What’s in a Name? What’s in a holiday? It means many differing things to many .
Is it numbing the brain or reawakening the senses? Is it re affirming your national identity or escaping to a masquerade?
Well I am proud to shout out:
my relaxation involves vast sums of frenzied brain activity
I’ve felt obligated to apologise for my active mind for far toooooo long. I’ve honestly been tempted to buy a disabled badge so new friends are pre warned via the small print of what is often perceived as a handicap- before even hanging with me.
This mind machination thing is a turn off to many. Now all say ‘ahhhh’ and join me in my Moment!
Enough of the apologies, I’m taking ownership of me, accepting me and doing what my mind and body tell me to, rather than judging myself according to other peoples expectations
So, yes I read work emails and respond if I feel like it. Yes, I call mates, I write – cause it’s cathartic.
Yes, I help people out on holiday who are going thru something cause we are FRIENDS ALL of the time
Yes I start blogs on holiday!
I totally respect those who switch off (I won’t mention how lazy I really think you guys are)- hats off to u!
Yes I am horizontal alot and cook with fresh, local ingredients and float in the ocean and spend an hour perfecting my wig to saunter to the supermarket (yes, I embrace my wig with confidence!)
Another thing I realised about myself on this holiday is: I’m the ultimate imperalist holiday maker.
My mantra is ‘what do the natives eat/wear/do…’ which is super patronising don’t u think? I can be spotted in khaki and a note book studying the local habits and jumping to out landish conclusions avoiding my fellow brits to the max and desperately trying to blend into some Spanish senorita type persona but of course, too lazy to learn the lingo.
What’s that about? The eternal search for the authentic, the rustic, the true spirit, the everlasting zeitgeist of a nation. It’s tough to convincingly wear mantle of anthropologist- when you’re the only black fam in town. Not that I’m blaming my predicament of my race. I wouldn’t dare do that! But, the only people who looked like us are those selling stuff on the beach or plaiting hair.
Can you imagine the gawps and stares as we saunter thru our sourjourn unaware of the waves we’re causing in the Murciathian lagoon?
Train em young- showing my little babe how to be a true holiday imperialist! Checking out the all important edibles in a Spanish supermarket!
This class based tourist colonialism, is turning my understanding of noveau imperalism on its head. It’s all about cultural exposure not race. As people of African descent- refugee and immigrant- we can now use Wurope as osme over sized museum – playground and be bemused at the populous in that stereotypically imperialist way.
Last night, however, I dashed all my metaphoricla mohitos to the side and allowed myself to be turned upside down by a figuative spanish bull….
(American drawl please) Girl friend- you’ve gotta check this one out. A cross between the British shop Tiger and Primark…it thumped my drum as if the owners had ransacked my wardrobe and designed the shop just for me…only me…and I used to think before entering this den of retail therapy – that I was an original fashioneesta?
Honestly, the Alastair Campbell’s of cheap trend….have got alot to answer for… My fam were seriously concerned for my well being. My eyes took on the vacant disarming stare of a weeping angel (Google Dr Who) all surround sound shrunk into silence as my mind vacated the premises. All the energy drained from my 5 senses, re channelled and focused in on one target as I methodically interrogated this inviting victim.
A demon possessed consumer, I honestly couldn’t stop and when I finally reached the home strait of the till and my children breathed an almost sigh of relief cause it was nearing 10pm and we hadn’t eaten… I saw some fantabulous necklaces oozing magnificent summer effervescent sparkly dangly beady…
Please respond- short or long here and share your views/ experiences of holidays