Since moving to Tonga, I have developed a love-hate relationship with Sundays.
Everything slows down here. The culture dictates that there are only three things that are appropriate to do on the seventh day of the week: eat, sleep and rest.
There are no afternoon trips to Target with your best friend.
No coffee dates at Starbucks.
Forget about hikes in the foothills.
No frantic planning for teaching during the coming week.
I sound like I’m complaining. But this is something I am getting used to and something that I need to embrace. I still get restless. I still feel like I should be doing more on this day, but instead I’m slowing down. This is good for me.
The last couple of Sunday afternoons, some could say that I have “cheated”. I spend an hour doing yoga, but to me this is a form of relaxation, so though some Tongans would say “Oua Mandy! ‘Ikai fakamalohisino!” (Don’t Mandy! No exercise!) I’m saying that this doesn’t count. It’s just practicing living in the moment and finding some peacefulness.
That is, until today. I was about thirty minutes into a very relaxing yoga session, when I had a visitor. For those of you familiar with yoga, I was in the downward dog position (my body forming an upside down V on the mat) when I opened my eyes, looked between my legs and met the gaze of the largest rat I’ve ever seen.
Peering his head around the corner, seeing if he had a clear getaway to the outside exit located underneath the sink, I met his gaze. I mean he wasn’t even scared of me. He was the size of a small squirrel and was just hanging out. His beady little eyes seemed to be judging me. That little bugger.
Needless to say, Mandy vs. the Kuma: Round 3 commences tomorrow. While preparing for this match I was looking for the rat poison and found that my little friend had left presents in my cupcake holders. One little present in each. You're so going down, Mr. Kuma.