Abdication of the Biscuit Queen

Mom hates to eat meals on a regular basis. Almost every day, I was forced to watch breakfast or lunch slowly tick away as my belly growled out the minutes (it wasn’t nearly as pathetic as all that, but hopefully she reads this and feels a twinge of guilt.) In place of these glorious meals, we purchased nearly a lifetime supply of wonderful little treasures called “Fiber Biscuits.” After hours of complaining and crunching on these glorious little brown discs, Mom eventually changed my nickname from her “most smartest daughter” just to “biscuit.” More efficient, you see.

Anywho, these biscuits came in mighty handy when my GI tract decided to go on strike (likely inspired by the political goings-on here in Nepal,) making my first few days here rather unfortunate. Nothing makes you regret going to a foreign country like freezing cold, a lack of appetite and realizing that even your own body doesn’t like you. In 24 hours I had officially graduated from simply “biscuit” to the “Biscuit Queen.” (Thankfully an uncontested office.)

Everyone has been incredibly nice in nurturing me back to tolerable, if not top shape. Ironically this morning we went to our health orientation in Kathmandu where I learned all about my symptoms and the scientific names for what I simply refer to as “hell.” Though I can’t put my finger on it (maybe it’s my recovering health, maybe it’s just the simple passing of time) but all the CSNP students have definitely warmed to each other. Now I find I have to hold my stomach at least twice a day not from nausea but from laughing too hard.

There are only four Americans here: me, Melanie, Joanne (Cornellians) and Jon (Haverford.) Joanne is an absolute trip - a Masters student in political science who never fails to make us laugh. Really only Banuji (our FANTASTIC headmistress of sorts) can rival Joanne as the mischievous chucklemaster. I really think it was Joanne’s belated arrival (the UK had an issue with her Kenyan passport) that allowed everyone to officially chill out. Mel is a junior like me with aspirations of being a midwife and with 1.5 years of Nepali under her belt... needless to say, quite a baller in her own right. Finally Jon is the isolated y chromosome forced to deal with being utterly and completely outnumbered by females. (I apologize for boiling down my peers into a matter of sentences... tis the curse of a blogger.)

Four more hours of Nepali tomorrow followed by a field trip to Patan. I think there are more monkeys involved. : )