Going Native

May the saints be praised:  Diti and her siblings and mother turned out to be cousins of our compound family, and decamped over the weekend to their own home in another beach town.  We slept in till 9  the last two days.

Then late yesterday morning the monkeys arrived.  Monkeys in the movies always seem to swing gracefully from vine to vine through the jungle tree tops.  Monkeys in real life may swing gracefully along, but as soon as they see bananas on the ground they crash down the tree branches in a most unseemly manner, then eat all the bananas in sight.

People ask how we spend our days. We wake up, make a cup of tea, then usually sit on the veranda and read for awhile, then have breakfast with coffee.  Frequently Pat goes out for a run or a swim before breakfast.  I think I've done that twice.  I do some stretching on the veranda.  We watch the river life for awhile, and it's hard not to bird-watch given the variety of flying objects in front of us.  White egrets, frequently accompanied by cormorants, wade along the banks of the river.  Kingfishers flit by, hawks and eagles circle and plunge, crows steal everything that isn't nailed down and even then I noticed a couple of them trying to pry some rattan reeds out of the chairs.

We do errands—buy yogurt, eggs, bananas, oranges, candles.  Pat has a large plastic tub with all kinds of spices, which we use to try our cooking course recipes.  Cinnamon bark, fresh coriander, coriander seeds, mustard seed, turmeric, cardamon, cardamon powder, star anise, asofeteida (I still don’t know that is.  We have taken clothes to be altered by a tailor on the road.

One of the main things to do is visit with people we know on the beach and in the village as we wander around doing the errands.  Pat was here for two months before I arrived and was already Queen Bee of the Beach.  I think we’ve had every person we’ve ever met here over for lunch, drinks or dinner in the past month.  Or patronized their restaurant or shop.  She has her favorite greengrocer, grocery kiosk owner, tchotke stall, and knows where to get olive oil, pasta and feta cheese.  We know the German Bakery has the best breakfast and bread in town, and we’ve found the best massage place in town.  We’re going to have to move here eventually.

There’s housework of course.  Today we defrosted the fridge.  The stalactites were interfering with the drawer under the freezer where we store beer.  There was so much ice caked inside the freezer that we couldn’t fit the ice cube trays inside it any more and had taken to freezing water in plastic bowls and then hammering the block into usable sizes.  Tools used to defrost to the point where the ice could be pried off the walls of the freezer included the meat cleaver and a slotted spoon.  So now the freezer is ice-free but water keeps pooling on the floor beside the fridge.  It’s like it’s bleeding after the trauma of the defrost.  Of course I am watching Breaking Bad on Pat’s iPad which could account for the grisly image.

Last Friday it was really hot and still, and we missed the breeze in the front of the 

house. So we lounged around all day in our Indian nightwear, feeling like Tennessee Williams characters--cats on a hot tile roof. I went out to do some errands in my pajamas, figuring they didn't look much different than what everyone else was wearing. We made it to yoga, then came home, took showers and put on clean nightgowns.

On the way home from yoga, we'd been handed little cards advertising some live 

music at 7:30 by a fellow who's branded himself Bob Marley’s Cousin (Piano & Vocals).  We wavered--what to do? Could be great, could be terrible. 

The main consideration was that we’d have to get dressed if we went out, though we would draw the line at contacts and eye makeup. In any event, we decided to stay home and split a beer and finish our books. Then I worried that I was missing a titanic event and everyone would be talking about it the next day.  Where was our spirit of adventure, our joie de vivre?  Are we really this old?  Then I got distracted by Pat’s candle obsession—she is determined to find the wicks that vanish when a votive candle is burned to liquid and then returns to wax, so we started excavating candles with a fork.  We really know how to have a good time.  

As it turned out Rahul and Indu had been having dinner at the café next door to the musical event, and Indu said it sounded like someone was being murdered.  So we’d made the right decision.