Friday, 12 March 2010

"Pret-a-Bloody-Porter Hai"

Yesterday I did my morning run to the next village, because the tide is still too high up the beach to allow for an even running surface. I got nostalgic as I passed all the shacks, and it triggered memories from all those years ago when the husband and I backpacked around India for seven months, stumbling around with too-giant rucksacks, like upright Beetles earnestly in search of adventure.

So when I got back, drenched in perspiration but exhilarated, I proposed that we drop the monsters off at school then take a wander through the village like old times.

"Uh. I should really keep on with my schedule," the husband said. He's been writing nearly every morning, and fair enough, doesn't want to lose his momentum.

Half an hour later we ran into friends who suggested we rent a scooter for the morning and follow them to an empty beach nearby for a lunch of fresh oysters.

"Let's do it!" the husband excitedly said.

I glared (feelings hurt) and promptly did an about face, taking off for my OWN nostalgic wander about.

"You always end up shopping," he called out defensively to my retreating back.

"Hmmph," I shot back.

Twenty minutes later found me arguing with a shyster over outrageously priced freshly ground cinnamon, procuring yet more dvds from a lovely young girl named Gita, and picking up a decent pair of Ray Ban fakes to make into prescription lenses (if at first you don't succeed....).

Then I found a little store where this orange henna-haired man churns out ill-fitting 'Western-ware' in wonderful fabrics, with the aid of 'The Ugly Stepsisters' (two scowling teenage girls - one skinny and one fat - each with her own sewing machine and bad attitude to match). If only I had known that the ratty little dress I haphazardly picked out, would turn into an hour long fiasco of me trying to direct the sullen, ill-mannered fat one into sewing one bloody straight line into the seam....well, I simply wouldn't have bothered.

In the end the skinny sister took over disgustedly, and ignoring all instructions from myself, made an alteration to the dress rendering it a size 10 on bottom and a size 0 on top. I sighed.

All four of us looked at the now ruined garment - they with blank expressions of calm and me with disgust.

In the end I passed them a wad of small notes and took off dejectedly for a swim, the husband's words still ringing in my ear....

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