Shuddupayorface

Oops, some Delhi belly. Bet I picked that up from the KFC last night. Who travels this far to go to KFC? I confess, the smell wafting up the street was too much after being out for an hour to stretch my legs. Actually I was looking for a street directory. No luck at all. I figured a petrol station might do the trick but they do not exist as such. If there is a store (emphasis on the ‘if’) it tends to be focused on something else the drive might want – like a pharmacy. Or bottle shop! Go figure. You can fuel up your car and buy your alcohol from the same place. Anyway, no maps in the pharmacy or the wine shop. The bells wobble in a dispirited way this morning with hardly any volume at all. Must have sent one of the smaller kids up to swing on the ropes.

The local supermarket is Wong. I bet they are Facebooked into the Wongs in Boroko Square. Not so crazy if the Chinese were settled along this coast in the 14th and 15th centuries as now seems to be the case. But I can’t find any knives and forks to buy and have to settle for some chopsticks which, those of you with a sense of irony will be pleased to know,  are collocated with the firestarters. True story. See, I can keep myself amused with anything.

The cool southerly winds which blow up in November arrived on cue this morning and a couple of hours ago the perpetual winter fog started to blow away leaving some ripped looking blue sky. The temperature immediately shot up ten degrees and the walk to the shops for a quick break became a sweaty affair.  But not for all the super cool dudes hanging around the banks today. Must have been money changing day or something. There were more handguns, dark glasses, peaked caps and hands on hips per square metre than, well…just about anywhere. Most of them look like cops who have retired for the second time, so they need those acres of dark glasses to hide the creaselines.  And the flak jackets to hide the waistlines.

Todays Spanish lesson: did you know that when yelled very loudly at dogs “Shutup” in Spanish is…”Shutup!” Not “Shutupo” or any other derivative. Just a plain old vanilla “Shutup”. Well, at least that’s what the two dogs next door understand to be the case. Now I can shout at them as well.