We turned down a narrow road, surrounded by a forest of traveler’s trees.

“It must make life difficult,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t drive. How do you manage?”

“I usually find someone who knows how.”

“I’ll bet you do. I mean, you’d have to, wouldn’t you?”

She touched her jaw a bit. We passed a rice field. I saw several women in straw hats bending in it. Winnowing, cutting, threshing, gathering? What do you do with rice?

“You were right,” I said. “That rice tea you made for us was very refreshing.”

“Rice water it’s actually called. I just say tea because you English say tea.”

“I’m not English; I’m American.”

“I know. I don’t know why I said English. Yes, I do know why. Vinandratsy’s last friend was English.”

I said nothing but a butterfly jumped into my belly and started beating wings.

“Vinandratsy said you wouldn’t eat the zebu sandwiches I made.”

“I was going to, but he said it was made out of the hump of the zebu. For someone who travels as much as I do, I’m not good with international cuisine. I always chicken out.”

“Chicken out?”

“I mean, lose courage.”

“The hump’s the best part. I hope you don’t think I made you some scraps of pieces. In the old days, zebu’s hump used to be royal food. Only kings and queens were allowed to eat it, but now almost anyone does.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You should be more adventuresome with food though,” she advised. “I think you never really get to know a country till you explore its food. Of course it’s easier to preach than it is to do. I bet you’ve never eaten grasshoppers, have you?”

“No and don’t intend to.”

She laughed. “You think you haven’t. You gobbled that soup up last night and said it was delicious.”

The butterfly turned into a caterpillar.

“It tasted like garlic,” I said, matter-of-factly. “I thought it was turtle soup or something.”

“I know you did. Vinandratsy kept asking you if you really wanted that. The Englishwoman ate it too.”

The butterfly.

“Vinandratsy thinks he’s done his part if he asks you if you really want it.”

“Family joke, huh?”

“And it gets funnier. You got to know more about our country than you realize. Do you want me to tell you what else was in that soup?”

“No.”

The look she gave me was inscrutable.

I stared into another rice field.

“The Englishwoman wasn’t a bit amused either. She went back to Manchester.”

I watched the trees.

She wore a long red silk scarf around her neck, which kept flying back, hitting me against the shoulder.

“But Vinandratsy and I are not just anyone, you see. We have royal blood running in our veins. One of the branches of our family can be traced back to Queen Betia. Eh, but it doesn’t matter these days. Such things don’t matter anymore. No one makes a fuss over royalty today.”