Dena’s Birthday!

They say it’s your birthday…It’s my birthday too!

Or it was, yesterday. And a fine birthday it was, with a couple hiccups. What’s a hiccup to the will-to-enjoy, though? Hmm…there have been a lot of “will to…” type statements made, but am I the first to declare the will to enjoy?

Not a chance.

Okay, so it was my (Dena’s) birthday and we went to the beach.


I wanted to put my feet in the sand and I put them in the sand of the Arabian Sea, mothafucka!

Rich, reddish brown sand – but I don’t know why. I understand black sands beaches and white sand beaches. Gotta figure this one out.


After we walked for many a kilometer, we caught a ride from an auto-rickshaw driver who let us out without charging us because he didn’t have a shirt. He was wearing a shirt, but not the usual tan color button down. Yep, still in a foreign land.

Then we argued with a bunch more auto-rickshaw drivers and stalked off in rejection saying, Uber muthafucka, and one followed us agreeing to do the trip for meter plus Rs. 10 (for the return trip).

So we went to the Kappi Shop, where our friends, formerly known as the Fam (Bijoy and Soumia), gave me a birthday papaya.


This piece of fruit came from the tree just outside their restaurant (called a hotel here…it gets easier). When they had us over for thali lunch during the hartal, most of the food we ate came from the 12 acres of land around their house. When they gave me a birthday present, it was from the tree 20 feet from where I sat.

I fucking love this place.


To make quick work of the hiccup…bad dinner, complaint letter, immediate response and refund.


And happy birthday to me!



One comment

  1. Oh my gog these images are fucking killing me. The ruddy beach, the unbelievable tomato sun…and the birthday babe with the eyebrow? YES

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