Going Native

Zeelandia Beach--Where I conduct my turtle patrols.

The wildlife has been annoying me. The other night the roaches sent me over the edge and we went on a killing spree that was satisfying in a worrisome way. Last night a pig got into the garden and started upending the trashcan. It was lucky that all I started chucking were bricks, because for a second I had picked up a machete. Then I realized that I wouldn’t know what to do with a dead 300-pound pig in our kitchen. It was one in the morning and I didn’t feel like hosing down the blood, even if it did mean bacon, all I wanted was to get back in my bed.

I remember getting to India and being a bit shocked by the locals’ attitude towards the dogs. But after a few weeks of watching the feral packs hunt down pigs and goats, and hearing their death screams outside my window, I was happy to join in throwing rocks at them too. My point is, the line between compassion and slaughter is much thinner than you might think. Move to a desert island, even a Caribbean one, and you my find your ‘civilized’ behavior slipping away.

On the other hand, with all of this time on our hands we haven’t got much to do besides get in touch with our creative sides. Mine is a seventy-year old man who likes to cook and read all day. Everyone can cook rice, but only a true artist (pronounced artEEst) can truly cook rice. I’ve been perfecting it in a million different ways. Last night was a lentil curry sauce over rice. Delicious. Might have to open an Indian restaurant when I get home. Not like I’m getting ahead of myself or anything.

Having all this time has been nice for my reading too. I just reread the first Game of Thrones book to forget the school year. Now I’m free to dig deeper. I’m reading Reza Aslan’s “No god but God” book on the Islamic Reformation. I saw him speak a couple of years ago with my dad and we agreed he was brilliant.

Besides cooking curry and reading about Islam, my life has taken another major turn. I recently gave up pants. No need for them. I think they’re overrated. Shirts are slowly on their way out too (I really am going native). I just don’t feel like doing laundry. It’s not in the cards for how my weekends are going to go. It takes too long to do by hand, and it costs $2 a pound in town.

So I’ve graduated from pants to board shorts. Single layer, light, airy, and when they get dirty or I finish a beach patrol or I get back from diving, all I have to do is wear them into the shower for a light soaping up. Voila. Laundry done. Shirts are the same. I have a dark blue soccer jersey and a blue and white rash guard that I rotate between. When they get dirty, I just wear them into the shower.

And with that, I’m off to a shower---in my clothes.