Someone In A Treehouse

I dropped by Scout’s Place last night for Sabaoke.  There seems to be a penchant among the Sabans for re-naming everything in the world with a prefix of Saba-.  Hence, when people get up and sing along to a prerecorded track, it’s “Sabaoke.”  It was a (very) slow night at Scout’s so I sat at the bar by myself and enjoyed a couple of Tings, a really terrific grapefruit soda.

 

But on Saba, a person alone is a conversation waiting to happen so I was the (willing) target of more than a few locals.  Charming Claire, who has two sons in the states and who speaks to her 2-year-old grandson in Rhode Island every day is “of a certain age” and loves to sing on Friday nights.  Rumor has it she has been spotted on the street in platform shoes and spandex leggings and I say more power to her.  Last night she sang several new songs because “people get tired of hearing the same things over and over again.”

 

One of the cocktail waitresses started off the evening with a rousing rendition of “Hey Jude,” with the karaoke operator backing her up in selected spots before taking the mic himself and giving a German-accented performance of “Like a Rolling Stone.”  I seriously considered making my Saba-miere with a song or two, but--oh, the never-ceasing march of time!--I didn't have my glasses and couldn't read the song list in the dim light of the bar.

 

Then Stuart approached me to welcome me to Saba [Believe me, if you’re new here they’ll know instantly.  1500 people total doth not anonymity promote.]  Stuart had recently returned from New Zealand with his new wife and new baby.  They had spent six months—get this—traveling around in a camper.

 

Stefan, who works behind the bar was intrigued to learn I was spending three months here at El Momo to write a play.  He then produced a note pad and gave me six words:  snake, path, house, axe, tree and fence and told me to draw a picture using those six items.  I asked if he would then analyze my character.  “I already did that when you told me you were spending three months at El Momo to write a play.  All those steps?  (There are 73 steps from the road up to the office level here at El Momo)  That says it all” 

 

I’m proud to say that of the couple of thousand times he’s asked people to do this, I’m one of just three who drew a tree house.  He did give me a fairly accurate character analysis, although the sex part puzzled him (I had the snake wrapping around the tree heading up to the tree house.  I dunno, seems kinda obvious to me…)

 

I left shortly thereafter, but not before giving workout tips to a couple of guys who just came up to me and asked.

 

Tonight, after Patrick makes a green papaya salad for dinner, we’re all going back to hear the first solo concert being given by the winner of the first “Saba Idol” contest.

 

No kidding.  It’s Sabarrific!

(Oh, and those papayas for the salad?  From right off the tree, thank you very much.)

 

 

 

N.B.  I’m abandoning my earlier format of small square photos illustrating each entry:  it’s just too gorgeous here to crop things out.