Today is the end of week two, and I’ve achieved the following:
Burnt shins. Only the front half of me is the color of boiled lobster, the back half looks in comparison like the dazzle of a hundred watt bulb. If I did squat thrusts in shorts I’d look as if I was sending out an SOS with the backs of my knees.
Fooked hip / lower back. As any Harry Hypochondriac knows the pain will move just to give you something else to whinge about to whoever’s not given up listening to you. I can’t do forward folds eg uttanasana or any lunges etc. Frankly it’s a total pain in the asana. Seems like I have to wait this one out. Massage can only do so much, mainly making it hurt a bit more. Still, in self practice tomorrow I can justify laying with my legs on a chair for two hours now, so that’s a win.
Made friends. With the frog in my room. We first meet when he surprised me by sitting on the bed. Could have been more surprising, he could have been in it. I went to get something to remove him with (pointless really, the hut has more holes than the plot of Transformers 4) and when I’d returned he had vanished. He then took up residence by the sun lotion. When I suggested he move on outside he obliging leapt to it, but only to hide under the shelf. Clearly a bit Ingrid Bergman, he wanted to be left alone.
Had two massive mugs of espresso. That was this morning. I’m still shaking from it now. The espresso coffee maker was huge, at first I thought I had a really small waiter serving me as it looked so out of proportion to the normal stove top coffee makers, but no, it was industrial sized and, as it turned out, industrial strength.
The coffee also had an effect, and my other achievement is my interior is now more cleared out than my wardrobe could ever be.
Other achievement included beach clean Wednesday where we cleared away about 12 bags of rubbish, mainly plastic, straws, some hypodermic needles, glass, and general household detritus. We will do another side of the beach next week. The concept of rubbish bins does not exist and instead rubbish is left where it’s dropped or occasionally swept up and burnt releasing stinking black smoke from the plastic and the crisp / ice cream wrappers. Not great for anyone.
Mandrem is continuing to unveil itself, initially looking like a poor man’s Christo and Jean Claude artwork (http://christojeanneclaude.net/projects/wrapped-reichstag#.VjYps5SXeK0) as tarp covered the majority of town. Who knew what lay beneath…turns out, not a lot. As it is being stripped away it reveals the cheap tart of tat shops, more chav than cashmere in the scarves for sale, Russian restaurants selling shark curry and more beach shacks than beaches, springing up all over, even on top of restaurants, and looking decidedly unsupported to boot. The excess of shops selling tat means yet more people to practice the polite refusal with. At least this week on my laundry run I didn’t have to show them my bag of smalls (erroneously labelled, should read as larges) as proof that I’d not betrayed my oath of not shopping anywhere in town.