Cochi, Kerala, this year and last

Hannah and I spent last night with a cover band drummer turned yoga enthusiast from England and some ametuer film makers from Sweden. The last couple of days we had been thinking it was time to make friends with some fellow travelers, so we were glad to meet these folks. We had prawns and rice for dinner, and beer in ceramic tea pots, because the restaurant didn't have a license to sell it. They told us about trekking in Nepal, getting luggage stolen on the train. We told them about the Oregon Extension, and they were impressed. They were down to earth and friendly and it was one of those rare exchanges where we could talk about things of substance shortly after meeting each other. At midnight we watched fireworks across the harbor in Ernakaulim with more drinks, then took a rickshaw back to our guest house.

This morning I lay in bed under the ceiling fan, waiting for Hannah to wake up, listening to music on my headphones. At eight in the morning it is already hot and muggy. Last June, one of the last times I sat on the porch on Hope Street with my friends, Robin tried to convince us all that we'd reunite there for New Year's Eve. I was sure I wouldn't be there, but I tried to imagine it and knew already then how much I'd long to be there this year. I am listening to Wilco, and the joyful
gospel piano in Theologians pulls me out of bed and into the shower. I began writing a short story yesterday, and I am going to keep writing it.