After a somewhat hurried breakfast, left with Aparna; she had to get to work. Her job at SPA is in addition to her main employment, which is teaching English at a government school. She has been the reluctant headteacher there, twice, on both occasions handing it back when someone else could be found. Each day, she then heads back to SPA to spend three hours – or more, sometimes much more – on her “part-time” job with three responsibilities: International Relations Officer (looking after, among other things, Workaway, and hence me, and others like me); handling the college’s social media presence; and co-ordinator of extra-curricular activities. Which accounts for her being a team leader on the Lucknow trip, where she combined all three (and taking a pay cut from her real job as a consequence.)
I received a message from Yogi, asking me to attend a “cultural event” (nearly always a synonym for dancing) at the school. If it had happened on time, I would have missed it; as it was, I thought I would show willing. It was taking place under an attractive canopy erected just inside the main gate, a nice change from the Seminar Room. I was invited to sit on one of the VIP seats at the front, and had a rosette pinned on me; they do seem to go in for rosettes a lot here. I am not sure exactly what the occasion was; presumably it was written on the rosette, but that was in Nepali. It was blessedly free of speeches, but did include Anu displaying our trophy. Otherwise, a succession of dances.
The first two were girls in traditional costumes; the other two, a girl and a boy, both wore school uniforms, but provided the more exhilarating dances. I am hoping that the dance in R & J will prove spectacular; why shouldn’t Lord Capulet invite a horde of dancers to provide entertainment? One aspect of the dance that I would like to change if I could (provided I am not upsetting cultural norms) is their habit of rushing from the stage the moment the music finishes (or more often starts to fade) without any acknowledgment of the audience. It’s no wonder there is so little applause here.
There was a group dance, specific to this area, which, naturally, I was invited (nay, pressed) to join. It is simple enough, a circle dance, slowly rotating with a simple enough step; I had joined in when they were going through it one day in the Seminar Room. But on this occasion I firmly declined. I was just beginning to realise how exhausted I was, and shortly thereafter made my excuses, and went back to my room; I was finding it hard to focus.
I did try to do some work, as well as rest. And in the evening chatted with my friend Sue. I still can’t quite get used to the way modern technology in general, and WhatsApp in particular, has shrunk the world. And all, apparently, free. It both alerts me to what I need to know here and now – “Get to a lesson!” – as well as chatting with friends and family. And, for that matter, paying chess.
But on this occasion it nearly proved my downfall, not noticing the time slip away. When I went downstairs for something to eat, the kitchen had closed. I rushed out into an almost completely shut-down Dhangadhi, but found a restaurant and ordered a couple of samosas ( I actually ordered a masala dhosa as well, a dish I remember from forty years ago, but he misunderstood me, and that never arrived.
I read an article recently as the world’s earliest finishers for an evening meal (“Desserted at eight!”) They should try Nepal (or at least Dhangadhi.)
