After a few days of successfully avoiding mosquitoes by way of carefully coordinated pre-emptive strikes they have finally caught up with me. Little bastards. I’ve got a bite on my leg, one on my elbow (VERY itchy) another one on my arm and one on my back. My normal evening routine is a shower followed by spraying myself with DEET, followed by at least half an hour’s ruthless hunt around the apartment armed with insecticide before I can settle down and eat. This strategy had proved quite effective up until last night but I think I angered the flying freaks by killing their insect brothers, so they ganged up on me yesterday to bite me up good and proper. I need to put more effort into my systematic murder of these beasts, especially since there’s a Dengue Fever epidemic here at the moment. Mental note – must try harder with the killing.
I saw half a cat today. Well it was a kitten actually, and the first time I saw it, on my way to the Post Office, it was a whole kitten. It was lying on its side on the road with blood round its mouth with its tiny tongue poking out - and clearly dead. I felt sad for a moment because it was so small, but I carried on walking and thought about what to have for lunch instead. When I came back that way about an hour later, the top half, i.e. the entire left side of its body (think Damian Hirst’s cow) had disappeared. I don’t know what had happened, maybe insects had been chipping away at it all that time, but it was sincerely gross.
While I was in town (and while the cat was getting manged – the Franglais mange, not the English - though it might have had that too I suppose), I went into a bakery and bought something called a pâté guyave, which was a kind of sweet pasty with guava inside, all hot and sticky. It was a truly tasty treat. They had banana ones and coconut ones which I’d like to try too but I’d better not get too used to them otherwise I’ll come back looking like the side of a house. Just because something has fruit in it doesn’t mean it won’t make you fat! That’s what I keep telling my dad anyway.
I felt a bit more like I lived here today when a car drove past me in town and the driver called out “Eh Lindsey! Ca va?” It was Jean Charles, a slightly overly-helpful security guard at my local supermarket, ‘Match!’. He had talked me into buying some coconut rum punch (which was admittedly very nice) yesterday and then proceeded to follow me around the supermarket asking me what I was looking for and if he could help me find it. It was very kind of him but really I just wanted to wander around looking at stuff and being outraged at the prices, e.g. 7 Euros per kilo for broccoli!!! Anyway he seemed friendly enough but after Sunday’s experience I’m not sure how much I trust Martinique guys to just be friends. I could have used his help finding peanut butter, which I’m missing, but I don’t know how to pronounce (or spell) the French word for peanut and I don’t want to make a fool of myself too many times in one week - I’ve definitely used up my allowance for this week already. It’s cahahuehehuhette... chahuehttte... cahahue... Oh I give up! Suffice to say it’s got far too many vowels and hs to be in any way pronounceable.
I went to a taekwondo club today. It was a bit disappointing because there was no training – it was just a meeting to discuss the start of the new term. It was also a bit embarrassing because I’m a higher grade than the instructor (he’s a first Dan) and so in the middle of this meeting he ‘presented’ me to the group as a new fountain of knowledge for everyone to learn from. I did my vague smiling and nodding that I’m getting so good at but inside I was wishing for immediate invisibility. I don’t mind teaching a bit but I’d prefer just to train. I don’t care what grade the instructor is as long as he or she can run a class and just because I’m a second Dan doesn’t mean I know any more than he about taekwondo. I only do it to keep fit! I’m not even aggressive – honest!
I made LOADS of phone calls today – some more successful than others... I spent about ten minutes trying to guess what letter the woman at the bank was saying to me in a code I needed to make a transfer. It was P. And she was saying, “Papa, Papa” to me. But for some reason I completely disassociated that with the fact that she was telling me a letter. I just kept thinking, “What has your dad got to do with any of this? Just tell me what the goddamn letter stands for will you?!” Your brain does funny things though when it’s trying to compute two languages. I’ve noticed a delay between hearing and comprehending for example. I virtually always ask people to repeat what they just said and then interrupt them before they finish once my brain has caught up with my ears. It’s most embarrassing but I’m guessing it’ll get easier once I get used to the rhythm of the accent.
Right. Must sleep. I just had a tiny glass of that punch and I’m glad I didn’t go back for a second one. I can hardly keep my eyes open! xx
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