Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Going to the Beach

I wasn't expecting the water here to be so warm, but it's lukewarm. Do you know how wonderful it is to step into a lukewarm ocean when you're expecting something freezing… like the ocean usually is?

Yeah, I didn't know either until yesterday. The beaches in Goa are usually buzzing with people, but we found one pretty far away from the main hustle and bustle, so there weren't too many people. There's lifeguards here, which I haven't seen in a while, and we spread out our sarongs to lie on. (We didn't bring towels on the trip. Cool, huh?)

I brought ROOM with me, by Emma Donaghue. I'm not the kind of person that can just lie on a beach towel or build sandcastles or swim for six hours straight— I need something to do… something I can say I did well. So I'm reading a hundred pages and sunning for about two hours, while the rest of them are swimming in the lukewarm ocean or laying on beach towels doing nothing.

Ileana and Ioan decided to bury him in sand. They're pretty close to the water, which means that the sand is wet enough to pile on top of him, and after swimming in the water a bit with Dad, I join in. As we pile sand higher and higher up Ioan's body, some locals come by wanting to take pictures. I'm not sure why… isn't this normal? But they take pictures, seemingly amazed with the fact that we're practically burying our brother in sand.

The tide starts to rise just as we're finishing up the 'casket,' which means that we have to redo his arms. By this time, though, we're all kind of sick of being on our knees, piling up sand, so we hurry through the last bits.

On top, there are about eight inches of sand, and as Ioan struggles to free himself, Ileana's filming and I'm laughing. On the sides, there are five inches of sand. And it's all still wet, which means it's all still heavy. And he couldn't move for the greater part of a minute because he was laughing about it.

Eventually, though, he finally squiggled out, and we all went into the ocean to wash up— his entire shirt was frosted with sand, and so were his legs. Even his face had sand on it.

The sand that isn't wet is hot. It's hard to stand on, and I didn't— last time I was on a hot surface with bare feet I couldn't walk properly for a week. I still have the blister marks, so I wasn't about to try that again, especially when we walk everywhere to get anywhere.

As we leave the beach, six and a half hours later, we're all very brown indeed. Even now, I'm so brown that I don't look like myself.

All in all, I think I liked the beach. It was a bit too sandy, and a bit too noisy… but the water was nice, and that's all that matters, I guess.

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