My morning run included a free fresh breakfast along the way. Aromatic, creamy, luscious, ripened on the tree mangoes.
Sometimes too far up in tall trees. My option was to find a fresher one on the ground.
My hardest task was to get the fibers off my teeth (yes, the indigenous mangoes are small and full of fibers) and walk up the hill until I reached a faucet conveniently located at the front garden of a neighborhood church.
Of course, my run would stop at the first mango tree, and from then on, an arduous pilgrimage from one tree to another, until I was full and satisfied. Or no ripe mangoes left on those trees. (Hey, they don't ripen all at once.)
On some bad days, I would also get some guavas.
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