Above, Beyond and (sometimes) Below the Call of Duty

I've found that living abroad adds a certain element of surprise to what would normally be relatively mundane daily experiences. Sometimes those surprises are good amusing ones, and sometimes they are gentle reminders not to get too comfortable.

On Saturday I went with a group of friends to a disco for a night of dancing. The dancing was great, the music was good and it was a much needed release. After about an hour and a half of nonstop dance action, I went to the bathroom to try to wipe some of the sweat off my face, since I was drenched. In the bathroom was a little old Azerbaijani woman (babushka) working as a bathroom attendant. This is not an unusual thing in many countries. The lovely little babushka handed me a paper towel and I proceeded to wipe my face- ridding myself of layers of sweat. What I didn't know was that the babushka ALSO took a piece of paper towel for herself...and suddenly, quicker than I could realize what what going on she was up the back of my shirt and was helpfully wiping all the sweat off of my bare back...under my shirt. Well needless to say this was a surprise and a little awkward....but feeling accustomed to stumbling into different cultural norms I sort of went with it and tried to thank her in my poor Azeri Language skills. And then, just when I thought it was over (as I had discarded MY paper towel and she was finished with my back) she hikes up my shirt all the way to my neck and starts drying my entire stomach and chest. This woman barely stood as TALL as my chest...and she was generously taking care of all my sweat removal needs without my even asking. She even motioned me (through skilled pantomime) to lift my bra so she could get at all the sweat that might be hanging out under there as well. Of course I complied, it is culturally insensitive to not listen to your elders. Sadly, after this little woman went, what I would say was. above and beyond the call of duty - I had not one penny to give her as a tip (which presumably was part of her motivation to be so thorough in her duties). So I gave her my thanks only and returned to the dance floor feeling refreshed and ready for another hour of boogying down.

I wish the veterinary doctor I took my cat to today had taken his cue in professional thoroughness from the bathroom attendant. Sadly, I took my male cat to the one cat clinic that exists here (through the support of the international community) for a simple neutering procedure. It was supposed to take five minutes and by tomorrow he would be back to normal. After about twenty minutes I poked my head in the operating room and found the doctor and his wife exploring my cat's abdomen in search of HIS ovaries. It may not surprise those who know me to hear that I got just a touch upset. My male cat was put completely asleep (not what is supposed to happen with a male neutering procedure) and he was cut open and they had been looking for, without any luck, female organs! After the office manager intervened and it was made clear to them that this was indeed a BOY cat, of course everyone was very apologetic and kind...but I was somewhat inconsolable. I guess I feel like one of the small details of sterilization procedure on an animal would be to first determine what sex the animal is. A step that was overlooked in my little koshka's case. Tears all the way home with him (and with a wonderfully hilarious meowing taxi driver...that's right, my cat was passed out by the friendly driver decided that he would meow us all the way home...perhaps to try to cheer me up given my obvious emotional state). And now Koshka is on the bed, hopefully recovering after having not one but TWO procedures today, with his little side all stitched up for no reason other than the fact that, unlike the babushka, this person performed today just a touch BELOW the call of duty.