It’s a warm one out there, 91F, +/- 33C. Same as yesterday. I love to sit outside overlooking the pool and glance up, way, way up at the coconut palms; their thick fronds stand in relief against the near cloudless deep, blue sky. There is neither pollution nor haze, the air being remarkable in its clarity. I want into the pool but I am forbidden. I need to heal I am assured by Miss Daisy. Scabs must not get wet.
Yesterday I got into an incident, a bad habit of which I cultivated in Salt Spring of somehow managing to trip over myself. There is always a good reason, it’s not that I don’t know how to stand up. But, there we were in the heart of Dumaguete heading for the downtown mall which place we have yet to discover. An area normally intended for sidewalk was not so constructed. The ground was sloped as for a ramp but it was suffused with a gossamer thin layer of powdery concrete dust spillage and fine sand. (As I discovered too late) My sandled right foot stepped assuredly thereon only to slide away as if on ice (Canadians will understand that analogy) and down I went. The first I knew about it I was spitting out concrete powder and sand and being fussed over by an alarmed Daisy. Composure recovered but not without nasty, forearm cuts and grazes and what looked like a hole in my right knee all under laid with pains in butt, hips, thighs etc. a pedi-cab was flagged and we high tailed it back home all thoughts of mall discovery postponed. En route iodine and swabs were purchased and Daisy began the wound clean-up, the sting being militated only by the cool breeze swirling through the open cab.
So now I have to miss a day of swimming and I sure do miss it. It’s become a daily pastime that I truly enjoy, although it might be even better if it were the sea. Perhaps that lies in our future in Santa Fe?
I am becoming inured to the noise of Dumaguete. I’ve even thought, ‘maybe it’s not that much noise if I’d come from a big city.’ But I came here from Salt Spring Island a place where only the song birds and Salt Spring Transit disturb the quiet…well, and the odd float plane.
Miranda, Daisy’s best friend is flying in for a visit. She’s the girl who kept Daisy company at Hong Kong airport while awaiting my arrival. She seemed like a sweetheart. We will celebrate her birthday when she is here. I am happy that Daisy and she will get together for five days. Nice for both ladies. They won’t get together often. Miranda lives near Manila and in any case will be returning to Hong Kong as soon as her work visa comes through for a new family. She resigned from the previous one due to ill treatment. Such treatment is endemic for these Filipinas throughout South East Asia. To be treated properly they have to get into North America or Europe, the trouble there being those countries seem to go out of their way to make it as hard as possible for these had working and wonderfully caring people to get in – especially Canada.
A little over 3 weeks before we journey to Santa Fe.
Now where did Daisy place that glass of fresh, chilled buko? (Coconut juice) I’ve no idea how she breaks into those ‘nuts’ and extracts the juice. Maybe forever a mystery given I’m not permitted in the kitchen. Domestic pursuits are not a man’s work apparently – and after Imelda had me so well trained ‘n all. What can I say – it’s the culture.