dear kathmandu,

i leave now, with polished teeth. thank you for your cheap non-discriminatory medical facilities. i promise to drink more coffee so that i yellow my teeth enough for another visit, soon.
i also leave with mud splattered calves. i've given up on trying to scrub them off. they always find their way back.
today, i didn't tell you earlier, but i walked down your streets hunting for nepali literature.
kathmandu, i'm going to read nepali novels, upanyas-haru. yes, i slug through two thin pocket-sized pages, underlining words i don't understand. but eventually, you will find me zipping through novels, scribbling marginalia in devanagari instead of english. you wait and see. i'll make you proud.
this was supposed to be a short goodbye note to you for your pillow when you wake up, but you know how these things turn. as i write to you, i realise how much i will miss you and then how much i don't want to leave and if i don't go, what's the use of goodbyes or letters for such occasions?
well, i won't make a list of the things i will miss or i love. lists are inadequate and for the weak of heart. well, except of course your street lassi, your happy hours, your temples, your monks, your monkeys, your tempos, your momos, your ghee, your stupas and your side saddle bicycle rides.
anyway, i must leave now.
i'm keeping in mind our talk from last night. i respect your inability to commit and your unwillingness to continue a long distance relationship, again.
regardless, i've made some coffee for you.

i'll call when i can.


love.
munche