After a sluggish Saturday, we went to the other side of town to a neighborhood called Whitefield, an amusing irony since this is a place where there are many expats living in gated communities with their golden retrievers and riding lawnmowers. The patio bar was hosting performances of a local music academy, where people of all ages were coming onstage for their recitals in a casual and modern setting (the pheads I’m looking for is non-corny). The audience was full of families gathered to watch the students perform. But, before 10pm someone’s uncle was doubled over at a perfect 90 degree angle, emptying his guts on the floor while the entire patio went silent, yet no one raised to claim him. The employees carried on and let him continue his retching. Afterwards, the poor fella spent the rest of the evening sitting on the floor of the men’s room or near the exit with his head in his hands. My feet and ankles are now swollen and red with welts from mosquito bites. Everyone suffers somehow in Whitefield. 