I get it

I spent in total eight or nine (I can’t add) days in Palolem beach and I suppose it took me a little while to discover that it’s a bit of a nightmare. I guess it is partly that I’m just not quite used to beach life. I didn’t quite know what to expect. I never had childhood holidays sitting on a beach doing frig all. I was lucky to see the sunshine. A weekend down the pit if I had been particularly good that year. A smack in the face with a sandy towel if I behaved well.

Luxury.

So Palolem beach. I was confused. I thought maybe all beaches were like this. I thought that something about sea and sand required 260 restaurants to be built on the shore. I thought palm trees meant that you had to listen to a Brummie accent discussing a disappointing taxi ride.

But no. It’s not true. I’ve spent the last four nights in Agonda beach. It is the next one up and it is lovely. It is comparatively deserted. The beach is clear. The daily dive into the ocean is met with the sight of trees, sand and possibly a beach hut. Not a hundred pricks on sunloungers pumping out Bob Marley.

Bob Marley! And for the record, Jack Johnson can kiss my (increasingly noticeably) white ass. No I don't know how to play any of his songs. They suck.

Ahem.

My days have been sparse to say the least. Uneventful. Yes. Boring? No not really. Just sparse. I haven’t done much. I don’t really want to.

I found a beach hut right next to the sea. I pay 100 rupees a night, which is a good price. I spend my days reading, writing, walking, swimming and hanging out with a small bunch of people around the place. I came here with a German friend, Wolfgang who is also an excellent musician (I collect them) and we are going to make the venture back to Palolem beach tonight to play some songs at the organised open-mic night I did last week. Obviously we both secretly love the place.

Wolfgang is thirty. You would think to look at him he was two thirds his age. Young at heart. He plays the sitar as well. Nice.

Yesterday I saw dolphins. I was sitting by my hut reading, of all things, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and someone pointed out to the ocean. I saw a couple of dolphins hurtling themselves into the air and crashing down in a big white splosh. It was rather magnificent. They danced all morning.

While lying in bed each night I can hear the perpetual surf break from the womb-like mosquito net they have installed. I feel much more important when I’m in this cocoon. It’s cosy.

Slowly I am finding there are some really good people around the place. Next door is a German couple. The guy looks like a hippy version of Billy Bob Thornton (with long thin dreads). He has nice music this guy. I spent this morning listening to some very far out jazz acoustic guitar.

So I don’t know what is happening to this blog. I find I bore myself writing it. I can’t imagine what it is like to read when these people and places are just some distant, vaguely conceived images, with accompanying photos.

Anyway, just so you know, each day I stare out at the sea for hours. The sunset is spectacular. The petroleum dusk-grey that the orange sky turns the sea is, well, confusing. I sit watching the waves come and go. A boat will occasionally drift by. Maybe I see someone dive in for a swim. The rolling constant of immense natural strength and peaceful calm.

Ahh, better.