See, I promised to give you a fast trip around ye olde Kathmandu as I revisited the student quarters in Thamel, my favorite guest house, The Potala, and the temples of Durbar Marg. You’ve heard the statement, “You can never go back,” and I’ve been defying that for twenty-five years. But this year I finally am convinced that my lungs and my nerves have grown fragile enough to warrant moving down the road apiece and leaving the pollution and the center of town to the crazies. Hate to give up, but down the road apiece isn’t exactly dullsville. There’s a whole separate culture in Boudhanath and I loved being a part of it!
So there you have it, folks. We’re un-jetlagged, we’ve found a good cup of coffee, and we’re ready to head for the hills. Next episode…discovering Langtang.
In closing I have a few words for the people who have ruined my life. Those who have put electronics in the hands of children so they can make the old and the wise seem stupid and useless. When a five-year-old has to explain why your screen is moving from side to side with no help from you, and the words and lines just keep bopping around senselessly, and then begs you to calm down and tell him the problem (just tell me where it hurts?), you know you’re ready for the ice floe. In fact, before very long you’re yearning for it.
My children and grandchildren tell me that I’m the only person they know who becomes violent when using an Apple computer. They’re “user friendly,” they say. Perhaps so, but WordPress isn’t. Uploading photos takes about as much time as waiting for someone from Verizon or the Bank of America to answer the phone. Is it any wonder that being a nervous wreck is becoming a way of life in these h’yer United States? So, you ask, why do you keep going back for more, Meg? Are you so imbued with the old-time Protestant work ethic that says that all life is a struggle, and the only way you coast is downhill, that you can’t let go? Why not invest in a hatchet and let these blamed devices know who’s boss?
In the meantime, I do have my diversions or activities that feed my soul between bouts of computer depression and sun deprivation (it’s been a dreary winter). Have had a couple of neat symphony concerts, one of which was led by Sabin Pautza, our former conductor at the Plainfield Symphony. Along with his compositions, we played the Brahms 4th Symphony. That kept me out of trouble for some time.
Opera season is in full sway and, of course, Broadway is forever beckoning. Outstanding plays I’ve seen so far this year are the hilarious and unusual The Mystery of Edwin Drood, The Heiress, with the superb David Strathairn, Dan Stevens of Downton Abbey fame, and Judith Ivey, The Other Place, with an outstanding performance by Laurie Metcalf, and the stunning Steppenwolf revival of Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, with Tracy Letts and Amy Morton.
I’m still waiting for imaginative suggestions about where I can live, but none have been forthcoming. Is everybody frozen? Surely not my friends in L.A. or the Caribbean (I hate them, anyway). Hey, I could just sit tight and wait for Global Warming to do its job and wake up some morning with Miami Beach in my backyard. Who knows?