Night Notes

Dear all,

It's almost 7 o'clock at night here and I'm standing on my balcony, writing to you. It's fully dark already and I can barely see this page, but the night is so beautiful I can't bring myself to turn on the porch light and cut the moment with any sudden brightness.

Thin stretches of clouds hide the stars here and there and the moon is no where in sight. Somehow, I don't miss it, the stars are enough. The air is refreshingly cool, but it still doesn't have the crisp taste of Michigan autumn air. Instead the air tastes of fried breads, not greasy or smokey really, but doughy and slightly earthy.

Lights from windows in other homes, as well as my own, light my writing. In a neighboring house, just a tall palm tree, I can see 3 elementary aged children playing. One of them has a wicker chair on his head and will doubtlessly be in trouble soon.

Even at night, Kathmandu is noisy. If the night sounds of Kathmandu were a symphony, the constant buzz of crickets would be the base on which it was built. The roar of motorcycles on the main road are like guitar wriffs tearing into the cricket buzz and the occasional dog bark and shout are like trumpet calls, one call always answered by another. Though it's getting late, you can still hear the occasional tinkle of puja bells, doubtlessly accompany smoke and prayers up to hindu dieties. My favorite sound though is the pressure cookers and frying oils releasing wheezes of hot gas in to the air and hinting at the lives being lived in the little squares of light coming from the houses all around me. Occasionally, someone on foot or motorbike comes up the path, but despite the constant murmur the night is very still.

The stillness is nice. It's been a tough day and I'm in need of some unwinding. In fact, I think today is the perfect day for rotis. There's something about making and rolling out dough that I find to be remarkably relaxing and affirming. I think maybe it's the feminine aspect of it. It requires a delicacy and gentleness that I cherish, and the sound of my new glass bangles punctuate the rolling rthyme with a whimiscal musical tinkle which I just adore. Yeah, I think that's the plan. Sorry to get mushy 0n you all, but it was too pretty of a night to keep to myself. Now I'm off to cook!

Love!