Five days without a computer

The first day, I cry. (Really. Wish I was exaggerating.)

The second day, I take the broken power cord to every electrician in town. They take one look at the foreign Apple product and declare it hopeless. Just glue the damn wires back together, I beg. This is a place where nothing is ever too broken to fix, and most electronics are held together by packing tape and prayers. But this, they won't even touch.

The third day, I wake up and reach over to turn on my computer, only to be crushed all over again by the realization that this cold analog world is my new reality. Am briefly buoyed by the inexplicable delusion that I can solder the wires back together myself, so I buy some soldering wire (which they are extremely reluctant to sell me, on the belief that I am somehow going to maim myself) and spend an increasingly expletive-filled hour trying to fuse the wires with the flame of a cigarette lighter. Am not successful. Go to bed early and angry.

On the third day, I discover that not having a computer leaves me with a lot of extra time on my hands. I read a book, study Tibetan, teach five classes, and spend lunch with the students. Begin to wonder if the reason I don't speak the language after living here two-and-a-half years is because I watch an indecent amount of Internet TV. Start to envision a bright, tech-free future in which I am soon chatting fluently with the gateman, never find myself standing in front of class without a lesson plan, and spend my evenings finally penning the novel that will make it all worthwhile.

On the fourth day, I realize that is ridiculous, bordering on blasphemy. The Internet represents all that is good and right in the world. Can actually feel my soul withering at the edges from the lack of it. (Rinchen Tso - who firmly believes all my little electronic gadgets are what cause my frequent bouts of illness, and not the shocking lack of sanitation in this town - comes home from boarding school, and laughs when she hears of my misfortune. Reminding me of my also recently defunct Kindle, she suggests that the gods are trying to put me on a healthier path.)

On the fifth day, the replacement power cord I rush-ordered from a fake Apple store unexpectedly arrives three days early. The gateman is confused and frightened by my reaction when he delivers the package, but I am unabashed. I immediately abandon my plans to go help the students with their homework, and load up the newest episode of "The New Girl."

All is once again right in this part of the world.