Nepal, Jan. 25 -- When I walk to the nearest grocery store to buy just the one lemon that was lacking for my mother's pickle dish I'd rather just make the two-minute journey uninterrupted. All I'm hoping for is to walk a few steps, speak a few sentences to the shopkeeper lady asking for the lemon, pay her the only crisp 10 rupee note I brought (and thus emptying my pocket) and make the return trip, retracing my own steps with the lemon. A few minutes devoted to being a good daughter. Everyone's jolly and happy.

It's being the good socialite for those minutes that worries me, downright scares me even. Neighbors you don't even know names of but associate with the color of their homes (that is assuming you know their homes) stop you for som...