Parrot Ice
Almost paradise...we're knockin' on heaven's door. Paaaaaaridise....
For those of you just joining us, Bob and I are rapidly recovering from a week on the sun-kissed beaches of the island nation of Mauritius (former home of the ill-fated dodo bird, for those in the dark). We kept mostly to ourselves, seeing as how my French vocabulary is limited to about 20 words, most of which communicate to the listener my inability to speak French or understand it. However, we did enjoy seeing large amounts of ageing European flesh swathed in insubstantial amounts of spandex (or, in the case of the very brave, sometimes nothing at all). The future of our currently firm and cute bodies does not look good.
Jorts sightings were numerous, much to my delight. As with most beach destinations, shopping is the secondary activity to sunning. Even though textiles are one of Mauritius's big industries, it wasn't the bonanza of $2 Ralph Lauren clothing that I was expecting. I confronted my disappointment and moved on. My fake Nike shoulder bag helped in the coping process. Bob managed to score a fake Lacoste shirt for himself (both the salesperson and myself chuckled when she told us it was authentic).
We arrived in India earlier this morning and slept off the jet lag despite numerous room-cleaning attempts by our slightly over-zealous hotel staff. Now we're enjoying glorious air conditioning in this internet place where surfing costs 60 cents per hour. All of that IT out-sourcing has meant good things for budget travelers who want to keep in touch.
As always, the comments are appreciated, even if they're sent three times (you know who you are). Apologies to those who have complained that postings haven't been frequent enough; hopefully we can do better now that the internet is more in the price range of Cheapy McCheaperson here.
P.S. Happy birthday to Ben Kettle, if you're reading this! For those of you wanting to get a jump on your shopping, mine's in two months!
For those of you just joining us, Bob and I are rapidly recovering from a week on the sun-kissed beaches of the island nation of Mauritius (former home of the ill-fated dodo bird, for those in the dark). We kept mostly to ourselves, seeing as how my French vocabulary is limited to about 20 words, most of which communicate to the listener my inability to speak French or understand it. However, we did enjoy seeing large amounts of ageing European flesh swathed in insubstantial amounts of spandex (or, in the case of the very brave, sometimes nothing at all). The future of our currently firm and cute bodies does not look good.
Jorts sightings were numerous, much to my delight. As with most beach destinations, shopping is the secondary activity to sunning. Even though textiles are one of Mauritius's big industries, it wasn't the bonanza of $2 Ralph Lauren clothing that I was expecting. I confronted my disappointment and moved on. My fake Nike shoulder bag helped in the coping process. Bob managed to score a fake Lacoste shirt for himself (both the salesperson and myself chuckled when she told us it was authentic).
We arrived in India earlier this morning and slept off the jet lag despite numerous room-cleaning attempts by our slightly over-zealous hotel staff. Now we're enjoying glorious air conditioning in this internet place where surfing costs 60 cents per hour. All of that IT out-sourcing has meant good things for budget travelers who want to keep in touch.
As always, the comments are appreciated, even if they're sent three times (you know who you are). Apologies to those who have complained that postings haven't been frequent enough; hopefully we can do better now that the internet is more in the price range of Cheapy McCheaperson here.
P.S. Happy birthday to Ben Kettle, if you're reading this! For those of you wanting to get a jump on your shopping, mine's in two months!
2 Comments:
What ever happened to appointing a discussion topic? You really must throw a bone to the hoi polloi every once in a while--I simply can't relate to nude beaches, per-minute internet, or maid service right now.
It's not that I don't appreciate and enjoy your journal entries, it's just that I don't know how you expect us to respond (read: "it's not you, it's me")other than with a similar chronicle. But that doesn't incite conversation among your devoted readers.
Honestly, who really wants to discuss how I missed winning the grand prize (a full bedding set of my choice)of a week-long, inter-divisional, crossword game by one clue this morning? That's my story for the day. My previous excitement came from being spat upon (yes, intentionally) on the subway platform one morning. The experience was a nice "welcome back to NY" after spending my Thanksgiving holiday in the warm, compassionate embraces of Alabama.
These are my thoughts, Mel and Bob. Do with them what you will.
What ever happened to appointing a discussion topic? You really must throw a bone to the hoi polloi every once in a while--I simply can't relate to nude beaches, per-minute internet, or maid service right now.
It's not that I don't appreciate and enjoy your journal entries, it's just that I don't know how you expect us to respond (read: "it's not you, it's me")other than with a similar chronicle. But that doesn't incite conversation among your devoted readers.
Honestly, who really wants to discuss how I missed winning the grand prize (a full bedding set of my choice)of a week-long, inter-divisional, crossword game by one clue this morning? That's my story for the day. My previous excitement came from being spat upon (yes, intentionally) on the subway platform one morning. The experience was a nice "welcome back to NY" after spending my Thanksgiving holiday in the warm, compassionate embraces of Alabama.
These are my thoughts, Mel and Bob. Do with them what you will.
love,
DRA
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