Communicating in the absence of language

Today I walked down the hill to attend what I gathered was Lhasa's food festival. It was the equivalent of a North Carolina county fair sans rides, hogs, and corn dogs (plenty of mullets though!). I found out about it because another girl on the team here takes tae kwon do in the city and her class was performing at the opening ceremony... the opening ceremony which was due to start at 11a and which didn't even come close to starting until 12p.

So like the dutiful westerner that I am, I arrived at 11a. Perfectly on time even though my watch died the day after I arrived.

So I make my way around the isles of strange smelling and stranger looking delicacies (bought some peanut brittle-esque sweets later... steered clear of the things on sticks, ought to give my stomach a fighting chance to adjust before chowing down) towards the back where a stage was set up. On the stage, behind which hung a huge banner which I obviously couldn't read, there were tables and chairs set up and then in front of the stage there were dozens of children, some dressed like yaks, others in very colorful costumes just waiting. In front of them were dozens and dozens of the locals in all manner of clothing, most holding umbrellas, and most sitting on tiny plastic stools smoking cigarettes and chattering.

I, being the only foreigner in sight, took up a position behind the people sitting on stools. I decided that I would just stand there, slyly observe my surroundings, and try to get a feel for what was really going on... which was a legitimate thing to do because I really had no clue.

It was not five minutes before the woman sitting in front of me turns around and smiles, tapping me on the leg. Her and the men sitting next to her had an extra plastic stool in their midst and she motioned inviting me to join. Can anyone really refuse such an offer? It's not like I had anything better do, and little did I know that it would be forty-five more minutes before the thing even started! So picture this: me perched on a tiny plastic stool, squeezed between half a dozen Tibetan strangers. I'm sure it looked hilarious.

Well even though it was nice of them to share their extra stool with me, I really couldn't see the stage due to all of the umbrellas piled up in front of me. The man sitting next to me, a very friendly older gentlemen in the traditional Tibetan garb holding an umbrella himself realizes my dilema and procures another stool and a better view for me, next to his even older and more friendly friend who proceeds to pull at my arm hair, touch my bracelet, and make some interesting comment about my feet (or shoes). After a few laughs and a bunch more smiles and both of them going on in Tibetan, I felt that we were all very close.

This feeling was confirmed when the man who had found me the better seat offered to share his umbrella with me, (just to clarify, it was not raining, it rarely does that here, the sun is just very brutal and so most people walk around with umbrellas to keep from getting burnt!) and then let me hold it while he got up to go get some snacks and take a break from all the sitting and waiting. So for a few minutes, it was me, this dudes umbrella, and dozens of Tibetan strangers. When he came back I decided that it was time for me to take a break from sitting and so I thanked him and left and couldn't find him again upon my return. Guess he had gotten fed up with the waiting.

I know this whole story borders on the ridiculous. I can't speak a word of Tibetan and the Chinese I know is shaky and slim at best. But for some reason this man and his friends showed me kindness upon kindness, and he even trusted me with his possessions.

I am confident that the One who knows what's really going on can use that. I am hopeful for many more such interactions.