For the first time in my travelling history, I've chosen a resort. It's in Cape Verde, off the West African coast.
I could be anywhere. But I'm definitely not in England. Not even Butlins or Pontins or Centre Parks could rival this. You know you're abroad but you don't know where abroad.
There are palm trees. A sandy beach. Torquise waters. Warm sunshine. But aside from that, I wouldn't know I was in an archepelago, formaly colonised by Portugal, a stone's throw away from culturally fascinatating and distinct Senegal.
But behind the homogeny is a masterclass in humanity.
I watch fraut families and couples, who after 10+ years together, have run out of things to say to each other - but are united in basic (either by nature or habit, I couldn't tell).
I'm surrounded by mothers who shut out baby daddies.
Parents who can't manage their child's big inarticulate emotions.
Girls desperate for the attention of the ents guys.
Boys flexing their biceps on the beach for their own gratification.
Privilege treating servers like they're invisible.
This country has a rich and diverse history but in the mock Moorish architecture and faux children's presenter enthusiam, you'd never know.
The people who serves us endless cervejas and tastless international food don't engage unless they need to sell you something. Why would they as the servers are just a means to an end. That end being endless cervejas and tastless international food.
Cleaning up behind unconscious guests.
Guests who lap up the facade. Guests who go to the canteen dressed to the nines. Guests who go to the canteen dressed for bed. Guests who gorge on basic.
I came for ease. My objective was to read and study, and start a routine that will be forgotten once I've stepped on a plane back to Gatwick. And it's easy. I don't need to worry about money, food, drink, activities, getting to the beach and getting onto WiFi. It's all here. I want for nothing.
Except conversation with someone who will tell me what life here is really like. Except immersion in what life here is really like. Except a sense of what Cape Verde is about - where it's been, where it's going.
As I buried myself in Edmund Burke, keeping an eye on home, pretending war in Europe isn't happening (I'm European), planning the next eight days, I couldn't get away from the futile nature of life.
But it's a beautiful life. A miraculous one. My privilege isn't this expensive, sprawling tourist metropolis but every breath I take in paradise... I don't just mean the Insta-worthy Cape Verde, I mean every moment I spend on Earth.
God isn't a man. God isn't a woman (soz, Ariana), God is us. God is here. God is this. God is the alchemy that gives us life. And there's room for everyone as long as we don't kill God with waves of plastic cups filled with bottomless booze, abundance of processed food thrown away at arbitary closing times, destruction of landscapes to make way for transient tourists, people muddling through life with their "lot" because society/religion told them suffering is good and happiness is sin, and zombies not conscious to anything other than their own consumerism.
Woah, that got deep.
