April 17th, 1991

April 17th, 1991

Dominica

The first words out of William’s mouth, in the tiny terminal in Antigua, almost a year after seeing him last, were; “Do you want to go to Dominica tomorrow?” Needless to say, I said yes because I’m sunning myself on a tropical beach, while William spends the day at work,  in some remote location!

The tiny plane we took here was bobbing about so much, I thought I might throw up but fortunately with such a short flight time, I managed to keep it together.

William rented a Jeep that tore its way through rugged, makeshift roads, kicking up dust while the sun beat down on us, before the road suddenly opened to the expansive beach, with not a soul around.

“Is that where we’re staying?” I asked, pointing to a small bright yellow building, only a few feet from the surf. William nodded yes and I expected him to tell me something about it but he just kept driving. I get the impression he’s one of those people who can only do one thing at a time.

That might be a problem!

 

 

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