Once you leave the United States, men are everywhere. And they are hard to get away from at times. At least this is what Lara and I have discovered. They harrass you with endless text message date offers every day since they set up your Bluetooth even though you say you are both a. sick and b. married; they and their 20 corporate buddies all staying at your resort ask to (seriously) take pictures of you in your pool attire and then when you refuse sit down ten feet from you to stare at you while you eat for 90 minutes; and they even create a delightful screaming gauntlet for you to run through on public roads.
In Goa, today, I am alone and annoyed. (No Lara, No Bollywood). And I am someone who is great at being alone. Do you want to know what I resorted to? For 59 monotonous minutes - I am 100% serious - I ran in my hotel room with water bottles in my hand. No, really. I did. It's not even a particularly big room. At all. It took 13 seconds to do a lap.
There are many morals of this story. One is: you can do anything if you are pissed enough. Another is: respect the women in your life. A third would be: if you are a woman, travel with a good bodyguard, man, and/or portably small but scrappy animal so that you can still engage in daily life. At least I can take out my aggression in an entirely inappropriate travel article about how the Phoenix Resort oppressed me deeply. Or not.
3 comments:
this was a funny post. But 13 secs? Either you're a really slow runner or you stay in a lot bigger hotel rooms than I do.
buy a jumping rope.
i remember when i dated this guy who lived out in bumblefuck virginia and all these other guys in his not-so-great neighborhood would yell rude things at me when i jogged past.
then i figured that i would bring ex-boyfriend's 100 lb doberman pinscher out with me when i ran.
the yelling stopped.
Less running, more massage. It's the Goan way.
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