It cracks me up every time.

Last night we wound up geeking out at the cybercafe for way longer than we thought. Stumbling in the dark back towards the beach, our rumbling tummies decided we were going to dinner. The Mango Tree restaurant sold us: floor cushions, and, instead of tables, big bamboo canopy-style beds on the sand, with pillows, lamps and a gauze "roof". We'd passed by a few times before, and had to check it out. The canopy bed was every bit as comfy as it looked.

It's common for people in India to address one another as "boss". I get it all the time: "Boss, have a look." "Here's your change, boss."

So then the waiter came over and asked us about drinks. "And for boss-madam?"

I nearly fell off the bed. After he left I said to Claudia, "I'm going to start calling you that."

"Damn right you are!"

Well there you go.

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Kentucky Fried Claudia

I hate to say I told you so, but...
We've become total beach bums. Up around mid-morning, out for a long breakfast, we then lounge by the surf for a few hours. First the beach seaside, then a dip in the freshwater lagoon. Followed by a late lunch, with some cold drinks, maybe a beer. Then we go back to the beach. Despite this seeming lounginess, we actually get a lot of exercise splashing each other; walking between beach, lagoon, and restaurant; and playing cat-and-mouse games with sarong hawkers. It's a hard, hard life.

We're no hard-core beachcombers though. I'm a writer/computer geek from Oregon, for heaven's sake; if I have a tan, it's from the monitor. Claudia's little better. "C'mon C, put on some sunblock. It's hot out there, and the sun's at its worst."

"Nah. I'll be fine. If I burn a bit, it's no problem."

I don't think she was expecting a dip in the Arabian Sea to turn her back into a lobster, though. (Oh, and to all C's NY & NJ friends, I do hereby give witness that she has gone into ocean water... up to her chest. She's even ridden some waves. I have photographic evidence.)

Actually, her sunburn isn't all that bad, but her back is pretty tender today. And covered in sunblock. Heh-heh. This morning as we prepared for another hard day's beachlounging, Claudia said, "I'll lie on my back today."

"So you can roast your front?"

"Yeah, it'll be rotisserie-style."

"Ah, Kentucky Fried Claudia."

I must confess though, that the rotisserie has made her a nice golden brown. Can I get a side of mashed potatoes, please?

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Claudia the Cockroach

Lastly, ever since giving C a haircut in Mahabalipuram, she's been trying to decide what to do with the 2 long strandy bits, one on each side of her head. Today after breakfast she told me there was a woman nearby who could give her dreadlocks. She left; I scribbled, and waited.

When she came back, she had wax in her hair and enough knots in each strandy bit to qualify her for a hippie dive in Eugene.

"Do you like my antennae?" she asked, holding each bit over her head.

"Yes," I said, laughing. "But you look like a cockroach."

"Maybe I'll start walking on the ceiling."

Hmmm... I hadn't thought of that. Love ya babe, but the minute you start choofing it on the ceiling, it's the shoe for you!