decadence is relative

11/03/13

The howler monkeys roar at night. In the heat of the day, I lie in a hammock strung between 2 trees. I look up at the leaves, the red and black birds, the water down below. African music plays on my iPod. An iguana waddles by. Joy percolates up thru me.

In the morning, I wake to birds. The sun is just rising over the hills. I meditate and do my exercises. A couple of ripe bananas and mangos. Yesterday I chatted with a Dutch traveller. I loaned her my guidebook to help find a hotel. When she left, she bequeathed her leftover food to me. This morning, I ate pan tostada - Bimbo toasted white bread - with pineapple marmelade. And a coffee. I marvelled at the taste. How yummy! No wonder people love this stuff. Here I am - eating white bread and jam and coffee. Without guilt or disdain. Am feeling so decadent, so evolved.

I walk down to the water and swim out to the dock. I clamber up and flop onto it. It rocks in the waves and sun. I lie on it rocking blissfully.