Dinner in the time of COVID19

As lock-down meals go, this was palatable but unremarkable, I felt so proud of myself in eating all the ladyfinger too!

Those who know me, likely know that Ladyfinger or more commonly Okra, is not high on my list as vegetables that I would choose to willingly eat. I am a good boy though and if there is one thing my puritanical mother taught me, it was that you eat what you’re served. The fish was tempura batter dipped and presumably fried but came out soft and squidgy. It was ok nonetheless and the carrots didn’t have the hell boiled out of them. This meal, perhaps a 6 out of ten. The Green Tea sponge cake swiss-like roll was sweet soft and creamy.

Dinner on day two came at around 630pm, a not wholly ungodly hour for mealtimes. Certainly not aligned with central European eating but bang on for equatorial dinner time and the hour by which we’ve become accustomed to eat back in Boris the Yeti land.

My bio-clock is slowly adjusting. I had to have a early afternoon nap for about an hour, one could think of it as an essential siesta nap. Very European and actually, again very equatorial. You’d typically take a nap to recover from an overindulgent lunch, but if you’ll recall, it was noodles for lunch so not too bad.

I had to take care that I didn’t recover from my nap with evident bed-hair, something that would be obvious in a case of video-on zoom, webex teamsing. It wasn’t too bad, though I had to switch the A/C off in the room because it just seems absurd to wear a coat in Monsoon season. I have concluded the challenge with hotel rooms with no opening windows and just climate control is that the climate is anything but controlled. It is either freezing or sweltering.

I can take the heat, so I will live with the A/C off until i go to sleep. Mrs Jones and I communed over lunch photos and compared conversations as we consider where and how we will find accommodation after the quarantine. It seems the condominium market is flooded with available units with the mass departures of pandemic fleeing expatriates so we may be in for a bargain or at the very least a negotiation.

Otherwise, my phone is now SIM’ed up with a local PAYG number and I am patiently waiting for the SMS from the Ministry of Health so I can start tracking my apparent health with the ministry’s Homer app.