Wednesday, August 17, 2022

IN SOME WAYS EXACTLY LIKE ENGLAND

If one wishes to live an Englishman in the tropics, it is axiomatic that there should be a chachanteng or beng kaa near enough that one can have a spot of milk tea and a slice of cream swirl Swiss roll. A decent tobacconist should be accessible by mail, as well as a provisioner of Dundee or Oxford marmalade and dried fish.
One should also have a mosquito net.

None of this is available in the valley, anywhere between Redding and Bakersfield.
It's a miserable place, with tattooed savages and cannibals.
Christians, and man-sized dung beetles.


It is quite possible that Jonathan who lives in the Shomron would be comfortable there. He seems to have an amazing tolerance for primitive conditions and hinterland Americans, as well as a keen sense of adventure.

The rest of us will avoid the place. Even if one could get regular shipments of Rattray's pipe tobacco, it would be a hardship post. And there's no gong sik naai chaa.
If there's one place that's ripe for malaria and dengue, it's the vast unfathomed interior.
The bush. The wild lands. Wugga Wugga Country. The rimboe.

[Malaria: 瘧疾 ('yeuk jat'), 冷熱病 ('leng yit beng'). Dengue: 骨痛熱症 ('gwat tung yit jeng'), 出血性登革熱 ('cheut huet sing tang gaak yit'). Typhoid: 傷寒症 ('seung hon jeng'). Hinterland Americans: 生番 ('saang faan'), 特朗普黨派人 ('dak long pou dong paai yan'). Rimboe: 叢林 ('chung lam'). Water purification tablets: 淨化水藥片 ('jeng faa seui yeuk pin').]

And in the middle of that is the delta, where gigantic prehistoric beasts trumpet their mating calls across the brackish water, startling the smaller creatures and the marsh birds.

The insects are numerous, the heat is unbearable.



Perhaps I should mention that the high in San Francisco today was sixty six degrees Fahrenheit, it is presently sixty, and there is fog at the top of Nob Hill. Sweaters!

Teatime found me at a local chachanteng surrounded by animated people getting pleasantly whacked on caffeinated beverages. An elderly woman hollered that someone was a crazy sicko as she left, and the object of her ire grinned wickedly like he had just scored a triumph. At another table a pleasant looking old chap was noshing on broad rice noodles in soup with savoury bits, and two toothy gentlemen close by were conversing in almost unintelligible Toishanese. A fellow who retired over three years ago looks considerable less unkempt than then, happier too. When a half Chinese half Caucasian couple came in for a snack, I heard the waitress speak more English than I ever knew that she knew.
Three old men divided a scallion bun.


Very enjoyable. In some parts of the interior it got over one hundred and ten degrees today. There was much distress, and they blamed Biden for the heat.
People lazed around limply, dangling their bras.
Far too hot for those. Darn liberals!
Neener neener neener.



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