Shit happens

I woke up, rested, having slept like a baby for 8 straight hours. I pinched my arm, didn’t really know if I was still dreaming, so I walked over to the glass door and looked out. They were still there: The view over the gardens, the beach and the ocean. The wind was a little stronger this morning; the palms were swaying, their branches making a rustling sound, and I could hear the heavy breaking of the waves. In the still early hours of the morning, the catamarans out on the water were filled to the brim with fishermen, their sails now tautly extended, making good headway towards whatever catch of the day they were hoping for, fish or tourists. I smiled.

Sitting down at the breakfast table, in the outdoor restaurant overlooking it all, I couldn’t stop smiling. Couldn’t believe I was actually here, couldn’t really care if people took me for a constantly grinning lunatic, just having been released from the mental ward. Fortunately the Sri Lankans are a smiling people, so who knows, maybe I am just naturally blending in.

Sam was also all smiles when I by appointment met him in the reception. He was the sole local representative for all the umpteen tour operators in the area. And I was the sole person at this morning’s information meeting. So I made the most of it, and by the time I was finished with him I had drained both a bunch of information and the strength out of the poor man. He was a pleasant guy though, and was a good sport about it, particularly when I promised I after the weekend will make one of the day trips he was offering. ...

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Tuk-tuk, awaiting the 7 generations...