September 25, 2007

  • Roycie's jet lag woke her up fairly early in the morning, and I got up earlier than I'm accustomed to on vacation, but that didn't stop us from lounging around till nearly noon watching satellite TV from Indonesia and eating peanut butter and green banana sandwiches.

    We emerged into the heat just before lunch and Connie, Roycie and I took the bus down the hill from Connie's house. The "bus" just a white Toyota van with three rows of seats that made its circuit down that hill, into town, and back up again; 2 Solomon dollars will get you anywhere on the route. All the roads leading from town away from the coast go up hills, which have names, but the houses don't have numbers. Connie lives on what I'm sure is one of a handful of paved roads in Honiara. Connie flagged down the bus with a wave and a "Tsss" sound and a barefoot man crouched by the sliding door took our money. When we got into town. Connie left us for a lunch date with a friend. Royce and I headed up to Roycie's Aunt's house to pick up her cousin May. We took a shortcut straight up the side of the hill: a small dirt trail lined with weeds and ferns. On the way we saw a really big stag beetle, which I recognized because Japanese kids love to collect them, and a Mimosa fern that shrinks away when touched.

    We ducked under a neighbor's clothesline before getting to Aunt Grace's house and picked up May. The divide of Betel nut on her teeth was more pronounced than it had been the day before; one half of her mouth was stained a vivid red and the other was completely clean. She said she'd done it on purpose. As we walked back into town she got another Betel nut at a stand, chewing it carefully only on the already- red side. I'm much too picky about the state of my teeth to start chewing something that will stain them, and I'm far to well-bred (ha) to spit out the juice onto the street, so I never tried any Betel nut, but apparently it gives you a little high and a little jolt that goes quite well with a cigarette, (which are often sold loose in a tin can with the betel nut).

    We traipsed along the main paved road in the heat, passing on the sidewalks women carrying things on their heads, men and boys in small groups who stared, old shirtless men, teenagers, and the occasional expat. Most, but not all the people were wearing sandals; the rest were barefoot. Everyone's feet seemed expanded, calloused. I was almost jealous; it seems to me that people who trained their feet not to need shoes were infinitely better off. (Although, I may have only come to that conclusion because I was wearing crocs which, though they turned out to be an excellent choice for that environment, are still hideous and highly embarassing.)

    We completed our errands in an efficient manner; we secured our tickets to Gizo and Roycie changed her money. Then we wandered around the market. Roycie bought coconuts for the two of us and I was surprised, as most people are, at how different they taste from the coconut-flavored products or flakes you usually try. By the time I was done sucking the last of the juice from the bendy straw they so thoughtfully provided, I was nearly used to it. Then Royce cracked open the both of them on a sharp rock and told me how to get the meat off the inside. It tasted like the coconut gelatin you get at Chinese restaurants sometimes. It was great.

    At the market they were selling shell earrings and necklaces; Roycie showed me the strands of small red shells that are traditionally used as bride prices (like a reverse dowry). After she pointed them out I saw a few women on the street still wearing them. Nearly everything cost $15 solomon dollars, which is something like 3 bucks, and if anyone mentioned a price higher than that May and Roycie blamed my skin and shoed me away.

    Behind the shells were more long tables filled with fruits and vegetables. Raw peanuts were sold in small handfulls for $1 each; cherry tomatos were sold in a similar fashion. Roycie pointed out the edible ferns and roots that she remembered were delicious and rattled off a list of fruits that were lamentably not in season. When we had seen it all we passed again the women selling young coconuts, completely surrounded and ankle deep in coconut husks and flies. When a customer picked their coconut the women would aim it expertly away and then- whack- in one clean motion send the top flying in one direction and a spray of juice splattering safely against the wall behind them.