05 Sep / Adding to injury
Sigh. The time has come to pack up and make the long trek home.
It’s currently 26 degrees Celsius outside, and back home they’re expecting snow to low levels tomorrow. This can’t be happening.
At least I’ve had a lovely long holiday, and managed to gather the world’s largest collection of sandfly bites. They, along with my tan (and my peeling flesh from where I overdid it on day one), will no doubt be hidden under long layers of clothing for another couple of months so no one gets to see.
This afternoon I was staring out at the path that runs along the length of the beach, saying goodbye to it all, when a pair of women came along the path dressed to the nines.
I sometimes worry that I overdress when I’m in such sunny climes, but I’ve never gone so over the top as to wear a full-length royal blue dress made out of what looks like silk. The woman thus clothed would have stood out like a sore thumb, except her companion was wearing a floor-length (or sandy-beach-path-length) black lace dress. They were perfectly, though oddly, matched.
Fifteen minutes later another group of younger, slightly less overdressed whilst still being significantly overdressed, people walked slowly past the door. There was definitely something going on, and I didn’t think it was to do with the free palm readings at the vegetarian cafe.
Half an hour passed, and then a group came wandering along explaining everything I’d seen before. Cream silk is an odd choice of fabric to wear when you’re going to the beach, but judging from the tiara it was a meticulously planned outfit and quite obviously something that only a bride would wear.
Only a bride, or me on Halloween when accompanying it with an emailed story around the office, a noose, and copious white and black makeup.
If the bride dressed all in (almost) white wasn’t enough of a pointer, the little girl dressed in gold and cream almost-matching silk cinched it. She didn’t have a basket of petals yet, but I could see where this was heading.
The flower girl stopped briefly outside our rental house to fight with a long stick, then make friends with a long stick, then play with a long stick, but was soon scooped up by a well-dressed father-of-the-bride who promptly turned her upside-down to examine the soles of her feet AS THOUGH WALKING A SANDY PATH WAS SOMETHING A GIRL COULD DO WITHOUT GETTING HER FEET DIRTY!
I can still feel empathetic indignation.
I found the whole parade quite rude. Not only am I leaving paradise tomorrow, but a group of people partaking of an event that I’ll sadly never be asked to partake of was just unnecessary.
The bride may have thought that today was all about her, but I know it was all about me. Now it’s time to go and say goodbye to the pool.