I crashed inadvertently at 8PM last night, so I woke up at 5AM this morning. After spending some time staring out the window at the early-risers on the streets below, I embarked upon my first adventure— the hotel bathroom.
The toilet here doesn’t really… flush. It basically trickles water for a few minutes until you give up. I also decided to take my first shower upon entering the country. There’s a small problem. Most places only know one setting of shower: cold. Nevertheless, I managed to shiver my way through it and get clean.
Once I hit the streets, the first thing that struck me was the huge diversity of complexion in the Nepalese population. At one end of the spectrum, the people are very dark and South-Indo-looking. At the other end, individuals have highly East-Asian features. While I was standing in the visa application line, a Nepalese man approached me. “You look Nepali, but have an American visa,” he noted. He had seen the navy-blue booklet poking out of my pocket. When I explained that I was Korean, he asked, “Oh, so one of your grandparents is Korean?”
Apparently, I pass as Nepalese, which has its benefits and downsides. For one, I blend in well so nobody finds me out of the ordinary. On the other hand, unless I introduce myself as American, people will launch into Nepali when I approach them. Nevertheless, most folks here speak bits of English and some people are quite fluent.
Chris got a call from one of the kids he met in Sanfe earlier this month. Bikram, the cousin of a political figure in the town the hospital is in, met us at the guest house that afternoon. The nineteen-year-old sociology student spoke very good English, even picking up on bits of slang Chris and I tossed around. I was delighted to exchange pieces of cultural knowledge with him, as he proved an enthusiastic and friendly conversationalist.
At one point in the conversation, though, Bikram suddenly turned to us and said “how can I be like you and Andrew, Chris?”
Chris, with his dry humor, leaned back and answered with a grin, “it’s not easy.”
When prompted further about what exactly he meant, Bikram replied, “How can I be fat like you?”
(Note: Regardless of our personal opinions on our physiques, we’re definitely not fat).
After our initial laughter, he explained in detail: “I’m too skinny. My parents worry so much, because I keep losing weight too.”
I made some lame first world references to TV dinners and driving instead of walking, but there was no getting away from the truth of the matter— the American way of life is vastly different from an Achhami’s.
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