The curious life of an expatriate

In what may become a protracted discussion with our favourite coffee shop, today we insisted on real glasses for our drinks to avoid plastic being wasted, which they don't usually do for anything bigger than a coffee. My large frappe (cream optional but obviously selected) was split into two and we guessed the drink had been measured out in a plastic cup which was then discarded, rendering the whole thing meaningless.

I couldn't give a monkeys about how my drink looks but I do think they should invest in bigger glasses for all types of drink on their menu, and I have written to them with such a plea. I have spent enough on banana bread at this place to be listened to.

In more serious events, the security of living here is in a lot of people's minds at the moment after a Dutch woman was murdered earlier this week and her baby left critically ill after being attacked by a screwdriver. Extreme events like this probably happen with the same irregularity as in most places, but petty crime seems quite rife at the moment. I was cycling behind a French woman in a tuk tuk earlier whose bag was snatched and whose bloodcurdling screams as she was nearly dragged onto the road were a shock to the system. As the first English speaker to try and support her I felt pretty helpless and all I could do was offer her a few dollars to get home. I hope she got some assistance from the nearby police officers who she went to speak to, but I fear that wouldn't have been particularly fruitful for her.