Sumalee. Javier Salazar Calle

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СКАЧАТЬ I offered her one, we headed toward the group. I introduced her to all my companions, and I was amazed at how comfortable she was among so many strangers. When it was Damaso’s turn, who was already under the spell of the alcohol, he started throwing compliments screaming and I had to stop him.

      “Down boy! And you want to keep your hands off if you wanna keep them. Save your charms for another woman. Sumalee's with me tonight. We have a deal. Right?”

      “Sure thing. Just for you,” she said, as she winked at me and grabbed my arm. “We agreed not to separate for a moment today.”

      Damaso, Jerome, Josele and Diego looked at me amazed. They didn't know whether to think I'd been hit by the lottery or if there was a trap behind so much luck. I did not care; I just wanted the night to last forever. I was feeling euphoric. I had just arrived, and I had already linked. It was clear that my seven years with Cristina had not made me lose my legendary skill with women.

      We spent the entire party talking non-stop. We felt very comfortable with each other, as if we knew each other all our lives. She told me that she worked for a travel agency organizing mostly trips to Thailand, her country, or from there to Singapore. She had to leave because her mother was sick, and she needed to make more money to pay for the treatment. In Thailand she had a good job, but salaries were very low, so she came to Singapore as advised by a friend. With what she saved, she could send enough money home for her mother's medication. She was from an area called Chiang Rai, in the north of the country, almost bordering Myanmar and Laos. Her family was poor, and she had to work hard to get a scholarship and study Marketing at Thammasat University. When she finished school, she got a good job with a big company, but the salaries were very low compared with what she needed and that pushed her to Singapore, where, fortunately for me, she was now.

      We had many things in common. We both loved sport, travelling, reading, trying new things, adventure, everything related to space... As if we were soul mates. I couldn't believe my luck. The night seemed to be a success.

      I don't know at which point in the night we got there, but next thing I knew we were talking with her right hand over mine and caressed by my left hand. Her skin was very soft and I noticed a tightness in my chest that made it difficult to breathe. Also, because the music was very loud and there were a lot of people screaming, we had to talk to each other's ear, which made the situation even more exciting when she said something to me and her breath was stroking my face. We seemed like two lovers confiding into one another. It was hard not to turn and kiss and caress her, unleashing the burning that I noticed all over my body, but I didn't know the customs of the place and didn't want to ruin the night.

      We talked about my family, about what had brought me to Singapore... She asked me endless things of all kinds. How long I was going to be in Singapore, whether I liked to travel... She was very interested when I told her the whole story with my ex-girlfriend. She said she thought it was unbelievable that a girl could leave me for another. I was liking Sumalee more and more. She had definitely climbed positions to the top of my favourite people in Singapore.

      We had such complicity and confidence that we seemed to have been together all our life. As she spoke to me, I could smell her hair, which had a very defined fragrance that she later told me was jasmine, and I noticed a strange feeling that I hadn't felt in a long time.

      It felt as if I was falling in love, but I'm sure it wasn't that, but rather the sexual attraction of the first date. It seemed madness. I had just met her. She had a tragic story, but, although she seemed made to be my soul mate, it could have not been so easy.

      Did it make any sense?

Singapore 6

      The next morning, I had plans with Sumalee to spend the day together. She offered to show me the city and be my private guide, which I thought was a fantastic proposition. She was a travel professional and much prettier than Josele or Damaso. Besides, they had plans to play golf with the photographer and for me it was a sport that didn’t attract me much.

      Despite the fact that the party went on until late, we planned to meet early at the door of Leong Nam Temple in the Geyland neighbourhood because she told me she wanted to show me something that looked better early. We exchanged numbers in case anything came up and the first thing I did as soon as I woke up was to look at my phone fearing that she might have cancelled the date; but there were no messages from her. When I arrived, she was already there, waiting. She was wearing a pair of blue shorts that didn't even reach halfway on her thigh, a turquoise strap top and a very thin sweater, also a shade of blue. She was beautiful, she was beautiful, and she knew how to highlight it. When she saw me at a distance her face drew an incredible smile, and she came running toward me. She hugged me and kisses me on the cheek.

      “Hi, David! I couldn’t wait to see you.”

      She pronounced the 'a' of my name with a delicious mix of 'a' and 'i'. Something like Daivid, which sounded like heavenly music.

      “Hello. Me too. I couldn’t think of anything else since we said goodbye last night.”

      “You are so silly! It’s not that big of a deal.”

      “It is, believe me, it is. What are you going to show me today? You have me on fire!”

      “This is Geylang. It is among the least developed in Singapore and maintains the traditional cuisine of the area. Here is the traditional Asian market, Geylang Serai. It’s full of fruit shops and other fresh produce, almost all run by Malays. Sunday mornings is filled with people and noise, but if you come early you have the entire market to yourself,” she said enthusiastically. “I love coming at dawn and wandering through the stalls with the bustle of the merchants getting ready and the incredible outpour of mixture of fresh fruit before it gets filled with people and fades with other odours. It's like walking through orchards. It reminds me of some parts of my country.”

      You could see in her expression that she really enjoyed those walks.”

      “Sounds really good. Or maybe you're just a great seller. Let’s go! Show me around.”

      We began to wander among the greengrocers on the main streets and the lorong, which is what they call in Malay the side alleys. The houses were the same style like in the Indian neighbourhood, low, two stories and each one a different colour. We stopped in different spots and Sumalee explained to me the different typical fruits of the markets in this area: the longan, white on the inside, looked like a potato, the mango, which I already knew, the mangosteen, sweeter than the mango, and one that caught my attention, the durian, with spikes of greenish colour and the size of a small melon. When cut open it had a yellow pulp.

      “The weird thing about this fruit,” Sumalee said, “is that it has a very strong odour and because of it is prohibited eating it in public transport and hotels to avoid bothering those around. It really smells.” She said putting a piece under my nose which forced me to move away quickly to get away from the smell.

      “Is my nose dirty?”

      “One second,” Sumalee said and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped me carefully. I couldn’t stop staring at her while she was doing it. “Done.” Her gesture gave me a shiver.

      There were also many stalls with dry fish, frogs, eels. All a Western could expect from an oriental market.

      She was right. It was a relaxing walk with a mixture of sweet aromas that took you back to the countryside. As time passed it was filling up with people, very few of them westerners, and the noises and smells changed, losing all the original charm.

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