Looking up is for chumps

I have just spent two and a half weeks on an isolated Caribbean island. “Oh no, poor you”, I hear you say. I know, right? My tan has never looked better, and all the fresh air and scuba dives have left me feeling chilled out and peaceful. “Eugh! That must have been terrible”. Ha.

The fetid, cold-water showers, sandfly-bites in their hundreds (seriously), and scratchy beds are a worthy price for such an adventure, but being back in civilisation certainly has its perks. My hot water shower and soft mattress are pretty much the best thing ever. Period. Feeling cleaner than I thought possible and after having a coffee in the local café, I explore the small town that has given me back my sense of self hygiene. The main street runs through the town, with little side roads that emanate out to the town’s edges, lined with boats and cool, calm waters. A dirt football pitch is busy with children playing games and construction workers building a new shop on the fringes. Fresh fruit, fried foods, and friendly faces are spread across the side streets. A dog stands on a trailer being pushed by a bicycle, a man has fallen asleep in the sun, and a small boy stares at something interesting on his feet. There is something going on everywhere.

 

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