Missing Paradise

This is no good. I am still suffering from Vacation Withdrawal Syndrome, where I sit at my desk and dream of clear skies and blue water, and imagine the sound of the ocean and the rock and sway of the boat lulling me to sleep, or, as the case may be, threatening to fling me overboard. I have a definite craving for the fabulous tuna steaks cooked for me by my very adorable boyfriend (who also made me caramelized bananas in the teeny tiny galley because I developed a sudden inexplicable yet insatiable craving for Dunkin' Doughnuts Chocolate Pudding 3,000 miles from the nearest store and that was the best we could do) and the complete and total sense that time does not matter.

Most of all, I miss the sensation of being completely divorced from the world and all the goddamn pain-in-the-arse people in it. It's nice being in the middle of the sea with your only worry whether you can stuff yet another chicken curry chapati down your throat without your stomach exploding. I can't even blog properly, despite this being my second attempt of the day. I want to go back, and see the Goat Guy in Khorendu and the guy in Male who asked us into his house simply because it was raining and he didn't want us to get wet.