The last couple of days I felt itchy. One explanation is definitely the itchy red bites on my jaw and ankle, which feel suspiciously bedbuggy. Although I eschewed the mattresses here I still padded the plywood with a blanket, one which is apparently well-bugged. Luckily a couple of bites in a month are by no means unbearable… as long as it doesn’t get worse! I’ve also been itchy because of the staggering amount of free time here. Although I extolled its virtues in previous posts, so much openness can also feel unbearably oppressive. To combat these feelings, I am pursuing a surprising number of handicraft activities: weaving on cardboard looms, hopefully learning crocheting, and various sewing projects. Perhaps this is why pioneer women were so good at making doilies and such- boredom is an excellent motivator.
However, this frustration comes and goes. Some days are full to the brim with great experiences and moments, and some days I feel content even though little happens. Today I went for a hike after breakfast, bypassing the temple above us in favor of a switch-backy dirt path which reaches a lovely bluff overlooking the valley. Realizing I was late, I rushed back to accompany the kids who don’t go to Junkiri down to government school. Last time the volunteers who weren’t teaching in the morning often did this, and I was scolded several days ago by several of the girls for not doing it again- I didn’t think they missed me! Today I realized that I also missed the walk when Durga, an 11-year old, took my hand and made up a story that took up the entire journey to school (poor girl, dead family, ghostly mother trying to steal her single rupee- you’ve got the general plot). I wandered around different parts of the valley while I waited for the internet shop to open so I could try and apply for jobs and such. After I got back to the home I got to show my students the photos taken by “American” students for the first project: “Light and Shadows”. They were especially taken by a picture of an ice-hockey game, immediately recognizing “hockey” but hardly comprehending the “ice”. When I finished explaining one of the kids started shivering and shaking his head in horror.
Yesterday I felt particularly unproductive as I was in the house all day, so I set off with Kristel to do some shopping. Isn’t this always the solution? I’ll admit: this isn’t 5th Avenue mall, or even Salvation Army (for those of you who know my true tastes). No, this was shopping, Nepali style. First we picked up some biscuits and chocolate for afternoon munching, when hunger and homesickness combine to form a regrettable craving for Cadbury’s chocolate. Then we set off on our real errand: to commission ourselves a kurta.
The kurta is typical Nepali women’s dress: a tunic-styled mid-thigh dress with slits up the side, under which you wear surwal, those wide Indian-looking pants that bag so becomingly under the hips. To complete the ensemble is a long filmy scarf, usually matching the color of the pants. This outfit is always made to size by a local tailor, but before you can start you must first choose your fabric, often at a different shop. After much deliberation and true courage given the seemingly endless supplies of fabric and seemingly depthless language barrier, Kristel settled on a pre-arranged set of fabric consisting of embroidered pink and turquoise. I found a gorgeous green fabric with a gold design, but couldn’t find the right pants material in chocolate brown. It was lucky I did not, as I realized today that this combination would result in a strong resemblance to a Christmas-tree. This morning I bought some blue material for pants, but have already run into opposition at both the shop, where they seemed genuinely concerned by my bad taste, and by the one girl at PA whom I bravely showed my material to (imagine the words “But it does not match!” said with complete indignance). Ah, well.
Small reminders from my e-mail help me appreciate the time I have here and strive to use it. Earlier this week I found an inbox swamped with worried questions about housing next year, as well as my PFD appeal to the Alaska state government, and a decided lack of job opportunities for the summer. These moments make me appreciate being away from these daily stresses but they also underscore how far away my world is. Sometimes I will be teaching or talking with the kids and realize they know nothing about something that is fundamental and normal in “my” world. The Olympics, for example, or the earthquake in Haiti, or World War II- all of these practically don’t exist here. While the kids know tons more about Nepal than I ever will, including its language, they seem to know next to nothing about what I would consider basic world history. It’s funny though- I bet they know more about Asian history than I do, so perhaps it’s all dependent on region and perspective. Another things that seems odd is that the kids here really look up to China and hate India, probably because Nepal lies right in-between and always seems to be cheated or manipulated by India’s government. It’s both nice and discomforting to be reminded again and again that America is not the center of the world, and to see how much more is out there.
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