goa!

Hi everybody! It's me, Seung Yi!

Check this out: I went to Goa. Sweet, huh? It was so great. My auntie Emma, auntie Cathie, and my Grammie-o came to see me in Delhi. I was kind of shocked by them at first because they came a bit before it was time for me to wake up. It took me a couple of days to not freak out when Mum, Pa, or Iaimon left me with them, but then I settled in and really enjoyed having them cater to my every need.

You know how it goes, though: silver cloud, black lining. Or is it the other way around? Whatever. Point is it was great that they came but then we all got sick. First Gramma got deathly sick. It was so bad that Pa actually called a doctor to come to our house and not only that, but get this: Gramma actually took a shot from the doctor in the hopes of feeling better! So you know she wasn't kidding around. Then I got sick. Laree had a cough and I picked it up. Then I did her one better and ran up a fever also. Mum had to sleep with Ji cause she was so scared the night my fever hit ONE OH FOUR POINT EIGHT. That's a record for me. But since I'm older and tougher now, I wasn't as limp as the last time it went up past 104. I still managed to look alive. Pa took me to the doctor the day after that and got a big bag full of medicaments for me.

I joined the Canadian contingent of kids with those asthma puffer thingies and for the next week Mum and Pa had to rassle me down twice a day, cover my face with a gas mask thingy and puff me full of bronchiodialtors. Lemme tell ya: that sux.

While I was still sick, Emma got sick, poor her!

Somehow, we still all managed to get on the plane for Goa. Mum, Pa, and Ji had a long weekend holiday because it was American Thanksgiving. I thought that would mean we'd sit around and eat deep fried chicken wings and watch football, but no, it turned that it meant we'd go eat curried crab and see the remains of St Francis Xavier. Who da thunk it?

The flight from Delhi to Goa went well. Emma was anxious (surprising, isn't it?) but Mum reassured her that the flight was likely to be delayed and it turned out to be exactly the case. When we arrived in Goa Pa had a big fit because our driver wasn't waiting at the EXTRAORDINARILY packed airport exit. I spent my time trying to pick up and chew old cigarette butts on the ground, which Mum kept - very irritatingly - yanking away from me. When we finally found the driver and got into a couple of taxi vans we were in for a wild ride. On roads that were, like, as wide as my pinkie finger we went at least a quadrillion miles an hour, narrowly escaping death three times in a row.

The villa we stayed at in Goa was spec-tac-u-lar. Like, unbelievably beautiful. Here's me loving it:

And here's me enjoying a fancy wooden stool in the living room:

The house was old, old, old. Older than Oompa, even. And made by those guys who bake custard tarts and grill chicken? I think Ji called them the Porkacheese or something. The ceilings on the house were so high up I couldn't even focus on them. All the rooms were filled with fancy hand-carved furniture and lovely shiny things I wasn't allowed to touch. But don't get me wrong - it was still a perfect spot for a teeny toddler. They had a mosquito-netted crib, two strollers, a high chair, and two car seats. Not that I used any of those. You know me, ol' sleeps-with-Momma, eats-on-Poppa's-lap, walks-on-her-own, and would-be-arrested-in-Canada-for-not-being-buckled-up-in-a-vehicle. Oooh, they also had toys and plenty of pebbles and flowers for sniffing and in the backyard where we served breakfast everyday by Salaam the caretaker / chef / driver / tour guide they also had a POOL!

Here's me in Charlotte's yellow bikini, navigating the hand-hewn two-hundred-year-old floor tiles on the way to the pool:

Ain't I a peach?

I've got more pictures to show you of me at the beach (and the other beach, and the other beach, and the river, and of Ji and auntie Emma parasailing), but Ji's got that camera and he's not back from his trip with Gramma to the Palace on Wheels yet. So yas'll just have to wait.

In the meantime, a big bikini hug to all you suckas shovelling snow in Toronto!

Love XXXOOO SY

PS: Just kidding, you're not suckas. And I'm kind of scared that if I tease you then when I get to Toronto in two weeks and I'm still wearing my sandals (I've TOLD Mom, like, forty times to buy me shoes that cover my toes, but will she do it? Ooooh noooo...) you'll toss me in a snowbank. So, um, I mean here's a big bikini hug to all you lovely friends shovelling snow in Toronto.

PPS: Suckas.

[On The Road-30-November-2007]