It was fairly easy to almost completely miss Christmas in Arambol. In the past week I have only heard one Christmas tune emanating from the speakers of a beach restaurant. For Christmas Eve, I met up with Deano for a drink followed by dinner at the Olive Garden and again the only sign of Christmas was some waiters wearing Santa hats.
On Christmas day I first skyped with family back in North America although it was still Christmas Eve for them. Unfortunately I found out that my stepsister’s husband, also a Dave, had contracted a nasty infection in his hand and had been in the hospital for a few days in Phoenix in excruciating pain. Thankfully he’s on the mend now.
Restaurant manager Manu with some Christmas lobster:
In the afternoon I hiked up the close ridge to see if I could fly and fly I did. It wasn’t an epic flight by any means but my first time flying on Christmas day!
Hiking up to launch:
In flight with Deano on tandem below:
Cute little Santa I saw on the hike back:
That evening I met up with some fellow paragliders at a restaurant called the Outback (yes, right in the spirit of things?!?). It was a fun group consisting of Deano, an Aussie couple John-O and Shelley, a skinny curly haired Englishman Mark and an interesting professional busker Paul who originally hails from England but now often answers “Earthling” if someone asks where he’s from. Paul entertained us and the wait staff with a few magic tricks while Deano also got in the fray by balancing some cutlery precariously on a glass just using a toothpick (and some good physics). As for my meal, I opted for the highly traditional chicken tikka masala!
So all in all it was a pretty “non-Christmas” but perhaps that’s just what the doctor ordered with this being the first Christmas since my dad died. I did think a lot about him and will for many Christmases to come.
The Christmas dinner crew:
Merry Christmas Everyone!
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