If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve probably seen the bevy of photos from my recent trip to Panama City Beach.
In light of current personal matters that I'd rather not discuss here on this public forum, I simply needed to get away for a few days. A mental (and physical) hiatus from reality does the body good, trust me.
As someone much wiser than myself once said, “It’s not only the scenery you miss by living fast – you also lose the sense of where you are going and why.”
On a slightly unrelated note, at the ripe age of five, I set my mind to become a gypsy.
I would spend hours dressing myself in my mother's finest robes, carefully wrapping a towel around my head not unlike a turban, while an audience of my friends and family waited with eager anticipation in the garden behind our house. When I'd finally decide to make an appearance, to the overwhelming joy of my spectators (much less for my performance than the fact that the end of this spectacle was hopefully very near), I would emerge from the house and proceed to parade around in circles, humming what I confidently knew was a gypsy tune, beating out a rhythm with my feet and viciously flailing my arms above my head as if they were two snakes being charmed into obedience.
Never mind the fact that I knew nothing about gypsies and was likely imitating an Egyptian ritual of some sort that I had seen on TV.
Whether they realized this or not, others encouraged my delusional behavior by jokingly calling me the black-haired gypsy. I say "jokingly," but to me it was no joke, really. It was a sign of confirmation from the gypsy gods themselves.
To this day I am fascinated with all things wild and carefree, so imagine my delight when I came across Mandy Tangerine. Following my nomadic instincts, I knew my upcoming vacation would not be complete without self-consumed parading of gypsy-inspired outfits, culminated with the addition of Mandy Tangerine turbans.
I guess not much has changed in 20 years.
On a more serious note, the three days were exceptionally beautiful.
Each morning we were woken by the sounds of the ocean and rays of light peeking through the large bay window in our bedroom. Mornings were spent lounging on the balcony with coffee in hand, exhausted from the previous day's adventures, and without a care in the world other than the question of whether to take a dip in the ocean or lounge by the pool.
Then, of course, there were the evening strolls by the ocean and intimate picnics on a deserted beach while watching the setting sun turn the ocean waves gold.
I'm curious, what sort of wild adventures do you have planned for summer?