Crotch Pot Hot

" "What's the weather like out there?

"It's hot. Damn hot! Real hot! Hottest things is my shorts. I could cook things in it. A little crotch pot cooking." …

What do you think it's going to be like tonight?

"It's gonna be hot and wet! That's nice if you're with a lady, but it ain't no good if you're in the jungle." "

- Robin Williams as Adrian Cronaur as Roosevelt E Roosevelt… “Good Morning Vietnam”

The weather here has taken a seasonal turn to the wet-side, with daily torrents interspersing periods of vevela tele (crotch pot hot) and humid. And so it has been revealed to me the very useful nature of the humble umbrella- a tool which had proved nigh on useless in South Auckland. Here it serves as rain & sun protection; it effectively wards off dogs; offers support as a walking stick; in the event of a fire in the building, one may or may not (depending on your faith in Disney) be able to leap from a third storey window and float gently to the ground. An umbrella also acts as a serviceable replacement for a rifle when I feel like playing soldiers (more often than not, re-inacting the handover of Samoa by the Germans to the NZ army at the outset of World War 1…a remarkable event, and one of the most pragmatically managed confrontations of the period- the handover was conducted without blood being spilt http://www.goethe.de/ins/nz/en/wel/kul/mag/wwi/sam/12799764.html ).

And so it was a great relief this week, that I had returned to me my new-found wire framed detachable appendage. I stopped at a shop on the way home, and left not just my umbrella but my wallet, sitting on the concrete footpath, while I packed my purchases into my backpack. It was 15 minutes later, while hiking up the hill- completely oblivious to my impending poverty- that  a van pulled up beside me, to return both items, having recognised me from my drivers license photo! I was obviously gobsmacked and grateful…so much so, that I let them drive away (after offering me a lift) with just a “fa’fetai tele lava” (thank-you very much)…in retrospect I should have handed over what cash I had, and thanked not just my lucky stars, but the finder in a more tangible manner.

It was also a gentle reminder that I stand out like a sore thumb, and am apparently recognizable to local traffic as the walkie-talkie palagi…

In the same vein, sensible walking shoes have proved to be a good investment (I had some concerns that I’d bought shoes needlessly, when I realised that thongs are considered “corporate wear”). Walking uphill in wet jandles is like trying to ride 2 butter coated skateboards simultaneously, through a slalom course laid out with baby-head sized rocks, dog mines & giant snails. Shoes make a pleasant walk in the rain possible without breaking an ankle or stumbling into traffic.

And finally at home- flatmate and reigning heavyweight gecko Les Norton and I have had a minor falling out…apparently Sunday evening is date night for Les and he’d taken the liberty of moving from the bathroom into my bedroom. I’m not sure how well he converts, but he was pretty bloody vocal and the beige babe magnet was spitting lyrics until well after 3am Monday morning. So my working week started with an eviction to the spare bathroom and a stern, if somewhat one-sided, conversation about personal space. (Les moved- not me…)