My own students displayed their hospitality by giving me the thickest slabs of kielbasa and bread, though they had next to nothing to eat themselves. I slept with nine of my fourth-year Uzbek girls in one room. At the end of the day, we dined on the bedroom floor. And after dinner, vanity ruled. Preening in hand-held mirrors, some girls rolled their bangs in curlers, others bridged their brows together with black paint.
Some girls read, others knitted, and a few boogied to a boom box in the corner.
Boys were on everyone's minds. All of my students were to marry the following spring, though none knew their future mates. Communal living was intense. My back ached, my skin burned. The squatton was located in a sheep stable out back.