When the sun sets in the Lamjung Valley, the air becomes still and quiet. When the power is out, as it often is, the stars litter the sky. It takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the deep darkness that we so rarely see in the States, but once they do, they catch the stars glittering brightly, challenged only by the fireflies that sparkle inches from where you sit. They are not afraid to get too close to you. It’s almost as if they know the effect they have on us.
When the sun sets in the Lamjung Valley, the villagers enjoy their daal bhat and turn in for the night. Tired and sore from a difficult day of plowing the fields or hauling rocks up the mountainside, most residents have quiet evenings. One night towards the end of our stay, Nabaraj asked if we would like to try the “local wine.” This sounded tempting enough, so he and our friend Shree visited “The Gurung down the road” to buy some homemade millet wine. As my dad described in his earlier post “Mite,” the wine tasted like something between moonshine and mothballs. For me, who doesn’t usually drink alcohol, I was repulsed. It looked like water, and, thankfully I caught a whiff of what was in the glass I was about to sip as I raised it to my lips. “When you visit us in California,” we told them, “we’re going to take you to this place called Napa.”
However, the wine served its purpose. The exhausted men relaxed and opened up to us, and our laughter filled the sleeping valley with echoes. Seeing the serious men and their obedient wives finally relax was rewarding. It was still an early night, and no one exceeded the stage of Social Lubrication, but it was a wonderful evening. By 10 PM, we joined the rest of the villagers in a deep sleep, and the fireflies scattered as some of the men stumbled home.
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