i’m running to the hulhumale ferry terminal. the ferry leaves on the hour and i had thought a ten minute window was more than enough. but apparently not at my speed.

@shaari_ had bought my ticket for me, being the kind man he is.

‘in the dick of time,’ he grins.

right.

we get on the ferry. it’s air conditioned, which must have happened fairly recently because the last time that i went on this ferry, which was around april, it was still being cooled by the wind.

i’m telling this to shaari and he nods and looks around.

‘it’s just us, some expatriates [read bangladeshis] and a white terrorist,’ he observes.

‘yeah, migrant workers mostly, and sometimes white backpackers take the ferry,’ i tell him.

‘we’re backpackers in our own country,’ shaari says. he’s wearing a denim blue t-shirt and jeans. if you know shaari you’d obviously know the shirt says something. this time it’s ‘free shrugs.’

i try to shrug off the joke.

–

at patio, it’s much too hot to stay outdoors so we venture in and take a seat at the far end.

we know what we want, the slow cooked ribs – on the recommendation of a reader (you know who you are). but it isn’t to be.

so we have to go for substitutes – i choose the beef stew and garlic rice, shaari the sri lankan curry with bread.

‘this happened the last time i came here, too,’ says shaari. ‘something’s up with their supplier.’

‘something’s missin’’ i say.

soon the meals arrive and by god, the stew is mind-meltingly good. the meat falls apart in my mouth, it has absorbed the rich spice-filled gravy but has its own deep, meaty taste, stronger when i eat the chunks of fat (a bad but delicious habit). shaari’s meal, he says, is no less beautiful, reminding him of the curries in lanka but also eid keun.

all in all, we spend an hour on lunch and, paying a bill that’s less than 400MVR, we walk out into the day to take the ferry back.

‘i’ll get your ticket,’ i tell shaari when we arrive at the counter. but it turns out a ticket costs 10 and not 5 MVR.

when we’re in our seats shaari says: ‘so, this proves you haven’t been on the ferry like you’ve been implying.’

oh yes i have, i’ve just been paying with bigger notes, and not checking the balance,’ i tell him quickly.

‘right.’

‘i mean, what are we trying to prove here?’ i say. ‘that we’re a couple of working class stiffs? we just ate from PATIO dammit.’

shaari laughs.

‘next time, we’re going to the indian place in hm to check out the dosas,’ he says.

‘we’re taking the ferry again?’

‘yes.’

a comforting thought.