IT’S NOT OKAY

We spent nearly a week parked between a school and a park in a dodgy Mexican-looking grey van with blacked-out windows, from within which, every morning an Englishman would appear in his pants or worse, girlfriend’s pyjamas smoking a roll-up watching the children frolick from betwixt our blinds. Seemingly every third building in this country is a Degrassi Junior High looking school. Moving at 8.30 am to Walmart and back “home” again at 5.00 pm became de rigour.

In nautical terms we were well and truly in the duldrums.

When I don’t have any stimulation, my mind wanders, and never to dreamy, floaty places… always to dark, malevolent, hellish places.

In these quixotic quagmires I question, yet again, what I am doing with my life, where I’m going, ask myself whether I’m wasting it, make grandiose plans and forget them nearly as quickly as I formulate them all from under a headache-fogged veil.

My fuse shortens as boredom sets in and trivial nuisances take on nightmarish proportions.

No electricity, no hot food, no liquid propane, nowhere to buy it (as ludicrously Canadian L.P. nozzles differ from their U.S. counterparts) no hot water, no showers, no wifi, no healthy food, no nuffink...

Many Walmarts don’t even sell fruit and veg, and when you ask, you are told that they have frozen vegetables, like that is okay.

It’s not okay.