The path from the ring-road to my house is littered with speed bumps. It’s ridiculous. There are nine of them all about 20 metres apart. And that’s on a road that’s really some sort of shopping street for the most part, and the road is to small to be able to drive fast in anyways.
I thought it was just my street but a few weeks ago I actually came across an article in the paper which complained about this practice, which apparently is being practiced all around Kathmandu. It seems to me that the bump-layers get a quota per district and they just lay them all at once just to be done with it.
Have you noticed that fate seems to follow exactly the same pattern: Lay lots of speed bumps all at once just to be done with it.
‘Fate spins it’s little web’. Yeah right. Like it’s a delicate operation. ‘Fate bulldozes your house’ would be more apt a lot of the time.
Point in case:
I’m gonna move in the next couple of days. Not once, but thrice. Yes thrice!
1) Tomorrow I’m gonna move in with a couple of Australian girls and an American one. Here, in Kathmandu, Nepal.
2) After having occupied the better half of a floor for four years the stuff I’ve got laying around in my old apartment in Rotterdam, Holland has gotta move because my old roommate is gonna move in with her boyfriend (She’s so selfish. Where am I supposed to live when I get back!).
3) I’m still on the contract of the house I shared with my ex in Eskilstuna, Sweden. She wants to move asap, but she can’t because she has to get my consent to leave the place. I hope she takes some of my stuff with her.
So my stuff all over the world is moving. Perhaps it’s a good thing. Perhaps all the stuff, and the people herding it, will be a bit closer to each other after all of this is done. But I am getting a bit tired of the logistics of it all.
The contract thing is the easiest of course. Filling in some stuff and faxing it. Then after a while there will be some stuff sorting issues but that will be of later concern. The other two sites are a bit messier at the moment.
Here in Kathmandu the situation is a bit weird in a way because I’m not just bringing my own stuff along. Just about all ex-roommates and ex-colleagues left in a hurry for one reason or another. I’m like a little left luggage department. Except for the fact that the luggage isn’t lost but the respective owners. Well, it’s always a matter of perspective of course. It’s just that for once I’m more sympathetic with the luggage.
In Feb I came here with two backpacks and some money in my pocket. Now the money is gone, it seems to have solidified in lots of junk. Which is not true btw. The money went into other things. The junk I inherited from the same people that I got the luggage from. So now all of a sudden I own a rice-cooker, lots of reed furniture (bed, couch, chairs, tables, cupboards, baskets, benches), loads of sci-fi books, lots of clothes that don’t fit me, garden chairs, two of those Italian stove-coffee-brewers (not actual people but those metal things with a beak), roti-creation-utensils, an electric heater, an army of plastic cleaning vessels, a unicycle and lots and lots more. Yesterday evening, when I started packing, I still went into this with the pack-half-an-hour-before-lift-off mindset of a backpacker: “passport, check! money, check! bag seems heavy enough to contain some clothes, check! Let’s get outta here.” I now see the error of my ways.
For the Rotterdam one I am not on-site. That’s a bit crappy. I’d like to know which trigger-objects of my precious memories will be preserved and which ones will be cast into oblivion by ignorant hands, operated by ignorant people.
I asked my roommate Marja to jolt my memory with some piccies. She complied and embarked on an odyssey of photo-shooting. She mailed me around 15 mails which all had attached to them around 6 photo’s. In the end I got 89 pictures worth of info on the state of all my Dutch belongings. Before I looked at the session I thought, for the sake of logistics, to salvage about two boxes. One for important papers and one for mesmerising purposes.
I should never have looked at those pictures. The greedy little reptile part of my brain took charge quite vigorously when my head tried to democratically decide on the individual pieces. It issued veto after veto and in the end I wanted just about everything except for my old clothes and the array of desktops in the hallway that over the course of four years seemed like ancient dinosaurs, left in the dust by Moore’s law.
Here in Kathmandu I just finished the BIG SORTING. I’m a bit anal about that. All and every item has found it’s brethren. The heap of batteries is lighting up the night. Lots of flirting, lots of rubbing skin, in an electric frenzy that can’t last till morning. Candles ignite with joy seeing loved ones long gone, weeping for those that burned up to quick. But nothing is in boxes yet. And it’s getting late. In my optimism that all will sort itself out I didn’t press my friends hard enough to come and help me, and so I’ve got no sure confirmation. Well, we’ll see about that in the morning.