SUNLIGHT BUGS

The stick of butter bade a farewell to his host the loaf of bread. "Goodbye, uncle, I had a wonderful time, but I can't stay, and I'm actually not your nephew." The loaf responded: "oh I already knew that, son, but you were stellar company, and you were extremely generous, so I knew you weren't a relative, everybody had a great time, so I said nothing. The others don't have a clue". Then he told him that there would always be a nice room at the end of the annex passage ready for him, with a comfortable bed, come and stay anytime.

It was a very nice dream. A song from eight decades ago played in the background. Rose, Rose, I love you (玫瑰玫瑰我愛你), sung by Yao Lee (姚莉). I hadn't been born yet when it was popular, and I can't remember when I first heard it. It was a while back.

The other thing in my head upon waking was a local chachanteng where I have been often over the past few years. Decent food, nothing exceptional. But it's a nice place with excellent milk tea and they treat me very well there.

I seldom go during their peak hours when it's crowded and elderly old home town types fight for seating, with loud exclamations in dialects I don't quite understand. I'd feel out of place.

One thing that struck me when I opened my eyes was that there are no ceiling geckos. That isn't a new thing, as ceiling geckos (tiki-tiki, tsileng) are not common this far north, it's too temperate. They often eat the large tropical cockroach, which we also don't see here.

Those things on the sidewalk late at night near vegetable markets in summer? Those are palmetto bugs that hitchhiked in crates of fruit from Florida or Mexico. They won't survive, and the rats will eat them (feeding on the head, and avoiding the noxious rear).
At some point, wasps that parasitize them may go native.

One creature which, although present, I have not seen here, is a cicada.
Apparently there are several native species.
But not in the city.

Crickets. I've heard crickets.
Hot weather.


In Manila that August the cicadas made such a racket for thirty or forty minutes before dark that at first I thought it was the neighbor's generator kicking in.



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