Felipe pretends to stab the green coconut he opened up for Sharmila with a straw!!! This was in Playa Grandi!

One of the first Tagore poems my late dad had taught me…

তালগাছ এক পায়ে দাঁড়িয়ে
সব গাছ ছাড়িয়ে
উঁকি মারে আকাশে।
মনে সাধ, কালো মেঘ ফুঁড়ে যায়,
একেবারে উড়ে যায়
কোথা পাবে পাখা সে?

There is something about island life – the toughness and grit it calls for, the “it will happen when it happens” island time, happiness and poverty co-existing (almost a required condition)… it just appeals to me at a level nothing ever does.

My dream would be to open up a bar by the beach in one of the islands a few years before I die. I know it will be a tough adjustment – but there is always the alcohol to forget it and the knowledge that it is a finite journey.

Now, if only I could figure out when I am going to die…

Don’t know what it is with these Caribbean islands… they have some really great Indian restaurants. Remember the one in Turks and Caicos and the other one in Nevis?