I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
In an effort to get ready for 2 weeks of hiking, rafting, kayaking, canyoning, shopping and all the other extreme sports that Nepal offers, I've been trying to get more exercise. By getting up and pounding the pavement in the wee small hours of the morning, I've discovered a whole new side to my neighbourhood.
At 6:45 the mist is still hanging over the empty street in front of my house. Instead of the normal rush of rickshaws presided over by hurried cars honking and intermingled with pedestrians there is just me and my tennis shoes- and my shalwar kameez, of course. When was the last time YOU exercised in a dress and scarf that must stay adjusted Just So?
As I head towards the main road I meet up with other walkers. They are all tightly bundled against the early morning air with scarfs and sweaters in spite of the 78 degree temperatures. As I power walk into the park I overtake women in burkas and some men strolling along at a leisurely pace chatting with their friends. Around the park's central feature, a mausoleum, there are several groups of boys doing martial arts, and some old men doing yoga. There are guys doing push ups on the park benches and stretching on the stairs in front of the fountain.
There are no cries of "Foreigner" or hard stares like in other crowds I've found myself in. Still, negotiating the traditional exerciser greetings is a challenge. When I pass groups of women going the other way I smile, sometimes they smile back, but often they stonewall me, or giggle. "Did you see that, she smiled!" I hear as I pass. Random people "good morning" me, as though the raj is still in power and I'm a Britisher. The first few mornings I stonewalled them, as I usually do to comments off the street, but having become adjusted to the ethos of the park, I've taken to giving a "Good morning" back. It makes my whole day brighter.
To get back to my house at 7:30 I have to negotiate through the cars that are dropping kids off at school and rickshaws taking people to work. My lungs burn and I remember that living in Dhaka provides as much lung damage as smoking a pack a day. (Some say 2-3 packs a day) Regardless of the black tar in my nasal passages, exercise gives me energy and I wake up before the alarm clock every morning. Time to get to the park.
At 6:45 the mist is still hanging over the empty street in front of my house. Instead of the normal rush of rickshaws presided over by hurried cars honking and intermingled with pedestrians there is just me and my tennis shoes- and my shalwar kameez, of course. When was the last time YOU exercised in a dress and scarf that must stay adjusted Just So?
As I head towards the main road I meet up with other walkers. They are all tightly bundled against the early morning air with scarfs and sweaters in spite of the 78 degree temperatures. As I power walk into the park I overtake women in burkas and some men strolling along at a leisurely pace chatting with their friends. Around the park's central feature, a mausoleum, there are several groups of boys doing martial arts, and some old men doing yoga. There are guys doing push ups on the park benches and stretching on the stairs in front of the fountain.
There are no cries of "Foreigner" or hard stares like in other crowds I've found myself in. Still, negotiating the traditional exerciser greetings is a challenge. When I pass groups of women going the other way I smile, sometimes they smile back, but often they stonewall me, or giggle. "Did you see that, she smiled!" I hear as I pass. Random people "good morning" me, as though the raj is still in power and I'm a Britisher. The first few mornings I stonewalled them, as I usually do to comments off the street, but having become adjusted to the ethos of the park, I've taken to giving a "Good morning" back. It makes my whole day brighter.
To get back to my house at 7:30 I have to negotiate through the cars that are dropping kids off at school and rickshaws taking people to work. My lungs burn and I remember that living in Dhaka provides as much lung damage as smoking a pack a day. (Some say 2-3 packs a day) Regardless of the black tar in my nasal passages, exercise gives me energy and I wake up before the alarm clock every morning. Time to get to the park.
3 Comments:
I think you should take to burka exercising for a week...see what the park regulars have to say about that...you'd be providing them with gossip for weeks!
hey you, i'm back from nigeria! which part of nepal are you going to?
Alana, great wee write. My question to you is, have you abandoned Mr Zimmerman in favour of Mr Oberst?
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