Hindi music all day long. In Kathmandu a Jamaican bar played Bob Marley till 12:00, ohhh, ahhh, old reggae… and then silence. Some cats fighting, dogs barking,, remote talking, that’s it…

Spent a fun afternoon with my friend Ketan, a dashing Israeli, who makes very funny movies and trains his biceps with me in the gym. Then we went shopping and bought three very tres chic men’s shirts.

I feel like in Little House in prarie. Heavy rains have driven about ten millions of red ants and flying aunts into the house. They are all over my bedroom and my bathroom, biting me, flying into my ears and hair and crawling over my skin. Before I can count to three they are up my legs and have their teeth in my my derriere. It is a horror flick.
Mega is Vietnamese and heavy Indian pesticides are like bread and butter to him, When you grew up with Agent Orange, a little bit of insecticide is manna for you. Not for me though. I try to make psychic contact t to the boss of the ants and tell him or her to please remove the troups. On top of is we wash everything with vinegar and– voila! victory! This morning they are gone without a trace.