Though this was a resort, there were a few interesting people. I mean, most were fat pink americans or tan, almost naked europeans, but there was bound to be a few people there that were someone we wanted to meet. After all, we were there, weren't we? And if we could possibly be staying here, so could others like us. (please excuse my sounding egotistic and self-centered, but I see no way else to explain it.) Here are a few more people I saw who seemed interesting, if not people I wanted to meet, at least people who were interesting enough to write about.
On the beach one of the days, we saw a topless lady we nicknamed Sandy Lady, for she was covered in sand. Sandy Lady was tanned dark brown, not orange, like some people who overtan. She was slim, with a spiraling, swirling black tattoo winding up one side of her. She stood, in just her bathing suit bottom, playing over the sand. As we walked over to the water we noticed that Sandy Lady had buried her boyfriend in the sand and all that stuck out was his head. As we entered the water, Sandy Lady ran in too, and became no longer Sandy. She looked so happy and free. Maybe it was just her personality, but maybe it was the fact the she had no top to keep her in. We only saw about three topless women at this beach. I would have gone topless as well, no doubt about it, if only I had a friend to come with me. It would be too hard on my own, I think. It made me determined to go to a nude beach someday, though. This is how I feel beaches should be, especially since people wear practically nothing on, anyway. When I go to France (a goal of mine is to go there when I'm old enough to go alone) perhaps I will go to a nude beach there.
On the beach, I was also interested by how these two men, presumably Europeans, as they were clad in speedos, walked down the beach. They walked side by side, and matched each other's steps exactly, so that if viewed from the right angle, it could have been viewed as one man. Neither man was trying to walk at the exact same pace, nor did either notice. That intimacy, much like the one I noted from this post, was just so very real, you know? I just seem as though I don't see it often. I mean, we're soaked in so called "intimacy" from the media, younger and younger children being able to watch people kissing and having sex in movies, but I feel that that just isn't it. I feel like other little moments, like the two I have already described, mean so much more, and it's sad that there isn't more of it.
Lastly, we saw a man with tattoos all over him. We were able to see them all over, as he was sitting in this ridiculous wet bar--where you sit on half submerged stools or swim around with drinks in your hand, gotten from a bar just plunked right in the middle of the swimming pool! Anyway, so he was sitting at the wet bar, wearing only a bathing suit, so we saw all these tattoos up and down his back, and they were pretty impressive, and believe me, I've seen my fair share of tattoos, in NYC and LA. He had a thin scraggly bleached blonde mohawk that was lilac at the tips. On his shaven head there was a brain tattooed inside a neutron. I thought that this was pretty cool, and it made such an extreme difference from most everyone else there. I wondered what his story was, how he happened to be here. I missed NY, with its diversity. I missed.
But then again, here I am, back again, and leaving tomorrow morning! Well, I better wrap this up now and go pack my bags...
write ya when I get back!
Lola
Title Quote: (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction
No comments:
Post a Comment