BETWEEN GUNONG ALIF AND SUNGEI BA'A

The dream involved snacks at the restaurant in Kampong Tiga Puko. Slightly charred bits of fatty meat, skewered. With red onion pickle, and slivered chilies. Overlooking the water near Lower Tank Road. So different then. Peaceful.

But actually, coffee. I found out that I liked coffee when I was still adolescent. It tasted good, went well with tobacco.

Coffee, besides being the life blood of Dutch society and a groovy social lubricant, contains caffeine, a marvelous methylxanthine also found in tea and chocolate. Which not suprisingly are also big in the Netherlands. And all of them imply the availability of highly refined sugar.

Upon getting up from my dream, that is what I prepared for myself. Coffee, with sugar, and a jigger of milk. The only milk available in Kampong Tiga Puko was from a can with a lovely picture of a black and white cow and windmill on it.

After that, I went outside with a pipe.

Despite coffee's role as both fuel and social lubricant, I am not a particularly energetic social creature. And wandering around with a pipe sticking out of my mouth is something I do best by myself, although I would not be averse to similarly grumpy company, smoking his or her own pipe, at that hour of the day. If asked, I'll share the tobacco I'm currently enjoying.

Charred bits of fatty meat are, sadly, not available anywhere nearby. And unlike the climate in those hills it's nowhere near seventy five degrees Fahrenheit. More like fifty or below. I think I'll get back under the covers for an hour or so, until my bladder forces me of bed again.

Coffee with sugar. Grilled skewers. Sharp pickled onion. And fresh chilies.
Breakfast of champions. Grumpy barely awake champions.
The breeze smells wet. It might rain.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================