Thank you for the postcard you sent me from Argentina three weeks ago. Yes, it took a while to arrive on my little Island here. If one looks closely at such mail received, one discovers that the few letters we nowadays write each other often make a more extensive journey than most people ever could afford. The greetings from Buenos Aires traveled as follows – (and yes, La Guardia National is by far the sexiest police force in the world…). It was first post-stamped in San Thelmo; I assume you visited the antique markets and bought a stack of cards with stamps in one of the old overfilled kiosks on the busy street sides. The blend of artists, music, Mate slurping hippies, vendors praising their colorful Lama wool scarves, and the enticing smells from the many restaurants grilling Argentinean beef is unforgettably burned into my memories. You had to see the white (pigeon shit-covered) Cathedral del San Thelmo majestic above the marketplace, although it is confusing in that district, with 17 churches all clustered around one plaza. Yes, I have been there, and your postcard lets my mind wander back…
The next hint on the card was a little stamp with an airplane, indicating it flew possibly in cargo from BA to BKK. There, unable to read your handwriting (did you write like this before you became a doctor) it must have been waiting for some poor Thai fellow to decipher your hieroglyphs. By sheer luck, they finally chose to send it down south Thailand, where someone else stamped it again in a muggy post office in Phuket.
The front picture with bloody dripping beef carcasses must have added to the Thai curiosity; maybe somewhere along this post-cards travel, people were pausing, opting to investigate if this message was a “threat to kill” someone… I can’t tell what happened in the next two weeks of its journey, but your card arrived in the post office box for our hotel in Tongsai Beach on Phi Phi Island about five days ago (see last stamp).
By now, you are in Israel and possibly have discovered that the Israeli Soldiers are the “most perfect species” you’ve ever crossed eyes with… ( I still like the carabineros in Argentina better…) take a few pictures for me, will you?
I never knew we had a post office box when I told my friends this Hotel address, believing it to be the physical Hotel information. Usually, on Fridays, it is office people (foremost HR and team) that go to the neighboring village for twenty minutes in a long-tail boat for business excursions and to pick up mail… They had twenty minutes on the way back to study your card too (I am making sure it is known to be YOUR card): It was of great amusement when HR brought me your “funny and bloody” postcard with a disapproving grimace – because you write:
La Guardia National… sexy! I’m melting!
i’m loving the food here.
Thought about you;
Fresh bloody steaks!
All okay w/ grumpy HR?
Yes, Susan – To make a diplomatic correction: All is okay. The head of HR was promoted to Resident Manager.
The first heavy Monsoon rains are gushing down on our property, and last night, I walked around in the warm tropical rain, enjoying my security duty. I’m so odd, but I love the storm. However, this morning, the main water tank was drained and empty again; for the second time in one week, we have no water available on the entire property. So we scramble to find where the pipes are broken. You think I was hired as a chef? I’m an excellent plumber! Everyone is helping where hands are needed, and most problems are solved. Since this is the low season, all department heads have a chance to train their staff. My chefs are improving, and it’s a joy to teach them! In exchange, I study their language… My Thai speaking is getting a bit better. I can finally follow an essential topic in a conversation.
Susan, do you remember when I taught you French? Once, at four in the morning, you threw a book at me (I still suffer from psychosomatic stress), screaming: “If I can’t speak this bloody language, I will always be in doubt if the picture I see before me has anything to do with me…”
Tell that to HR!
I miss you, Susan. Trave safe and remember me.