Sometimes the hospitality can be a little overbearing. I stay four days with one family, two parents and their five children. We can't communicate except by smiles and the occasional word. The wife does almost all of the housework, and seems to be my host, the husband runs the shop. As well as looking after the children, I'm provided with food and tea as a special guest. I mention I'm leaving for the forest, and a packed lunch appears. I try and wash my clothes and I am distracted with a cup of tea, which I can't refuse, and the clothes are washed. The meals are elaborate, much richer than I'm used to, and even one day meat in my honour.
It's slightly unnerving, that in amongst the hustle and bustle of a 3-day wake, a traveling doctors clinic, and the daily toil, this undeserving tourist is the honoured guest. True I seem to have found a village where no foreigner has ever visited before, but who am I.
I could get used to it, a cup of red (black) tea appearing whenever I step in the house (uncanny), a smile, warm water bucket showers... but I am a big white Cuckoo. I'm the 6th child, I'm a year older than the unstoppably energetic wife. I have to leave, but leave too soon, curse my nature, and walk on racked by British awkwardness.
It's slightly unnerving, that in amongst the hustle and bustle of a 3-day wake, a traveling doctors clinic, and the daily toil, this undeserving tourist is the honoured guest. True I seem to have found a village where no foreigner has ever visited before, but who am I.
I could get used to it, a cup of red (black) tea appearing whenever I step in the house (uncanny), a smile, warm water bucket showers... but I am a big white Cuckoo. I'm the 6th child, I'm a year older than the unstoppably energetic wife. I have to leave, but leave too soon, curse my nature, and walk on racked by British awkwardness.
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