Island Paradise Day 21

Three weeks in paradise and I cannot say I am sick of it yet – though last night’s close encounter with two cockroaches just about did me in. The first was running laps up and down the kitchen cupboard. Steph grabbed the raid, and began spraying – sending me running faster than the roach. Fortunately, a few minutes later it was the roach laying on its back wiggling and not me.

Of course that meant this morning I felt compelled to wipe down every surface in the kitchen and empty every cupboard and disinfect all the contents: probably needed to be done anyway.

The second roach encounter was at 3 a.m. I got up to pee. I turned on the light to do the cursory bug check before entering the bathroom, and when all was well, entered and sat down. For a second I thought I felt something brush my thigh – but did not pay attention, but when it happened again I looked down, and holy mother of God there was a small cockroach on the inside of my leg. I screamed a scream that sounded like death itself and jumped up so fast that I somehow exiting the bathroom without my feet even touching the floor, leaving my jammy bottoms in a heap behind me. Poor Steph – what a way to get woken up! I jumped back into the safety of my bug netted bed but all night long I had the willies, and every time the air from the fan brushed across my exposed skin I thought it was a bug and my body would convulse. Fortunately my dear husband, despite the heat, snuggled me back to sleep – safe in his arms.

Somehow roachageddon was all forgotten today as I once again marveled at the colours of the underwater forest we visit every day in front of our house. Today we saw long burgundy sponge tubes and a tower of bright orange sponge that looked like a castle. We saw squirrel fish and a large turtle that quickly disappeared in the reef as we swam by. Yesterday we saw a large porgy fish – at least three feet long and once again we saw the large blue-gray sting ray flapping in the sand. This time I swam calmly overhead. Snorkling is becoming like a form of meditation. I glide along in the warm water - suspended only by the air in my lungs, breathing in and out slowly - it relaxes me. The silence of the water and the almost heavenly sun rays that come through are beyond description. I am addicted to this underwater paradise.

As I write this the sky is turning a light pink as it sets behind me, and the wind has once again died down so the water is calm. The soft lapping on the shore is relaxing as we sit here on our screened porch drinking hibiscus iced tea. This week has been the first time since we left Canada in October where I did not feel like I should be doing something productive. For some reason, cherishing these most perfect moments in nature seems far more important.