which time I’m so hungry I would eat Carlos’s arm if I thought I could get away with it. “I’m soooooo hungry” I whine.
“Me too, there’s a street vendor down the road, with roasted corn, have you tried it?”
I want to scoff at him; of course I haven’t bought any food from a road-side stall, who in their right mind would? There’s no hygiene and what ever they make stands out in the sweltering heat, no thank you! But I don’t want to offend him, so it looks like I’m going to have to break my personal rule of never eating anything from someone who hasn’t washed.
I shake my head and he leads me down the road and round the corner to shaded area. It’s a large open space with a canopy of multicoloured fabric hitched up in billowing waves above your head and a dusty tiled floor, scattered around are numerous stalls all offering an array of foods, sweet and savoury, as well as hot and cold drinks. Every step you take fills your nostrils with new exotic smells, each more mouth watering than the last.
Best of all, every one of the stall owners are well groomed, the men are mostly in Hawaiian style shirts, ¾ length shorts and sandals, while the women wear, loose dresses or jeans and t-shirts.
Sitting me down on one of the benches Carlos scampers about gathering a feast for us. When he returns he explains each dish to me, Roasted corn with lime and chilli powder, pork ribs in Guajillo sauce, chicken wings in a spicy peanut sauce and for after, churros sprinkled in sugar and cinnamon and dipped in melted chocolate.
I am glad we are in the shade, along with the light breeze makes it the perfect temperature to enjoy the food warm, if we were in the sun it would have been unbearable to even think about spicy or hot food.
We spend a good hour gorging ourselves and chatting to the locals, for people who rely on this trade to live, they are unbelievably cheerful considering the lack of tourists, joking with each other, dancing and singing along to a joyful tune one of them is playing on a banjo.
A man pulls up with a mobile fridge, producing coconuts from inside; he approaches us signalling for us to purchase them, “Why would we purchase a cold coconut?” I ask Carlos who laughs at me.
“He puts a hole in the shell and then you drink the milk” he explains.
I manage to persuade him to let me buy one, he says it’s a waste of money considering we could pick a coconut up off the floor and take it back to the resort and put it in the fridge for free; much to the vendors delight I call him a spoil sport and hand over the cash without the slightest hint at a haggle.
As it transpires, Coconut milk, even cooled, is unpleasant, but I argued my point to get it, so I choke it down quickly, the neon green straw he poked through the hole he made in the shell makes it easier.
Once we are done we meander back to the Bentley which has seemingly waited for us the entire time and start the long journey home.
Chapter 7
I slept practically the whole journey back, waking only to transfer from car to plane, to car, to house; consequently as soon as we step into the house at eight thirty in the evening, I’m wide awake.
I’ve got a nagging thought roaming about in my head to call Caz and update her on the whole Jake fiasco, but I think I can stand to leave it another day, she won’t be too mad that she wasn’t told right away; who am I kidding? She will be furious, but if she is going to be angry anyway, I may as well give her a reason to be and leave it till tomorrow.
Carlos grabs us both a beer from the fridge, about the only thing that is guaranteed to be stocked at all times and crashes out on the sofa.
“How do you fancy another cozy night in?” he asks cuddling in next to me. After yesterdays failed attempt I am more than happy to stay in tonight.
“Sounds perfect”
“Oh, by the way, my parents want to have dinner with us tomorrow” he drops in casually.
I stare at him open mouthed, “I can’t face them, not after this morning!” I protest.
“Its fine, they’ve seen a lot worse I’m sure”
“Oh well, that’s