My father requests a blog post.  Easily delivered, without the worry of currency exchange.

So, here’s an update:

On saturday we are going to India for a week.  We are haphazardly tracing the life of the Budha, filting across the map.  Varanasi, Sarnath, Bodhgaya, Rajgeer, Nalanda, Kushhinaga, and Lumbini- then back to kathmandu, all in 8 days.  2 days after we get back we leave again to go to Dharamsala for about a month. 

I haven’t discussed Grandpa.  He is an allusive figure, but he is my favorite character in this foreign film.  I see him more now, because I often get locked out.  The family is gone, but he lets me in.  He then locks the gate again and retreats to wherever the hell he lives.  I don’t have the key to my room.  This essentially locks me in the stairwell.  He tlaks to me in Nepali and Tibetan, despite my blank stare.  He is often shirtless, his skin hanging off his body like a loose coat.  His voice is nasal and often at strange volumes.  Shouting prayers or whispering questions.  His face resembles a crab apple.  After fighting to close the gate together I feel like we are secret accomplises.  I wonder what he does with his days.  He gets up at 4:30 AM, I see the hall light go on.  After that, I don’t know.  He is like the demonic dogs on the roof.  Some how associated with the family, but never discussed.  Unlike the dogs, he has never attempted to eat my face.  Fucking rat dogs. 

A cat ran out from under my bed the other day.  I had just come home and unlocked the door.  I have no idea how long it was there.  We don’t have a cat. One of the other kids woke up to a dog on top of her.  She doesn’t have a dog.  All of the doors were closed and locked.  Oh, Nepal…. where random animals appear in your room and you get locked in a stairwell cause your family forgets about you.

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