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Thursday, February 6th – Palolem Beach
I had a great sleep last night, my first night in paradise, but my system is struggling with spicy food and maybe new bacteria. There's a certain urgency to making it to the toilet this morning. The toilet is an outhouse at the back of our modest hotel. It has three steps to climb to get into it, which I feel is a bit unusual but at this point I am grateful for any type of toilet. When I get inside I see that there is no pit underneath the toilet seat, only a chute the carries the shit out of the outhouse onto the ground behind. I am flabbergasted, but at this point there is no turning back. I turn around and start undoing my pants so I can sit down. Suddenly, I hear an impatient grunt. I turn around to see a pig's large, fuzzy, pink snout shoved up the hole and waiting for breakfast. Gross! It's big tongue is close enough to lick my ass. I shoo it away so that it takes a step back before I sit down. In ten seconds the chute is as clean as before - faster than a flush toilet!
I have to admit that was quite funny. I share the story with Frank, who is as grossed out as I was. We walk to the restaurant and have breakfast. For the rest of the morning I sit on the sand and read. I take a swim and walk to the south end of the beach where it ends at a rocky point of land. I climb up the rocks and follow them out to their end jutting out into the sea. There are rock pools along the sides of the point. I find a new species of crab here, a type that lives underwater. It is a slow moving, heavy set purple crab 20 to 30 cm wide. Unlike the skittish white wave chasers, they seem unbothered in my presence, although they see me.
I watch them for half an hour and then return to the restaurant for a fruit drink. Frank is there, talking to other travelers. He introduces me to Tanya from Australia and Ilona from Denmark. Ilona is a punky-looking girl in her early 20s. Her hair has green and blue streaks in it. She looks at my hair and scrunches up her nose. "Your hair has purple in it," she sneers disapprovingly. "Yes, I know," I reply. You're a great one to talk I think to myself. Frank is grinning foolishly, but deliberately not looking at me. I am resenting my foolishness at having my hair dyed again. I need a drink so I order one.
This begins an evening of drinking that continues through dinner and later watching the sunset from the patio. I never let myself get too loaded. Later Jesse and Karen invite me back to a campfire by the place where their van is parked. There are eight of us seated on logs and stones around the fire singing songs that we know. An American fellow named Bernie has a guitar. Jesse passes around a joint, and then I am finally feeling baked. Half an hour later I beg off and go to bed.
PHOTO 1: morning beach, Palolem
PHOTO 2: the beach from the palm forest
PHOTO 3: the Palolem Beach Restaurant
PHOTO 4: main street, Palolem village
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