on ubin, we took a break at one of the various ramshackle kampung huts for drinks and respite from the heat. one of our number had admitted shamefully that he did not know how to ride a bicycle. on aggregate, sympathy won out over derision, but only by the slimmest of margins. so we walked, and were more tired than we needed to be, and the ice lemon tea was very much a necessity by late afternoon. we sat down next to the only other party in the shelter: three civil servants immersed in a very earnest discussion about educational policy and overseas scholarships, and once again it struck me: the administration here is the graveyard of shibboleths. occasionally, one of a family of mongrels would trot up to us and inquire in a doggy way whether we had any food. we did not.

the elderly drinks seller, who also happened to live in the place, soon decided to be chatty. he was awfully robust for someone who looked like he was pushing 70, and talk oh his health soon revealed the fact that apart from his day job, he also happened to be an apothecary of sorts, and for 22 years has been busily doling out cures for all kinds of maladies, including hypertension, malaria and cancer. we sieved through his herbs, and a. took some photographs, but my camera was messed up so i can't post them here. they were more weeds than herbs, really, nondescript, and a cactus. people come to me, the apothecary-of-sorts said (in chinese), telling me that they have intestinal cancer or leukemia and that the doctors say that they only have 3 months to live. i tell them to take these and they come back in 6, completely well. the weeds are brittle, and to be honest, look like they contain the medicinal properties of a twig. still, the man is charming and twinkly, and we ask lots of questions and buy another drink.

do you think? i asked a. as we were walking back to the jetty, that he tells that story to everyone who will give him an audience. almost certainly, he said, so back at home, i googled singapore ubin cure cancer and got at least several hits for blogs telling the same story (i'm not going to link to them; you can go yourself if you care). the internet really does take the numinousness out of everything. i bet that if you found an oracle in kathmandu who told you the meaning of life someone will already have blogged about it. some stories are cheapened with retelling. it's so much more romantic to believe that we had chanced upon someone who really had discovered a panacea, and that the secret belonged only to us; it's fun once in a while to just suspend disbelief and murder rationalism and live, momentarily, in a space where the impossible is not.

#11: When someone opens a gift you get them, and you can tell from that instantaneous look on their face that you have got them exactly the right thing.