Little lost monk

I am walking back to the Bhutanese temple, where I have a mattress, as a young monk comes up to me with a flashing smile, with his hand outstretched.
"Hello my friend!" he almost cries, as he jumps into a hysterical hug.
"I'm fine, I'm fine!" I reply, as I try to understand his reaction. He is not a local, and looks very much like a monk; i quickly assume he is not a thief or scam-artist and I allow him to get physical.

We exchange a few curtsies, as he asks:
"Have you got a girlfriend?"
"No, sadly not, and I am getting old," I laugh.
"No, do you have a girlfriend for me?"
I laugh nervously and say that I do not. I explain that I am tired, and that I am going back to my room. He follows me, and as we walk, he shouts out to people at the road, a blend of his native language, english, and grunts.
"Nice festival going on", I say as we see a lot of Indians covered in multicolored powder walk past us. "Holi is really special".
"Thank-you-very-much" he says quickly. At this stage I am quite sure that something, or rather he, is a little "half twelve", as we say in Norwegian.

He follows me into the compound, and I try to explain to him that I can't bring guests. He says that's no problem, and follows me further, in a very energetic way. I tell him off a bit more, and he want's to go to the office, which I know is closed. After some consideration I choose to lead him to the nearest monastery of which I think he belongs to.

"You have changed color," he says suddenly, and grabs my necklace.
"No, I am still the same me, I think," as I wonder if he'll go physically whacko with me, and if I can subdue him. "Like my necklace? It's sort of the same as you have."
He fingers it for a while, settles down, and we walk on.

At the first monastery we find the only monk that is awake, but he won't help us, as he has a visit from his father. He tells me which monastery the first monk belongs to, and leaves, to my protests. I see no alternative but to continue.

I notice that my new friend is very warm, so I buy him water, of which he drinks incessantly. As we pass a billboard, he reads some of it aloud, shouts to some locals in gibberish, and laughs. We get to his monastery, and before I can say "My friend here is a little confused," they have already taken a good hold of him.
"Well, take care of yourself, and drink plenty of water!" I get to say, before he is escorted further into the compound. A few of the monks nod their head in thanks, or perhaps wonderment, and I leave.