Hendrik asked if there was anything that was missing at the safari tent. Now admittedly, as a travel writer (I usually say “former travel writer” but I must be feeling hopeful today), this is a question that usually has me rubbing my hands together with Snidley Whiplash glee. Having worked in the luxury hotel industry, I know the ins and outs of the details and can find the faults of “an experience” within roughly seven seconds or so. And yet, I came up blank. I love that tent! And the chapel! And walking through the surrounding forest and cavorting on the mountains towering above!
Ah, but old habits die hard. “Well, there is one thing…” Despite that this recluded spot was far cooler than sizzling Arles, there was still a mighty spike in temperature just at the most essential moment of the day…la sieste. I couldn’t escape the sun’s glare on the patio and felt like a slow-roasted hen inside. “Would it be possible to have a little seating section down by the riverbed? A hammock maybe?” (admittedly, this was Remi’s idea but I handily passed it off as my own). Hendrik thought that a perfectly splendid suggestion.
So perhaps on our next visit–and yes, I am ready when you are–I will nap under a leafy canvas and coax the dogs into the ice-cream thrill of plunging into a mountain stream, for normally there is an actual river and not just a riverbed. There will be so many delicate details to discover, if only I can keep my eyes open long enough to see them…
The best light can be slightly ticklish, don’t you agree?
Oh! And I am also guest-posting for beautiful Clare at Looking Glass in Australia while she is off wandering through Peru…
Thank you Karena! It was so very beautiful there and the morning light was perfect. 🙂
Lucky you, Laura!!! I am really tired of being city bound. This break did us so much good. And yes the light…in French there is a beautiful word for it, "tamisé"…I like it more than dappled!
What about a Balinese day bed? 🙂 No nasties that I could see G but why not?
What about a mosquito net to hang canopy-like over the hammock?
Agree with David re: your photographs. Isn't it amazing how you can find almost every shade of green in nature and they all work beautifully together?
Dear Heather, I smiled at your comment about being able to enter a place and, within 7 seconds (and consequent upon your former work), find youself able to cite Everything Wrong with the arrangements, etcetera.
Just last night (having turned down, for about the fifth time, an invitation to some local, fashionable, new restaurant), I finally confessed to some new friends (the old ones all know this about me and don't bother inviting me anywhere) that, while I'm sure it's a PERFECTLY WONDERFUL JOINT, WITH ABSOLUTELY MARVELOUS FOOD….I don't want to go there….and that I've eaten in an American restaurant exactly twice in ten years.
Throughout ten years of gradskool, I worked the front for a high-end catering company (the sort that "does" the Governor's daughter's wedding, blahblah)…and, then, for a swishy restaurant (yes….consistently named "One of America's Fifty Best").
It was all considerably more perfection-driven and demanding, actually, than the Duke English Department. I should emphasize that I enjoyed the work and still miss it sometimes (odd…since I never miss teaching).
Nonetheless (And this is entirely my problem, I know), I can't sit in a restaurant without my attention drifting away from my friends, as I suddenly notice "They're down at least two busboys in the front of the room"…"First courses are coming out too slowly; someone's screwing up on the prep-line"…"She's taking folks to table 14, and it's missing a salad fork"…."The folks at table 23 have been waiting over ten minutes for their check"….etcetera. It's just dreadful (or maybe I'm just dreadful, since I always find myself MENTIONING these lapses; friends have had to say "Please promise me you're not going to get up and go bus that neighboring table….??".
It's like going on a date with a dentist who won't stop staring at your teeth (this happened to me once…but never again)
Oh well, I'm glad to read that I'm not the only person burdened with vocational-memory.
And your photographs are particularly fine this go-round, Heather; you must be enjoying yourself.
—-david terry
http://www.davidterryart.com
When you look through your soul (like you) you will always see the little
wonders in our world. Looking the pictures I attain childhood and in my fantasy I expect the fairies come out from behind the trees and ask me if I have a wish. I also love the
silent in the forest which you, figuratively speaking,can hear in that place.
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