Currently, I believe they are fishing my phone out of the poo. I am told that is is okay now... I can't believe I did that.
Enter the outhouse, pull my pants down, a soft thud, and my phone lands in a smushy pile of shit. Seriously.
The whole family is talking about it. I have just arrived, I am definitely drunk after pounding back a Druk 1100 by myself while the family watched and waited before climbing the precarious cliff side to their home. And the first thing I do is drop my phone into a years worth of excrement. Sir thinks that I am used to luxuries, that it is his rustic bathroom's fault that my phone is covered in shit. I understand that it is because I am an IDIOT.
I had been waiting for a text from Carson.
It is true, the phone has been rescued. It is also true, it smells like shit. For real, like people poo. A poo phone. The kids are taking turns smelling it and laughing hysterically.
They washed it. Soaked it, probably with soap. I don't even know what to say. Electronics don't like to be washed, but I can't blame them! Just now, they are drying it out. They shook it for several minutes, flinging water everywhere. Now it lays by the fire drying, until tomorrow Miss, I am told.
Tomorrow. I am supposed to be here now, cut off from everything I know. Why?
* * * *
I spent my morning learning Kuru, darts, and shaking oranges and guavas down from the trees outside on the mountain slopes. The kids are so cute, they are nervous to use English with me. That will be my first order of business at the school; make them comfortable. Interchange words, from Dzongka to English. Again and again.
The house is beautiful, Sir and his wife are so kind and gracious. After last night's phone fiasco they sent me to bed with a blessed cup of warm bumchung, a strong fermented grain tea that eased me from my state of unrelenting embarrassment. My bed is a cotton stuffed mat on the floor next to the mat Sir's daughter and his niece are sharing. They gave me all the best blankets in the house.
Before bed, the girls showed me the house alter , the butter carvings, the Gods. I gave them cookies and oranges. They asked about me, was I married? No. I showed them a picture of "boyfriend". I looked for a picture of Carson in his gho. They thought he was handsome. It is weird embracing and embellishing about something so new. Is this real? I keep asking myself. Who are you? I keep asking him.
Pema made me come in here to the living room. To have tea. Now I am entertaining a little one- we are counting to five in English and Dzongka. Five oranges and Guavas, and singing happy birthday.
The mountains are foggy this morning. I can see we are nestled in between terraced rice fields and steep slopes. It is warm enough here for the fruit to grow. I rolled up my bed like the others and came to brush my teeth by the tap with Madam. She wishes she could speak more English, and I think she is embarrassed to talk with me. I wish she wasn't. It is okay with me to just try, I want so badly to be able to communicate with this family.
* * * *
I am on my second cup of milk tea by the fire. Today is the domchay. It is a cool morning with fog hugging the mountains.
Last night, I had a stone bath with the family. They heat huge rocks in the fire for hours, and then put them into a big wooden bathtub outside under an orange tree. The rocks steam and hiss, and boil the water, releasing sulphur and minerals. When it came to my turn, the Ama and Kinley washed my back and hair for me. We sniffed orange leaves and laughed together. Ama said I looked happy in the water. It's true. I am always happy in the water. Kinley would get out and stark naked, pick up stones with the massive tongs to put into our large wooden bath. We sat for a long time. Ama spoke in Dzongka, and Kinley explained that before I left, the family would sift the rice and prepare a bag to take back to Phobjikha with me.
Ama said she wanted me always to have enough rice.
* I apologize for any errors in the Dzongka spelling, it is an outrageously difficult language to spell!
