Let's get French!

Second consecutive day off, and I treated myself to a nice lie-in... except that that meant I was late for my rescheduled Skype date with A. I rolled over, all sleepy-eyed and foggy, to check the time and saw with a start that I was already 30 mins late!! I jumped up, bumped into a few things and grabbed my laptop still on to get to Seaside ASAP.

Coming online, I was instantly disappointed - the last message from him was almost half an hour ago and he had given up waiting. So I pottered around the interweb for a bit before deciding I'd better go cook myself some breakfast... and at that moment, voila! He appears! Had a nice, long chat with him about the turns our respective lives had taken and it was good to see the banter was back - I know we'd both missed it since the main sway of conversation since I'd left had been soppy "I miss you, I love you, come back" kinda things...

Towards the end, my internet started playing up and I was getting frustrated so I eventually signed off. Which was annoying since he was mid-story about the girl who used to love him - nay, still loves him but realises it's a little late for her - and how she ruined his last bday. Dammit if I won't make his next bday the best he's ever had. It will also be the first he's had officially "with" me, a whole lot of firsts to happen in the next year. While we won't get Christmas or NYE together, there will be a lot of things I will enjoy doing with him as mine in the coming 12 months.

L was waiting when I arrived late to meet him and go to the French side. We'd planned to go to Friars Beach, as he's unemployed and a bit short of cash to go to the little island over there. I didn't mind, I'll go with I on Thursday and I hadn't been to this beach so it was a good chance to see it.

I dressed well to the part of tourist, with my wide-brimmed hat, one-piece swimsuit and flowing hippy-style skirt. And white skin, of course. Well, there's not a helluva lot I can do about that. At least I won't get stopped by police and asked for my papers.

Now this guy knows everyone. He's constantly saluting people in cars, stopping to say hi to people in the street, yelling back at someone on a balcony... He looks like the most connected person on the island. Then I started noticing that as we waited for a bus to come, the people driving empty cars would just wave and pass, not offering a lift. And some people would just call him "Rasta"... it's an odd thing, familiarity, on this island.

After what seemed like a lot of fucking around with public transport (almost an hour on 2 buses in traffic, a lot on this tiny land mass), and then quite a walk to the actual beach, I was glad to just sit down on the beach, crack a Presidente (local beer) and smoke it up with my rasta friend. And that shit is goooooood. Had a swim and then drifted off in a nice little daydream as I was laying drying on the beach afterwards.

I am growing fond of the French side. It definitely has a different vibe (for example, most of the beaches are clothing optional) and the people - black and white - are pretty chilled. For all I'd heard of the French side, I'd have imagined there'd be police everywhere, speed radars, parking officers... all that shit. But no one cares if you smoke, go nude on the beach (something I swore not to do out of loyalty and not wanting to get perved on!). And I spose when you compare the Dutch side to another with any sense of authority, you see it as strict. Man, this island is strange.

It started raining a little, so we waited under a palm tree shack. By this time, I was pretty stoned and drifting off again... Was really zoning out, so when L suggested we head back I agreed. This time it was me seeing people I knew - the first bus we got onto one of the guides from work was sitting in the back, the next the 2 young girls I befriended just the other night were abroad.

A quick trip to the supermarket to get more beers - so tempting when they're only about $6 a 6-pack - and just chill in my own company. Something I've become quite accustomed to. Now my apartment block STINKS of sewerage, the worst I've smelt since I've been here, so hopefully that gets fixed. Who knows how things get done around here. Even the people who work the electricity plant have no idea what they're doing.

Himbo, the cat I've befriended at my apartment, has taken to climbing in between the broken open sheet under my bed which is the bit meant to cling to the bottom of my bed. So when I was looking for her, I saw there was something seriously lagging under my bed and when I tapped it, it meowed and struck out a paw. Sor-ry! Her territory now. Imagine her surprise when I actually climb into bed one night.

My conversations with guys here about women's bodies are so interesting. While I was brought up in a straight, skinny-obsessed Australia, these guys fully appreciate women with curves and I have been told several times before that my body is every guy's dream here on the island. I just find it so hard to grasp, that I have battled all my life with the fact I'm the fattest girl of my group and I need to find clothes that hide my figure. Here, they celebrate it. I know it's not the first time I've said it but it still amazes me. And I wonder why the hell A wants me for it - he's not black, I know he says body isn't everything, but I see the girls he's been with. I am definitely the biggest.

Ended up going to some drinks at Buccaneers, the place I was last night for dinner before I went to that shit covers band. Met an older Dutch lady, H, that works with me at Seaside, and we had nice conversation. It was good to hang out socially - thanks to A, my boss, who'd passed on the invitation to go to drinks from H because she was too tired and knew I'd found it hard to socialise since being here. Me, finding it hard to socialise. Really, who am I these days???