Work is a pleasant stroll from my hotel - past the the onion sellers (apparently it's onion season), over the broken bridge to the fire station, past the machete-wielding coconut seller and the political enthusiast in party pyjamas who sells flags, past the man doing a tidy trade fixing tyres on the shady side of the road and finally past the cane furniture sellers. Behind them are Mr Daniel and Mr Charles who have a huge market garden and don't mind a chat about vegies.
A few days ago, I was walking behind this very mobile tailor - with a sewing machine on his shoulder, swishing scissors alerting potential customers (and surely, a song in his heart).
