Calling It A Day

Well, I figure it is time to stop procrastinating and just make a damn decision, so with that in mind I have opted to call time on my Nepali adventure and head home in a few weeks. To what I have no idea.

This little jaunt has not quite worked out as I’d hoped, but in truth it has not been far off what deep down I expected. I am aware that I could stay here and do a selection of different jobs and probably earn enough money to get by, but that is not what I came here to do, and frankly it’s bloody exhausting.

My biggest regret will be that I never managed to get a place of my own, even if it had only been for a month or so. I think I might have felt a bit more at home then, and not so reliant on other people. I’ve not decided whether this is a final choice or if I’ll have another crack at it, I think I need some time away from this country to gain some perspective before I’ll know quite how I feel about it.

This weekend did give me another glimpse of what life could be like here if my circumstances were different. I had agreed to meet Goliath to watch the rugby which kicked off at the very social time of 4pm. Of course, the football was kicking off just after midnight so he had kindly offered to let me crash at his place, since they have three spare bedrooms.

We had some food and watched England score two scintillating penalty tries in a losing cause before going with his missus and an Aussie bloke called Tim (who looks frighteningly like Ruud Van Nistelrooy) back to chez Goliath.

His place is unbelievable. Three stories, massive garden area, wicked roof terrace and just the two of them there. Plus their two dogs, Coffee and Alfred (or Albert, we’d had a few by this stage and I don’t remember).

Ruud showed why Australians should not be allowed to begin drinking early by promptly passing out before 9pm and I managed to offend various other people with my chat as the evening wore on and we played a considerable amount of FIFA ’09 on his xbox. Those who have seen me in such environments know that I have a tendency to get a little carried away and some of my banter would perhaps have been more suited to an evening with Team Hillary than a bunch of blokes I didn’t really know.

Anyway, people came and went, as did rather a large amount of Rum, before we somehow managed to grab a lift from a truck at a construction site (complete with two blokes asleep on top of the cab who didn’t even move) to the British Gurkha Camp where we arrived approximately three minutes after England had scored. Rage.

More booze and Robert Green–related fury ended with us back at the castle guzzling more booze until 6:30am. Being due to start work at 9 I thought this was a good time to pass out. Work was of course cancelled and I spent Sunday watching highlights of the 2005 Ashes. Super stuff that.

So there we are, from what I gather this is a fairly normal weekend for Goliath and the rest, so perhaps doing a runner might be what’s best for my liver. That said I have the small matter of a murder mystery party this Friday, followed by another England game. Could get interesting.