Did I mention my roommate is getting married? In about 12 hours? She abandoned us around last week to go home before the scheduled strikes ("bundas") shut down the capital's entire transportation system. She's a grad student and therefore in her mid-20s but STILL - I've never known any of my friends who have gotten married before. Unfortunately her marriage is the same time as our language midterm (which I should be studying for right now - whoops) and five hours away in Chitwan... still we'll call her tomorrow and tell her she's beautiful and amazing and that her husband better be incredible - or else he'll have to answer to the Amurricans.
I'd like to think my Nepali has gotten much better. I can understand and say more, participating in daily conversation (how are you, what did you do yesterday, what's for dinner? - you know, important stuff.) I don't think I fully comprehended how wonderful our staff really is. Truly I've fallen madly in love with each and every one.
Starting next Tuesday we head off to our home-stay in Mannegau - a rural, Tamang (Hills ethnic group) village in what we hear is an absolutely beautiful location. But, just like college, any vacation-esque trip absolutely must be preceded by loads of work. Hence, our first paper was due, our midterm is tomorrow and our research proposals are due on Friday. Really compared to Columbia I have no right to complain, but in this context it makes me feel better.
Looking towards my research proposal, I think more and more I want to focus on water rights and how rural mountain communities will be able to adapt to fluctuations in water supply based on how water is used, where it comes from, and how these uses change throughout the year. Certainly not your normal lab report, but so far students at the University here as well as some professors back home in NYC have been really helpful, sending me more articles than I ever hope to read. It's just so difficult to buckle down and read when there's a sunny rooftop calling your name (my book of crosswords is nearly exhausted - again, whoops.)
Banuji says that when you get sick, it means you're becoming a Nepali. Suffice to say, I am REALLY Nepali. Last weekend, Mel, John and Kavita and I visited a Newari food festival. Before I knew what I was getting into, there I was holding a huge bowl of steaming spicy, oily, buffalo momo with a side of achaar (sauce) that may or may not have been boiled first (the sauce, not the momo.) That felt awesome the next morning, let me tell you.
I'm sure this has not nearly satisfied my parent's curiosity, but as for the rest of the not-so-dearly invested audience, thanks for tagging along. I'll be sure to keep you posted after Mannegau and hopefully post Holi which is on Sunday. FYI Holi is like a nation-wide paintball fiesta o' fun involving water balloons and colored powder and should-be adults acting like 5 year olds. Aka anything goes. Already the staff and students have started calling their shots... it is going to be RIDICULOUS. Until this wonderfully delicious event of colorful aggression, however, I have to study. Crap.
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