I amble back to my guesthouse and feel so exhausted. I literally drop on to my bed and fall into a deep short sleep. My guidebook talks about a “Cultural Show” that starts at 7:30 tonight so I weave my way through alleys laden with vegetables and scooters and bicycles eventually finding my self on the main street. “No dinner, just the show” and they seat me at a large table filled with people. An interesting couple from the north of Italy come and sit next to me. We can barely stop talking – she is a psychologist and professor and they are writing a book about the Tibetan culture and the suppression of women in Tibetan culture, amongst other things. Tibetan politics is a constant invigorating conversation, which I can’t seem to get enough of. The whole Chinese/Tibetan thing is so fascinating.
The show is just plain stupid. It’s like being in Disney World with an obnoxiously friendly yak bumping into and hugging people. I feel like a foolish Westerner watching all of this, especially after having spent so much time with these people whose yaks are being taken away from them. Yak are like their family and it isn’t unusual to overhear them talking to their yaks they way we speak to our children or our special pets.
I walk home and go upstairs to the restaurant, finding a couple of loners to chat with. Even though it’s late, I order my last meal of yak meat – momos – dough surrounding a ball of compressed meat. Tashi called them bauzis.
Tomorrow morning, off to Kathmandu.
The view from my window!
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