As I sit in "Little India" eating a surprisingly good dinner, "#134 Northern India" and drinking a coconut (which reminds me of being in Brazil with Laura, visiting Helen and Anthony), I realize how poorly a phone serves as a computer when you're trying to write a blog post.
I am, for all intents and purposes, purposefully lost in India itself... This part of Singapore is nothing like the Singapore I am familiar with! But I came here for toe socks (Mustafe's is dumbfoundingly gargantuan and organized by metrics and measures beyond comprehension)... Toe socks for myself (with which to freak out Tim, who has a strong aversion to my toe sock fetish), and for two other shipmates who saw mine and lost their friggin' minds with envy. Really... Can you blame them?
I am nursing my resentment towards "the company," too, while I miss Laura- there is little that complements pity like rage, it turns out. Like sweet and sour sauce. Or something. Best done with food... Food, it turns out, I could be sharing with Laura if it weren't for unfettered greed in the face of contractual agreements. Did I mention rage already?
This is yet another face of sailoring... Milking every second of every minute ashore. With food and toe socks, to boot.
Have I mentioned how much I'm enjoying your photographs? You have an amazing eye for same ... and you write very good, too (she said, proudly).
ReplyDeleteThe Momster