And strangely, one morning, a week after Easter, the house was empty. The various Grahams were drawn away, either by work or school or Gap Year plans, and we were left alone. After such an odyssey north, they refused to let us leave. So we enjoyed a second week, equally luxurious but utterly different from the first. Gone were the loud rambunctious meals and games of charades, late nights and group expeditions. Except for Oliven (the incredibly friendly guy who manages the place) and Gi, who works with him, the staff and chef were gone as well, and the house was essentially shut down, save for a few rooms for us. We still ate delectable meals and swam and lounged and read, but now we truly were on our own schedule. We stayed up late watching movies, playing cards, writing songs, listening to music, reading (I never knew I could read so much in a week, and I read a lot). It is quiet, but blissfully so, and after all the long nights and big cities, loud noises and dusty streets, bus rides and plane rides and days without food and uncomfortable beds, we do not miss a moment of this splendor. We capture every moment, savor every swim and meal and sun drenched nap. Our skin turns from deathly pale to tinted brown to a lustrous golden (hate to be vain but it is hard not to notice when you spend 12 hrs a day in the sun). We go for long walks along the beach, stroll into town, ride the quad around. We get to know Oliven and Gi (they even invite us to go to a party with them, despite the language barrier). We have long intellectual discussions Tolkeins Silmarillion and the epic Watchmen and other than that, mostly just stare off across the rolling atlantic, visible through the vivid palms. One night we watch the Rolling Stones Shine A Light Movie (absolutely mandatory, one of the best band movies EVER) and end up dancing, singing Sympathy for the Devil at the top of our lungs, having air guitar solos and air drum solos and finally, at the epic ending, leaping into the pool in the dead of night with whoops of Rolling Stones mania. May sound like a quiet night in to some, but it was a blast.

The day before we leave (an event we dread), we go out to the cabana on the beach and play classical music at maximum volume on the speakers and lay back,  drinking beer and enjoying the heat of the afternoon and the gradual descent into twilight. The tide is at an all time high and is perfect for boogieboarding, so we leap into the wives and ride them up and down as music rolls through the air and warm tropical rain begins to fall. When we get out of the water, the rain intensifies and the clouds over the ocean are suddenly illuminated by a magnificent double rainbow, a complete arc, and utterly vivid. Franz Ferdinand blares from the speakers as we soak up a moment that doesn´t seem like it could be more idyllic.