I bathed/washed from a tea-kettle twice today.
The first time was this morning when I woke up to find no running water in my apartment. Why? Who knows! Probably because it was my first day of work and life's teaching me flexibility and a sense of humor. Anyway, not wanting to make a smelly first impression, I had to pour some bottled drinking water into the kettle, heat it up, and pour it over myself. Yes. That plus some Neutrogena make-up removing towelettes = improvisation under pressure. Then I did my best to tame my Medusa hair and went on my way.
The second time was at lunch when our data clerk took me to one of the hospital cafeterias where there were no menus but three choices: Chicken, Beef, Sheep. I mentioned that I would like to ask the waitress for some water also (to drink), and he said, "Don't worry; she'll bring you some." Which I found rather peculiar since I hadn't yet ordered a drink, and how did she know what I wanted? But yes, she approached again with a kettle and bucket, and proceeded to pour near boiling water over my hands until they were thoroughly scalded (cleaned), and on we went.
I went to the store again this evening, mostly because I just enjoy walking outside and feeling my way around a new home. But the trip was a success as well, for I came home with dates from Iran, dark and spicy African honey, and a cheap bottle of white wine from South Africa. There are always hundreds of people out on the streets when I walk around, which adds a sense of community and electricity to the air, yet makes me feel extremely uncomfortable about taking pictures... someone is always bound to be in the foreground and think that I'm a larger idiot and sore thumb than I already appear to be. But I tried to lurk around a corner and wait for the crowd to disperse, until I could surreptitiously snap this shot of my walk to the market:
And the soccer players were all out again tonight:
The boy on my street was out with his friends tonight instead of his father, and their ball accidentally rolled to me when I walked by. As I kicked it straight into the bushes, he said, "I can tell you're very good," which made me laugh because it was so sincerely polite and not at all the sarcasm one would generally hear in that situation.
He also said, "Hi Karen." Which is just about as good as anybody in the U.S. does with my name at first-go. Though I suppose it's not too hard to remember the blond girl who walks around in the same pants all the time.