Jitterbug Blue

The sun dances on the plexiglass window of my white aeroplane. I sleepily watch my mother furiously document its haphazard, orange choreography on her camera. I’m ready to undress, I fancy accommodating the balmy, saffron 27 degrees on my cafe au lait skin, immediately.  My holiday begins the minute I discharge my blue hoodie and black loafers.

A camper ride away I am accosted by greasy breakfast, weak wifi and tropical vistas. Despite my weary disposition, I slip into my black slippers and go for a walk on almost white sands, plunging my feet into the luminous and invigorating ocean. My travelling circus and I have the ocean shore to ourselves. Cautiously at first, and then with (almost) wild abandon we settle into the Navy, Air Force, Presidential, Cobalt, Medium Persian, Light Sky, Deepest Azure, Moonstone, Sapphire blue ocean.

Late lunches, birthday dinner(s), chaotic buffets, spicy thalis, red-bags spewing cakes, chilled drinks, warm sandwiches, boozy English pudding, denied brownies and apple pies, hard-boiled eggs, sugary coffees, follow me as I discover that blue is really the warmest colour, rubbing my sleepy eyes, massaging my protruding gut I go in search of extra sun, sand and sea.

Loud ships, glass-bottomed boats, countless walks, endless flights of stairs, encouraging hammocks, ATM expeditions in tuk-tuks, luggage carrying SUVs provide all the locomotion I need to enjoy endless sunlit decks, skylines of palm trees and shores of blue water. I am permitted to swim, so I make my way through the sand, watching for crabs and other shelled creatures. My weight on the sand, up and down the beach I go, my skin reddening with the heat, towel and book under my moist armpits. With the back of my hand, I wipe the sweat off my face, momentarily removing my sunglasses to do so.

A short walk into the ocean, the sun and the wind makes the ebb and flow of the waves my playground. I wait for it to surge, clutch onto my neon shorts and jump, the racing surf tumbles into my eyes and mouth, spitting, gurgling, drooling I emerge to applaud, hoot and create a din that is drowned by yet another surge of waves.

The water glitters irresistibly everywhere I go. Blue is living up to its reputations of being a very sneaky colour. It is just as beautiful as it is dishonest. You’ve got to get on a speeding catamaran, hold on tightly to the railing and look closely, you’ll see that blues changes its colours, often and with alarming speed. The sun and the clouds assist blues changing shades – rusty grey, sea green, electric indigo, teal, jade, turquoise I remember these shades as I stood captivated, my brown fingers clutching the peeling paint of the railing, my face over the edge.

A short aeroplane ride can take you almost anywhere which is coloured with bolts of blue. Unless you live in China’s Xinjiang region near the Kazakhstan border.

So I leave you now with a new favourite song of mine, Another Day In the Sun. Hope my travelling circus (my family!), you and I have several days in the sun, with perfect shades of blue.

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