Open Letter to the Park Hyatt in Goa

Dear Park Hyatt,

I know it has been quite some time since I was with you. My apologies for not writing sooner. Between getting back to Toronto, starting into work and family commitments, I simply haven't found any time to write.

I recently posted some more pics of you that Anwar had taken. You may remember him from our visit in late September of last year. Anyways, the pictures have brought you back to mind: Memories of having showers in your rooms...was it 348...how soon I've forgotten. Forgive me.

Your lush grounds which were meticulously kept by the battalion of grounds-people; chestnut brown meandering boardwalks leading to a white-sand beach which literally went on for miles and miles. Your multiple pools: so clean, curvacious and inviting. The fountains on the pathways leading to our room. The palm trees, the Masaai-red earth which nurtured such luxuriant growth, the birds and yes, even the lizards have me singing your praises.

I apologize. For not writing sooner, but also, for not squeezing more enjoyment out of our time together. For taking you for granted and caring overly much for my own comfort. Besides your memories all I have left are questions. Why didn't I take more pictures of you, explore your alleyways and touch the stone work I walked on or use the hot tub at night? Why is it not possible for my mind to be as still as a photograph and for long enough to lull me to sleep with you in mind.

There's a rock in the pool which is closest to the ocean. My friend and I spent a whole afternoon lazing next to this pool. There is a rock that forms the edge of one side of that pool; a seat has been carved into that rock. You know the one I mean? Where one can come out of the pool sit on the half submerged rock and admire the view of the grounds leading to the beach, and further on, the ocean. That was a great place to take a break from the swimming. I did recognize it at the time for what it was -- a sublime spot for a repose.

I hate to sound overly sentimental, but it is this way, especially when I think of you. What can one say in closing except, thank you.

p.s. I inadvertently scrapped two inches of skin off my right shin while walking around that pool. The bleeding wouldn't stop. My friend suggested calling someone to bandage my leg. At the time, it was painful and I was too busy dealing with the pain to give the flap of skin much thought. I tore it off and let it fall. Now, I think, wistfully, that perhaps you knew I would soon depart and this was your way of keeping a little of me with you.

I will return one day. I promise.