Monsoon II -- Unicorn

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Date Posted: 15:02:28 11/15/03 Sat
Author: Rafa�l
Author Host/IP: ppp-0-165.lond-b-2.access.uk.tiscali.com / 80.40.6.165
Subject: Monsoon II

.

A satisfying clunk, the door to my room closed while I stand wringing the handle to
confirm satisfactory closure. As I descend a few steps at a time in a manner which
could well announce my arrival at the bottom in advance, the smell of cooking greets
my sense of smell like a rabbit might a hawk.
And now the confusion, rice at breakfast time, not too sure about the dumpling like
objects floating like clouds in a sepia sky, glistening as I attempt to capture their form.
Seated, I am now pondering the wisdom of my little knowledge of local dishes and
thinking a complete ignorance would possibly comfort me more.
Being the optimist I am, my palette desperately attempts to glean enlightenment from
what appears very similar to the water in a pan after boiling shrimps.
The fermented maize dumplings are not that bad, and satisfy a grumbling void rather
more than the notion that it can be chewed by the locals in being prepared, a little gem
of wisdom passed onto me by a friend in England prior to my departure, I can easily
recall his accompanying chuckle. Retrieving the crumpled note from my back pocket
I head for the phone, and realise I need to convert some currency first.
Once again the woman I saw when I arrived, is sat behind the reception counter and
bids me a good morning as I indicate my departure and that I will be back later.
Stepping out of the hotel door, the bright sunlight quickly subdued as a pair of dark sunglasses return to roost on their familiar perch.

In the street outside a whole selection foodstuffs adorn long tables and the sound of
chickens contained in something that looks like a large lobster pot made from cane.
Dried fish and a whole variety of fruits seem very still when compared with arms
that gesture a slice off their price.
As I wander in no particular direction along the street I notice that almost all the
people trading are women dressed in brightly coloured garments while children chase
each other between the stalls, laughing, smiling broadly as their attention turns to me.
By time I reach the end of the street at least a dozen pairs of eyes and cheeky grins
now hot on my heels, reminds me I am not a chameleon and this is not England.
I turn on the spot, in unison they all halt a good five paces short of where I am
and I enquire if they can direct me to the bank. Their gestures point to the middle of
street I am about to enter and a woman I assume to be the parent of at least one of the
children explains that the bank is over there, and will not be open yet.
Her smile held high, And then gone, As for a moment thoughts abound as it dawns
Alone I am, and definitely here for what?��. A girl with a Smile for me?
Or a trap called desire from a-far, for is who then caught when moment does fall
to enclose��..again, I glance her smile, the bank is still
closed for a while.

.

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Replies:

Re: Monsoon II -- Raphaela, 15:51:13 11/15/03 Sat
- Re: Monsoon II -- Rafa�l, 06:50:38 11/20/03 Thu