There is only one papaya tree in my garden. It was tiny when we moved into the house, but when I cut away all the knee-high weeds surrounding it, it shot up and grew into a 3 meter high tree within one and a half years. And it grows the sweetest papayas I have ever tasted. No comparison to the supermarket variety.
I now need to step onto a garden chair to pick the fruits, which makes them all the more sweeter.
Papaya trees can have one of three sexes: male, female, or hermaphrodite. It’s the last one you want if you have a tiny garden like me, because hermaprodite trees grow flowers that can pollinate themselves. Female trees need a male nearby and lots of insects to pollinate their flowers to bear fruit, male trees can’t bear fruits at all.
By sheer luck this tree is self-pollinating. There was also a male one in a shady area that I chopped down and put into the compost… sorry mate.
I pick the fruit when it turns slightly yellow with still green spots mixed in and then let it ripen in my kitchen fruit bowl. The seeds are also edible and have a sharp mustardy/ wasabi flavor. I just pop them into my mouth as I peel and slice the papaya, but I have also seen recipes that use them for salad dressing.
Papaya has protein digestive enzymes, especially prevalent in unripe fruit. So that Thai special, the papaya salad, which uses green papaya is especially good as an appetizer to a big steak. I have also seen a chef on TV, who wrapped beef in papaya leaves for a few days to make it especially tender. I have yet to try that. I can’t bear to tear down the big leaves of our tree. They look so beautiful and sculptural at the end of their upturned stalks.
The birds love the tree as well. They land on the long leaf stalks and chirp loudly, probably to warn their friends of the white lion lounging below.
I kept him inside the house for the first two weeks, and he was bored as hell. His favorite spot was the chair next to the window. Mealtimes were the highlights of his days.
Last week I let him out for the first time. Wow… happiness is a cat that can smell, explore, eat grass, disappear for a few hours into the unknown. I stalked him. He explored our garden, went around the neighbor’s house, smelled their cats, then went for a pee near the fence, then disappeared into the unknown. A few hours later he was back, looking happy and exhausted.
I know that the four month in quarantine weren’t easy for M., but the good thing is that he learnt to use the cat loo. He peed on the sofa and crapped on a pile of laundry in our house in Dubai. Baby nappies smell like roses in comparison to cat pee. I had to call in the professionals to clean the sofa. Now he goes to the cat loo or pees in the neighbor’s garden… good cat.
Friends told me that there is a dog in our village that kills cats to defend his territory, so my preference would have been for M. to become an indoor cat, but he was looking too miserable. The killer dog is at the other end of the village, and should they ever cross paths I am hoping that M. will know how to defend himself. After all, he was the undisputed king of Umm Suqueim. Doggy run if you can.
Today I bought him a Harley Davidson collar for good measure. It says “Bad to the bone” and has printed fish bones for decoration. I hope the village dogs know what’s good for them.
Thank you all for your kind Christmas messages. We arrived in Hong Kong a couple of days ago after being stuck in a snow storm in Beijing for more than six hours, where we transferred. We were the lucky ones, others had to camp in the transit lounge for several days. Apparently, it was the heaviest snow fall in Beijing in 60 years.
I am busy house hunting, but yesterday I squeezed in a visit to M. at the quarantine facility.
His “jail” cell is very nice, but of Hong Kong proportions: a small glass closet with shelving and several boxes to cozy up in along the walls. The employees are very nice, and M. seems to be ok, just a bit bored.
Call it female intuition, but I knew that Dubai would not be home. Looks like we are out of here very soon. It wasn’t love at first sight, and it wasn’t love at second sight, but I am grown up enough to know that it was partly my own fault that prevented Dubai from taking a place in my heart.
Most people here don’t see it as their home, and that is part of the problem. It is a place to make money. It is a transient place. Most people don’t care enough to make it a better place. To those who do, you have my utmost respect, and I wish you success.
Here is what I loved about Dubai:
1) M., the cat. I will try to bring you to HK. It will not be easy. It will be expensive. But you meowed into our heart, and I will try to make sure that your bowl will always be full to the end of your days.
2) My garden. I wish I could bring all my plants to HK. I know it’s folly to water a garden in this kind of climate, but to care for paradise for a year was heaven.
3) The friends little man found. Little man wants to return to HK, because it’s his home. But he wants to take his two best friends from Dubai with him. I am trying to convince their parents that HK is the place to be.
4) The Indian bread baker in Satwa. Sir, I can taste that you love what you do, and in the queue in front of your tiny store, I could see that we are all one people.
5) It’s shallow, I know, but I fell in love with a Bavarian beauty. There were a lot of dicey situations on Dubai roads, but you always brought us home safe. I hope you will bring the same kind of luck to the people who will drive you next.
6) The Thai fast food restaurant in Ibn Battuta Mall. Your spicy shrimp-bean stir-fry made my stomach leap with joy. Little man loves your shrimp balls. Thank you!
7) Ms. J, I know that you went through hell, being a mum myself. Loosing your child is the worst you can experience. Please know that you made a difference to those who you cared for. You are a marvelous teacher, and I wish you happiness.
I don’t know if you will understand, but I am afraid of returning home. Paradise is were you imagine it to be, and I hope HK will come close.
M. (we can’t reveal his full name) is feeling sluggish too:
M. knocked out
M. used to shred our trash bags. One day he sat right in front of the kitchen door and cried like a baby. House guest, little man, and I ran to the door, and instead of finding an abandoned child in a basket, found this white casanova with turquoise eyes. He is thoroughly spoilt by now. Loves finely cut minute steak, hates Whiskas.
