Back From Basata

Now I'm at desk again, staring at the computer, rather confused, wondering how it works, and why I'm in a suit when 24 hours ago I was in barely nothing trying hard to get a tan without getting burnt, which is frankly impossible if you use baby oil, the equivalent to cooking oil on skin. But hey, I like it. I like my red belly, it's proof that I wasn't here for a whole weekend, and that makes me feel GOOOOOD.

Spent three days sunbathing with Vanessa, swimming (paddling is more like it), listening to a CD Nancy made me of Rufus Wainright, Regina Spektor and Aimee Mann (Eisley's song "I wasn't prepared" is permanently stuck in my head), and drinking lots of cold water (it was incredibly hot-felt like 42 C).

Mariam didn't spend much time with us, as was too busy fawning over Miles, hippy from California who doesn't believe in personal hygiene or cutting his toenails. Ick.

Don't get me wrong, dreadlocks are totally cool, but this guy barely had a face from all the hair that just dangled there. Beats me why Mariam was drooling over him.
Plus it kinda defeated the purpose of the deep talk she made the night before about how she was through with picking up guys and jumping into relationships without getting to know them first. I mean, two hours later, and they were already massaging feet (don't ask, it freaks me out just thinking about it).
I did get a kick out of calling him Kilometr though.

Got beaten at cards by an eleven year old.
This was a truly ethical problem.
See, I'm a queen of Speed. The card game, I mean.
And along came this cutey-patooty girl called Kelly who told me, in child speak, that she would kick my ass at Speed.

Now here I faced the first two issues:
1.I do not like kids who act all cute when I know they're faking it
2. I cannot resist being challenged, and having a kid do it to me is just plain embarrassing

So I say hell yeah (in child speak- couldn't swear around her), and we sit down to play, while Miles and his other unhygienic friends gather around and cheer her on, telling me that she's beaten everyone, and I have no chance etc.

Here are more dilemmas:
1.I do not like being told I have no chance
2.especially by a kid

While we played, I could tell Kelly wasn't as good as she thought, and I could definitely beat her (I take Speed like a military offence-brutally and scarily- I also tend to sman and flare my nostrils when I'm winning), but then came the biggest dilemma:

What is worse:
1.Being beaten by a kid at your own game?
2.Beating a kid when she thinks she's really good, thus giving her a failure complex, and possibly harming her future as an eligible human being?

It didn't help at all that she was all cute and big eyed. How would YOU feel about making Bambi cry?

So I made the honorable decision of letting her win, and had to endure smaning and "Ooh you got beat by a kid" yells.
Great.

Later that day, some guy stepped on a Sandfish, which is deadly, and they had to burn his foot and cut it open to get the poison out. It was pretty scary, listening to him scream, and the next day everyone went carefully into the shallow water with their shoes firmly on. It was kinda funny, seeing grown men running away from seaweed, and then hearing them reason
"But it moved!".

Then right before dinner we took the little rowing boat out, there wasn't a drop of air, so the sea was perfectly still, and we could see the coral and fish down below.
Nice.

Jordan, a friend of Miles, took the oars, and naturally we began to argue about who could row better, me being a hardheaded Egyptian who's canoed on the sea, and him being a bloody-minded Canadian who's canoed down rivers, and thus thinks he is God of rowing.
This lead to us rowing round in circles a couple of times, until Mariam grabbed the oar out of my hands and made peace.

Then, when I pointed out we would be late for dinner, she misinterpreted my hunger for cynicism and started going on about how pessimistic I am and how (wonderfully) optimistic she is.

It's funny how I only feel like a pessimist when Mariam's around. Other than that, I'm chirpier than Tweety.
Being tall, I'm probably more Big Bird.