bOiled pOtatOes

Sometimes I feel that living in New York has spoiled me, and has raised my expectations from those who work in the service sector. NY’s waiters are usually efficient, faultless and extremely fast. My Starbucks’caramel macchiato coffee with soy milk has always the same taste, and always meets my expectation. Moreover, it is regularly served to me with a tremendously cordial smile - yet, a recent study has shown that a sincere smile never lasts less than 1 second and more than 4 seconds.

Here in Nepal, I am realizing how Manhattan is another kind of world.

I’ve felt sick since the second day of my arriving in Kathmandu, which is kind of annoying because I almost never had dinner with my fellows outside. Thus, one of my first nights I asked to the reception of the hotel I was staying in if they please could bring to my room two boiled potatoes. Instead of hearing a NY-style reply, such as a convinced: “Sure, 2 boiled potatoes for Mrs. Pietrogrande” and then seeing the waiter run fast to the kitchen to give the order, I experienced that kind of answer from Paras (the guy of the hotel): “Oooooooooh”. Followed by a long staring at me, and his sweet, huge, sincere 3-seconds smile, bigger than his face. “Yes” I then answered with an unexpected confused tone, like if I was justifying myself for the “weird” order. “Hunchha” (that means something like “ok”) said the shy waiter, and instead of going to the kitchen, he waited for me to go upstairs. Hunchha...

20 minutes later he knocked at my door, with the same sweet, huge, 3-seconds long sincere smile, again staring at me. He held a small plate with two potatoes. Two potatoes with all their brown skin. And nothing else. Two potatoes and that’s it. Not a fork, not a knife, a tray, a napkin. Now: my room happens to be at the 5^th floor and I felt really bad to ask Paras to bring me at least a fork. And he got that big sincere smile.. Paras still standing in front of my door with the small plate, I briefly considered the idea of eating the skin-potatoes in some original way instead of asking Paras to go all the way down to bring me a fork. But the imaginary scenario of me eating my potatoes with eye-brown tweezers convinced me to ask for cutlery. “Oooooooooh”. Hunchha...

The night after, I needed hot water to dissolve my new powder medicine. I called from my room the reception because I felt too weak to go down. A similar “Oooooooooh” came from the telephone’s receiver. 45 minutes later - 45 minutes later!!! - a younger boy knocked on my door. He held a tea-pot full of hot water. That’s all. Nothing else. Not a cup. Not a spoon.

That time I stayed with my tea-pot. I melt the medicine using the back of my brush-teeth, directly in the tea-pot. At the end of the day, I was happy for receiving a sincere smile. And repeating in my mind the lesson learned: never give for granted anything, neither a spoon.