"Finals" in Ceylon

I can see the ocean from this computer. Its absurdly blue tropical water is about 20 meters away from my keyboard. And I have to write a 20 page paper during the next few days. One page for every meter that separates me from the ocean.

After a Bud Ride of Doom (read: immense lostness in the pouring rain, sore sore legs cramped into packed buses, and an unforeseen night in Colombo), I find myself in Mirissa, a sleepy beach-town on the southern coast of Sri Lanka. Smooth white sand gives way to the rumbling infinite sea and palm trees lean over the beach, lazily reflecting sunlight. At nighttime fireflies have raging dance parties with the stars and frog song blends with the mewing lullabies of peacocks.

So I am writing a paper in Paradise. I have to click "New Blank Document" and start typing out coherent and academic thoughts about the ideals and lived realities of love in Sri Lanka. I suppose I will do this, given that I came to this country to create this project. All I really want to do, however, is prostrate to the ocean.