benicek: (Default)
Spent another long night shift working with my entertaining maniac Mauritian colleague who enjoys addressing me as 'darling' all the time. Occasionally he would laugh nervously and wonder aloud "what if people could hear me calling you darling? They would think I am a gay or something!" He continuously and severely criticises my sloppy workmanship while trying to keep a straight face. "You gotta learn how to iron your patients, darling" he insists. 'Ironing' is surprisingly effective at making unconscious patients look comfortable and neat, and involves pulling sheets tight underneath them and folding away any loose cloth, a bit like wrapping a parcel. I'm getting better at it now. Still, I had the last laugh, because he got stuck looking after the 135kg patient, hoho.

Waking up this afternoon I noticed that an old Hong Kong classmate of mine was on-line. She moved to Mauritius some years ago when her husband's bank relocated him there. I started quizzing her about life on the island. I work with dozens of Mauritians but they rarely discuss life 'back home'. It doesn't seem to interest them much. "Well, my husband loves it here" she told me "because he can play golf every day, but I do so much pine to be anywhere in ASIA again". It's a small-town sort of place, she explained. Like being trapped on holiday in Bali all the time. "Nice beaches, but just how many T-shirts can you buy before you get bored with them?" Poverty and petty thieving are rife. The grass is always greener, I suppose.

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