The ani-haru keep saying things like “all nuns go, you here sit” with no explanation of where they’re going, for how long, do I really have to hang out alone in their friend's house, to whom as usual they haven't introduced me—finally they reveal that Uppal is coming at ten, which is no guarentee of anything—

I think the plan is that Uppal and Chimi are coming here with someone else, and then we’ll take a bus to KTM while ani-haru rest here 1 day.

2 dogs fucking in the alley. Children playing on bicycle. I wait all day, watching things like this.

Around 4, K appears leading Lhamu Cheten, who seems subdued for some reason, and lots of women appear in the courtyard, including Chimi. I go down. Uppal materializes. Tea, then Chimi says, “I go now to friend’s house, you also come.” We take her friend and Uppal and get a taxi. Then we’re off to a part of Pokhara I'd never have imagined from Lakeside and Damside: not as noisy or polluted as KTM, no other tourists. Instantly in love with the noise of Nepal all over again—the fearless driving, the honking, the yelling. Went to friend’s house—after some tea, back in taxi and off to bus ticket seller to haggle over price for mini-bus—taxi driver shows up halfway through bargaining to remind us he was waiting and give us his opinion.

At friend's mother's house. Big square kitchen: large copper bottle-necked urns on shelf with “Laboratory” printed in bubble letters. Poster-paint sketches.

Beautiful old woman with strong, proud face and about a dozen gold hoops through the edges of each ear. Another woman with round, dark face and plump, and her daughter? Small, maybe 13—pouty lower lip—the creator of the laboratory and sketches, no doubt.

Chimi says, “You eat momo. You hungry.” They set a plate stacked high in front of me and I eat alone while they continue stuffing momos…I wonder if they are just trying to get me to stop stuffing—mine are terrible. Chimi’s fingers move so fast, I can't see exactly how she does it, but hers are perfect—moon-shaped with nice tucked crinkly edges. Can't get over feeling rude when I eat first. It’s unbearably bad manners to me, but here nobody waits for anyone else to eat, and there doesn’t seem to be any serving precedence etiquette.

Uppal says, “You tired? You sleep?” This is something else I can't get used to—being sent to bed like a child—but, there is nothing else to do, so I follow Uppal into an apartment next door. In living room, points to an old man watching TV—“This daddy.” She leads me into a bedroom, straightens the cover on an unmade bed, and says, “You sleep here.” Shows me how the light switch works, “No close,” she says pointing first to the door lock and then to the carpet. “Someone there.”

The young girl comes in. Expressionlessly, she shows me a photo of herself, which I admire, and offers me a banana. When I eat it with relish, she offers me 2 more, which I refuse.

The 3 women and daddy all share the other bedroom. Daddy snores.