Happy 2013 All !
He got 10 Garfish out of his fishing trip, he said. This single comment took me back in time. Along with the release of the RTW (Ready -To -Wear) Cruise Fashion Collections, I got to spend New Year´s Week at the beach every year.
I normally welcome the return of Summer to this part of the world either at a private home or at a Resort, along with friends. This year however it is different, as RL responsibilities have kept me from enjoying this beloved tradition and will probably keep me from it for at least a couple of years to come. The good news is that my RL friends decided to stay along with me so tomorrow night we´ll still be all together doing what we do best.
By the time you read this article New Year´s eve will have probably come and go but I wonder how I ´ll feel not being able to greet the Sunset upon the beach. I still have SL so I went down hunting for a resort area to at least get the feel of this tradition.
The posing, lighting and actual environment cemented me back, along with his comment, to a time and a place in which in spite of owning a beach house in the Pacific, I used to travel to the Atlantic to spend New Year´s Eve and the first week of the year on the ¨BIG¨ island.
You´d actually have to take a small boat to get there from mainland and brave a rough spot thru before you´d get to its shore. Before even allowing time for the boat to settle on the dock, I ´d throw myself on the pristine clear waters and gathering the rope I´d pull the boat to the dock. This gesture made me feel as if I was returning to some savage roots, as if I was a part of ¨them.¨
¨Them¨ were a bunch of people who descended from – gloriously – rebellious African slaves who had ran away from their masters to the mountains and far away islands and isles to escape the brutality of Colonial life back in the day.
Our house was an old light house battery storage place. The running water in the house coming from the slanted roof that gathered water from the rainfall and it was to be rationed if it was to last all summer. It laid right in front of the best surfing spot on the island and I could follow the sport from the house´s deck.
Behind the house, a deep tropical forest full of echoes of a million crickets, frogs and assorted animal life, covered with beautiful purple butterflies. There was no electricity. The island was as pure and unspoiled as when it was first found. The Islanders were innocent and ignorant in both their good deeds and their bad ( a bit like the rest of us … right?)
I loved diving into the numerous natural pools in the Island´s Ocean and loved to wind and body surf coming the night, sometimes staying in my bathing suit until midnight.
It was at this time that the distant drum beats would call you to the ¨Congo¨ square of the island where everybody danced. The only light coming from the moon. It used to look particularly big on every New Year´s Eve´s and it made me feel as if I could touch it with my finger if I reached out.
The Islanders would sway to the musical drums, the women clapping and chanting behind the males. The dancing resembling the courtship that occurs within the animal world between the male and females of the species.
The women were so keen at swaying their hips that they could make ANY man fall without actually touching them. You are not supposed to touch when you dance a Congo. Instead, you suggest, you mock, you offer the promise of what could be and when they get it … you retreat, every once in a while wildly swaying your hips to the music, still without touching. The feeling, the passion inside, is what causes the men to fall.
True, at the time I was indeed model rail thin, and my morphology did not aid my dance but my heart carried the same flame and passion as the voluptuos locals and my blood the fire inside. Tomorrow there will be no drums nor Congos, but I will still be dancing in the night.
Happy New Year Everybody !!!
XoXo Landa Crystal
Swimsuit & Flower – Boudoir Wedding On The Beach
Feet – SLInk
Necklace & Ring – Morantique Lush Adria
Bracelets – BM Design