Flown in, Hung over
I just came back from Coron, Palawan.
I spent happy, tiring, exciting, amazing days there with my Sunday group (Nadine, Kat, Tots).
I missed three days of work, my mind is now on autopilot, and I'm running on 6 sachets of flavored instant coffee (recipe courtesy of Tots, the Cafe Mocha Connoiseur).
I'm absolutely hung over with Palawan. I want to go back. I didn't want to leave yet in the first place.
I miss the sunlight on my face. And the smell of the sea, the salt on my skin, my toes rubbing against the sand, corals scraping against my legs, the fish looking at me in the eye. I miss the boats, and having lunch facing the ocean. I miss treading water knowing full well my legs would get back at me by aching all night. I miss the shipwrecks. I miss fishing. I miss swimming. I miss the sound of our laughter in the ocean.
Even cigarettes tasted different.
I miss walking around town and not caring if my hair was a mess and all wet before we got out of the house. I miss the smell of anti-mosquito lotion that we slathered on our bare arms and legs during dusk. I miss going to bed early and waking up at the crack of dawn wondering, where could we be headed today? Which beach? Which island?
I miss Palawan so much, there is an almost sort of emptiness in my chest. I will be hung over, I think, until Sunday evening. Or until my tan fades back to my original skin tone.