Nima's here!

Our good friend and soon-to-be trekking guide, Nima, has arrived safely to Kathmandu from Sonoma.  His plane got in yesterday afternoon and we paid him a visit at his home soon thereafter.  The poor guy had been traveling for nearly two days and was very tired, but he had much to do.  He had brought with him four giant duffel bags full of packages for family and friends in Kathmandu from Nepali friends in Sonoma.  He had to arrange pick-ups for all of the goodies.  I told him it was a good thing that he had tasks to occupy him for the afternoon so he wouldn't fall asleep too early and exacerbate the jet lag.

It was quite surreal to see Nima, our Sonoma pal here in Kathmandu.  I'm sure it was even stranger for him to see his American friends here.  Between phone calls, we shared tea followed by noodle soup. 

"Would you like some chili with your soup?" Nima asked.
"None for me, thanks," I said.  I don't need to go rocking my gastrointestinal boat just before a two-week trek.
"Bring it on," Gideon said. 
I was expecting Nima and Gideon to sprinkle a few dried chili flakes on their soup; so I was surprised when a plate of actual hot peppers were brought to the table.  Gideon nibbled a bit off the end of one.  "It's not hot at all.  In fact, it's kind of sweet," he said.  So I grabbed a pepper and took a bite.  Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Gideon was very much mistaken.  Apparently, he did not get any of the seeds on his bite.  I most certainly did.  My eyes welled up with tears and my entire mouth and throat burned relentlessly for ten minutes. 
"Dang!  What were you talking about?" I asked Gideon.  "That's wicked hot stuff!"
"Hmm, maybe mine was just mild," he surmised.
"Take another bite.  With seeds this time," I ordered.  He did.  I watched as Gideon's eyes reddened and teared up, and his face blushed with heat.  He tried to feign indifference to the heat until he could no longer contain himself and had to let out a yelp.  We both begged for a drink and greedily gulped down glasses of Fanta to cool our tongues. 
Meanwhile, Nima munched away on his pepper, squinting his eyes and shaking his head, but seemed to enjoy the painful experience. 

After our meal, we headed up to the roof of Nima's house to take in the view.  While we were hanging out, Nima's younger brother, whom he had not seen in over ten years, arrived to greet him.  As is customary in Nepal, Nima was draped with a colorful scarf, as were we, his guests.  It was such a welcoming gesture; perhaps I'll take that custom home with me and warmly welcome my visitors with a scarf.

Today I met up with Nima again, leaving Gideon at home to work on a patent project.  Nima and I had a good time wandering the busy streets of Thamel, the touristy business district that once, and still does to some extent, attract all sorts of Western hippies.  Nima bought Gideon and me some mittens for the trek, as well as Nepali tea at a friend's restaurant, and lunch at yet another restaurant.  I had to let him pay for everything because I left all my money zipped in the pockets of the pants I'd worn yesterday.  I guess I've always been a bit irresponsible about money...  Thanks Nima--I'll pay you back!

One of the highlights of my afternoon with Nima was seeing how many friends he ran into as we wandered about.  He was like the popular prodigal son.  I had to laugh when he waved at an old friend zooming down the narrow street on his motorcycle.  "How on earth did you recognize him?" I asked Nima.  You could barely see an inch of the man's face; he wore a helmet, sunglasses and a facemask.  Nima somehow spotted him and the two of them had a few moments to catch up.

At one point Nima explained to me that Nepalis could tell that he was a Nepali visiting from America.  "How can they tell?" I asked. 
"Oh, probably by the way I speak," Nima explained.  This flummoxed me.  Nima is Nepali and he speaks Nepalese.  It became clear to me what he meant while he conversed over lunch with Chindi, Nima's brother-in-law, and a good friend of Nima's family, a doctor, who's name I have forgotten at the moment.  I noticed that Nima's Nepalese is sprinkled with random English words.  He sounds a bit like this:  Blah blah blah summertime blah blah blah blah my restaurant blah blah Rosemary blah blah blah sister blah blah.  I pointed out this observation to Nima and he laughingly agreed. 

After a delicious lunch, Shree picked me up and took me home to pack up for the trek.  We leave at 5:30 tomorrow morning and I’m ready!