It is Christmas morning and I have, temporarily, no Internet. Our entire covered balcony deck is wet, and the table where I set my laptop has puddles. Rain during the night must have crept in sideways over the rails and under our thatched roof. The wind had been strong enough to throw an empty Coke Light can against the door, but not so strong as to whip an empty bottle of our Spanish Baron De Castaneda from the table. Is it still paradise at Kia Ora Resort on Rangiroa?
Let me check. I hum a few bars of She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain, and yup, my voice is much better. I’ve been nursing a progressive cold for the past 5 days. Check. Sunburned back acquired from walking across the reef from the Blue Lagoon to Bird Island without wearing sunscreen. We made an emergency trip into Avatoru yesterday to the pharmacy to get an ointment with special properties beyond Aloe Vera, and it’s much less red and botchy today. The pain has subsided. Check. Hair. My hair is a tangled, twisted, poofy and swollen blob looking very much like Lyle Lovett hair crossed with Albert Einstein’s. Who gives a rats about my rat-nest hair but rats? Check.