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.
Not a hard task.
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 ripened all at once.)
On some bad days, I would also get some guavas.