May 15, 2011
It's been getting a little toasty in southern Kazakhstan these days. The thermometer is topping off in the 80s and 90s. I have absolutely no complaints about that. I love the heat. The issue is my clothing. I live with a pretty conservative older couple in a rural village. They are convinced that if I don't wear a jacket in 70-degree weather, I'll probably die. Not to mention they are always telling me about village scandal or some girl's supposedly skanky behavior- following it up with "But not our Anne! She would never do something like that." No pressure or anything, right?!
When the temperature broke 90, I started sweating bullets, but I remained true to my long pants.
Well, today I was washing my clothes and I felt like I'd die of a heat stroke. Seriously, the only thing to do was sit in the house and read a book until the sun went down. It was just me in the back yard, scrubbing away at my clothes. In a moment of desperation I decided to ditch my concern for honor. I hiked up my pants around my thighs, creating makeshift shorts.
About that time, Beisikul (host mom) came back from the outhouse. She looked at me and kinda scrunched her nose.
"Anne…" Here it comes. "…you need shorts!"
If the heat didn't kill me, I'm pretty sure that news about did. Holy Kamolie! I can wear shorts here?!?! Praise the Lord!
I did a little dance by the washbasin then ran to my room for some much needed relief! Oh my dear shorts, I've never loved you so much!
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