Sherpa Dancing and Monastic Thieves

So we stayed for the popular Sherpa festival which everyone raved about. Our arrival for this celebration seemed really lucky- some might say auspicious... in hindsight, not so much. The low-key day was welcomed but not necessary. We had only been hiking for two days and really decided to stay purely for cultural exposure. During the morning we took a side trip up an adjacent valley to an old Buddhist monastery setup and run by Tibetan refugees- extremely kind and gracious in every way possible. They offered us tea and sweets, couldn't speak a lick of English, and laughed at the most random happenings... but we were in a monastery, what could go wrong? They handed us a paper in english outlining their pleas for cooperation and global recognition of the crimes taking place in Tibet- even this far removed, geographically at least, they are peacefully calling for action. After taking some ridiculous pictures with bald Tibetan nuns and ancient looking sages, we headed downhill for our festival.
We were so excited- a real Sherpa festival, on the day after we arrived... how perfect. People said that Sherpas from all over the valley were coming because the festival was the biggest in Junbesi. Well, we arrived at 5 pm and after some lacklustre horn-blowing and rice tossing we sat around for another 2 hours. Being the courteous western men we are, Kyle and I both gave up our seats for older women and children... which effectively relegated us to the furthest corner of the top balcony- not the best place for a 5'6"er. Craning and twisted, I stretched as best I could once the festivities began...
The first couple rounds of dancers were awesome- masked creatures and wizards in huge flowing robes of all different colors, embroidered with radiating gold thread, stepping in deliberate circles to the ho-hum of Ricola-style Himalayan horns. I have never seen anything like it before, and it bode well for the rest of the evening. Ironic, how things turned out...
After about 15 minutes, the show took a serious nose dive. Out of nowhere, following such unique and incredible traditional dancers came a horde of pre-adolescent boys decked out in the worst western Halloween costumes... the ones left over at the Halloween outlet that nobody bought and are 80% off because the store is going to close. They came out, bouncing to the rhythm of the horns, slowly circling the seated performers who early boosted our hopes for a great show. I thought they were kind of funny- and the audience was absolutely exploding. They were shaking their butts, jumping backwards and giving eachother piggyback rides. I didn't understand, but EAGERLY looked forward to the next round of adults... they didn't come for another 2 hours! Round after round of these boys just poured out of the monastery, doing the same routine over and over again. And the worst part was, no one in the crowd seemed annoyed at all! They loved every second of it. I couldn't believe that these kids were performing like this next to the old, wizened monks sitting in the VIP chairs... is this really traditional Sherpa culture? Was Gure Rimpoche REALLY satisifed with this performance in his honor? I have a feeling, he would have done us all a favor and shut that that trainwreck down!
And the worst of it all is that I left my raincoat in the monastery. I returned the next morning optimistic though- who steals from a monastery? I was sure to be the recipient of some pious Buddhist's good karmic behavior... not a chance. It was gone, and no one had a clue... most actually had no interest in helping me. And on that note, the following day was the only day it rained and I got soaked. Maybe I was reaping the karmic seeds I sowed the night before when I said, with gusto, "THIS BLOWS!"