Free Day in a Mountain Village

So that’s what a free day in my village looks like. Didn’t crack a book all day (except for some snatched minutes with Prodigal Summer, one of my favorite Barbara Kingsolver novels), but got lots of language practice. I got a ton of practice with the numbers 1-12, thanks to teaching the kids Go Fish. (We call it Isleman, meaning The Fish, and we’re playing with a Skip-Bo deck, so the numbers from 1 to 12 are visible.) It’s a hit, even though it took me half an hour to remember that “Is tgit?” isn’t “Do you have?” – it’s “Were you?” or “Did you?”. Yeesh. I’m impressed that the kids figured out how to play it, with me asking them, “Are you a 5?” when I meant to ask “Do you have a five?” Oh, well. We worked it out. The kids got into it, so vigorously that they started fighting over it. I had to threaten to walk out on the game to get them to stop fighting. (“Adur tnaghm!” Stop fighting!)

I also got to meet the mythic BaHallu (grandfather) and his krat tafunast (three cows). Which turned out to be two calves and two cows, so why they’ve told me for weeks that he has 3 cows is a mystery. I also got pieces of the family tree, none of which I’ve gotten to line up. But I did get to hold Little Bro’s hand most of the half-hour walk there, so that made it a good day. :) We walked back through the igran – the fields – a lot of which turned out to be BaHallu’s. Or maybe Mma was exaggerating. Who knows. As we walked, Little Bro and Middle Bro kept picking flowers for me, mostly pink irises and the legendary roses. They were my second and third bouquets of the day. My first was from Little Sis, who took me for a walk in the fields this morning.

Walking with Little Bro really was adorable. He led me along the twisty bits of the path like a dancing partner, with just enough pressure to say, “This is the way.” And Little Sis’s wildflower bouquet was a joy. If I get married, I want a posy of pink rose buds and dandelions. Who’d have guessed how beautiful they look together?

Oh, and the picking of roses – for girls, by girls, for moms – is common enough to make me wonder if these bushes are ever destined for the local rose industry. Because shouldn’t there be pressure from … someone … not to pick the profit-producing cash crop?

Current fear: I’ll never develop a disciplined course of language study.
Current hope: To be placed in a site with as much natural beauty as this stony-green Eden. Seeing the valley of igran (fields) nestled between the Grand-Canyon-like desert massifs…it’s downright implausible, and it’s arrestingly beautiful every time I walk up on it. It’s real, and I live here. Da-zddghgh da. Or something close to that. :)
Unexpected positive: While walking past the ruins between the villages, I was moping to myself that I’d never have the language facility to be able to ask how old they were. Then I realized that I already do, more or less. I realized later today that I asked it wrong, but I successfully asked Mma, “When did this house build?”, and she understood me and answered! Of course, since her answer was, “How should I know, I wasn’t born then,” it didn’t net me any information gain, but I was still delighted that I was able both to ask a question and understand the answer.