The problem with being restricted from doing something is that that thing, for some time afterwards, will be all that occupies your mind and desires.
Today, for me, that thing is water. Sometimes being a woman sucks.
Today we got up earlier, although, 6 am is a far less painful hour on Corn Island than it is back home. The tail end of the sunrise greeted me as I walked outside to wait for the others to finish getting ready for the day. I continued my walk through Jane Austin’s romance amoung the wind, grass and sound of the the early mornign tide.
It worked out perfectly that the characters happened to be back in Southhampton near the sea themselves at that point.
Breakfast, was a surprise. We had to catch the ferry for Little Corn Island at 7:00 am, and since Alsandro had said breakfast was after 7:30 am, we were not expecting to anything. Alsandro, ever the good host, brought us tea and coffee on trays.
I was so engrossed in my book I didn’t even notice until the tray was placed ont he grass beside me, and I am sure the surprise showed on my face, because he laughed at my startled thank-you and walked away.
I took my sketchbook, novel, mp3 player; safety lines against any potential boredom, not being able to swim would cause and we headed for the dock. Our directions were to walk along the shoreline into Brigs Bay until we came upon the dock with the boat. Sunday morning there are no taxis running on Corn Island.
The boat ride across was thrilling, it felt like zooming across a wave lake on a seadoo, but only in a bigger craft, with bigger waves on the sea. The water was made up of an infinite number layers, smaller waves that textured it and larger ones that created the swells we travelled up and over or skipped across depending on the sia and speed of the boat at the time.
Some passengers enjoyed the trip more than others, I think some people got a little worried when we bounced off of one wave and came back down hard enough to lifts us all an inch off our seats.
Once we got to the island it became quickly apparent to me that the main activity here was either snorkelling or diving, or swimming or laying ont he beach. The island was small and trails for walking were fairly unexciting, the main natural wanders around were to be found in the sea.
And it was hot, the North wind that made Big Corn Island such a perfect climate did nto make it to Little Corn Island and the sun beat down with more strength. Perfect beach weather, so long as you can cool off in the water.
Needless to say, I was a little bitter about this fact, especially when I finished reading Jane Austin’s Lost Memoirs and was left without that distraction. All my other options seemed to loose their appeal to the heat and taunting crystal clear water.
So I decided to engage in some sand castle therapy, while Mari and Hiro went on their snorkelling trip with their Aussie guides.
Oh yes, despite it’s smaller size, we saw more foreigners living on the islet than we saw on it’s larger brother. In fact I think I counted more foreigners than I did natives in my time there. The total count on Big Corn Island was three.
English was definitely the preferred language by both foreigners and locals alike on the islet, although the locals could of course speak Spanish as well. The foreigners seemed to be British, or Aussie, or Canadian (didn’t meet up with them, but was told they existed), or form the US. And they were all there for the coral reef and spent the day hoping on and off boats to various underwater locations aroudn the island.
Anyway, back to my sand castle. I would characterize the architectural style as being a cross between an Aztec temple and a Medieval Spanish castle. A meeting of two cultures in this area melding together and into the very beach itself. A work of art.
And if you believe that I’ve got a white canvas with a black dot on it that represents the struggle between good and evil. Its yours for a measly quarter of a million dollars.
Meanwhile, the snorkelling trip went well for the other two, aside form a minor jellyfish run in, and we headed off to catch the boat back to the larger island. We had reserved dinner from Alsandro that evening and were looking forward to the Italian cooking.
The boat ride back was as much fun as the ride to the island, the views, if were even more spectacular because once again we found ourselves on a boat riding into the sunset. Two of the deck hands, if you can use that term to apply to what amounts to a very large speed boat, were standing up on the front most deat and holding onto ropes tied to the bow of the boat. It amazed me that they had no problems balancing when the boat started, it looked like so much fun to ride the boat like that. Ah well maybe next time.
We did manage to hit a few larger waves, including one that sent the younger smaller deck had nearly sprawling back into Mari, he sat down in a seat form then on and spent the rest of the trip trying not to laugh to hard at Mari’s reactions and fear of the larger waves.
We reached Big Corn Island and after showering and changing into a fresh pair of clothes we headed to the “dining hall” to wait for our meal. Puss, our cat friend from the other day joined us, eager to start buttering us up before we even received the meals he was very eager to share.
Alsandro laid out the meal perfectly, exactly as it would be at a fancy party, except that the setting was a pirates island in a stone remains of what use to be a larger hotel. And our host was wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It was pretty cool.
The most exciting part, however, was eating spaghetti with TOMATO sauce, oh how I missed that and chicken that had clearly been marinated the night before and was served with freshly cut tomatoes.
I didn’t give Puss a single bite, by then he had become pretty rude in his insistence and was putting front paws up on our chairs to beg for food and had even clawed at one of the dogs when he came around to look for food. Also the dogs were getting ideas from the cat, and they didn’t have the same table manners Pedro did in Granada. Unfortunately, although Hiro and I warned her not to, Mari could not resist Puss’ big kitten eyes and did give him some spaghetti and fish. The cat didn’t leave her alone for the rest of the night.
Ice cream for desert, and then a shot of rum to close the palette and we were all blessedly full and you know what that means. Yes we started to get sleepy. I tried to resist the lure for a little while to watch the stars and woke up in my chair outside an hour later with one of the doggy guards sitting beside me.
I didn’t want to go to bed, because the next morning we had to leave this little paradise, but sleep proved too strong a lure and I settled in for the night. I think I dreamed of pirate cats trying to steal my treasure trove of chocolate and fish. And no, I did not make that up. My dreams are just that easily influenced.
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