Eat pumpkin pie with your hands

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19-NOV-2007
After the usual morning routine, I headed over to the children's school to watch them perform their exercises and prayers in formation. There appeared to be three classes at the two room schoolhouse- Nepali, English, and math. As luck would have it, I ended up sitting in the Nepali class where I was absolutely useless. So I sat at the bench at the outdoor classroom with the children and observed as the kids loudly shouted words with the class loudly screaming them back.

Back in town, Steve and I went for two separate visits at the Organic cafe for much needed fresh food as a daal bhaat relief- banana pancakes, fresh fruit crepes, tomato mozarella salad, a heaping salad, and a fresh fruit salad (yes, all for me but an entire day's worth of goodness).

In an attempt to flag down a taxi for my 150 Rs cutoff, one driver had the balls to request 500... sorry I'm not stupid. However, I eventually did find my man who put the petal to the petal for several near-death incidents. He seemed to know my unspoken curfew. To my luck at 813pm, the door is open and hajuramma lets me pass by without food relatively easily this time.

20-NOV-2007
The 5am morning walk just isn't going to happen this morning so I push it back a half hour and still manage to head out before any sign of the sunrise. At my chiyaa and roti place, the roti man is frying up the round pieces of dough in the boiling cauldron of oil, and chiyaa is on the cooker. After my mouth-watering 4 mini-glazed rotis and piping hot chiyaa, I continue along my route where the stares are on me even moreso than usual. Perhaps it's because I'm a woman walking alone. But it is daytime you know, people. If one person in a group notices me, they tell the others who instantly turn to stare as if they've never seen a whitey before.

As I'm passing through one of the small villages, a woman starts speaking to me and points across the street to have tea with this random family. They invite me into their yard where I meet Reena and Bina- two sisters aged 18 and 20 who are in college and just graduated in management and microbiology. I have tea with them and they say I'm welcome back any time.

I continue on and this middle aged man starts speaking to me in Nepali that I understood and was able to respond to. He invited me to his home for a third cup a tea where I met his lovely family. I learned he was the principal of a secondary school in town where he's had volunteers placed before. Even after admitting I've never driven a motorbike before, he offered to have me drive his around town for my own personal use. He mentioned he'd be interested in having more volunteers help out at his school. Very nice fellow. One of the best cups of chiyaa I've had thus far.

There are 20 new kids at the home who I've never seen before. They've all arrived back from the Dashain/Tihar festivites to confuse me. This makes for complete mayhem come heath check time because I certainly cannot remember who I've seen and who I haven't. But I do get to most of them in any given morning. Luckily, most of them have enough common sense to come to me when they have any type of minor issue. Can't wait to finally get all of their names straight in order to keep track of everything.

Elizabeth, would you like meat in your daal bhaat today? You look like you have quite the hankering for some since it's been so long. So we'll just throw it in the daal and shred it to tiny bits to make sure it ends up in your belly where it belongs.

So upon being served my morning daal bhaat, I couldn't help but catch a whiff of it's rather meaty aroma. It did smell lovely in that 1.5s before I realized what was going on. And then, I saw it. Little bits of shredded meat floating amongst the daal. After inquiring with hajuramma about the identity of this mysterious substance, she denied everything. So I manage to finish it all and end up with a lovely bellyache as usual.

After picking up more supplies at the office and updating children's medical profiles, I decide to go for the hour walk back since it's such a lovely day. I stop off at a roadside restaurant for a bit of chow mein. Apparently I did not pronounce the Nepali word for vegetable clearly enough because lo and behold, it's filled with rectangular bits of meat when it arrives. It appears to be the crazy wild boar. The crazy wild boar bits end up in a nice little pile on the side of my plate after thoroughly picking through the scant noods and veggies. This is not my day in meatland.

I head over to Charity with some oil the kids have asked for to moisturize their skin and hair, along with some empty water bottles. Holy mayhem. There is a crowd of at least 20 kids swarming about me in an attempt to grab hold of the highly coveted items. I give Pawan the responsibility of the oil since he has a broken arm and could use some attention. He's all smiles. Amazing how easy it is to make these kids happy. I clean up some minor cuts on the older girls from chopping veggies- they're so grateful. It's so nice to feel that I'm helping out at least a few people over here. Sometimes the only time I realize it is when I actually hear the thank yous.

Steve shows up with chocolate cake in a box and settles my dinner for the evening. Perfect, because I need to boycott the meaty daal bhaat anyway. Aaama looks confused and scared when I deny daal bhaat that evening. She is standing her ground that it was meat free, though it smelled, looked and tasted like meat. They're making me think I'm losing my mind. I dig into the cake- it was worth it.

21-NOV-2007
I like sleep so I pass on the morning walk this morning. I let Steve handle the checks because he stops by early and I'm not ready yet. We head into the office for my highly researched health talk on worms and a brief volunteer meeting. I write up the Shining Stars health checks at the others chopped up veggies, peeled potatoes, made cake batter, and prepped the chicken for an early Thanksgiving feast! I was so pleasantly surprised- there were even red/white/blue balloons blown up and displayed in the common room! It made things feel a bit more 4th of July than anything, so it made for a bit of a mixed message upstairs, but it was still remarkably sweet.

I tasted the cake batter to affirm that yes, it did taste like pumpkin pie. However, I couldn't tell you if the batter looked right or not because I've not made a pumpkin pie in my life. When all was ready, we were treated to chicken for the meath eaters, cous-cous and veggie stuffed green peppers topped with melted yak cheese, mashed potatoes with a thick cheese gravy, fresh colorful steamed veggies, and the best pumpkin pie I've had in my life topped with a smooth liquid custard. And this was completely cooked and baked by non-Americans nonetheless. And just because it felt awkward eating with a fork, I joined Steve and dug into the custard and pumpkin pie with my right hand, Nepali styple. Because we could. All that food and three slices of pumpkin pie later, I am 1 happy American. What could be better on the other side of the world?

The group heads out to New Orleans for drinks. This is compelling evidence that no one seemed to get the Thanksgiving hurting stuffed belly effect. Because I'm so giddy from my little Nepali Thanksgiving, I order two ice cream soda floats as everyone else gets busy with the alcohol. I am such a 5 year old, making slurping noises with my straw and giggling in delight. We head back early to make it back in time for my 8pm curfew. STILL. SO. EARLY.

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