It should be clear by now that I am no longer in the same café where I began writing this out. I am at home on a weeknight with another work day ahead of me and the week-end not too far ahead. I am in our shared kitchen at a table that my roommate will use for a dinner party she has been planning for the last week (the theme will be Mexico). She is preparing tamales, lime soup, drinks and other food. The two fridges are filled with dishes that are either cooked or need to be cooked on the day of the party. I am looking at bottles of salsa, a shaker of chipotle chili powder, a sombrero (ostentatiously made; obviously not for a night out with friends), a colourful pile of fabric, swizzle sticks with plastic fruit attached, avocadoes, pineapples and plastic plates, bowls and spoons. I am also playing a selection of music that she may like for the get-together. I know that I have to go to bed soon, but I want to hear this music. I have not played most of these CDs in a long time and it makes me recall moments from my life as a teacher in another country.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Yeah, I can take it...