He, I know not why, shewed upon all occasions an aversion to go to Ireland, where I proposed to him that we should make a tour. JOHNSON. “It is the last place where I should wish to travel.” BOSWELL. “Should you not like to see Dublin, Sir?” JOHNSON. “No, Sir; Dublin is only a worse capital.” BOSWELL. “Is not the Giant’s-Causeway worth seeing?” JOHNSON. “Worth seeing, yes; but not worth going to see.”
Boswell: Life of Johnson
After yesterday’s coach extravaganza – I’ve spent less time in one crossing Belgium – I’m glad to say we’re back in the resort and have spent the morning on the beach, soaking up the sun.
The Alhambra Palace is stunning! Every corner is splendid, and it was a tough call to put the camera down (I have 430 photos on my memory card, apparently) and soak up the atmosphere. It is absolutely worth seeing, one of those things to definitely have on the bucket list, but not worth going to see. At least, if you’re starting from here.
We had a 600am wake-up for a 700am coach ride which seemed to take forever. The negatives of that were more than made up by the palace looming into view in the distance, which was an awesome experience, one of life’s ‘wow!’ moments. All we had on the way back was the promise of our beds, and the opportunity to throw off the clothes after an exceptionally long and sticky day.
I challenge anyone who wasn’t naturist to have undertaken that trip yesterday and not yearn to be rid of shoes, bras, slacks, whatever. We both had the top half of our clothing off on the walk from the bus drop off point to our apartment. Full nudity would surely have taken place too had it not been awkward to have been walking with an armful of clothing.
It was a joy to get up this morning and experience the chill of pre-sunrise, a sense of cool and comfort after yesterday’s time in a coach.
Down to the beach for an early morning swim. Chilly while getting in, marvellous when finally in, and then a breakfast and a return to the beach for a couple of hours lazing on the sun beds for hire. For us, the middle part of the day is far too hot to lie in, so we’ve come back to the apartment for some rehydration and relaxation in the shade.
Sylvia remains transfixed with the world of SL. While I thought I undertook a reasonable reflection of her current look, she has determined she should take ownership of the avatar and ‘tweak’ it a bit. Currently, it’s an exercise in me sending her landmarks and her then spending her own linden dollars on a slew of things. I think I’ve created an SL addict! Of course, I think we all began SL with an ‘addiction’ phase, logging in at every opportunity.
She has promised to model a variety of looks a little later.
One of the things that she has already bought is….wait for it!….pubic hair! Yes, the woman who has been keeping it bare down there for 10-15 years has purchased pubic hair for her SL avatar. The reason for this is because, as the holiday progresses, it’s absolutely clear and certain that naturist women appear to be abandoning the razor in increasing numbers.
Of course, I’m not talking about a ‘back to the 70s’ look here, although we’ve actually seen one or two of those as well. But it’s absolutely apparent to us that pubic hair is slowly being resurrected. I imagine that is not a view that some readers may wish to contemplate.
Pubic hair does tend to thin with age, and it’s noticeable that those remaining resolutely depilated are more mature women. As the link says, ‘For some women, however, the thinning of the pubic hair can be very disconcerting. Women may feel that their genitals are more exposed and visible’.
I have to say that this -regardless of my age- was a prime reason for never having fallen under the spell of the razor. To go ‘bare down there’ almost certainly would have left me feeling a bit more ‘exposed’. Perhaps I’d have become used to the look and never given it another thought. Another reason for me not going for a full bare look was there have been occasions where I’ve gone for ‘the bikini line’ (because I’ve been on textile holidays, and because I go to a swimming pool, and didn’t want stray hair from the bikini briefs or swimsuit) and I found that to be an itchy experience best not repeated. At the time, getting a swimsuit whose shape wasn’t cut for ‘trimmed’ or ‘bare’ was a tough job, although I’ve since found an online source of more ‘retro’ swimwear with a cut that best suits a 1950s style of pub grooming (i.e none! 🙂 )
Sylvia won’t mind me saying that she’s keen to keep up with fashion trends, and so the razor, applied religiously as part of her shower routine each day so far, did not make an appearance this morning!
While some bushes are no longer being trimmed 😉 others have been cut well back. I’m speaking of the shrubbery around the urbanisation, leaving many gardens much more open than was previously the case. This has had the benefit of us falling into conversation with some of the neighbours previously hidden behind high hedges. These are now at waist height, and allowed Sylvia to converse with a Belgian couple who live a couple of doors away, and whom I’ve nodded to and smiled at for several years without being able to hold a conversation.
Shrubbery cut down has allowed Sylvia to engage in some animated conversation with our Belgian neighbours.
Note that she is developing a look of her own.
Tonight is St.Juan’s night, bonfires on the beach, nude midnight swimming (including by those who would not categorise themselves as naturist), music and drunken revelry. We’ll be there and I’ll be reporting back on that tomorrow.