A few days ago, I had one of those experiences that now feels so normal but in hindsight is ridiculous. During the 10 minute break between classes, one of my counterpart’s friends came in to tell Aliya (my counterpart) something. Aliya then turned to me and said “Nurjana (the other English teacher I work with) is having cookies in hter room. Let’s go.” Never one to turn down cookies, of course I hopped up and walked upstairs with her. Nurjana’s office was full of women sitting around a table with a very Kyrgyz spread: bread, borsok (fried bread), cookies, candy, juice, vodka, cognac, wine, hunks of sheep meat, and a bone that a woman was stripping clean of any sign of digestible material. The party, I was awkwardly told by Aliya, was because Nurjana’s relative’s son had just been circumcised (the Kyrgyz don’t circumcise boys until they’re up to 7 years old. They claim it’s a Muslim thing, but I’m not so sure.). I sat down and started picking at the cookies. A woman next to me kept trying to pour me vodka (who cares that it was 11 AM and the middle of a school day?), but I held strong with the juice. The woman cleaning the bone then finally looked up and noticed me. She commented on my eyes (so big!) and my eyelashes (so long!). Then she asked me, and I quote (well, translate, then quote), “Are you a keleen (daughter-in-law/slave for the boy’s parents)?” When I said no, she smiled and said “you’re tall and pretty. You should be a keleen. I have a son.” I tried to pass it off as a joke. Someone finally asked if I have a boyfriend. When I said yes, the woman got very excited. The floodgate of questions then opened. Most importantly, they had to make sure he was taller and older than me. To be otherwise would be unacceptable. They then got it in their heads that we should get married in Kyrgyzstan so that they can have a party for us. And now they’re obsessed with that idea. Sigh.