To go on and on somewhat endlessly, here is my day: worked with a woman from Bhutan educated in Boston soon leaving for Malaysia; shopped for knockoff clothes from Bangladesh before eating “Singapore noodles” joined by Bhutanese, Canadians, Americans and an adopted child from China, then retired to hotel to watch Indian drama on Japanese tv and gobbled stale “pastries” from “Swiss Bakery” (not) while firing off a quick note to a Dutch guy I met with a Canadian (now in Burma), all before I leave for a monastery, established by a Tibetan in Bhutan, arrangements for which were made by a friend leaving Sunday for China with whose husband I spent last evening discussing France.

This just in from Indian movie: “If I didn’t call, they would have cut one finger daily.”

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