Coffee Day Today, 18th Century Missionary Tomorrow

Sitting in the local Coffee Day partway though a humid Sunday afternoon. A staff member remembers me for the first time today. I’m pretty sure they stole their uniforms from Pizza Hut. Strange rock anthems and international remixes play slightly louder than I’d like, often cutting off mid-song. There’s a large group of East Asians sitting outside and a smaller group sitting in front of me. Everyone is laughing, most people are eating cake or anything else with chocolate, I am waiting for my “Eskimo Freeze,” I am trying new things in places that are becoming familiar. There’s a sideways flatscreen TV advertising some movie as “A New Kind of Easy Rider.” Later tonight I will get on a bus for nine hours and head South to play an 18th Century Christian Missionary in a Sri Lankian-Tamilian Catholic PBS-style documentary. I can do this because I am white and the Polish guy who was supposed to play the role is on vacation. I met the Polish guy at my evening martial arts/aerobics class. I will be paid the equivalent of US $36 for two days work, plus room and board. But, as previously mentioned, I will play an 18th Century Christian Missionary who comes to India and saves oppressed women, and this is priceless.

My Eskimo Freeze has arrived; it’s quite cold and caffeinated and costs about US $1. The power just went out. I look around. The power comes on momentarily. Goes off again. No one seems to notice. Now it’s back, music and all. An Indian guy walks in with a shirt that says “Sweden.” The furniture in Coffee day looks especially comfortable; solid wicker structure, leather cushioning. But it’s not. The cushions are far too thin and when I lean back I am supported about 10 degrees past my ideal repose. Some people are leaving, two men, two women, two motorcycle helmets. Not quite sure why the women riding on the backs of the cycles aren’t accounted for cranially.

Yesterday I walked along the longest city-side beach in the world, about 5 km. Jenn says it’s the second longest but who wants to hear that. There were men sleeping in the shade of their fishing boats. I’d heard the beach was strewn with trash, but was unimpressed—there was a line of trash along the tide line just like you find off the coast of any large metropolitan. I collected shells until I thought my face might become seriously burnt, and I need to look sprightly for my film role.

I spent five hours this weekend listening to uninterrupted Tamil, three hours in a movie and two at a play. The movie, Sivaji, was a big hit overseas and broke the UK top ten. I’m not sure why people in the UK went to see this movie. At least in India there’s an intermission and you can get ice cream or French fries to further distract yourself. I won’t say much other than there was no plot development from the intermission on—about 1.5 hours—and there was a long scene where the protagonist applies “fair and lovely” in hopes of lightening his skin so the female will accept his advances. Maybe if I understood the dialogue I would have disliked this movie as much as many Hollywood blockbusters, instead I’m glad I got to experience it, even if just once, yes, just once please.

Ok, getting tired. Couples are starting to arrive. This coffee shop is attached to a chic-looking clothing store. I think some of the guys in here shop there. I think one guy is wearing a shirt from the window display. I see some ripe-looking coconuts hanging from a tree outside the window. Maybe I’ll buy one on the corner.

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