The Giant Woman of Ibiza

“The cost of oblivious daydreaming was always this moment of return, the realignment with what had been before and now seemed a little worse. ” 
- Ian McEwan

Yesterday I was a giant.

I thought maybe at first I’d be an amazon woman.   An amazon would make more sense for someone like me.  I am short and small but dream of being tall.  When I feel insecure next to tall woman I secretly call them amazons under my breath.  Only because I want to be like them.  Sometimes I am mean and childish.

However, yesterday an amazon was much too short.  Jennifer the giant sounded better on the tongue.

Early in the morning I sat on a rock at the edge of the beach and considered taking a walk into the sea.  My toes dangled near the water and I briefly wondered if the bottoms of my feet would be cut by the small jagged rocks hiding below.

Maybe I could walk to Majorca.

The Mediterranean changes all the time.  The colors move from dark blue to white to green so quickly that I sometimes close my eyes for two whole minutes just so I can open them to a new painting.  It’s like being in an abstract art museum and not having to move at all.  If you sit long enough, the paintings all come to you.

Certainly there must be invisible artists painting the sea.

Yesterday, unlike the last few weeks, the water was calm like glass.  I thought that maybe the invisible artists were taking a siesta or maybe out buying more sea brushes.

If I walked far enough I could meet the artists who painted such beautiful designs.  We would all sit and drink wine and eat pickles and they could tell me their secrets to painting the sea.  They would ask me to be their apprentice.

We would discuss very important things, the artists and I.

Maybe I would walk to Barcelona, I thought.  It would have only taken twenty minutes or so.  But the water might have gotten deep and I would be forced to swim.  Swimming in the deep water scares me.  I always wonder what’s underneath me.  Are there piranhas in the sea?  Would a million of them have eaten me in a big bloody mess?  I would have to fight them with my giant hands.  Would my blood then paint the sea too?  Would the invisible artists be happy to have a new red color to mix with the blues and greens?

I didn’t want to swim.  I wanted only to walk.  But the water would be cold on my skin and if I got to Majorca without being eaten by piranhas I would have giant wet clothes and have to find a shop with giant dry clothes.  Exhausting…

Instead of taking a walk to Barcelona, fighting piranhas or introducing myself to the invisible artists I simply sat on my rock in safety.

Yesterday I was a giant.

Today I’ve been asked by a famous travel magazine to travel to Rajasthan and write about the food, lodging and culture.  What a busy day…this daydreaming takes up so much of my time

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