And last week I moved in to new new digs in Casa de Thubten, who is a fantastic colloquial Tibetan teacher with a great family. I'll also being sharing the house with a kind red bearded Coloradan called Adam. Oh you red bearded Vajra brothers.
I want to share a few of my observations. Firstly, you hipsters, devotees of irony, have got nothing, I repeat, nothing on Nepali and Tibetan youth. They wear culturally curious slogans like "organic to the bone" and "Death Note" or sport Eminem and Nirvana t-shirts with great pride if some uncertainty as to the iconoclastic message the artists had for us. Indian, and now I understand, Nepali English are tremendously playful pidgeons/creols/some new category (only Danthro would truly know). My favorite sign thus far was on the back of a blue garbage truck my taxi passed on the way from the airport to Boudhanath: "My life is broken heart." How true. How true. Some recent favorites, witnessed while circumambulating the stupa with Danyo, a Swedish monk:
Never judge a girl by her bumpersticker.
It may possibly one's dream to satisfy all wish.
Last week I was watching TV with Ama-la and her son (my new Tibetan younger brother and all around maniac) Tenzin; more precisely a program called "Sai Baba" after its eponymous main character. Sai Baba, as far as I can tell, is something of a Hindu equivalent of Scott Bakula's character on "Quantum Leap." Like Dr. Sam Beckett, he is a time/space traveller. Except that he is a bliss-eyed yogi enraptured by the sweet embrace of samadhi, and travels around India (rather than through time) helping people get married. It was awesome.
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