We took a trip for our ten year anniversary. I took an internet vacation, more or less, but I brought my laptop with me and wrote descriptions of each day. I’ll publish them here, after the fact, perhaps with some editing and perhaps not (it’s been very busy, ya’ll, I billed 22 hours just this weekend). I’ll try to insert pictures. It was a special trip with my love – – – though it’s been a hard landing, coming home.
Red clay tile roof. White trim, white railings, white building. Dark brown deck floor.
Blue sky, white clouds. Riot of foliage. A hedge, low scrub, yellow clusters of flowers. Palms to my right. Two wooden, straight backed chairs, with arms – stained a warm, orangey shade of brown. A small round table. Broad palm leaves, sawtooth palm? A battered wooden roll up shade, palm fronds peek around it.
A settee, full size, futon and several pillows.
Dawn over the roof of the building that is between us and the sea. I can only see a tiny speck of sea, between the leaves. We haven’t paid enough for a sea view, though we have paid dearly for this quiet.
The walkways are stone, small stacked stone walls, lined with grasses or hedges. Red flowers to my left, soft flat round leaves, very tropical. Not so different from tropical New Orleans, though some of the greenery is unique to here.
Dinner last night – Mediterranean night at the terrace restaurant, we are rained out of the al fresco plans. Probably good, as the bugs are relentless. As they rearrange dinner under the roof instead of on the rain-washed patio, we are served a complimentary round of drinks in the round bar upstairs. We take our wine and Jack Daniels to the second floor porch, looking out over the low slung buildings, the dark sea. Rich people, dressed to be seen, but I at last am somewhat comfortable being among them, am not ashamed that I’m not in the latest fashion (cut outs at the shoulders – this is the current thing), though it seems everyone else got the memo.
The food is wonderful. A buffet of tabouli, hummus, some sort of beet paste, two kinds of feta, olives, pickled onions, falafel, young cold white asparagus spears, roasted heads of broccoli – and stunning roasted meat, rare, flavored. Roasted Brussels sprouts and whole new potatoes, salted and buttered. Pots de crème, tiny slivers of cheesecake, chocolate mousse, mini crème broulees – I choose a mousse, a layered strawberry pastry, and a chocolate éclair.
The buildings here are one or two stories, the paths winding. No cars permitted, they brag about the silence, though I’ll note the golf carts that tootle around are none too quiet. The pathways are lit by small ankle-height lights, no overhead lighting. This first night, it’s too cloudy to see stars. We wander to the pool and beachfront just to see, and it’s pitch dark. Then to bed, in the four poster with mosquito netting. The staff have turned it down for us.
This morning I woke at 5am, to the Prof fumbling with a bottle of headache pills in the dark, and can’t go back to sleep. I take my book outside – already my second, on the plane I finished Woman on the Edge of Time (Madge Piercy) and started The Girl on the Train. I lay on the settee in the dark and finish it as the sun comes up. The Prof brings me espresso as I turn the last page – not a bad novel, though I figured out the twist less than halfway through.
I’ll try to wait a bit to start my next one. I may read two books a day while here – this is me on vacation with no kids. Reading relentlessly, exercising for hours, and swimming/snorkeling/kayaking every other waking second. The only thing that gets in the way is having to eat out – I’d prefer sandwiches packed (by someone else), quick hand food, so I don’t waste any time.
Today we will head over to the main hotel for complimentary breakfast on the porch. Then the beach. It’s not hot at all, might be a tad chilly to lay on the beach if wet. I don’t mind. The bugs are bad but they give us bug spray, which I will use liberally. I hope I don’t have to wash my hair once this whole trip.