This is 40?

Ramadan just wrapped up here, and it’s been a busy one. I’ve been temporarily relocated to the executive office here in The Sandbox, and No. 1 has been attending or hosting the “break fast” events regularly. (For those who don’t know. Muslims break the sunup-to-sundown fast by eating a couple of dates and sipping a yogurt concoction, then have a real meal shortly thereafter.

Number 1 has been hosting groups a couple times a week, and on one of the final days of Ramadan, I attended. This one was for English students – about 40 of them averaging 15-16 years old. It was so much fun. My table had six giggling girls, all of whom spoke very good English. There were a couple of extreme extroverts who just chatted and chatted and some quieter ones who had to be drawn out a little.  We talked about movies, music, hobbies, families and so on. It very much reminded me of my Peace Corps days. When they’re yours, they’re probably very draining, but when you’re thrown in with a bunch of enthusiastic kids, it’s energizing.

After dinner, we shifted tables around and I sat with another group of mostly girls, and we, somehow, discussed bad habits. We added “procrastination” to their vocabulary, and I did one of my Peace Corps things that goes well with kids of all ages. You stand in a circle or a line, and count to 8, pumping your right fist and then your left before doing the same as you kick your right foot and then you left. Then you repeat, only to 4, then 2 and then 1. By the time you get to 1 it’s pretty enthusiastic. We did it once in English and the in Arabic, and then alternated Arabic and English – they left pretty wound up.

A lovely evening, but the best part was them asking if I was 20 years old. I can’t imagine what my face looked like, because she revised it to 25 and then to 30. I said no and one of them said, “40?” And you know what, I thought, why not?

So this is what “40” looks like for me right now. It’s from an event last weekend called Holi, which is a Hindu festival of colors. The actual event was in March, but we didn’t get the color in time, so we did it last weekend. If you think I’m colorful, you should have seen the basketball court. The food was fantastic and my T-shirt washed to a lovely shade of pale-blue tie-dye. I hope it stays that way; I’d like to make a quilt with all my T-shirts from here. The Holi event was my second Holi; several years ago, I went to Bangladesh and somehow got wrapped up into a celebration. Saw an alley with a lot of people having fun so I jumped in and came out multi-colored.  Fortunately, I had water aerobics that evening and the little bit that didn’t come out in the long shower likely melted away in the pool.

Last weekend was also a jam-packed one. It seems very feast-or-famine. I hit the gym at 5:45, grabbed a breakfast wrap, crashed for about 40 minutes, then set off running (very slowly) a 5k and then immediately regretted the breakfast wrap. Eventually, and without tossing my cookies, I made it over the finish line and almost immediately headed to pickleball. It’s popular here in The Sandbox; we even had some off-compound folks come in this time, the Canadian Sandbox’s No. 1 and a colleague. It’s always someone’s first time coming and they are immediately welcomed. It’s so much fun, but I’m not all that great. (Hoping Dede can give me some pointers during R&R.)

At one point, I was paired with a first-timer against two military-type people. A ball came at us and, somehow, I got smacked in the face. I don’t even know if it was his paddle or the ball, but it hit the bridge of my sunglasses and for a split second, I thought my nose broke. Fortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any breakage, even if, three days later, it still hurts if I touch it in the wrong place. When it happened, the three military-types ran over to see if I was OK, but I was laughing. It must have looked so silly.

This was on top of somehow managing to cut my arm without realizing it. I’d noticed something on my arm when I went to get water and tried to rub it off. A bit later, someone mentioned blood. I said I wasn’t bleeding, but she turned my arm and, sure enough, not only did I have a line of blood from some random cut near my elbow all the way down to my wrist, but my shirt had multiple blood splatters all over it.

And those aren’t the weirdest injuries I’ve had in the past week or so. Today, I hurt my finger. It’s not too bad, but it’s completely stupid. I burned it.

On a Pop Tart.