Laxmi

Laxmi Bazaar, the little village where I lived for three months, became my home away from home. When it came time to leave I was sad to say goodbye. At first I thought the village was far too small for me to live happily there, but as time passed I fell in love with it.
It gets bright early, so the village wakes up early. Everyone is up and about by 6, to make the most of the daylight hours when power cuts aren't as debilitating. Much of morning (well, all day) life happens outside, as the shops are opened, steps washed and chores completed. And it's loud. Crying babies, bleating goats, loud voices and even chopping wood (all this about 2 ft. from my head and at 6am!)
The village isn't big, but its small feel is somewhat deceptive. There is one main intersection where the buses stop, around which the majority of the shops are located. It runs along the top and side of a ridge, with houses and fields down either side. There are two roads off the main road. One goes up a hill, and is where Maha Laxmi is located. The other runs off the intersection, along a small offshoot ridge. It has some shops, lots of houses, and ends in farms.
There's always lots of people around during the day. There are people in the fields, in the shops, hanging around near the shops and houses and generally just everywhere. Nepali life, as I'm sure I've said before, takes place outside.
Except where it rains. As soon as it starts, the village appears to close. Shops do stay open, but the little hut shops along the road are closed. All of a sudden there is nobody outside, and the usually bustling village appears deserted. As soon as the rain stops though, everyone is right back outside.
I've never lived anywhere smaller than 100,000 people, and I thought that was small. Laxmi has maybe 2000 people, includes the outlying farms. At first I was irked by the number of things that aren't available here, but you can get in Gorkha, like jam and toilet paper. After a while I got used to it though, and going up to Gorkha - which really isn't an inconvience, it's only 10 mins by bus - to get supplies didn't feel like any sort of imposition. After a few weeks I settled into the rhythym of the village, and by February I loved it there. I see the same people around all the time, and recognize a lot of the villagers. And I've figured out some of the little things about the village, like how fresh bread rolls are delivered around 2pm, and who lives near the upper bus stop.
As the day starts early, so too does it end early. It gets dark around 7 (in March, in January it was more like 5:30), and the village appears to go to sleep around 9. That's deceptive too though, there's a lot of activity still going on!