Bliss

I love to watch the red dragonflies skim across the clear blue water of the swimming pool, their four, lacy wings beating in tandem. I wonder what urge or necessity brings them to this aquatic pilgrimage. One of the things I think I will miss the most when I move out of this apartment will be the swimming pool. It has become a weekend routine for me to move outside, once the threat of a morning shower has passed, spread out the beach towel that Tim & Kiki gave me for Christmas, (a surprising helpful gift in a landlocked country) and lie in the sun until it has cooked me just enough to justify diving into the pool. I find myself feeling much like a marshmallow in the hands of a mature child - I slowly toast each side and then rotate, hoping not to accidentally catch on fire. I realize this is the reason that 40 year old expatriate women have the wrinkles of a 60 year old, but for now, it is bliss. 3 dips in the pool later, and I have finished reading my national geographic; its stories of 2.5 mile long caves and warnings about population growth. I pick up my pillow and towel and make my way across the patio to our apartment, skipping across the bricks that feel like hot coals in the sun. I throw on pants and a t shirt, and make my own weekend pilgrimage to outdoors mall, for groceries to feed me for the next week, and to ogle at the hundreds of souvenir items that are sold in the parking lot here every Sunday. It is a race against the growing afternoon rain clouds, but the walk is only 20 minutes, and I make in before their ominous darkness and occasional rumbles of thunder catch up with me. I am happy to sit and drink a cappuccino under the shade and protection of a large umbrella at an outdoor cafe before finishing my allotted tasks.