My new chillip in crime gave me a shout out in her blog and now I feel obligated to return the favor.
When the two of us aren’t acting out a fantasy speed dating scene taking place in a monastery, or competitively trying to outdo Bhutanese by bowing lower than them or offering tea to them 4 times instead of the traditional three, this east coast Masshole and I are convincing people to refer to us as Biggie and Tupac.
The following interaction sums it up.
As Hilary’s house Grandmother circumambulated the house one Saturday, I casually pretended to get some fresh air on the balcony, which is too small for drinking tea and therefore only serves two purposes in Bhutan (one of which is drying a kira).
As Hil tampered with the washing machine below and Grandma rounded the corner out of sight, I whispered down to my chillip pal.
Tupac: “Hey. Charades. What am I doing?” (Pretending to scale the balcony and tiptoe)
Biggie: “Hmmmmm… not day… hmmmm… NIGHT!” (Finger to chin looking puzzled)
Tupac: “Yah, yah…” (Pretending to cock a rifle)
Biggie: “Hmmmm… I GOT IT! NIGHTHUNTING!”
Hilary locks the balcony door every night and still has not been nighthunted. G-ma is still circumambulating.
Lets just say that myself and two other whiskey drinking chillips dressed as night hunters on Halloween had a damn good time staging a fake shoot out on Bhutan’s only highway (2 lanes… no cars). Ohhhh… the things that would get you arrested in the US.