Call me crazy, but I think I feel a chill in the air.  The temperature dipped below 20 degrees and as we scrambled to get the blankets back on the bed I realized just how much my internal thermometer has shifted.  Since when did 20 degrees become cold?  And how much will I shiver when I get home and an hour of rain isn’t followed by blazing hot sunshine?  But perhaps it isn’t temperature at all, but rather old habits driving this need to cozy up – with September around the corner it somehow just feels like the right thing to do.

• Work days that allow for a quick venue research trip up a mountain to resort-ish type location where one can see the Himalayan vistas. Need I say more?  In comparison it would be like being asked to visit Whistler (albeit much less fancy) for a day and report back on the quality of the hotel rooms, meeting halls, and menus of possible workshop venues.   And our selection was…Hotel Country Villa.  Beautiful rooms, fantastic food and excellent (read inspiring) views.  Sigh…work is tough some days!  The only piece of this day that I was not as grateful for was the screeching and precariously speedy trip up the mountain side to get to said location.  Thankfully, I was not riding on the roof of a public bus…it was scary enough from the backseat of a car.
• Pothole warnings.  due to some very heavy rainstorms lately, some of the paved roadways are developing rather large, almost crater like, holes.  On my regular walking route to the tuk-tuk stop I had noticed some sinking spots in the pavement.  But literally overnight, these sink holes had sunk to new lows…giant hollow spaces beneath the pavement, much like cracking the head of a chocolate Easter bunny – the hole may look small from the top but is cavernous underneath.  So, to warn drivers who are speeding through the streets the neighbourhood solution is to prop a tall tree-like branch into the hole.  No bright tape, coloured ribbons, massive orange cones, or heavily roped off areas.  Just a bamboo branch waving lazily in the breeze and blending very wall into the surroundings.  I admit the holes were fixed within a week, an excellent turnaround time for Nepal, but Iam still left marveling at the simplicity of it all.
• Being able to get work done in a cyber. Cyber is Nepali speak for an internet cafe – minus the cafe.  A bunch of old computers crammed into a small shop along with phone booths, a copy machine, and some dusty office supplies.  Speeds vary, monitors are often discoloured and flickering, and keyboards have notoriously sticky keys.  But right now, we have no internet in our office and have not had for the past 3 months.  So, this means regular trips to the local cyber to check and answer email.  And I am still somewhat shocked (and grateful!) for the amount of work we manage to do in these little cybers.  The noise level is ridiculous, with locals calling family gone to work in the Middle East and yelling over a poor reception, the ergonomics would make any office rep cringe, and there are always a gaggle of folks reading email over your shoulder.  However, with a bit of focus and preseverance we have managed to operate this way for 3 months.  Not ideal, but somehow satisfying.  And a tribute to a culture like Nepal where people simply are not bothered by these small inconveniences.
• Peanut butter cookies.  It was a moment of madness and I was blinded by a recollection of smell and taste.  I had been dreaming about this particular version of peanuttyness for a few weeks but thought that the feeling would wear off.  It didn’t.  It got worse.  So, after trying desperately to ignore it, I caved and sent R on a scrambling race to the corner store for some peanut butter and baked out my craving with only moments to spare before the power cut started for the evening.  They were delicious and I think worth the madness.  My only excuse is that it was a back-to-school treat (without the back to school part)!