My Tibetan Waterloo

On the way to the airport me in the taxi with three Tamang girlfriends. There is a big military coup going on and we are not sure if we can make it to the airport. Actually we make it through three heavily armed military posts by crying and begging. Manu, Sanu and the little daughter have bought me a big buddha picture and are determent to send me off. Tears are flowing and sometimes women's tears can go a long long way. The soldiers are young and cute and we sniff and cry. We meet our Waterloo on the next checkpoint in the form of a big Tibetan woman with an AK47 who is willing to let me through but sends the tribal women back. More tears but no way.... This Mama knows the tricks...

Goodbye to many old and new friends in Kathmandu who showed me the magic of the land and the people.... Back in Bombay. Travelling from Nepal to India is like shifting from a Spielberg movie to Tarentino on speed. The smell of Bombay, eau de Mombay, the morbid smell of the Ocean and the stink of three million people without a toilet...
"What is your business in India?" asks the immigration officer.
"Oh....(thinking....) I'm a fitness instructor."
"Oh, I would like to take a lesson with you...."
"I would make you sweat...I'm bad".
"I guess you're good when you're good but better when you're bad."
Hahaha. O lala. He is quoting Mae West. Are they showing Mae West movies on satellite now? For the first time an Indian custom officer is flirting with me and not treating me as if an UFO had just landed. And the airport is so nice and clean now. This mad country, I love it...