I made a half-hearted commitment to myself that I’d kind of journal/write every day during these holidays so I could record what’s happened better. I haven’t managed it yet. Been too busy. This is Club Med, there’s a gazillion things to do all the time! In fact, in just sitting here, writing this piece, I’m missing yoga. Okay, that’s not something heartbreaking for me, I must be one of the few people in the world who doesn’t find yoga relaxing and rejuvenating. Personally, I just find it boring and dull. That’s not very enlightened of me, I know, but I suspect that, all things told, I’m not very enlightened anyway, so we’re all good, I can miss yoga and my soul will still be just as unenlightened as it was before.
That paragraph was as far as I got before getting distracted again. I have no idea what with, snorkelling or Pilates or trapeze or swimming or maybe even a spa treatment. It is very hot at the moment (and I’m not talking about some hunky guy lying next to me), so hot that even the Balinese are complaining about it: 29 degrees, feels like 36, with off-the-charts humidity. I think I’ve found the optimum combination to enjoy the weather: 10 minutes pottering about in the pool followed by 30 minutes lying on a sun bed seems to be the go. As long as the sunbed is in the shade. If it isn’t, you’re screwed.
The resort is built along Balinese style, with heaven wooden doors to all the rooms. I was walking into the ladies behind this tiny, tiny Asian woman and her child yesterday, but when she tried to push open the door to the room, she couldn’t. I patronisingly assumed that the door was too heavy for her. But when I tried to come to her rescue and show her how big and strong I was by opening the heavy wooden door, I found that the reason she was struggling, wasn’t, in actual fact, a lack of strength. It was because there was a three-year old Aussie kid wedged behind the door, pushing it closed with all his might, and yelling abuse at anyone who tried to enter his domain.
This morning, I went out snorkelling on the boat from the resort for the first time this holiday and I was really saddened by how much the reefs nearby have died off. We last went snorkelling here eight years ago and it’s completely different now; there’s no coral, no colours and so much plastic rubbish everywhere. It’s heartbreaking. The fish are still abundant but I don’t know how they’re affected with the demise of the coral. We’re going out to dive with Manta rays tomorrow, watch out for the pictures when we get home; Keeley got a GoPro for Christmas so hopefully, we’ll get some good footage, which I’ll post when we get back to Aus.John always finds this kind of holiday a real struggle; he doesn’t cope well with the heat and he’s a good red-haired Celt, so when he and the sun get together, I end up with a tomato-coloured husband. Which is exactly what’s happened. He decided yesterday that he wanted to recreate his one-and-only hole in one that he achieved on our last visit to the resort and persuaded Keeley to accompany him to the golf course. In 36 degree temperatures. Keeley was understandably unenthusiastic about the whole thing but play they did. For five holes. After which, Keeley threw down her club and told her dad she was going back to her room because this was ridiculous. John admitted later that she was absolutely right; he wasn’t enjoying himself, either.
Tomorrow, we’re off on a boat to dive with Manta rays. I’m excited/terrified…
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Hi! I’m Karen O’Connor, hormonally-challenged, menopausal writer, blogger, self-confessed sarcasm enthusiast, mother of 4, wife of 30 years, destroyer of souls... no, wait, that's just in the mornings...
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