I swore I’d never do it again. I really believed I’d kicked the
habit for good. But in just under two months I’ve managed to completely
unravel. My self-control is in tatters. My iron will? Melted to a pathetic
puddle of disappointment.
I’ve started smoking again. I’m such a supreme anus.
Only a few weeks ago I had been in my element, glowing in the
laminated glory of my Teacher Training Certificate. I hadn’t had so much as a
snifter of a smoke; in fact I hadn’t been even the slightest bit tempted. So
where did it all go wrong?
All that stretching, sweating and studying had certainly done me the
world of good but the minute it stopped I realised I was completely burnt out. I
needed a change of pace. Some relax and recline time. And since nowhere in
India does ‘chill-out’ quite like Goa, I decided that’s exactly where I would direct
my flip-flops. So I headed to Benaulim, a cosy little beach resort in the
South, where I’d spent one of the best months of my trip last year.
At first, it felt great to be back. I found myself a fantastic
place to stay in a small guesthouse run by Flora and Elias, an adorable Goan couple,
who immediately adopted me as their own and ensconced me into the heart of
their family. I was spoiled rotten – they lavished me daily with delicious home-cooked
meals and treats, did my cleaning and laundry completely free of charge and were
forever dishing out parental advice, whether I wanted it or not. That a ‘young
lady’ like me was travelling all alone was unthinkable to them and I guess that’s
why they rather sweetly wanted to compensate. I’d moved in with “Mum and Dad”
and I have to say, after 4-weeks in Dunstan’s fleapit, it felt pretty great to
be “home”.
Socially, I wasn’t doing too badly either. I’d made some good
friends here last time around and I was delighted to discover that quite a few
of them had returned; or in some cases, had just never bothered to leave. So I
had a wail of a time in those first few weeks catching up on old times, often
under the intoxicating influence of Goa’s famous (and dangerously potent) local
hooch, Fenny. Cue some pretty outrageous behaviour on my part, although mercifully,
I can’t actually recall many of the gory details, thanks to the level of my
inebriation. Suffice to say, the hangover-cum-red-faced-shame condition I ended
up in afterwards was not particularly pleasant and I would often find myself frozen
in the recovery position for days.
But beyond the headaches and humiliation, I always had the beach.
And I quickly found myself a nice little spot to sprawl out on, by one of the
shacks that lined the 2km of coast. So my days were typically divided between
sun-lounger and sea as I proudly showed-off my newly honed, bikini-ready body
to the local beach boys who, I’m very flattered to say, regularly vied for my
attention. I even rented myself a bike to wheel about on…although after realising
just how much of an ordeal it was to actually ride, it was quickly relegated to
a kind of cumbersome accessory that I just walked around with.
Still, life was good. I was living in a sun-shiney bubble of
perfection. Paradise. But, as idyllic as this was, I soon became complacent. My
daily routine of beach, booze and bed simply didn’t give me enough to do. I
became incredibly bored. And that’s when I started smoking.
At first, it was just the odd cigarette here and there to fill a
gaping moment of tedium in my day. But as these gaps expanded, so too did my
habit. And now, after 5 months of total sobriety
I’m back to chuffing 20-plus-a-day. I’m not particularly proud about this, but at
least the fags are cheap and I have to admit I do rather relish the 5-minutes
of pleasure they bring. Nevertheless, they haven’t done much to spice up my
life here in Benaulim. But I have found something else that has. Although,
that’s a story for another time.
Now, however, I’m drawing this particular posting to a close. I
believe I’ve well and truly earned myself a nice little smoke. And after that
I’m going to accompany my bike as we saunter handlebar-in-hand back to the
beach for another full day of doing sweet ‘eff all…
