Back to Nepal

This picture just appeals to me. This is a dirt street in the very busy Jyatha section of Kathmandu.

New job

I hate my new commute.

I hate guessing which V is going to leave next. (I guessed wrong today). I hate guessing which of the V or the F is going to leave first, and which one is going to sit. Just sit. I hate getting on the uptown V when it’s sitting on the downtown track, looking tensely over at the uptown side, listening for the arrival of an uptown F train. And I hate abandoning my sense of dignity to run upstairs and then down to that platform when, in fact, the uptown F does arrive. (Sometimes, to add to my agony, the V leaves first anyhow).

I hate switching to the A/C/E. I hate trying to battle my way upstairs from the F to the A/C/E—especially when the train is actually arriving. The people in my way slowly trudge upstairs. These people don’t need to transfer at all, but are simply heading upstairs to go about their day at West 4th Street. But I have to transfer.

And the train is arriving.

I hate people who are too slow when getting on the train. They’re not in a hurry—they’ve already made it onto the train. But I’m stuck behind them, stuck in between the doors that will close any second. I know the doors will close, and if the doors do close on me, they will hurt, and they will leave giant black marks on my clothing. And the marks will be there the rest of the day. Today I put an open hand on the back of the man in front of me so he would continue onto the train so that I could get into the train and away from the doors. I don’t want to touch anyone on the train. I hate that man.

And I hate the two-block underground walk to 40th Street and 8th Avenue once I’m off the train. That underground walk is filled with people who aren’t in a hurry. It’s filled with people who don’t care that I’m late. It’m filled with people who are waiting patiently in line to get a Metrocard. It’s filled with people who are looking for a cup of coffee. No one else is late for work.

The J/M/Z is the best line in the system. I miss it.

Disaster

It’s been ages. I know it has. The problem is, the Nepal pictures have piled up. And I was between jobs for a month. And now I’ve started a new one. And I’m just not sitting down in front of the computer like I was before.

But here’s a picture—not from Nepal, but from a quick trip I took to Chicago. I’ll come back to Nepal shortly, but there are so many pictures from there that it’ll take a little while to sort through them. Hence, a visual non sequitur:


Be forewarned: I’m not sure how many more monkey pictures I can promise.

Monkeys

And here’s a picture of the stars of the Monkey Temple. Or, at least, the strong supporting cast.

Namaste!

I’m back from Nepal! I have, as you can imagine, hundreds and hundreds of pictures. But I’ll start with this one—prayer wheels for sale at Swayambhunath Temple (also known as the Monkey Temple—believe me, I have pictures of that, too).