Under the impression that Indonesia was a tropical paradise, I left my wooly socks and cozy sweaters where they belong in Ohio, right? Mistake.
Indeed I was warned. Nevertheless, I carelessly brushed off the warnings. Sure Bajawa is very cold… in comparison to sweltering Bali. Mistake.
And it gets colder? Brrrrr!
I’d compare Bajawa temperatures to a Maine summer (does that exist?)… without the hot shower to warm up the mornings. So I don’t have to break the ice on my ‘bak mandi’ (large basin for water supply). But I did have to invest in another blanket. And I relish a nightly cup of hot chocolate. Although I question if the enjoyment is derived from the comfort, the warmth, or the effort.
Step one.
Boil the bastards out of the water (15 minutes)… Only because I haven’t quite worked out how to get the gianormous water jug across town. I’m doing push-ups in preparation.
Step two.
Make milk… three table spoons of white powder. Saving up to buy a cow… or maybe I’ll just kidnap (haha) a goat.
Step three.
Stir. Mash the sticky clumpiness.
Step four.
A cruel land void of delish chocolately goodness… I add whatever I can scrounge up, stretching the remaining of my hot chocolate investment (a small fortune on my budget) from the Bali expat community. Cocoa or cacao trees, the source of raw chocolate, abound but where is Hersheys? Where is Nestle? Where is Cadbury? Where is Swiss Miss? Where are you!?!?!
Step five.
Stir.
Step six.
Daydream of adding a dollop of whip cream and a sprinkling of marshmallows. But alas, skipped as to the lack of supply. Like a mirage of water to the thirsty lost in the desert, I hallucinate dairy.
The comfort of a mug is lost as I sip from a colorfully stenciled glass, something that renders visions of 70’s motif. Nevertheless, I snuggle under the semi-warm blankets and enjoy… forgetting for the moment the numerous dishes that are now waiting to be cleaned.
No comments:
Post a Comment