Public Key (xxiv)

I must have fallen asleep. When I awoke it was light, and we were there.

The driver let me off on a random street corner in Toliara. I tipped him ten dollars and he thanked me with a tired nod. He parked his car maybe a block away and went into a hotel.

I sat on my suitcase for ten minutes, then followed his good example.

The hotel looked like a Mississippi steamship run aground in the middle of the city. It was blue and white with broad French verandahs and a roof of corrugated iron, that painted too. For twenty dollars – American, again – they gave me a room. The man behind the door asked to see my passport. I slipped him another ten. He grunted, and took my money.

The room was small and airy. It was warmer than it had been in the mountains. I threw open the patio door and the breeze refreshed the room in a matter of moments. Lemon sunlight coated the tiny bed.

The city was beginning to stir. Smells filled my nose and I could not identify a one. People walked on the streets below, going about their lives.

I wanted to go exploring. I wanted to in the worst way. Hell, I’d barely had a chance to do Tana City properly. But I had to restrain myself. I couldn’t afford to be seen. Especially not in a place where I’d stick out like Snoop Dogg at a Westport yacht club.

My computer said it was eight o’clock. I settled in for twelve hours of idleness. Then I’d go looking for the next leg of my journey.


~ by davekov on 13 February 2011.

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