Sleeping Around

Inspired by the writings of my wicked smart funny friends Jesse Seret (Perfect Calm), Trish Deitch (Distant Dock), Jessica Schickel (Chagrin and Bear It), Jen Sincero (Hey Little Bad Ass), and Janine Schulz (Oiling of a Rusty Mind), and encouraged by people I’ve met here and there, I will now commence the blog. Maybe just about beds. Maybe about other things too. But the beds are a constant. I’ve been keeping record of every mattress, hammock, waterbed, and couch I’ve spent the night on for some time, as many of you know.

Not every bed makes it into the bed collection. Sometimes I forget to take a picture. Once my computer was stolen on a night train in deepest India and I lost an important year of photos. Sometimes the beds in which I’ve slept would cause too much of a stir if made public, so. But there are lots beds in the bed collection. And stories behind each one.

If beds bore you then there is still some hope for us having a blogger/reader relationship. Let’s see how it goes. I’m only about 80% comfortable with this set up and welcome your input.

Love and kusheln from my red velvet bed in Berlin,

Noa
June, 2010
~ Friday, December 16 ~
Permalink

Thimphu (December 16, 2011) — Rebellion against the routine boiled over and I left Paro half packed, forgetting to turn off the geyser. I just had to leave. Where else but to the grand metropolis of Thimphu. I found a shared taxi that took the usual hour and multiplied it by forever, picking up and dropping off people on their errands. One had a bag of dried fish that smelled like a homeless man’s rotten feet. No one was snapping gum, so there was that. I remained patient, eyes on the prize of a change of scenery. 

.

I took some money out of the ATM (praise the strong dollar) and went to get a hair cut. But first I had to make my way through a violent street fight, boys with knives and grudges. I slipped through their angry melee and watched from the window with the ladies at the salon. Only after it was over did I remember to take a photo so I missed the grimaces and tussles. 

.

Maybe those boys slapping each other in the dirt did something to me. Fueled my own rebellion. I sat in the chair and asked the lady to bleach three chunks of hair white blond. It’s very bright. I tucked these strands into hiding and headed for Karma’s coffee for an important meeting with my fifth and final pilot project partner, the Bhutan Association of Women Entrepreneurs, and had a wonderful conversation about what we can do for young women who come to this town expecting riches and end up on their heels. Or worse. 

.

Next on the agenda was Deer Park Thimphu for Lama Shenphen’s movie night. It was so good to see familiar faces. And the film was good too, Zhang Yimou’s Riding Alone for Thousands of Miles. Tashi and Bunty and Karen and lots of other people were there. It’s the last film night for 3 weeks while Lama heads off to Taiwan. I stopped off at Phuntsho Wangmo’s to drop my bags, have a chat and some tea, and then headed out with some friends to the new bar, Zest, which is actually really nice. From there we grew into a larger group and headed to Space 34 for some dancing. I let the blond fly. The deejay played the same old songs as usual, switching without rhyme and without heeding the needs of us on the dancefloor (read: please send music). But I still had a good time. Sadly, I heard that the club is closing down soon. Then what will a girl do?

.

Clubs in Bhtuan have to close at 1 a.m. and there’s nowhere to go but drive around or hang out in a parking lot. So we drove around the chorten then to places that had views of the city, steering clear of police checkpoints and drunk drivers. 

.

I stayed at Phuntsho’s, as usual, and headed back to Paro after a breakfast at the Ambient. Feeling rejuvenated.