Lobster Feast

Yesterday, we took a trip to the market.  Mark toted his sleeping bag along, hoping to make a swap.  It turns out that around here swaps are the equivalent of throwing something in for free, a little something to sweeten existing cash price; we didn’t care because Mark had acquired a free sleeping bag that some other traveler had left behind, and he didn’t have room to carry two.  We found some stone turtle and hippo carvings, a set of wooden giraffe serving utensils, necklaces, and a wooden box with Africa emblazoned on it.  Up until this point, we haven’t purchased souvenirs because we don’t have room to carry them around, but Heidi had extra space in her travel bag and is heading back to Colorado in a few days, so we were able to work out shipping without having to physically trek to the post office.  (Thanks, Heidi, you rock!)

A ways down from the market is the point.  We had already traversed the majority of the sandy beach, so out of curiousity, we a trudged a little further, toward the curved hill with an unknown world behind it.  We discovered an exciting world of fishermen.  One man had a basket filled with fish he had caught using only a piece of line with a hook baited with tiny shrimp.  He displayed his catch in the sand, about twenty beautiful fish organized by type.  The tropical tangerine and turquoise one caught my eye- it looked too pretty to eat.  The rest were a mix of perch, white everyday fish and long shimmery light blue ones with pointy marlin-like noses.  Another man was carrying a blue plastic bag with pointy red fibers protruding from it.  We must have looked curious because he opened the bag to reveal three freshly caught lobsters.  We weren’t even hungry, but they were so beautiful that Mark started haggling.

Boiling Lobsters

Janette

Lobster Fest 2011
LR: Heidi, Annie, Mark, Joel, Mike

Cooked to Perfection

We ended up with 9 gorgeous blue-eyed, pinchless lobsters for about $45 USD (when Heidi, Joel, and Mike found out about the deal, they wanted in too).  The kitchen at Fatima’s agreed to cook them for us, then changed their mind citing health department regulations.  Having only ever cooked lobster once, we weren’t quite sure what to do, so we asked if someone from the kitchen could show us how it was done.  They sent us back to the communal kitchen with a maid named Janette.  Over the past two weeks, Janette hadn’t been particularly friendly with us.  She scowled and never responded when we said “hello,” but when her cell phone rang, we observed alternate behavior; she became chipper, talkative, and full of laughter.  So, we offered her a soda and hoped for the best.  She beamed as she showed Mark how to boil, salt, and cut the lobsters.  Meanwhile, Heidi and I went back to the market for a side of pineapple, dipping butter, and garlic for our garlic toast that we had acquired from a deaf-mute man who had tapped us on the shoulder and wrote 100m in the sand.  By the time Heidi and I returned, Janette and Mark had almost completed the meal.  We feasted while swatting at flies that appeared out of nowhere.  When we had eaten to our hearts content, we cleaned our table, washed our dishes, and left Janette a tip.  We weren’t sure, but it sounded like smiling Janette said in Portugese, “Tomorrow you buy one more lobster.”  As I walked away, I saw a security guard sifting through the garbage bin, building a plate of lobster shells, to pick for bits of overlooked meat.  It made me uncomfortable.  I felt ashamed to watch a grown man digging in the dumpster.