Island in the Sun

The main street is sand and gravel. Potted after heavy rains like the surface of the moon. There is only the one road, but then we are on the local resort side of the island, not the poor side, not as my brit mates said, the loud american holiday all inclusive resort side- which has the only spectacular beach, and kids selling bootleg dvds, necklaces and bangles, fake sun glasses and a smile.

I saw an eagle sting ray last night from the deckboards of our restaurant (and little fish) gliding silently majestically by. Though i haven't snorkeled or kayaked or gone anywhere so reluctant am I to engage with the water, I do grimace at the fact I haven't yet seen a turtle. But tanning I can do. And dips into the pool. And staring into the horizon, watching for dolphins and the frequent fast moving clouds. And lounging over the rail as I'm watching for my fresh made breakfast.

Tomorrow we leave at 12pm and take a flight... in a tiny airplane to the capital of Hondurus.

Tonight we have dinner at 7.

Today I have done nothing but ponder the nature of my physical being. Constant, stable, plodding. Not given to moving fast through water or sprinting down mountains. Reconciling my nature with my desire to be something different. To not apologize for the way in which my body and mind moves through space. Feeling good. Eaten fantastic eggs and toast breakfasts with bacon, garlic shrimp... loads of club soda. Sauntering around in a gauzy skirt and flipflops, hair matted in curls down my back. Shuffling here and there, pausing to watch the birds manuever the volcanic rock, the hummingbird in the nest near the walkway, the tiny beetle i saved from the pool, as I blew it clear of the edge, every foot until I hoped it had learned its lesson.

Also thinking about all my past trips and what the point of them are... the intersection of memory and something significant- conflict, a feeling of bliss, the turn of a head, the shrug of a shoulder... looks, roadsigns, the memory of a pinecone in a brownneedled bed, the juice of a fresh warm plum, my foot upon a graveled path.