#117
We sat under the tree mostly for shade, but also for conversation.
"I think it's a fig tree," Mandy says.
"Maybe," I say - as an unsure botanist.
The heat here swifts in at about 8 in the morning - we tend to wake up when the sun rises - about 5:30. The chickens remind us if nothing else, that the day has begun. We all know that at 3 PM, the water on top of the showers, which has been ported up from the river, will have been heated by the sun to a manageable temperature - showers in the afternoon to wash away the first half of the day's sweat and dirt.
We cook over open charcoal stoves, each of the huts has one, we practice our Portuguese, we eat green mangoes until we feel green ourselves.
The bathtub under the fig tree remains the gathering place for the late afternoon conversation, before the 2 hours of electricity start for the day.
The other day, someone found a scorpion in their shoe, but no matter, because the air is sweet with the scent of the landscape.