Again, this is my third trip and I am still amused with myself for what I encountered on the first couple of trips and how I reacted to those situations. Like the time it was time for lunch on my first day. I half intended to see bottles of alcohol at each place setting in the office cafeteria on the top floor (see Pre-requisite - Must be Willing to Travel Long Distances, and Appear Foolish at Times.... 6/17). In the absence of the bottles I also noticed an absence of familiar utensils - fork, spoon, knife. Now, I mean this meal is essentially heaps of rice, a small dish of meat with a gravy, and a lentil soup to cover all. There were only a couple of persons enjoying there meal, but the cafeteria attendant had likely seen this bewildered look before from Western visitors. He caught my attention and slowly guided me over to a corner where a little-used set of utensils lay. alternately, I looked down on my symbols of comfort and safety, and back towards the others eating their meals. Yes, I remember in my research, one eats with out utensils in a Muslim nation and the (and this is vitally important!) only with ones' right hand. Alas, I am left-handed, so I am doomed from the start no matter what i do. Yes, I am gauche, sinister, whatever marking that you prefer. But, this was, and is, my south-paw birthright I have learned to accommodate you right- handers all of my life (those excruciating marks left across the back of the left thumb by those deviously-constructed right-handed scissors; am I whining again?)
Still, I stared at those utensils. Comfort and escape was possible if I only picked them up. But the stares of the onlookers i could not escape if I grasped my Western lifeline. Should i reach, and then pull back my hand from the fork, just to amuse myself. No. I turned and thanks the gentleman and offered a polite decline with a slight downward turn of my head and found myself seated facing but a plate and three bowls. You try scooping up a loose concoction of gray and boiled rice and raise it to your mouth before it slides down the inside of the palm of your hand to your lap. Well, I have, and am willing to, provide amusement to onlookers before! Finally, my host approached and exclaimed that I was doing it right, since food always tastes better when it reaches ones' mouth directly from ones' hand. I was not sure about this since I was still trying focusing on trying to get the food wholly in my mouth. Later, I was told that I made a favorable impression on my onlookers and word spread of my disdain for utensils.
By the way, one significant change in my life since i began traveling for Save the Children to other, non-touristy, countries, is that whenever I am back in the U.S., and I spy an obviously bewildered foreigner struggling through a simple transaction at the cash register, I am much more tolerant and patient with them. I know....
No comments:
Post a Comment