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salt water and handing it to me, nonchalantly instructed me to pour
it in my nose.
“In my nose? Are you joking?”
“You need clean nose. Dirty nose is no good.”
He showed me the correct way of performing this hygienic
technique so that the water would enter one nostril, travel through
the nasal cavity and exit the other in a pristine stream which
ultimately hydrated his banana tree. I felt odd doing this, and when
it was done, I was even more shocked at the sheer amount of gunk
that had freed itself from my nasal and sinus cavities. I sure could
breathe a lot better. I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to make me
happy though.
“Now, drink this,” he said, handing me a small pitcher with
more of the warm, salty water. I drank, as did he. He motioned for me
to bend over near his banana tree once again, and instructed me to
stick my finger down my throat to free the water and whatever else
was lurking around in my stomach. As Haridas and I watched the
colorful sunrise over Nepal, we vomited our guts out together.
Instantly I felt closer to him. In retrospect, I think you can never
reallyget to know a person until you’ve had a good puke together.
When we were done Haridas mumbled something. I asked him
what he said and he explained, “I just apologized to the banana tree
for snotting and vomiting in her dirt.”
“Well, what did the banana tree say?” I laughed.
Haridas answered solemnly: “Banana tree say: ‘Now you know
why I give you no bananas.’”
He laughed idiotically and walked back to the hut. When he
returned he carried with him some simple equipment that would
allow me to bathe my eyes in rosewater. When it was done, he
clapped his hands together and exclaimed:
“Now you feel cleaner,” he said. Actually, I did feel a little
purged, but that was to be expected. “And now one more thing,” he
said and pulled out a strange looking device. Suddenly, I recognized
it.
“Sorry, but no.”
“No?” he said.
“Not a chance.”
“But it is very good for you!”
“I don’t care. No enemas.”
“Okay, maybe later.”
BIG AMERICAN BREAKFAST
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