I met a wonderful woman who came and sat in our kitchen unannounced one evening. Her face was nearly all deep creases and in her eyes was a cheeky sparkle. She mistook me for a boy with my baseball cap, plain trousers and checkered shirt-which it turns out is what most men here wear! She gestured to ask "Where is your sari?" And I employed my latest Nepali gesture (twist wrists from side to side with open palms- meaning I have none). Then she grinned, grabbed my arm and said ""We should swap". So I put my hat on her head and she laughed.
The next time I met her, I was squatting on the ground filling my water bottle from the big black kettle over the fire. she crept up behind me and pushed me (swiftly grabbing me so's I didn't fall- unlike that time involving my brother, a swimming pool and me fully-clothed...) and burst out laughing. Physical contact is unusual in Nepal, especially among strangers** so I was surprised and somehow flattered.
**Discounting the crowded buses of course, where personal space is an oblique concept.
The next time I met her, I was squatting on the ground filling my water bottle from the big black kettle over the fire. she crept up behind me and pushed me (swiftly grabbing me so's I didn't fall- unlike that time involving my brother, a swimming pool and me fully-clothed...) and burst out laughing. Physical contact is unusual in Nepal, especially among strangers** so I was surprised and somehow flattered.
**Discounting the crowded buses of course, where personal space is an oblique concept.
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