Duck Derbies & Sherpa Fests

Dreamed my friend Erin had fallen in love with Ben.

She was incredibly apolgetic about it and kept assuring me that she understood all the nuances, having been a Faithful Mallory's Camera reader lo, these many years. In fact, she was really glad she'd been reading my diary because otherwise it would have been impossible for her to imagine how somebody (for which read Ben) could simultaneously be so appealing and so awful.

Throughout our conversation, Ben himself was strewn across a sofa in a nearby room and being incredibly whiney, trying to get Erin all to himself.



Busy day yesterday.

In the morning, I sold Duck Derby tickets with Ellen at a folding table in front of the Wallkill hamlet post office.

The Duck Derby is one of innumerable civic activities my dinky little community group, Vision of Wallkill, sponsors. On May 10, we will float a bunch of rubber ducks in the Wallkill River. There is no appreciable current in the portion of the Wallkill River that runs through the hamlet, so the rubber ducks mostly just sit there. But eventually—entropy!—one of the rubber ducks breaks loose & is declared the winner.

The lucky duck's sponsor wins some kind of cash prize, which protocol demands they donate back to the hamlet, so you know: The whole thing is a rip-off.

Funds raised this project go to the Wallkill High School to provide a "safe space" for the Wallkill High School senior class to enjoy prom night.

The Wallkill High School senior class is mostly the spawn of bug-eyed, drooling, rabid Trump supporters, so personally, I'd like to see them all die in fiery car explosions or by chugging methyl-alcohol-infused keggers on prom night.

But you can't always get what you want, and anyway, it's important to maintain Protective Camouflage.

While we were sitting at our table, a fleet of buses drove by and turned down River Road.

"Sightseerers in Wallkill?" I asked Ellen.

"Oh, they're on their way to the Sherpa festival," Ellen told me.

A convoy of cars followed. Expensive cars.

"The Sherpas bought that big field on the other side of Merrie's property," Ellen explained. "They wanted to build a temple or something. But, of course, the town wouldn't let them."

Sherpas!

That must mean... Himalayans!

I resolved to check it out!

Watch on YouTube

Maybe five thousand people? In a field! Right up the usually deserted road from the transfer station. Hundreds of cars parked in a makeshift parking lot.

I ditched my car by the side of the road & hiked in.



"How much are tickets?" I asked the people at the gate.

Tickets were a hundred bucks!

I prepared to hike out.

But then the ticket sellers looked at each other & one of them asked me, "You live here?"

"Yes, I do," I babbled. And next year, I can sell Lhapso Fest tickets along with Duck Derby tickets! I thought, beaming in what I hoped was an appealing fashion.

They let me in for free-eee-eeee!

There wasn't a lot to do. No cultural performances. I think it was mainly a networking meet-and-greet for the Himalayan community of New York State who are mostly Nepalese. I didn't see any other Caucasians.

Most of them were in native garb, and the native garb is stunning although, of course, it is very rude to stalk people for photos just because you like their clothes. I tried to be discreet.

A lot of the men were wearing what I can only describe as modified gaucho costumes. It's so interesting how men in high-country cultures always end up going for those wide-brimmed hats, serapes and ornamental boots. The universal herder swag!






A huge, multi-course feast was in progress that looked and smelled delicious, but I decided it would be rude to partake. So after wandering around for an hour, I left.

I know this culture a little bit because of all the English As a Second Language tutoring I did in Ithaca where I was not only the English Language Tutor of Choice among the surprisingly large Tibetan population there, but also the Tax Preparer of choice.

What surprised me most about the Tibetans in Ithaca was how very materialistic they are. They live for Black Friday! And yet they are very religious Buddhists. What I took away from that is that they understood impermanence without having to practice detachment.



After the Sherpa Fest, I scampered over to the monthly meeting of the Shawangunk Dems where I volunteered to take over their website. This will be good because not only will it help me become more proficient in Squarespace—a potential revenue-generating skill—but it will also help me tailor the Shawangunk Dems' message a little more subtly so as not to alienate potential supporters.

Remember, boys & girls: Imperfect allies are not the enemy.



I am contemplating scampering across the bridge this morning to begin prepping this year's garden, having accepted the Hyde Park Community Garden's invitation to garden with them again this year, since gardening is kind of intimate, thus not something I want to do with Icky.

The symbolism of Easter is not entirely lost on me.

After all, when all is said & done, Jesus is a harvest god.