Lighthouse beachAs I may have mentioned, I’m down in Kerala working from the beach this week.

And how fine it is to be able to say that.

Sigh.

So I’ve been mostly wrapped up in a little bubble of writing and thinking. But in the late afternoon, I walk over to Hawah Beach – a stroll of perhaps three minutes from where I’m staying – and spend a happy hour staring at the ocean and watching Indian families enjoying the water. It always makes me smile, but more of that in another post.

Often young men want to come and talk to me, sometimes out of a genuine spirit of curiosity and friendship, but more often because white skin is taken to mean ‘easy’. Sadly this may well be true compared to the much more traditional Keralan girls – lots of people come here on holiday from Europe and one assumes fancy a bit of a holiday fling.

Anyway, there I sat, slathered in a generous dollop of factor 50 on my glowing fluorescent skin – when a young man edges closer and eventually engages me in conversation. Very slowly and shyly he says;

‘Where are you coming from?’

To which I should have answered, Dublin or possibly London. After all, I’m patently not a local.

But I didn’t fancy the ‘And you are liking our country?’ conversation (I have that one quite often and it gets a bit tedious).

So, instead, I said, the equally true, ‘Bangalore’

The youth looks bereft. I am obviously not a tourist of the just arrived loose morals sort. But he tries again and asks,

‘You are working in India?’

‘Yes’

He considers this. Ponders it’s meaning, and, I assume, it’s affect on his chances of sleeping with me…

And without a word, he walks away.

How proud my mother would have been.

.