What it’s like riding 500km through Thailand, in April. One HOT week (or five days).
Paranormal stuff. The stuff that makes me shiver.
A Saturday night with a difference. While I'm normally getting ready to go to bed, tonight I'm out ghost hunting. More or less.
I spot a number of cafes on the way in, and make a mental note that coffee is not far away. Thank goodness. I see a place called BSKT on the corner, two doors down from our apartment. It looks full and bustling with energy. Another mental note, 'I must go there'. A social media comment from a friend in Adelaide cements my thoughts, I need to go there. A coffee buff, he says I need to go there after my run one morning.
So I do. We go for coffee, and sit out the back. To my gleeful surprise, there is a kids play area. Hallelujah. We have been entertaining the kids on holiday with no toys, and finally, they are away from us. Happily. I eye the food coming out, and wish I had not just eaten breakfast at the apartment. The menu has me wanting to eat again, but I resist. Just. I tell Ben we are coming back for food tomorrow.
Pancakes with raw cacao, blueberries and other yummy super-food crunch. Awesome! Sweet potato and quinoa fritters. Yum! This is my kind of food. Delicious AND healthy. The menu is laden with super-foods, coconut and protein, I don't need to feel ultra guilty indulging at this place.
We sip on lattes in peace, looking out to the whitewash of waves (while not salivating over the menu). That rarely happens. Ahh. Double whammy - great coffee and time out from kids.
Ben pulls me up for a dance to The Timbers, love 'em. We are doing our shin-dig-jive when, BAM, I cop a frisbee to the back of the head. While I'm still rubbing it, and wondering if I'm bleeding, BAM, the frisbee hits me again, on my forehead. Ouch. I boot scoot it away from the stage so quick, hearing the lead singer casually saying 'hope no one has got hurt'.
I'm shocked but I have to laugh about it. I'm one of those people who will walk into doorways or trip over a mat that hundreds of people have walked over before me with no problems.
It's 32 degrees, but by about 4pm, cloud has come over, and it's beautifully overcast. Perfect. We have squeezed in among the crowd under the shade of the big gum trees, and have found more friends. Band after band are on stage, entertaining us with the chilled tunes. And we don't drink too much either… with a wait of half an hour or more for the bar, who could. We are also not going to get fat here, lines for the food, which have half sold out by the time we get to the front, are at least half an hour also.
But you know what, it is a great day, and it doesn't bother me.
Nothing is bothering me today. We sit and chat, we sit and listen, we sip wine, we wander, we even giggle on the ferris wheel (Ben hates heights). Life without kids. Every parent needs to do this for at least one day every few months, I reckon.
Well, nothing bothers me until we want to go home. Our taxi driver this morning suggested we book the return home during the day, to make sure the wait isn't too long. We listen, but decide to book just before wanting to leave, purely because, we didn't know when we wanted to leave. We ring Yellow Taxis, they confirm our booking, and then we wait. And wait. And wait. We try to call back. Always engaged. We call another taxi company to book. They are engaged too. We call Yellow Taxis again. Still no answer.
We booked our taxi at 11.30pm, and by 1am, we are still waiting. It's getting mildly cold. Everyone else is leaving - minus a few who are waiting for their taxis also. We are growing impatient. I'm getting very tired. Ben is getting hungry and grumpy. We've had enough. We ring my besties mum. She comes to get us.
Teenagers. We feel like teenagers again, having to call our parents to come get us. Shameful… What a crap ending to an awesome festival. But hey, a day without the kids. Bliss.