I have fat feet.
I have obviously not been as careful with the sun as I should have been. My feet are red and a little swollen. My forearms are quite red too. My white body was clearly not made for this kind of climate.
I very much hope that my status of Travelling Companion has been earned so far. I have been telling jokes and tall tales, embarrassing stories and amusing anecdotes. Sometimes, when the conversation has been zipping along I have taken a back seat and let the others take the helm. The role of raconteur and bon-viveur is not one that I find easy, but if someone is prepared to pay for my holiday, it’s certainly one that I can work at. Although I am picking up the odd bar tab, RT has been as good as his word and is paying for practically everything.
It is still hot and windy here. Isla Margarita may not be endowed with the most tourist-worthy history, but there are certainly demi-gods of windsurfing here. To watch some of these people in action is to observe another species. Idiots like me have to fight the sail every step of the way, wrestling with the huge forces at play. The heros here toy with their equipment and the very elements as though waving their hands at a particularly ineffective fly.
The two girls are still sharing the occasional drink with us. They are very sweet and make a lovely couple. Dtm has recovered somewhat after his foot was bitten by a crab. RT is doing too much work for someone who is on holiday, but then that’s the curse of running your own company I guess. It’s fair to say he’s doing more windsurfing than me as I can’t stay out in the heat of the midday sun, so he can’t be accused of being a total nerd.
For my part, this whole thing still seems somewhat surreal. Four more days here, the flight home, and then my role as travelling companion is done. It will be a weird transition back to ordinary life. Until then, Pina-Colada’s all round…