Savor the Flavor

So. This post (a few weeks overdue) is about the best (or at least one of the best) dining experiences I've ever had (hence the title, which is unfortunately trademarked so shh no telling the authorities please I have no money for legal affairs). Let us delve into my experience of attentive gastronomic delight.

The setting: Umi Fine Dining, Lalitpur, Nepal, around dusk.
The scenery: Fancy, red tableclothed mahogany tables, with intricatly folded napkins. Tasteful artwork on the walls, with ornate crown molding and wallpaper. Elegant metal-work windows looking out onto charming outdoor seating, surrounded by flora and a fountain.
The smells: Wafting through the repurposed house, to our awaiting noses impatient to taste.
The sounds: Covers of some of my favorite English pop songs floating out the speakers placed in the corners of the room. A lively discussion of politics and news by a group (seeming to be close colleagues of different ethnicities) pleasantly filling the background.
The service: Impeccable.

I was feeling sad today. Whether it's the fact that my dad and my sister have gone back to America (it's not home unless I'm there), or that we have no running water, or that I keep listening to the same sappy romantic Bollywood songs on repeat, or that I keep getting stared by strangers (attention is uncomfortable), or that my stomach (and the rest of my digestive system, I'll spare you the details) aren't feeling too good, I'm not sure. But talking helps so much. Unlike the past me, I'm trying to reach out more, and boy is it an improvement. Whatever I was feeling earlier today, thanks to my mom and my friends (and you guys, through this blog), I feel light and happy.

That's why the title fits this bit too. With therapy and meditation, I've been learning to slow down, note what I'm feeling, and acknowledge it. In this case, instead of the flavor, I took time to savor my sadness, letting it hang over me until I recognized it, and once I did, understanding why and talking about it. In the past I would've ignored it and let it build up inside me until I got irritated with everyone and everything (sorry to my family). But as with food, let what you feel wash over you and don't let it get buried in the rush.

We Out Here

Oy I'm back!

Miss me?

After a day on the plane and over a day in layovers, we have arrived in Kathmandu. Contrary to previous years, we arrived in the morning this time. It's been rough trying to stay awake to set my sleep schedule. So rough that I already fell asleep for four hours and now don't think I can sleep anymore. So instead, I'm watching the World Cup with my parents and my uncle and aunty! Uruguay v. France, and France is up 2 goals with 15 minutes left to go. Things aren't looking too good for Uruguay :(

The journey over here were interesting. Not the flights themselves (I felt like I was gonna throw up, nothing new), but the layovers in Chicago and Doha and arrival in Kathmandu airport. In Chicago, there was a camera facial recognition type thingy to pass through before boarding the plane, and (surprise surprise) instead of a green check mark next to my face, I got an exclamation point! I currently look nothing like my passport photo (except for my face, but I guess that doesn't count for much). Luckily, the officer I was waved towards was very kind and asked me about college (I was wearing my free UMich PNC hoodie) while he double-checked my face with my passport. It only took him a few seconds of referencing and I was on my way, scot-free.

In Doha, I was stopped in the restroom twice. The first time, I think I scared the poor bathroom attendant--as soon as I replied to her "Excuse me?" (with that high-pitched hesitant voice that always comes out around strangers) she took a double take and apologized profusely and walked to the other side of the bathroom. The second time I was about to walk into the women's restroom and a guy behind me blurted out, "That's for girls!" My mom, who was walking with me, turned around, laughed, and said, "She's my daughter!"

At the airport in Nepal, when getting my visa, the immigration officer referred to me as "bhai" (meaning younger brother, since strangers refer to each other as if family here, calling others brother and sister and uncle and aunt), and was shocked when I spoke up with "bahini", and asked, "Really? Bahini?"

I guess it doesn't help when I dress like this too (I've given up on protecting my privacy. So, enjoy these pictures of my face)

I don't mind it at all though. Honestly, in the beginning I would feel secretly proud whenever someone thought I was guy, as if I was this special agent who successfully pulled off a master disguise. It also helped reaffirm my masculinity, something that I've been struggling to balance with my identity as a woman. So it's a slight thrill that runs through me, but one that definitely has its drawbacks. Mainly with safety of others. Every time I went into the bathroom in Doha and saw women without their scarves, adjusting their hair freely without worry of men seeing, I realized I was a threat. Here I was looking like a guy, walking into a sacred zone reserved for women only. In those moments, I talked in a high pitch and made sure to accentuate my chest to help the women in there feel comfortable. I don't know how successful I was, but to anyone I made feel uneasy, I am sorry. That will never be my intention.

It's something that I'll have to get used to. Much of the world, even America, associates women with long hair. It's more so here in Nepal. As the immigrations officer told me, "Girls should have long hair!" Last year, when I first got my hair cut here, I got many stares (and that's when it was a long pixie). There's definitely going to be more confusion on the streets this time around. I hope that I don't get harassed, and I pray that I, my hair, my presence, doesn't make anyone uncomfortable, or if it does, helps them realize their biases and know that it doesn't apply to everyone.

No, I'm not a guy. No, pixie cuts do not define sexuality. No, short hair is not limited to gender (and neither is long hair!) I admit, I struggled with this myself. But I'm overcoming my own prejudices, and I hope others can overcome theirs too. It'll take time for sure, but it's all a matter of exposure and conversation and understanding.

If you've got any questions about my hair (my mom cuts it for me errrry month ((sometimes twice)), thanks Mama love you), gender, Nepal, or the meaning of life, comment them below. I love hearing from you guys, and I really appreciate that you read my ramblings. Hopefully I can keep this up. I forgot how much I enjoy writing.

Until next time, peeps. Big hugs!