|Sunset view from 'One Love' up in the hills of Arambol...|
Anyone remember that really old commercial where some brunette beauty comes on screen, swishing her gorgeous mane around, advertising some shampoo or another, and states directly to camera, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful". :)
Context is everything. And in that vein, don't hate ME because I happen to be in 'Paradise' at the moment - because believe you me - like most/many of you I shall in a few days be back to chilling my bones and shivering my way through layer upon layer of jumpers as I sip endless cups of tea and enviously peruse pics of the lucky souls that happen to currently be (or better yet permanently reside) in exotic climes.
But for now, I'm on my third last day of Paradise Living and I'm starting to feel a touch down.
You see last night night the husband and I arrived back from a one night/two day 150 km. motorcycle tour up the length of Goa and back - stopping in as many old skool haunts as we could and revelling in the way so many places had changed and yet others had remained incredibly un-changed.
|Having yet another fresh lime soda at Calangute Beach during a quick stopover|
|...whilst the husband indulges in a Tuborg :)|
What we thought would be a brilliant chance to escape the monsters (let's just be honest and say 'parenting') for a couple of days and return back rejuvenated and somewhat sated, has this morning unfortunately settled into a mild sense of despair and fear (of normal life)...for me at least.
Think of it as giving a former heroin addict one last hit of the pure stuff, and imagine the ecstasy as the drugs race through the body delighting synapses of old remembered pleasure zones and turning the world technicolor again. Ah the bliss...
|We call it 'Sweat Water Lake' on account of all the bodies marinating within :)|
Then imagine coming down...the withdrawal....and being told that it was a one-off and that one must simply revel in the memory for the next several years and forget about ever having another hit again.
Now maybe you understand how I feel this morning whilst I bask in the warmth of the sun and contemplate a return to old Blighty on Sunday.
|The husband in the adult creche 'One Love'...should have left him there he was happy :)|
For most, a three week holiday is a divine undertaking and a super-indulgent treat that we should be (and truly are) appreciative of. But you see, yesterday in Arambol, the husband softly playing bongos to wicked music high up on the hills whilst sipping chai and reclining on big burlap pillows and cushions - for all the world feeling like our twenty-year old selves of yesteryear - well, in hindsight it was a disaster.
We got to pop back in time ever so briefly and access one of the more blissful experiences of our youth (travel, adventure, motorcycles, mayhem) and we took to it like no time had passed at all. Our very own 'Back to the Future' moment.
We kipped for five quid a night in a leaning beach shack on stilts which looked (and felt!) so precariously unstable that we wondered whether during the night it might just tilt over into the sea and leave us the subject of a Daily Mail article the next day (they love those crazy 'children left orphans as middle class couple from borough of Wandsworth slide into sea to their death as they slumber' stories).
|Our beach shack is the one directly above green umbrella with two red chairs on 'verandah' :)|
But we also read, listened to tunes, chilled, swam, and laughed. Mostly we giggled ourselves stupid long into the night while listening to the same acid house track on repeat because neither of us could be bothered to change it :)
In short we had the best time EVER and met our usual coterie of crazy characters - as well as our beloved 'Mendhi Man' Ulash, who has been doing the most gorgeous artistic designs on my ever changing body for the past fourteen odd years :)
|Our 'Mendi Man' Ulash with his wife and youngest son|
|...who did this :)|
Truth be told we all got a bit choked up seeing each other again, and clinked pepsi bottles as we took in the precious randomness of the moment and the encounter itself.
Whipping through hills and villages on the Enfield with the glorious wind whipping through your hair while listening to great tunes on your ipod is a feeling quite incomparable to anything else. It's kind of like starring in a wicked music video of your own life and is one of the most exhilarating bouts of freedom one can experience.
I don't wanna go home hai :(
|...who can blame me?!|