The Nuns’ House in Kopan

We take a taxi to the house—Lama and his wife and son and daughter and me. Lama’s daughter’s name translates to "Apple," but I'm not sure how to spell the Tibetan word. She’s fifteen. Her English is excellent—she’s been learning since she was eight. Sometimes her parents ask her to translate for them. I think her brother must also know some English, but he doesn’t speak all that much, to anyone. Lama explains how Apple got her nickname: when she was born, the doctor said her cheeks were like apples. They still are. Under very bright black eyes.

At the moment, five nuns are at Kopan, and the rest are at Muktinath, where I’ll join them in a few days. Three of the Kopan nuns are in silent meditation, as Lama explained yesterday, but the other two are taking care of practical stuff: cooking, cleaning etc, so I'm able to meet them.
Not knowing much Nepali, the conversations are mystifying to me. From my point of view, everyone seems to do a lot of wandering around, pointing at mundane objects, and then laughing.

They’re probably just making small talk, like, "Hey, is that thangka new?"
"No, it used to be in the den. The dog kept trying to eat it."
Laughter.
"Well, let’s go pick the vegetables before I forget. You better take some of these chilis with you when you go."

Or they could be discussing the five realms, for all I know. I'm desperately eager to learn enough Nepali to communicate effectively. It would be convenient, if surrealistic, if everyone around me restrained their conversations to my phrasebook vocabulary: "What is that? That is a pen. Is this your book? No, that is Ram’s bicycle…"

The grass in the nuns’ garden is dense and springy to the touch, like thick moss. Lama tells me it was imported from Italy. At one end of the garden is a vegetable patch, with several red chili plants towering above some floppy greens. At the other end is an undeveloped area. Lama says he’d like to build a classroom there one day. "Now, nuns do puja, study, same place." He mimics nuns hard at meditation, and then chants "A, B, C…" He laughs. "Not good. This—"waving at the ground—"will be classroom."

"When?" I ask.

"Oh...when I find sponsor…"

Below the garden, the ground dips into a green valley, dotted with red-roofed houses and layered gardens.

Inside, pink marble floors. Lots of sunlight. A kitchen at one end of the house. On the kitchen terrace, a large shed open on one side. "This is kitchen in winter," Lama explains. "Wood, nuns cook. No gas."

* * *

"Do you play cards?" Apple asks me.

"Yes. Do you?"

"Only during holidays," she says. (It’s the end of Dasain, a major festival in Nepal.)

"Why?" I ask.

She thinks for a moment. "Not good for children," she explains, perplexingly.

Later I understand why: it’s a gambling game. When I ask Apple the name, she says they just call it cards.

* * *

How to Play Cards

Each player puts 5 rupees in the pot.
Each player is dealt two cards face up.
Place bets—usually 5-20 rupees but sometimes for the whole pot, if you feel lucky enough.
A third card is dealt each player, face-up.
If the third card falls numerically in between the first two—an 8 between an 2 and a 9, or a 5 in between a A and a Q, for example—the player takes their bet from the pot. If it falls outside the range, they pay up.

This is an excellent fun game. I give it four stars out of five.

* * *

I play for a while, but quickly lose all the small bills I have with me. The family and the two nuns play for a long time, with lots of laughing and mock arguments.