After a very long day in the hectic city of Patan, I lugged my way up four flights of stairs until I finally reached the kitchen. I didn’t even need to turn to the stove to see the load of dal bhat stacked on the counter. But as I turned towards the dining area, I noticed a bunch of Nepali people I’ve never seen before standing around the table. Confused, I turned around looking for one of my brothers, but they were no were to be found. I stood like a statue until someone in the dining room pointed at the stick shaped object poking through my backpack. As I pulled my bamboo flute out, the attention suddenly turned towards me. As the silence heightened, I put the flute to my mouth and played Resham Firiri, a very popular traditional song. As I played, they started dancing and singing along until I ran out of breath. While I may have chosen the bamboo flute as my ISP in a joking manner, this experience really allowed me to see how music is a language of its own, and how something that seems so minor can garner such an enthusiastic and joyous response.