Art, Culture, and Ocean Conservation . . .

Fabrics of Life


We arrived to arambol late in the evening after a long day of errands. We took a rickshaw, two buses, and then a taxi for the last two hours. It kind of cracks me up how lanes and direction of traffic are kind of just a suggestion here.

We were meeting my friends’ friends at a small gathering on the beach. As we climbed the sand dunes in the dark I could hear the beat creeping in. As we got closer I saw the glow of lots of dready cutie pies all cuddled up on the beach accompanied by slow dark snarling bass. We have arrived.

I’m somewhere new but I feel instantly at home. Brightly colored Portuguese style houses everywhere. Shrines glowing in the middle of the night. People group hugging and om’ing in the street. It’s Friday night but it’s quiet except for the gentle lull of warm and fuzzy conversations floating off of porches and out of door ways.

I stopped to buy some water at this welcoming lil tea house. The shop keeper invited me in and mentioned he had many things to offer. I continued on after my purchase though, exploring the winding dirt roads lolly-gagging around housing complexes and temples.

Our sleeping situation was fairly uncertain on the way into town. My friend was trying to find a house where we could both stay and so far- nothing had surfaced. I knew i could always rent a room if it came down to it and there where people actually sleeping on porches all over the place lolol. A friend was to let us crash but ended up staying out late in another town a bit farther away so we could not get in. The group from the beach had moved into a restaurant and we were contemplating our options over tea when someone brought up the fact that their friend who didnt show- the house they stayed at was missing the lil moon shaped window from above the front door. They said perhaps a small child could fit through half- jokingly. We came by to peruse the situation. There was indeed no glass in the window and to our luck – both the Portuguese and the Indians are both a pretty small breed of people – so the door was not so tall. There was even a step stool conveniently on the porch. I felt i was the nimbler of the two of us and surprising slid right through on the first try. I wasn’t quite sure that my body would actually be able to fit in the opening along with my leg as I swung around the other side- but it all worked out quite easily. (Just as it should)

Soooo. . . I totally just broke into a house (with permission of course) and was surrounded by beautiful epic gauzy fabrics, flowy skirts, long vests, and pretty much anything you ever wanted to buy was gracefully holding space all around me. I go to open the backdoor and let in my friend when I find my leafy seadragon dress ( my favorite dress of all time that I got in san Francisco) laying on the table and the om body pants that i am wearing right now hanging on the rack in front of me. Turns out the owner of the house is an epic fashion designer and that all of my favorite fabrics in the whole wide world are all around me and made in Dehli and have been brought to this house that I am standing in now. What are the chances?

It reminded me of when I first moved to NYC and was looking for housing and my friend was dog sitting Madonna’s hair dressers dogs in their villa-esque condo in the west village and I got to do all if my craigslist searching from there!

I love this life!!

And the adventure continues!

Xo

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Comments on: "Fabrics of Life" (1)

  1. I am in fabric heaven just reading your post!! What a fabulous story, thank you!!

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