Oh, That Magic Feeling: Nowhere to Go

Day after slippery day passes in Kathmandu and I have become, as a man once said, comfortably numb.  I'm anticipating a package, mailed from The States via that socialist institution known as the US Postal Service.  I've been awaiting its arrival for seven days, using it as an excuse to linger here, letting my days drift by amongst the revolving crew of friendly, half-stoned travel-junkies that frequent the rooftop balcony of the Hotel Silver Home.  We trade musical and literary recommendations, pass joints, ponder problems both deep and shallow, wander the city widely, tracing long and winding routes between temples and cheap restaurants, each providing the others with another fleeting friendship which can be casually enjoyed then easily left behind, everyone happy with the exchange.   I could get used to this; a pleasant existence, waking up with no commitments or destinations.  It's not rewarding.  It doesn't help anyone in any way, but perhaps it doesn't come as much of a shock that there's something disturbingly appealing about this life. 

It'll end soon enough though.  My package arrived in Kathmandu today and it should complete its arduous journey to me in no more than another day or two.  With no more excuses to stay at the Hotel Silver Home, I'll be volunteering after that, most likely teaching, with one of several possible local instutions.   I'm anxious for the next adventure, anxious to try something new again. Still, I can't say I'm too depressed about the prospect of a couple of more days of this life...just a couple.