Archive for October, 2006

I should write more about it. I really should. Mexico was magical. In short, during the whole trip I was background-boy. Twice a day I had to show myself and splash some water or rub some oil on the remarkably funny modelgirl from good ole South Africa. A holiday it was.

Upon arrival the warm wind reminded me of the Curacao days. A pleasant sweat was filling my flamesneakers while I looked for a calm presence amongst 683750 cab drivers that wanted to take me straight to the tequila and prostitution of Cancun. Raul stood there to pick me up. The first pleasant surprise was the following almost two hour drive to Tulum, nice and far away from Cancun, the second surprise was in fact Raul. A Mexican, who lived in Paris for seven years yet returned home, because he missed the surf. He missed the relaxed speed (lach thereof) of his home. We drove to our home for the next four days, and also the old home of Pablo Escobar. Before the USA took him out, he built two houses on the beach: one for him, one for the President of Mexico. Somehow they were friends, who would have thought. We had the Presidents’ place. More importantly, we had the beach, we had the ocean, we had the sun.

In bare feet I limped towards the ocean, feeling the sun burning my white white white skin, the warm wind licking my face and the water surprising my toes. The color of the ocean, the color of the sand, it all hurt my eyes, yet I refused to dull the colors with sunglasses. Raul had to pick up the others, so he left me there alone. In my gorgeous room. With the crew that came with the house. The awkwardness of the language barrier and the fact that they were working there while I was being lazy was established in no-time.

The crew arrived from Paris late at night, the crew-minus-two that is. The photographer and stylist found something fun to stare at in Miami and missed their connecting flight. The next few days I heard so much French it hurt my ears. Not just the sound, but the topics. Handbags drugs dirty cups ex-husbands gay lovers ParisMilanNewYork complaints sighs money. I tried to join them the whole time,wanting to be a nice and social guy, but sometimes I had to grab a snorkel and go. Underwater there are no complaints. No fish was cooler than the other because of a Gucci handbag. Wouldn’t that make for a messed up sequal to Finding Nemo.

The feeling of snorkeling. The feeling of freedom of movement. Having a beat up mask that keeps on filling itself with water. That damn barracuda that wouldn’t stop following. Causing bubbles for the shear reason of feeling them go back up to the surface brushing past your body. Not feeling pain in my ankle. Holding your breath and annoying the crap out of a pair of angelfish (how beautiful is it that they always, always live in pairs) by following them wherever they choose to go. Flipping upside down on the bottom and peering under a rock, knowing a lobster is in there, fearing the same fate as his whole family, and checking if I am carrying a speer gun. Taking a kayak with Raul and going to the outer reef, not caring how far we drifted. Hanging behind the kayak while Raul continued to paddle to a better spot, loosing myself in the bubbletwirls the paddles were creating, figuring out he must be righthanded due to the difference of force between the strokes. The lack of gravity was filling my heart with feelings that made me doubt whether it really was my mask leaking.

The last few days were stunning. At those moments people were suffering. Countries were at war. Nature was getting destroyed. Innocence lost. Yet that moment, I was untouchable in simplicity.

More than a holiday it was.

Back. Beach Tan Hammock Nap Nap Nap Tequila Taco’s Nacho’s Guacemole Nap Frolick in Sand Photo Photo Frolick Snorkel Snorkel Snorkel Kayak oh yeah Frolick Photo Frolick Rub Rub Tan Tan TAN (Tequila).

It’s cold in New York.

Ewout is missed. I slept twelve hours, I wonder why. This morning it is hitting me, I am going to Mexico on Friday! A place called Tulum will be my home for four days. Check the website below. A dear friend is the photographer, which is strange, since we know eachother not because of this work, and now we are working together! My camera is itching to get to this new place. A new country. Just like that. It is humbling to feel this excitement. The sun is shining, the air is crisp. It is time to put on my jacket that is a bit too cool for me, and meet a friend. How frustrating is it to not be able to express pure and utimate happiness? One day I’ll find the words for it. Or something else.

www.amansala.com

Right, so we’re still alive. We’ve just been too busy HAVING FUN to type to other people. How inconsiderate of us, I know. So Ewout has now officially been into five states, and tonight he will receive his birthday gift, which of course he doesnt know what it is. Not sure if that’s a sentence, but I’m tired. So there. It’s been crazy fun around here.

Hey, let’s pass this laptop to Ewout and make him type.

Argh! This is a MacBook! I don’t want to type on MacBooks! Where’s my pc? O wait, it’s underneath the macbook right now. Haha. Every morning in New York starts with the both of us working on our laptops in a coffeebar and behaving like young urban people. What can I say… NEW YORK IS CRAZY!!! In a very, very good way. It’s good to have so much time with my buddy.

Tonight I will receive my birthdaygift! I have no clue what it is yet, BUT I AM EXCITED!! I guess you people will hear about it tomorrow.

Okay, back to Marius now, because his battery is about to die…

Yep, it’s dying shortly. Hence our goodbye’s from our coffeehouse.

Two writers stuffed into one blog. I like it.