Temporary bliss

This is what I’m talking about. Finally able to relax a little this morning and I’m doing it in style. Sitting on my balcony in the shade being fed rambutans, hearing parrots go nuts and listening to Jack Johnson all while a gentle sea breeze washes across my face.

Rambutans, also known as ‘chom chom’ are good when you’re in the mood for them. Probably would taste better if someone was actually feeding them to me. I also lied about the parrots. I don’t actually know because I can’t see them. And there ain’t no sea breeze either, unless a sea of ramshackle, corrugated tin-roofed houses counts as the ocean.

But I’m not complaining. I’m digging the scene and my current environs. It would only be better if I had finished my lesson planning and there were scantily clad females running across the “ocean” in my direction calling to me with their siren’s song. I would definitely fall for that one.

I can’t actually see any ladies on the horizon – only with my mind’s eye. And I’m no longer listening to Jack Johnson. Now it’s Johnny Cash. And the breeze has died down enough for the sweat to accumulate on my upper lip. Ahhh, there it is again. I wish I could hear the gongs from the pagoda below and maybe catch just a taste of the incense.

I have to get moving again unfortunately. These temporary blissful moments are always just that – temporary. But they make you appreciate them that much more. When the sound of parrots playing turns into the revving of motorbike engines, when the bag of chom chom is gone gone, when the breeze isn’t doing its job…that moment is over.