The seal spat out the fish for the third time. Patiently and resignedly, the lady netted it out of the water, reinserted a tablet into another fish and tried again to feed her difficult patient. He had half his back scrapped clean off, perhaps from a run in with a boat’s propellor. Lucky he was here, I thought and could one day be returned to the wild. We were in Aseal, a sanctuary for our flippered friends who need rescuing. And visitors can see how the staff are looking after these creatures and preparing them to be released as soon as possible. I wasn’t expecting to find such a place here, in Holland. But then, I had a lot of surprises during our week in Zeeland.
Tranquil. Not a word we normally associate with India. But beyond the often discussed hustle and bustle, chaos, dust and noise there is indeed a laid-back side to the sub continent. I came to India this year to unwind having had a stressful few months and found that even in Bangalore, the hectic hub of a city that seems to grow by the day, it is possible to relax.
So I managed to lock myself out of my apartment this morning. Smooth, I know. It was bound to happen; self-locking doors and my forgetfulness are a bad combination. Long story short, I was let in a while later but it kind of wasn’t how I had hoped to start my weekend. I was feeling gloomy over breakfast then gave myself a metaphorical head-slap and got in the car.
Pale grey misty clouds lay over the sleeping city. They formed layers interspersed with rosy-pink sky, like the tiers of an elaborate wedding cake. The sun emerged from this canvas, rising slowly, enjoying its moment in the spotlight as cameras clicked all around. The sky was soon filled with bright blue; the temperature already rising, the sunrise show over, for today at least.
I doubt I was the only one who was relieved after the results of the French election. France has got to be one of my favourite countries. There’s the acres of rolling countryside, miles of winding roads, almost empty. Forests where wild boar roam, rivers and lakes framed by fields of sunflowers. There’s the long stretches of caramel coloured sand, washed by waves reflecting the blindingly-blue sky. There’s the food; wine flows like water, crispy baguettes are eaten copiously, fresh produce is found in every village square. There’s the weather; mild springs and falls, golden summers, cosy winters. Not to forget the unexpected chateaux one stumbles upon, in all their architectural grandeur.
Nothing. No planes, no cars, no machinery. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been surrounded by such peace, alone with my thoughts. Not quite alone though; there was the sweet song of the blackbird, the mooing of cows from a distant farm, the breeze through the apple blossom trees. I shared the quiet evening with a bird of prey, far overhead, surveying the resting valley. What a view she must have; a patchwork of fields of green and yellow, dotted with plump white sheep, cows and horses like daisies in a meadow. It was one thing to drive through this bucolic landscape, it must be incredible to see it from above.
Rice. It was the only thing on my mind as I pushed through the crowds, past the many markets stalls, past the vendors selling spicy noodle broth and skewered meat, as great vats of hot oil bubbled next to them. Lunchtime, and everyone except me seemed to be stuffing their face with something good. “Rice”. I demanded of a stall owner, “plain, white rice, do you have any?” She glared at me and shook her head. I moved on, trying one vendor after the other. No one would oblige, I was shooed away by everyone, it was as if I’d said a bad word. Hungry and confused, I marched on, a woman possessed. I knew what I had to do.
You’ve been driving around for hours, your whole body aching from the constant jarring and bumping. The heat is intense, the sun beats down on you unmercifully, easily finding its way through the open vehicle. Every bush, every tree, every leaf is starting to look the same, a blur. Suddenly, something catches your eye, something is out of place. What have you spotted?
November. Its raining. The lawn is a soggy mess, the floors are stained with paw prints. One month till Christmas, thoughts turn from stocking fillers to sunshine. Its the usual dilemma; where to go for some winter sun without breaking the bank? Without enduring long haul flights, jet lag and mosquitoes? We thought long and hard about Florida, but in the end looked towards the Middle East. Oman? Still too expensive. Dubai? Overcrowded and overrun. Then we chanced upon a deal to Ras al-Khaimah, Dubai’s next door neighbour and fellow Emirate.