Bread Van Man

Andreas sprung to his feet, action stations, and leaped without a word through the gap in the open window, over to the makeshift, wooden fence.
"Aaaayyy" he shouted, my curosity was settled by the whistling tune that preceded the little red van.

It came to a breaking holt on the opposite side of the road, it's glass display box on the back, contents wobbeling, idled. He ducked back through the open window, a fleeting glance, grabbed some loose notes from the carpet and dashed back the way he had come, before sprinting across the hot tar road.

Twice a day the little red vans, driver in front and sales attendant standing out back. Circle the villages selling their oven baked goodies from the bakeries, 'cake factories' like the one I visited before on my adventure into the hills.

Stacked with rows and rows, of sweet and salty snack's, buns filled with sliced omelet, curried fish, hot dog sausages, spicy onion and chicken. Loaves of bread and sweet things, like buns with sugar or jam on, or inside, pink or red or green. These mouth water selections cost between 20 and 60 rupees.
They drive around with speakers blaring out a loud whistling tune, from an old western, McQueen or Bronson, I'm guessing. Just have not been able to place it yet, those who know me well, know I have seen just about everyone ever filmed.

I readed the kettle for coffee, in anticipation of Andreas's return and fantisised over what treasures he'd return with. The long, blonde haired German had been here much longer than I, I trusted his taste and judgement. I egerly watched from the open window, his head bobbing up and down, he peered through the side windows before returning to the back to place the order.

It was the late afternoon van, around 3:30pm, perfect timing, we'll eat, drink and then splash into the sea for a surf, cooler now. He followed his smile back through the open window, full plastic bag in hand.

"Hey, I just made it man" he grinned and placed the yellow bag on the carpet, "that guy was going fast, man."

The carpet was his only piece of furniture in the lounge, where we hung out, at his rented house. It made me chuckle and sometimes I would call him "Lebowski" because of it. He did remind me a little of the 'Dude' with his laid back attitude.