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I like that; so Faith any requests?”I giggled, “Maybe I will fit in more if I can surf better. But tell me what should I call you.”“Surfing, easy babe. While I try to make people use my Chinese name it is a losing battle and so just call me Pixie.”So we spent an hour in the water together every day and I learnt the basics of surfing and as a result came to be a little more respected by all.And amazingly right from the start there was an easy, almost intuitive, style that Pixie and I had with each other. She often would add something idiomatic to what I said, and that helped me break through my nervousness, enabling me to increasingly feel able to join in the banter.But even though I had started to fit in, I still, last thing every night and first thing every morning, gazed at the photograph of my mother in Prague. The winter light that played on her face felt connected to the summer light that now played on mine. But I envied her the map she confidently held in her hand.The newness. I wasn't upset, pleased, excited or anxious. I was disconnected from my emotions. I was just there. Time did not exist. I could have been there minutes, an hour or longer, I do not know. I was not aware of the passing of time.During that timeless interval, a dozen or so men approached me-one at a time-and looked me over. At the time, I knew I was being appraised for something. But what for? Again, I didn't know. I didn't care. Of the twelve or so, three of these men stood out from the rest.The first, I call the accountant. He was tall and thin. He looked me over for what seemed like minutes; seemly, inspecting every feature, looking for imperfections and comparing me to the other women. He reminded me of a bookkeeper from a Charles Dickens novel, sitting at his tall desk and scrutinizing the figures, except in this case the figure was mine.As he looked me over, I sensed admiration mixed with apprehension, a fear of missing something better. I found myself ambivalent as to whether I.
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