RANSVESTIA
and we toasted each other, and there was hardly a discernible pause before she opened the conversation by telling me she had several hours to wait for a bus. With only very little and occasional prompt- ing from me she went on to tell me all about her recent move to a house far out in the "wop-wops" some 30 or 40 miles from where we sat. Her husband was "in the railway" and he had just been trans- ferred from a pleasant sunny town on South Island, where they had many friends, etc., and she had been a part-time teacher of Maori language and culture. She was "in town" today for some new linoleum and other important purchases, and enjoyed having some- one to talk with, to help fill the long hours.
She was fascinated by the brief sketch I gave her of the "foreign tourist" and regaled me with a list of places I must see and things I must do I "might not get another chance." She told me a little I already knew, and much I didn't know, about the Maori people, and especially the attitudes of the parents to education. She was a very sweet and kindly person, and very soon I forgot I was playing a part. Occasionally I had caught myself listening to myself, and even ask- ing myself if this was real, but an involuntary movement of my nylon- clad legs, or the sight of my startling red nails when I made some gestures, assured me that indeed it WAS real, and happening. I was fascinated, and thrilled together, by the new and beautiful insight I had of a person that would never have come the way of my brother. Time wore on, and we "shouted rounds" alternately, according to irrefutable custom, and I became increasingly con- cerned that it was long past the time when my friend in another city expected me. With sincere thanks for a most enjoyable interlude, I gathered my paraphernalia and returned to the cold and the rain, but not before I "paid a visit" and repaired my makeup.
When I stopped at the next place, a tiny hamlet, the rain was even fiercer than before. I splashed my way into the tiny Post Office where I asked the plump, pleasant-faced woman there to put a toll call through for me to G's cheerful voice welcomed me and asked where I was and if I was in trouble. I told him guardedly, em- phasizing "Kristina" in my strongest accent, that I was all right and would be reaching him soon. He told me, equally guardedly, that he no longer had the nosey, often-dropping-in female neighbour, and to get there safely. I paid for the call at the counter and had a brief conversation with the lady, also asking how much driving time it would take me to get to my destination. Again, there was nothing
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