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Happy birthday, baby!
I hope you and J are having a fantastic time celebrating and I wish I was there to give you a big hug - but I’ll see you soon, so that’s fine.
Also, I felt this day would present a good opportunity to reflect back on our best, most tragically hilarious and special times in India.
Remember when this photo was taken? Good thing we got up at 3AM so we could be the gig (as always) and wait till 7 for the sun to come up.
Remember when we went to that ancient site (oh, that one) and spent hours looking for the exit? And of course our girl nights, escaping from the ashram to get face masks, butterscotch chocolate (OMG, remember that stuff!? To date the best chocolate I’ve ever had, and I live in Switzerland, so that means something) and, naturally, some well-deserved internet time watching Youtube videos of that black guy singing something about the mall, using the slowest internet connection ever. Speaking of chocolate, remember when someone had the glorious idea for everyone at the ashram to cook a traditional meal from their country? Let’s ignore my Roesti disaster and go straight to the part where you made your Brazilian magic chocolate thingies, so everyone would forget to work on advancing on their spiritual path for one night, at least!
That was pretty fun, but definitely not as fun as our night in the best hotel of all of India: Hotel Namaskar! Where we didn’t dare touch anything and slept on pillows wrapped in our scarves (that we bought at the market in Delhi after various mental breakdowns). And I’d like to remind you of how ecstatic we were when, in Agra, we finally, finally had a hotel room with an actual bath tub. Not that we actually took baths (too busy drinking Sprite and watching crappy TV), but it was pretty cool having one as opposed to two buckets. (Fun times washing my high-maintenance hair)
Remember when after two months in the mountains, far from civilization, without so much as a proper grocery store, we flew to the big city and found a Starbucks-esque coffee shop? I wouldn’t bet on it, but I’m pretty sure we screamed for a few seconds there. On a different note, I’m sure you’ll never forget the cockroach and mice ridden trains we used to frequent for our overnight journeys. Seventeen hours in a bed across from a staring Indian guy? Sure. At least we had our cellphones (and a shit load of Paulo Coelho’s body of work, for some reason) so we could send ill-advised texts to our exes. Good times!
Enough of India - we also created some pretty great memories in other parts of the world. Remember when I first visited you in London (and you had to bring a coat to the airport, because the warmest thing I had coming from Bali was a 3/4 sweater and robust-ish flip flops) and we’d walk to the yoga center for a Sivananda class every night? On the way, we passed the street to ‘my’ office and some company that had something to do with Brazil (which is where I’m from). You took me to all the cool places and showed me where to get my hair done (forever grateful). And remember when you took me to your place of work on the 1st of January: the mall! You’re doing such a great job there managing the health food store on the 2nd floor. They played some Aretha Franklin song when we were having lunch and it was just perfect. We also went to Notting Hill and I was wearing those really weird boyfriend cut jeans with the super fancy sequined top and that whole look just didn’t work out at all. You, on the other hand, looked fabulous. As always.
I also took your living room hostage with my three suitcases, but I made up for it by only waking you on the tube when we were already home and when I had made tea for us. And passion fruit smoothies.
You’re the best and there’s no one I’d rather be eatprayloving with than you.
Excuse me, ma’am!