Our last night in Arumbol. Not sure if I am sad to leave. This morning I saw a spider with two bloated knees. KNEES, people! What was in them? Why only two? Ee gad.
So before I leave Arumbol I shall paint you a picture of our little home and as much of a day at the beach as I can before the internet crashes again, or there is a power cut, or the large-bellied owner of this internet cafe comes up and randomly takes my mouse to close all my windows and not explain why…
Our Arumbol home is on a cliffside, and from our perch you can see the endless ocean, palm-trees galore, and all manner of leaping chipmunks doing don’t-try-at-home stunts off of palm fronds and over the backs of cliffside cows.
We are so high up the cliff (and what a climb it is in the dark with only a torch to help your feet find your way past red-ant-ridden foliage and outdoor ‘plumbing’ (several hoses running from your room to the 20 foot well you are trying not to fall into) that you can see for miiiiiiiiiiiles. Fishing boats, stars, sunrise, confused backpackers telling streetside sellers no for the 400th time, crows with Toblerone boxes in their beaks (okay, I only saw one, but it was impressive in a bird balancing chocolate way).
So to the beach, just round here (watch that scratty dog sleeping on that side of the path, and avoid the fly-besieged cow pat, and don’t stop for a drink in there, we found a hair in their mango lassi), over this rocky outcrop, past the freshwater beach stream, and here you are. You’re right. It’s really very hot. How about a nice beach umbrella, sunbed, and a bit of rest and relaxation? Sat down? Shoes off? Suncream on? Ready to relax?
First you must decide if you would like a sarong, blanket, bracelet, necklace, smoke (wha?), set of silver salt and pepper shakers, bottle opener that looks like a mermaid, small silver elephant that weighs more than everything you own, henna tattoo, ankle bracelet, toe ring, mango, watermelon, papaya, cococococococonut, sometheeeeeeeeeeeng, stuff, things, giant MC Hammer trousers, peace and quiet (not offered but would be grand), gems, rubies, square foot of Taj Mahal, compliment about your handwriting as way of making selling conversation (mine is beautiful apparently, worth 100 Rps just to hear that), or maybe a beach umbrella to lie under so you can refuse to buy things in the shade instead of mad-dogs-and-English-us sunshine. Phew.
Safely relieved of at least some of your money, it’s either that or a “Why like this?” the seller lament that leads you to much soul searching. Why am I like this? What’s wrong with me? Should I want a mango? Am I lacking something? All that and a bit of sunburn (not me I hasten to add. I wear suncream at all times. *Looks accusingly at M and Rupee*), and you’re ready to return to the cold shower of your room, to douse yourself heavily in mozzie spray that occasionally works, and venture out to eat more of that lovely stuff they call curry.
But enough of that and just look at this. Oh yes. Soak it in, folks. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand relax…
And one more before I go because these ladies impress me more than I can possibly say:
Back to Bombay with us. And maybe faster Internet so I can show you the beasts I have encountered. It may take some time…
(PS I have fixed my RSS feed link now. It was broken. You may not have noticed.)
(PPS I started my socks! Woo hoo!)