The Beautiful Island Of San Miguel de La Palma

San Miguel de La Palma – A diamond in the rough. – YouTube

When I saw on the news what is happening on that beautiful island of La Palma, it saddened me enormously. We’ve been there a couple of years ago. The one and only time we have visited that part of the world and I can tell you that I am pleasantly surprised…

I Am Here

I know I’ve been away for so long which is uncharacteristically me. Before when I went away even for a short period of time I scheduled some of my work to be posted in specific time so my readers will not feel abandoned. But C-thing happened (I don’t want to make it as an excuse but—) to all of us and I don’t have to tell you how it affected all people globally from all walks of life and if you read me before you know already that I have issues with my declining health and the consequences of it. But resilient person as I am I bounced back and here I am, alive but not yet kicking but courageously and stubbornly fighting.

With the C- thing going on and travelling become an ordeal instead of something to look forward to, my partner and I decided to realized our lifelong dream to own a mobile home/camper. We ordered it! It will take sometime before it is in our hands but at least it will sure be there. It will be more suited to my needs in the way of we will have our own time as opposed to a package tour which you have to abide to the rules of the hotels in regards to waking up, dining and such. The knife cuts both ways I understand but at this stage in our lives a camper is a synonym for freedom.

I will keep you posted as we go along and I will provide links to our future FB page and YT channel I am planning to make to document our progress as wannabe nomads. I hope you can accompany us through our journey.

Till then and keep safe people!

I’ve Dreamed Of Jason Momoa

You know… the Aqua man. No, I am not a fan. I saw him briefly in GOT and tried to watch the Aquaman movie a while ago but I find it chaotic and childish. So, after about a quarter of an hour I called it quits. Shorter than the time I tried to watch Harry Potter films. That was a record.

In my dream we were travelling somewhere together with D. and a girl-woman who was a bit of an alternative chick. Wears black; short bob hair and no face. She didn’t fancy Jason Momoa either. So it seemed. As expected; women fell around him wherever we went but he seemed oblivious to the fact. Instead he concentrated on us; me in particular. No, I am not narcissistic, no delusions of grandeur or anything or otherwise I would replace Aquaman with Nadal.

I think the place was Nepal or somewhere in the vicinity because the mountains are gorgeous (no, it wasn’t the Alps) and there were lots of indigenous people and culture a volonté. Plenty of nature and far away picture perfect scenery.

The longer we travel the more intimate Jason became with his sweet words and gestures. He begun touching me too. A hand there, an arm over my shoulder or on the small of my back. Longer eye contact too. To me, personally it is nothing. Been there done that in my younger years. Too much for my liking. The more he did those personalized attentions, the more the alternative chick disliked me. No, she didn’t say a thing but I am an expert on body language and reading between the lines. D. kept quiet.

One time D. went to the nearest ATM while Jason was showing me the range or mountains outside the window his arm around me while the girl-woman after a tantrum was decided to go on her own and was waiting for a ride sitting at the bus stop that looked like a piece of some amphitheater. All of us situated in one place in a triangular position within hearing distance of each other. How could that be? Perhaps the hotel or whatever it was me and Jason were in was in fact not a room but a veranda that’s why I could see both D. and the alternative chick and they could see me.

After a time, D. came back with a series of figures on a piece of paper. To make the story short, he was accusing me in a subtle way ( he is always subtle) of withdrawing some amount from our joint account and giving them to Aquaman. I started bawling out of misery. How could he thought of me that way. I never give money to a guy. My attention for a while is more than enough I always believe. Anyway, in the middle of my bawling I suddenly stopped and thought: Hmmm… Perhaps he was reversing the situation. Maybe it was him who gave some dough to that alternative chick. Come to think of it, she is more his type than I am and she clearly showed some hidden soft spot for him and why should Jason be interested in our money? So, I told D. to produce some evidence in a form of bank statement/balance that showing I withdraw some money from our account and he had to prove that he didn’t do it either.

Then, I woke up.

Recalling the dream I realized that there could be another side to the story. Maybe Jason Momoa and the girl-woman were on it together. Perhaps they made an agreement to con us. Work the lady I work the man and see who is going to melt first. If that was true. I’m sure D. would be the one who will succumb to the temptation. Why I think that? Because Like I said before, I’ve been there done that hundred times and back and I could proudly say it never happened to me. D. on the other hand is more gullible when it comes to this sort of things. I will not elaborate but I have a proof to my claim. Besides, he is somewhat innocent and totally lack of any experience dealing with people. He simply could not read them and their intentions.

Why it is that whenever D. appeared in my dreams it was always either he is leaving me or exchanging me for another woman. Don’t say it’s my hidden fear because it is not. My hidden fear is being buried alive.

Anyway, having an almost romantic encounter with Jason Momoa in a dream is preferable than having an affair with a bald politician or my nipple being sucked by a singer who actually cannot sing.

Till next time.

Prison Without Bars

I am running out of ideas on how to entertain myself during Corona Lockdown.

I am used to self- imposed quarantine. I could go on for years without talking to anyone. That’s not the problem. The trouble is my world suddenly becomes smaller.

How long you could run around the neighborhood and be still in awe of what you see?

I love nature. But believe you me, no matter how great that love is, if I see another river, another poor excuse for waterfalls, another forest, another mountain tops,  I would scream till I have no voice anymore left out of sheer frustration.

How many versions of those one could take without being bored to death?

Trees are just trees and water is just water no matter from which angle you view them.

I could understand that the same rules apply if you go further abroad but that is not the point. Ever heard of the journey being more important than the destination? That is not the problem either. The problem is the journey on a familiar road going to an even more familiar destination is becoming tedious it drives me crazy.

I want to explore new horizons, do new things, see unknown whatever. Anywhere but here for crying out loud.

I want to see trees and water and rocks on foreign soil. Observe unfamiliar cultures. I want to taste and try new dishes, I want to experience life again!

But life would never be the same again. I see it now. By all means, as long as I can run around out there without restrictions, free as before then I’m okay. I don’t even have to talk to people. I just want to go places that’s all.

Waiting To Exhale

Who out there (like me) is craving/dreaming/ fantasizing about something like this?

It used to be my backyard. I grew up in places (yes places) like this one and that time like most people who are living in what westerners called “paradise”  I didn’t realize how lucky I was. I wish to go back there right now. Not to live but to breathe, away from hassle and bustle of the rat race and soak the atmosphere and for a while relived the memories of my youth, when in spite of the “circumstances ” life is a little bit simpler.

June Again

… and still, the corona issue lingers.

I could sympathize with the sociables and extroverts out there who need human contact to properly function though I don’t share their predicaments. If truth is to be told, nothing really changes with my lifestyle since the lockdown. I have always been in self-imposed quarantine since I decided to distance myself with all the dramas of humankind. Most of the time I enjoy my solitude. Sometimes I want to be lost in anonymity among strangers who don’t know and want nothing from me. I like it that way.

Probably, the only setback I have experienced during this crisis is not being able to go on vacation and lost my booking. I got a form of a voucher claimable the next time I book a holiday and would be expired within a year. The catch is, nobody knows yet when people are allowed again to travel outside their own countries so, it’s a waiting game. I hope to be out here by October. Fingers cross.

They are predicting the hottest summer (which is becoming the norm these days) I have given up on gardening. My water bill is sky high already and it is not even summer. The driest month so far they say. If it gets even drier, there will be no plant left to water. I don’t know if it is good or bad.

Anyway, I hope June will be kind to you, and let’s pray that this crisis will be over soon.

See you around.

Not Here Nor There

This land, although not my native land,
Will be remembered forever.
And the sea’s lightly iced,
Unsalty water.

The sand on the bottom is whiter than chalk,
The air is heady, like wine,
And the rosy body of the pines
Is naked in the sunset hour.

And the sunset itself on such waves of ether
That I just can’t comprehend
Whether it is the end of the day, the end of the world,
Or the mystery of mysteries in me again.

― Anna Akhmatova

What Can I Say?

Of this I am absolutely sure: Do not reach the era of child-rearing and real jobs with a guitar case full of crushing regret for all the things you wished you’d done in your youth. I know too many people who didn’t do those things. They all end up mingy, addled, shrink-wrapped versions of the people they intended to be. – Cheryl Strayed

I didn’t want to get married and have children. I didn’t want to be a wife or a mother. Or anything domesticated. I want to be Sinbad, Scully, Stephen King, Steve McQueen, Eric The Phantom and Indiana Jones or anything in between as long as it doesn’t spell boring. I want to be John Snow, Spirit of the Cimmaron Lara Croft and Aragorn. I want to be a gypsy child in the midst of Bohemianism.

To take the world as one finds it, the bad with the good, making the best of the present moment—to laugh at Fortune alike whether she be generous or unkind—to spend freely when one has money, and to hope gaily when one has none—to fleet the time carelessly, living for love and art— for in Bohemia one may find almost every sin save that of Hypocrisy. [source: Wikipedia]

What, then, is it that makes this mystical empire of Bohemia unique, and what is the charm of its mental fairyland? It is this: there are no roads in all Bohemia! One must choose and find one’s own path, be one’s own self, live one’s own life. — Ayloh, 1902

Look where I am now!

But then again, I have lived a thousand lives others can’t even imagine in their wildest dreams. I’ve’ walked to hell and back, visited heaven and been everywhere in between. People often say I’ve been there done that when what they really meant is they know how it feels to stand at the edge of a crater but they never really experience how it is to descend to the bottom. I can honestly say I did. Countless times.

In my dying bed, I will not lie there and regret everything I should have done but never dare or tried because I know for a fact that compared to most, I have lived a colorful life, even though none of those are the ones I truly wanted.