Sacrilege!

Some beach or other... | Barquing

Bondhi Beach reminds me of Weymouth.
It’s a beach, there’s the sea, lots of shops, bars, check, check. Essentially, it’s not really my thing. I think I’ve been spoilt when it comes to beaches, by those wonderful empty stretches we visited in Peru, camped out on the sand, not another soul for miles in each direction, other than the bar which kept up a steady supply of nice, cool beers. Bondhi is just full of beautiful people (or rather people who were not beautiful but thought they were, or people who were beautiful and knew it only to well) lying on the sand or surfing. I ambled towards a quieter section of the beach and paddled half-hearted in the waves. Not surfing or sunbathing, I could have sworn I heard a collective low hiss from the rest of the beach.
I shuffled away, slipped past a number of cafes and restaurants each populated by other beautiful people either on their way to or from the beach (I think they work on a shift system) and after being stopped by a pair of Scandinavian’s who for some reasons thought I might be able to give them directions (perhaps I looked tanned to them, and thus could pass for local), I thought, sod it, and hopped on the bus back into town.