Wearing flipflops in Rome
Traffic congestion and fashionistas in silk dresses and oversized sunglasses
It’s a quiet weekend all round. Friday evening there’s some chanting. It sounds like just the one lone man on his own, but he puts all his soul into the gargling, and his mike and speakers don’t seem to be made in China: his chants echo all over Ngaparou, and throughout our flat.
Saturday there’s a christening some 20m from our place, a wedding maybe 60m away, a party at the school (80m?!), and some chanting. All at the same time, a mix of pop music, drums, chanting, speeches, and mbalax. The women here are listening to the speech, that went on to being songs, and drums and dancing. Till 4am apparently. I had my head stuffed under a pillow and earplugs in by then…
Tonight we’re going out to dinner. Teresa and I have started nervously giggling, and the occasional reg degg degg movements to the drums, jiggling our legs in the air and doing the jumps. We need a break I think :-).