The movie that brought together a whole lot of traveler experiences together like a constant buzzing hum in the mind. The lovers being easy, the cash to spend on just pleasure, the electric excitement of doing the unknown, going into the big ugly world and finding the little moments of purity of Living… The feel of the sand on a private beach at night, the living in an in-between world just like your backpack holds all your worldly belongings. The soundtrack, as well, that you found uncannily listening to are a broke down shack that served breakfast all day with the only cold beer miles.
The clubbing to tunes in strange languages and genres of music you wouldnt be caught dead listening to back home. Home – that civilized, romantized, boring, solid, roots that let you go further and away. The adventures started once you forgot to remember that home. The illegal swim could easily be doing the popular hallucenogen of the locale / finding the travelling lover and friend who would cease to be perfect the second you left to your partner back home / taking the risk of checking out old towns knowing you may get mugged or worse… the list is endless and if you have a must-put-down-in-writing moment leave this blog a comment.
Sometimes its the photos you come back with that let you re-live each of those moments. I’ve found though – the pictures really send me back to the moments un-recorded, the ones that could never be captured totally. The magic that must only reside in you with that little fear that someday you may never remember it exactly as it was.
I’m listening to Bonobo – Days To Come and it triggered this of. Although while my last idyllic travel of excesses Bonobo was only introduced in passing and never listened to. Go Figure… We listened to the The Knife a lot and I was hooked to this music.
And the beach – ah! there are two in the movie and now I remember two as well – through all the traveling there will be the clarity of moonshine on Watamu. The soft clay like white sands that were silver are night, the skinny dipping in the ocean never fearing a Shark or getting caught, the secret nude photo shoot that set the mood for a threesome weeks (?) later, the flaking its white paint sun bed that we’d drag out to the water’s edge, the crystal water that never hid anything, the wading out till the point we could to sit in wave sway at midnight – a motley crew of three lovers and a new traveller, the walks along for kilometers and getting happily lost – arm in arm – with the thought of sleeping out and finding our way home for breakfast… and those little moments of a single joint, of sitting on the corridor drinking a crate of beer – friends that came from India, Uganda, Germany, Kenya, Britain, the States, Canada and South Africa. The mundane moments that made it perfect…
The other beach – the one in Madagascar that only we have been on, and may it be that way forever more. The local fisherman walking past us from the beach but never to be found while we were there. The beach that took an hour of concentrated walking over three hills, the beach where we’d make the torturous journey on hang-over mornings, where Puppy and Boophis would require us to carry extra water for them. Where in preparation the bread would be baked and cut the night before – even if in drunken haze, where we’d save that extra Noir chocolate bar and last Cracky packet for. Where the first football kicked was sent across the ocean on journeys of its own, where it might rain on us on the way back.
Where the veterans at the end of day yelled at happy campers should the mention of things like “Strawberry Cheesecake” or “Pina Coladas” occur. Yes Grouper – this goes out to us… Where a certain girl was just allowed to be a girl with her favourite girl. Oh the memories exceed words and besides you dear reader are prolly gettin bored of the details. It was the Perfect Beach.
And I’ve suddenly found myself remembering the splashing about in phosphorescent water and the thousands of fireflies cascading over hills at night… words paint an insulting picture of these places and its why travellers can’t stop and stay for a lifetime to pass them by.
*smiles* Msafiri she has called and it may well be true.
I will love this movie…
Alice In Wonderland by Tim Burton!!!
Jonny Depp Ann Hathaway Helena Bona Carter…
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat
How I wonder what you’re at!
Up above the world you fly
Like a tea-tray in the sky.
I have quit drinking. Why? Because I got bored of the drunk feeling and the morning after wastage of a weekend. Every weekend.
Also:
flexi-time for office should mean: u avoid traffic jams; come in when there is work to be done; work from home when possible; work late without grumbles when required.
what it ends up being is: your boss telling you to lick boots clean when there is time… meaning after hours. meaningless work that you will never enjoy.
whats worse – most of us put up with it. sick.
Weird Fishes
Anders Loves Maria
Bellen
Bear And Tiger
Questionable Content
The Secret Knots
XKCD
and who knows how many more… 
pssst: anyone who thinks banning social network websites from the office server will deter people from using the internet in their spare time are truly short sighted.
“Nah!it never told me there’s be times like these…”
A perfect weekend, dreams seem close and you realize that she’s lived too long. She knows the signs – of nostalgia seeping into tonight. How its always been a boys game. The dreams come along over the skid marks and violent scars, she gets left behind, left out. Older, she knows your just playing your boy-games. Its ok. But its not. Too tightly tied in happiness she realizes she isn’t there or worse – a burden on a fast escaping mind. Old enough to hold onto pride but to chose to leave it unraveled, uncoiled. The tight spring of righteousness has faded in recent years, the greys are more lived in than the black/white. She holds on pride still, decides like she would, like she should have? Learnt lessons are hard to forget and threats get you nowhere.
She wants to slip off her clothes, erase the last few hours of her night, see it through your eyes… She only slips off her pride.
You sleep on the edges of the bed this morning, mattress yawing in between where there should only be skin. Then you hurt and all of a sudden you realize, the perfect weekend is done, you had your fun… your awake when she’s asleep and she when you drift away. She… she’s keeping her brave face on, rage under wraps as and is sociable, like-able, bending to break. She’ll end with you. Older you both know – the tantrums can be taken, the hurt gulped through tears all because there will be perfect weekends and a life thrown into the deal you cut.
tow-me
first valentine card
bullies and prom-queens
heels and nail-paint
tiaras
playing hours of Stunt and sky-roads
warcraft @ Zap
Qwikys times X gazzlion
lazy dogs on hot balconies
first time at JRO + Dublin
alcohol and vodka OD
feeling in love
weekend getaway – Pondi
uncles n’ aunties / maamis
beach
friendship with a heavy loyalty
getting lost
growing up seemingly all of a sudden
nuns and hostel
sneaking out of hostel
babes and boys – beach houses
ECR
basketball in drizzle
paper-dance
Dingy in flood
Old neem trees to climb
first snow-fall
living-in
moving out
cooking and keeping house
fieldwork and research geekings
Ireland with no clothes – the Burren
the Fat-cat
dissertation and Mercy
break ups
holding a snake
Armadillo and Toucans
betrayals: mine and to me
Homing crickets and songs
Turtle-walking
Four-wheel drive in Africa
Lemurs and hammocks
living in jungle
Wild Elephants
First forest at night
Being mugged
Tropos
living on white-sand beach
SCUBA Diving
Dolphins alongside boat
Masoala; Tribihina river by dugout
Touch times
Lamu
Comms hill; Ankarana and its bat cave
Sasquatch / Night-time + Bushbaby
Shaved Head / Slap Head / Pila Be!
tattoos and piercings
Camera = Photography
writing
scarlett hair
Pinas eating place for lunch
Vipers and black Mambas
scorpion stings
Pili-pili sunsets with shandy
Mombasa + food on the (BOAT?) and beach
Tana – Jacaranda guesthouse
the Swimming Pool
Diego and the Dordoine
Diego market
Sat Camp
Tiger – Corbett
and now *twinklin eyes* like Chocolate you!
The sunset – a orange globe alight moves and dips slowly into horizon. Purple licks as it gets swallowed by a smile of scrub lands. Does it make you human that something so science-y can evoke a melancholy vibe with the hope of daybreak once more… ?
You sit silhouetted, a tiny sun glows in the car as it mimics the sun outside – the end glow of your cigarette. I trace the angles – jaw, nose, the ridges that hide your eyes in shadow all as the day dies so fast seemingly so slow. We speed along over dips and bumps, the ruts in the road sometimes jolt too hard – we wince. Metaphoric the mood. Sulks and arguments around us melt away as u lean over, fit me in safe between arm and chest, and kiss me.
I packed. I left the curfews and no-kitchen behind. I loaded up the car and drove off last evening.
Baggage brought up the stairs and into the hall. Nostalgia while moving; while the lil idiosyncratic unpacking. I put up a Metal Baobab on the wall. The 4 nails put up for one picture *smiles* that wasn’t put up yet. The ducky toothbrush holder went up in the bathroom and old love letters and photos found again… Spread out on the sofa I showed you – the first valentine card I still have, the only other one from the last time I’d moved in.
Begin a new life in shared spaces – I find familiar places, the cramped too little space that feels cosy right now. Will it stay this time round? Jack Johnson says so… You’ve left for work, for once I’m off. Your lil bro will come move the last clunky bits – trunk, bedding and shoes. So *grins* lets find a house and buy em curtains, set up a kitchen and buy groceries together. Lazy sundays and tired cuddles after work in front of the tele are ours. Sounds exciting? Naaaah. Feels like home.
when i went looking for original visiting card designs… naaaice.
