too much inside my own head

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I often feel like a schmuck after my daily chat at dusk with Renuka. Not that she intends to make me feel that way, but just listening to her talk about her life as a Nepali and the things she finds important in life makes me feel like the stuff I worry about is meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

And this is exactly why I keep coming back to Nepal, to remind myself that I am a schmuck for worrying about such inconsequential things when so many people in the world are living like this.

Today she said to me, “You think too many thoughts, no? But everybody love you. Only people who hated or depression think too many thoughts.” I think what she was trying to say is that I am too much inside my own head for someone who seems to have it all—an education many Nepalis only ever dream of, a family, boyfriend, and friends that love me, and my health (aside from the past two weeks). I started to explain to her that I often have a lot of stress in my life—the dissertation, the job search, even just preparing to come here—but then I stopped myself realizing that those things are nothing compared to the daily stress these people endure.

During an awkward silence (for me, not for her), I handed her another expensive hand cream I had brought for her to try. She told me how dry her hands get from all of the washing of clothes and pots. I asked her if anyone in Nepal owns a dishwasher (thinking some of the wealthier people might), but she had no idea what I was talking about. And I was ashamed to think of all the times Ken and I have bickered over who loads the dishwasher more often.

Eventually our conversation led to lighter topics, such as how Dinesh teases her that he does not like her hands and feet. I told her how Ken makes fun of my long fingers and didn’t want to look at my left foot for several months until a toenail I lost in a hiking incident grew back. “Everybody have something, right?” she said. “When I was young and naïve I think my hands no good, my feet no good. But everybody has problems. Some people short, some people fat, some people bad skin.”

She’s still trying to figure out how she can have clear skin like mine. This week she’s convinced my skin is clear on account of all the apple juice I drink.

She said before I leave for Rome in a few weeks we have to go to the beauty parlor so that I can get a manicure, pedicure, and my eyebrows threaded before I see Ken. “Must be beautiful for boyfriend so that he do not look at others, no?” and again cracked herself up.

These are the moments that I love this place.

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