rellling (v): portmanteau of 'relaxing' and 'chilling,' coined by comedian/linguist Richard Herring. An alternative for people who think 'chillaxing' sounds silly, but not quite silly enough
'I'm not on holiday' has been one of my stock phrases since I left the UK, as I explain to people that I'm working hard most of the time, and simply trying to keep the non-working hours more interesting and bearable by filling them with new experiences and more interesting scenery. (Most of the time it's loads cheaper than living in the boring UK too).
But this party line is getting harder to justify when I'm spending most of the day rellling on the beach, writing rubbish and reading worse, before heading back to my offensively cheap, inappropriately luxurious, air conditioned hotel room to literally chill out. It's like being back in Egypt, except the toilets flush.
Where dirt meets water
Cha Am Beach
I'm with Bill Hicks in failing to see the mass appeal of beaches, but after a week of excessive walking around Bangkok, my battered, blistered feet need some time off to heal, and the beach on my doorstep is the most convenient place to do it. And since nobody seems to want to send me any work right now, my brain and two typing fingers might as well embrace this reluctant vacation too.
I've never been very good at relaxing, but I'm getting better at it, and slowly learning how to make downtime genuinely therapeutic, rather than seeing it as dead air to be filled writing overlong blogs like this one. I'm even thinking that the 10 day silent meditation retreat I've been considering joining with Oliver might not be the most ludicrous thing I've ever heard of, and could do me some good.
That doesn't mean I'm ready to let go of all my neuroses just yet though, as this blog would be nothing without crises to spur me on. It doesn't mean I'm prepared to get a massage either, however many people tell me I should every day. I don't know where those hands have been!
This Cha-Am-ing Man
Cha Am Harbour
My dodgy Egyptian camera seems to have died, so I'll try to replace it with an equally cheap and dodgy model before I head to somewhere more interesting like Chiang Mai. (That is, if I can find any dodgy electronics for sale in Thailand. Ha ha ha!)
There isn't a lot to photograph in Cha Am anyway, apart from the attractive woman who works in the Post Office and seemed to be hitting on me. I think I'm starting to understand where the expats are coming from - there are worse places to live out your days. In fact, I may not have come across any better.
In the meantime, you'll find me rellling on the beach reading books about rabbits or making excuses to pop in to the Post Office for increasingly unnecessary purchases. Anyone want a postcard?
Next stop: Ban Krut
