Iwouldn’t say a typical day. Just an average day. Like many people around the world, I have been taken a bit by the corona spontaneity. I could say disorganization, but spontaneity sounds much better.
I go to sleep when I feel like it, I wake up when I feel like it and I eat when I’m hungry. Everything else, I do in time. And today has been a laundry day.
“Lemons from our garden.”
“We’ve been having afternoon storms all week long.”
Firstly, I drink a freshly-squeezed lemonade with lemons from our garden on an empty stomach, and do my morning body balance to invigorate the body and the spirit. I skip meditation because I’m wildly craving coffee. While I wait for the water to boil, I arrange the patch in front of the main entrance, where I’m still waiting for some of the plants to recover after the cyclone, since the ocean managed to salt them nicely. I daily remove those that are beyond salvation, so the survivors can breathe easily.
Every week we bring crushed chorales, sand, seashells and
pebbles, which we simply call sand here.
After my morning coffee, which I occasionally make for Barbara as well (for those that have forgotten, the housekeeper that’s in charge of cleanliness in the house), I heat up some water until it’s lukewarm and soak the laundry. Then I go about sorting the pebbles on the pathway we have been arranging for two weeks. Every week we bring crushed chorales, sand, seashells and pebbles, which we simply call sand here, from the beach. For me, these are chorales and seashells. There are some bigger ones in between, which are uncomfortable to walk on barefoot. Since I came here, I’ve mostly been barefoot. I only put on shoes when I go into town; when I’m around the house, I’m in contact with the earth. This is what, among other things, Matic had advised.
“The house is slowly getting a nice shape.”
I sort the pebbles and create a pathway edge that the ocean had washed away three weeks ago. The house is slowly getting a nice shape. The trees are blooming. Sprouts are peeking from the earth. The flowers that survived are stretching towards the sky and reaching for the sun. There are three palm trees still waiting to be chopped down and removed; the ocean had uprooted them when it washed away a large chunk of earth underneath their feet. My green thumb is useful for repotting the flowers to places that I see have been left bare.
After I brush the clothes, I treat myself to a fresh coconut, which I had managed to get off the tree and into the fridge two weeks ago. I prefer the taste of coconut water. When I scoop out the coconut meat, I clean the shell and leave it in the sun. “This one’s coming home with me. I’ll use it as a cup, so that every morning I’ll remember these corona days that I’ve spent in a tropical paradise,” I say to myself as I determinately remove the shell.
“Fresh coconut, water and milk.”
“Rapati - the most spoiled dog in the world!”
I answer a few emails, cuddle with Rapati (the most spoiled dog in the world!), cook my favorite cassava and prepare the simplest salad. What follows, of course, is another coffee and the afternoon arrives. The whole of April has been cloudy. We’ve been having afternoon storms all week long. Something’s coming today as well.
The sun sets sometime after six, which can’t be seen today due to the rain and it gets dark immediately. The day is over. It’s been 40 days on the Solomon Islands. And I still haven’t seen anything.
This doesn’t bother me anymore. The fact is, I have many obligations that I’ve brought upon myself and the day goes by in a flash. The sights are closed, the agencies not operating and I’m planning on going to the islands as soon I feel like I need to change location. When I decide to wander out of Honiara, I probably won’t be ‘home’ for a month. During this time, I know I’ll completely disconnect from everything.
“When I scoop out the coconut meat, I clean the shell.”
“Green tropical paradise in front of the house.”
I’ve had enough information about what’s happening back home in Slovenia: how they’re messing around with money, making fools out of citizens and digging themselves a larger and larger hole. What’s financial and moral? If we, as a nation, forget what they’re doing during an epidemic, we don’t deserve different leadership. Let’s leave politics aside. McDonald’s, people?! Seriously? When you could have enjoyed homemade food, this was your greatest need?
This information has been circling around for a few days. When I woke up that morning and saw a video of the queue on Celovška on every story, Barbara and I were drinking coffee. Bewildered, I show her how stupid people are in the developed world. She watches the video. I explain to her that people had waited several hours for super healthy fast food. She falls silent. Looks at me. And asks: “What is McDonald’s?” She made my day. I put down my phone at that moment and went to work in the garden.