Written Jan. 14, 2016
Story by Maggie, Photo by Dave
You develop a pattern, or it develops itself. Early morning tea (or coffee), then an omelet-no-salt, then others start to arrive by ones or twos. As the table fills and the shade recedes, the early ones leave.
After breakfast activity, maybe a tuk-tuk trip to Palolem or Chowdi, or a walk south along the three kilometres of sand to the end of the beach, thinking maybe this time you’ll get the nerve to climb the rocks. Maybe a trip to the spice farm, an hour’s drive in a 6-person van. Maybe a major excursion, two hours in two cars to Gokarna.
Lunch, a Greek salad. First safe salads in India, and you can’t get enough. Or something off the menu at the Israeli Cafe in Palolem, or a savoury pastry in the only Chowdi establishment you dare trust for eating.
At three a swim in the Arabian Sea. The Arabian Sea! It’s as romantic as it sounds. The water’s warmer than the air. We bounce with the waves, get bowled over by some, and try not to get sucked south. Keep an eye on the lifeguards’ lean-to.
Four o’clock shower. By the time your hair is washed, the water’s getting warm, so you stay in longer than you should.
Turn the chair on the porch around so your back’s to the lowering sun, so the light’s just right on your trashy novel. By five, you figure it’s okay to have a glass of that cheap Indian-wine-under-the-direction-of-an-Italian-winemaker. The glass was a gift from the store that sold you the wine. It’s meant for beer, but it’s better than a cut-off plastic water bottle. The wine is best by day three.
Six-thirty, change for dinner, which means wrapping a bright-coloured lungi (cotton cloth) over your t-shirt and lounge pants. Other people are better dressed, but you really don’t care anymore.
Dinner, something from the sea. And your new-found true love: a gin lemonana. Lemon and mint in a frothy, icy drink. The gin didn’t seem necessary until you tried it.
Home, 8:30. Leave your flip-flops on the ground at the bottom of your steps. Climb to your grass hut. Greet the frog that’s been hanging out in your bathroom since day one. Climb under the mosquito net, wondering when the mosquitoes are going to show up, or if your frog is what’s keeping them at bay.
Sleep to the slow sound of the ocean, like you’ve never slept before.
From Dave....
Here's a quick pic of a couple of Annes on the beach, heading for dinner!
Also, a few pics from Hampi over on:
indiablog2016.blogspot.com
Story by Maggie, Photo by Dave
You develop a pattern, or it develops itself. Early morning tea (or coffee), then an omelet-no-salt, then others start to arrive by ones or twos. As the table fills and the shade recedes, the early ones leave.
After breakfast activity, maybe a tuk-tuk trip to Palolem or Chowdi, or a walk south along the three kilometres of sand to the end of the beach, thinking maybe this time you’ll get the nerve to climb the rocks. Maybe a trip to the spice farm, an hour’s drive in a 6-person van. Maybe a major excursion, two hours in two cars to Gokarna.
Lunch, a Greek salad. First safe salads in India, and you can’t get enough. Or something off the menu at the Israeli Cafe in Palolem, or a savoury pastry in the only Chowdi establishment you dare trust for eating.
At three a swim in the Arabian Sea. The Arabian Sea! It’s as romantic as it sounds. The water’s warmer than the air. We bounce with the waves, get bowled over by some, and try not to get sucked south. Keep an eye on the lifeguards’ lean-to.
Four o’clock shower. By the time your hair is washed, the water’s getting warm, so you stay in longer than you should.
Turn the chair on the porch around so your back’s to the lowering sun, so the light’s just right on your trashy novel. By five, you figure it’s okay to have a glass of that cheap Indian-wine-under-the-direction-of-an-Italian-winemaker. The glass was a gift from the store that sold you the wine. It’s meant for beer, but it’s better than a cut-off plastic water bottle. The wine is best by day three.
Six-thirty, change for dinner, which means wrapping a bright-coloured lungi (cotton cloth) over your t-shirt and lounge pants. Other people are better dressed, but you really don’t care anymore.
Dinner, something from the sea. And your new-found true love: a gin lemonana. Lemon and mint in a frothy, icy drink. The gin didn’t seem necessary until you tried it.
Home, 8:30. Leave your flip-flops on the ground at the bottom of your steps. Climb to your grass hut. Greet the frog that’s been hanging out in your bathroom since day one. Climb under the mosquito net, wondering when the mosquitoes are going to show up, or if your frog is what’s keeping them at bay.
Sleep to the slow sound of the ocean, like you’ve never slept before.
From Dave....
Here's a quick pic of a couple of Annes on the beach, heading for dinner!
Also, a few pics from Hampi over on:
indiablog2016.blogspot.com
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