Half of the time — no, make that 75 % of the time — self lives in the future.
That future is not always a bright and rosy picture.
But, self reflects, it is better to have a future, any future, rather than the alternative. Isn’t that so, dear blog readers?
This morning, self is in a reflective mood, having capped off a wonderful weekend of movies: three from CAAMFest and one in Palo Alto’s Aquarius (“Emperor” — five stars! And what a performance by Matthew Fox!)
For some reason, one of the things she took away from the festival was a mention of a bed-and-breakfast in Vigan.
Self has never been to Vigan, never. Not even once. Though she knows her sister’s kids were taken there, one summer several years ago.
She decides she might as well try going on her own. She looks up the inn, and came up with this.
What is the meaning, self wonders, of the houses in garish blue and yellow paint? Perhaps blue and yellow signify good luck? Or perhaps those are the province’s national colors? Or perhaps people just think blue and yellow are cool?
Which reminds self of the time the Colonel took her from Bir to Amritsar. The car played only Elvis music because Pratibha, the Colonel’s wife, is a great aficionado of Elvis songs. So we entered Punjab (to the tune of “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree”) and there, for the first time in India, self saw turbans. Many, many turbans. It was amazing, there was no warning that we had left Himachal Pradesh. There were simply, suddenly, everywhere, men in turbans. And not just any turbans. Turbans in all colors of the rainbow: pink, yellow, green, you name it. And some of these turbans had printed designs, like flowers and stripes. Self asked the Colonel whether the colors had any significance, and the Colonel replied, “It is a matter of personal taste. Some people like the color yellow, others like the color pink, and so on.”
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.