The Seychelles. I’ll be honest. I’d never heard of it until we moved here and started looking for a potential location for our . . . let’s see, what will this be now . . . our eighth, no ninth . . . honeymoon. About as close to perfect as you could get really. A little wooden beach bungalow nestled lightly into the lush jungle-like surroundings and overlooking the turquoise waters below. Waking up luxuriously in a cloud of fresh white bedding, NOT to the sounds of youthful exuberance in complete opposition to an adult’s natural alarm clock, but to the sounds of gentle waves overlapping with the rhythm of my slow even breathing and the therapeutic cooing of some kind of tropical dove. The bright morning sun warming the wood floor boards of our back deck and beckoning us out to play. We shuffle out to the beach chairs nonchalantly in our flip flops and new beachwear, easily adopting this very relaxed pace of lifestyle. The chairs freshly swept and the sand raked into perfect little patterns by tan, muscular beach attendants, we read for a few hours and take a break only to cool off in the bath-like water when the moment strikes us. It is five full days of living only with regard to the next ten minutes in front of us, “Do we feel like snorkelling or kayaking? Should we have a beer or cocktail with lunch? Should we watch the sunset from the beach chairs or from the ocean view bar? Should we drive into the ridiculously little cute town for some local creole food or order room service and eat on our deck while the tropical evening showers serenade us?” It is five full days of romance and perfection with my man, having absolutely nothing to attend to except one another. And then we leave and I always wonder why we don’t take these kind of vacations more often. Strategically, I have completely piqued Liam’s interest in this world of sun, sand, and surf. Selfishly, we have yet to include him in our island galavanting, but he informed Keegan when we returned that our next family trip is going to be to Hawaii. I can’t say I had any reason to argue.
Week 32 quick thirty six hour jaunt to Paris. I always struggle going to these types of places, somewhat cliche, VERY touristy, trying to capture them in a way that a gazillion people haven't already captured them. I have fun trying though.
There's something about Paris in black and white that I have always loved . . .
Maybe just maybe someday I can cross these all off my list! So far, only 2 . . .
Layover in the Dubai Airport . . . beautiful architecture, I must add. Usually, when I've only been to the airport in a city, I don't count it as a place I've actually visited. However, I DO feel as though the absolute magnanimity of this airport and the bling within makes me feel like we kind of got a taste of what Dubai is all about. Perhaps, I'm wrong. Definitely worth going back to find out though!
And alas, we have arrived. ON Keegan's birthday no less. What a perfect way to start!
Keegan always tries to give me some line about how he is not cut out for the beach. Some mumblings and grumblings about pale skin and skinny legs and such. I don't know about you, but all I see is one hot Beach Babe myself.
Funny...my son makes this same face when apparently, I have pointed the camera at his face one too many times . . .
Typically, when we go on these types of vacation, to quote my brother, we "sit ass." I always FEEL like we should be doing something but quickly I realize I don't want to miss one single second in the sun, the very good book in which I am immersed at the moment, and the cocktail the waitress just offered to bring to me. We finally did a hike this time . . . only because it was to a beautiful beach and for that reason alone, made it worthwhile to take time away from our sitting ass.
It was a very long hike . . . much longer than we originally anticipated as Keegan's selected footwear was the ubiquitous flip flops, but it led to this:
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Wish you were here. The end.