Fever In, Fever Out...Fever In Again

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A New Bedfellow - At first I thought it was just the heat getting to me as we climbed step after step, ascending to the top of the Monkey Temple at Pashupatinath. I was feeling weak and tired and decided I just needed some water. I had been hacking up the Kathmandu air pollution for the last few days like a true Nepali, and so was already feeling a bit under full capacity, but this was different. By the time Pell and I returned to Godavari I was officially achy. It had been years since I’d felt like this, but I still knew Fever’s ugly mug when I saw him creep up behind me and put his arm around me smugly, as if we were old pals. He made it clear he intended to stay a while. I had other plans.

Directly after returning to the apartment I put myself on a strict regimen of water, rest, and happy thoughts. This quickly turned into: water, no rest because my pillow is a slab of concrete cotton, and me doing low pitch humming to try and distract myself from my pounding head and hot, sensitive skin that hated to be touched by anything and everything. Especially my concrete pillow. My fever broke late that night or early that morning—I can’t be sure as I was too busy having vivid, freaky hallucinations as it happened. Despite my fever induced trip (or maybe because of it?), I awoke feeling like a champion. Take that, Fever!

This is good news because this particular Wednesday, when I awoke victorious over Fever (who could be seen sobbing in the corner, dejected and clearly unloved, might I add), was the Wednesday that Pell and I were going to be treated to some traditional Nepali folk dancing. For free. Don’t mind if we do.

The Nepal Folkloric Foundation is a generous contributor to Ama Ghar and invited Shrawan, Ama Ghar’s founder, to their program: “Nepal Folkloric Foundation Presents A Fabulous Cultural Program 2066.” As an aside I feel it’s worth mentioning that this very creative event title, which was printed on a huge banner on the back wall of the stage, was apparently very difficult to remember as every person, NFF presenters included, had to crane their necks around and read the banner every time they referred to the event while addressing the audience. It was all I could do not to collapse in my chair in fits of laughter. It’s as if they let the sign maker come up with the event name and then no one was allowed to see the sign until the program was already under way.

Hilarious Nepali presentation quirks aside, Shrawan and anyone he wanted to bring (namely myself and Pell), were to be treated to a night of traditional Nepali dance and music, along with the rest of the audience of course. I was pleased to find that the program lived up to its title. It was indeed fabulous…and cultural. I met a few of the “best (insert foreign instrument name here) players in Nepal,” saw men dressed as women and dancing in a questionable manner, and even got to witness a man playing an instrument that is the only one of its kind; because the man invented it. It was thoroughly enjoyable, however, I would have enjoyed it much more thoroughly if my good friend, Fever, hadn’t decided to return for one more round of fun and games. And snot. There was no getting up to get a tissue for a good two and a half hours (I’d need an entire box anyway). I’m just glad I wore a long-sleeved shirt that night. Let’s let that image settle in. Alright, moving on.

I turned in immediately after we were dropped at Ama Ghar, achy and exhausted. Things were different this time though…much different. Pell and I recalled the night’s happenings and laughed about the easily forgettable event title for a few; and then I said I was going to try and sleep on my ridiculously hard pillow, knowing full well that such a notion was a total fantasy. Just then Pell said something that would change my life forever.

“You know, there’s a feather pillow in the other room.”

“What?” I took a moment to indulge in the glorious thought of such a thing. “Don’t toy with my emotions, Pell.”

“No, seriously, I put it in there for Shrawan’s friend to use when he spent the night.”

I was already in the room and hugging the blessed thing, trying not to cry, before he had finished his sentence. I came out of Shrawan’s room looking like a boy who had just received a new puppy. A new puppy that is already house trained but is still small and fluffy and good at running into things with his clumsy puppy walk. Pell immediately realized his foible.

“Crap! What’s wrong with me?! That could have been mine!”

I nodded, smiled, and took my new puppy to my princess bed. And then I slept. I really, truly, slept for the first time since I arrived in Nepal. Shortly before I fell asleep Pell called from the hallway where he was reading.

“How’s that pillow treating you?”

All I could muster was a muffled moan of utter delight as I drifted off to dreamland.

The next morning was to be our day to go see Bahktapur, one of the three main cities in the Kathmandu Valley, and with my full night of blissful rest, the remnants of Mr. Fever’s presence would only be a minor discomfort. Hopefully.

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