3 posts tagged “honeymoon”
I still don't have the wherewithal (best word ever, btw) to compose the masterpiece "Bora Bora: A Retrospective". I'm using the return to tummy normalcy as an indicator of when enough time has passed for that undertaking.
Meanwhile, The Pigeon has some storage concerns that are preventing us from processing and posting an album of all 300 some-odd photos. In the interim, I've posted some highlight photos on Flickr. Note that if you view as a slide show, you will miss all of my startlingly helpful explanatory text.
Also still to come: some little videos of turtle-feeding, "sand" doves, and hip-shaking that would even make the mighty Shakira (Shakira!) take notice...
Alas, it is our last day in Bora Bora. True to form and infected to my toes with "the human condition", I've been staring wistfully at the crystal blue water and the fantastically awesome Mount Otemanu thinking that I just might miss this place. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: at our hearts, we are in love with wanting.
The blustery day has turned into a blustery fortnight. While the wind is tropical and lovely, it's also bossy and relentless. As we were making our way to the front desk to check out, a strong gust whipped Richard's straw hat right off his head and into the lagoon.
"Oh no! My hat!" he bellowed as he stood clutching his now naked head. It was a lovely San Francisco hat from Fino Fino, and it served him very well throughout this trip. As we watched it float away and gradually begin to sink, we decided it was better this way. For years to come, we will write lovely stories about the fate of the hat (home to a grouper? collected by a poor sunburned fisherman?)
In the meantime, have a 40 ounce Hinano, and pour some out for our fallen homie...
Day 5 in paradise. I persevere.
Call us ungrateful sods if you like, but the fact of the matter is that my hubby and I are ready to come home. We miss ugly roads riddled with traffic, impolite people with a mysterious sense of entitlement, tandem laptopping, Mexican food, Mexican people (or more accurately, a modicum of diversity), constant connection to the Internets, squirrels, being dry, barely dodging the pointy insults of our friends... you get the idea.
Being in a microcosm of tourism in the middle of the Pacific Ocean does things to you. I want it to be like the original Return to Paradise or Blue Lagoon or whatever, but it's currently feeling more like Lord of the Flies or The Beach. I'm covered in bug bites, I haven't been completely dry in 4 days, I'm constantly dehydrated, and if I have to eat one more piece of fruit, I think I might kill someone. I've gone from feeling mildly abashed in my Americanism to wanting to thwart all the subtle elegance and refinement of the French and Japanese tourists (still formulating a good plan for that, but I suspect hogging this communal computer to write a whiny blog post is a fine start). Our poorly-insulated bungalow is loudly windswept all day and all night, making it difficult to sleep and impossible to feel tranquil. Were it not for the lovely company, I'd be completely miserable.
I've found myself thinking about The Tao of Steve, where Steve points out that "doing stuff is overrated". I would point out that not doing stuff is also overrated. I long for stuff, and stuff that needs doing.
To add insult to injury, I ate an entire cheesy pizza for lunch yesterday. I have no idea where my sanity had gone (though recall that this isolation does things to you). I suffered so cruelly and absolutely last night. As Richard begrudgingly headed off for a solo dinner, I was doubled over in pain on our bed with the worst stomach cramps I've ever had. Shortly thereafter, I purged the entire contents of my stomach. This was a slow, drawn-out process that lasted several hours. I'm sure it was the romantic culmination of Richard's life as he watched his wife sprint back and forth between the bathroom and the deck, ridding herself of the evil pizza poison in every foul manner imaginable. I couldn't even keep water down.
I'm just thankful I didn't need to get flown to the hospital. That's right. Flown... in a helicopter. Because there are no hospitals on this island. Return to Paradise indeed. Take me home!
