Monday, February 24, 2014
Monday, February 10, 2014
"ISLAND DREAM"
Hassie Mildred Gaugau
Chapter 4
"DRAMAMINE, QUICK!"
(This isn't the ANTONIO but is the closest that I could find that looks like it, only the Antonio wasn't anywhere near this nice.)
There were numerous flights everyday between the two Samoa's. But nnnnooo! We had to go by boat. We'd sent a telegram to Fia's parents, informing them of our arrival in Western Samoa at eight PM. That would be seven hours travel time. The flight would have taken only thirty minutes. But, this was an adventure, I reminded myself.
We brought snacks and soft drinks, since there would be nothing available on board the tiny "tub." I still doubted my sanity but took a Dramamine and prepared myself for the challenge.
On board, there were no chairs or benches, no place to sit except on the slanted deck. The Samoan fellow passengers were great! When they saw that we had no blankets or pillows they shared. As our trip began, I was filled with excitement. The view was breathtaking. An extinct volcanic crater had created one of the most perfect harbors in the entire South Pacific. We passed sleek modern fishing boats, yachts, and small dug out canoes.
"This is great!" I told Fia. "It's absolutely beautiful. Thank you for insisting that we travel this way."
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"My Dramamine must be working, because I feel fantastic! I just can't believe that this is happening to me."
BUT! I hadn't realized that we were not yet out into the open ocean. An hour later as we pushed out of the protected harbor, into the "real" sea, I realized that I had been happy a little too soon. The waves dashed us backward, then shoved the tiny craft forward. We rolled, dipped and pitched down through the trough and plowed up the next wave. MORE DRAMAMINE QUICK!!! All I could do was lie as flat as possible on the deck and pray that the seven hour trip would be over before I died!
The Samoans laughed, played cards, and ate the snacks that I had bought. I couldn't even watch them eat. When I did raise my head to see where we were, there was nothing but water. Water on all sides and as we plunged into the waves, water over us.
But when Nature called, I had no choice, I had to get up. I stumbled to the back of the boat (whatever you call the back, at this point who cared.) As careful as possible I tried not to trip or stumble over the other prostrate passengers. The "restroom, one only" was nothing more than an outhouse with two holes cut into a crude bench. These holes opened directly over the ocean. The door swung back and forth. I couldn't get it latched and really didn't care. I sat on the bench while the door concealed and exposed me and had my butt washed clean at the same time.
As the waves tossed our tiny craft like a piece of driftwood, I literally crawled back to my allotted spot and collapsed onto my borrowed blanket and pillow. After almost six hours of misery, darkness had fallen. Surely we were close to our destination, after all, seven hours was supposed to be the travel time. From another pill and the fact that our trip was almost over, I finally fell asleep.
I was awakened by overwhelming silence! There was no pounding, throbbing, or any engine noise at all. It was quiet. "Too Quiet" as an old movie dialog would say. The engine had stopped.
"Fia, what's happening?"
"They're working on the motor," she answered. "It just stopped awhile ago."
Panic began to chew at my feet and work upward. Now you've done it! No one knows that you are on this dilapidated piece of litter called a boat. You'll just vanish from the face of the earth. Your girls will never know what happened to their wayward mother.
Just before hysteria took over, I saw lights blinking in the distance. "Fia, that's Western Samoa, isn't it? We're almost there aren't we?"
"Yes, but we still have a long way before we reach Apia. That's just the east end of Upolu."
But it was land, maybe we could swim. SWIM? Who was I trying to kid? I was no swimmer, even if there was only fifty yards, I couldn't make it.
Clatter, clatter, bang thump, roar, the engine fired to life among load cheers from everyone. Then a moan, just as loud, as the encouraging sound died. Two or three more attempts and finally it held. We started to move again. This happened several times as the old diesel, tired out from the battle of the waves, stopped and started. All the Dramamine that I had taken took a toll and brought me to a point of not caring.
I had dreamed of the South Pacific for years. Dreamed of being Nellie Forbush. Well, now I was here, and maybe I'd be here forever, never to be heard of again. With the engines dead, there was no longer even the light from the engine room. I couldn't see my watch to know how long we'd been floating aimlessly, in the dark. The only positive note was that the ocean seemed to have calmed.
The smell of diesel was so strong that I wondered how flammable it was when several people lit their cigarettes. But then there was a strong roar and the old engine bellowed to life. This time we actually moved. Our pace was fast enough that I could see some of the twinkling lights were actually left behind. Soon people started to stir. They checked boxes, suitcases, packages, and children.
"What's happening now?" I asked.
"We're almost there." Fia said as she too prepared to dock. I shared her excitement. After almost two years away she would see her parents soon. I watched as she strained to see them. But there was no one there, not even dock workers. When the tug nudged us up alongside the pier, the only life we saw was the customs officials who stood slowly, stretched, and yawned. We were three and one half hours late. Ten and one half hours to travel eighty miles.
These customs officials were as through as the ones in Pago Pago. They looked through everything that Fia and the other travelers had and just stared at me as if I were crazy, which, in a way, I agreed. She didn't seem to be concerned that her parents weren't there, she just asked around, then announced that we would spend the night with another of her "friends." He had left his pick up at the wharf while doing business in American Samoa. We loaded Fia's boxes, cases, and bundles into the back and then climbed in with them.
"Tired, hungry, sleepy, and away from home, and nobody cares for me." My grandmother had chanted that "sayin'" to tease us kids when we became cranky. Now that's exactly how I felt, not necessarily cranky, but certainly tired, hungry, sleepy, and defiantly away from home with the feeling that certainly nobody cared for me. But I tried to be excited. Tried to welcome the new experience. We passed the guard gate where there was no guard. The little pick up continued along the deserted street that hugged the harbor. A golden glow from the street lights lent a haunting effect to the mist that hung over the docks and the entire city. We circled around a clock tower just as it struck the hour. MIDNIGHT! Not only had our trip taken forever, but the customs officials had delayed us for another two hours.
"We're here!" Fia announced as we stopped in front of a little store, all closed and dark. "We'll unload, you go on in, just walk across those planks to that house back there."
Oh boy! Things had gone from bad to worse, and now beyond worse. The "house" looked as if it had been made from old refrigerator crates. I walked across the wobbly planks and up some make shift steps into the opening that served as a door.
Everything was spotless!
The floor had been scrubbed so much that it was faded and worn smooth. Bright pieces of material were draped across boxes and trunks. There were no partitions, just one big room. An arthritic, gnarled, old woman awakened from her sleep, cheerfully stirred around and made tea for us. Fia's friend had brought bags of cookies from Pago Pago. Since visitors were in her home, the old lady now prepared a treat, no matter if it was, by now, one o'clock in the morning.
An equally gnarled old man who had been asleep in one corner, on the floor, his head resting on a wooden "pillow" awoke and now joined the festivities.
"They are very honored to have you in their home," Fia translated. "He is eighty two years old and wants to know if you are married."
The old fellow gave me a snaggle toothed smile as he sat cross-legged on a mat, spread on the floor. Since there were no chairs I too sat on the mat, but with great difficulty. How in the world did he do it? Eighty two and still able to twist his legs under himself. Of course maybe he had sat that way for so long he might not be able to sit any other way.
He and I were served first. Tea and Pago cookies. The old lady, Fia, her friend, and a grandson of the couple waited and watched to see that we wanted for nothing.
"Fia, I can't eat all these cookies."
"That's okay," she said, you're not expected to, just leave what you don't want and we'll finish them."
"Thank you so much for the lovely tea and cookies, I appreciate it so much, but I'm very tired."
Fia translated while she took my plate and finished the cookies. The old lady scurried around getting a mosquito net, pillow slip, and fine woven mats out of some of the boxes. She spread the mats over the scrubbed floor. The net was hung from the rafters and a starched and ironed pillow case was slipped over the pillow. My "bed" was ready.
"Ah, Fia, I need to go the the bathroom."
She turned to the grandson and spoke, everyone smiled and he stopped eating the leftover cookies, stood, and walked over to a table. He returned with a flashlight.
"Go with him," she directed.
We went outside through another opening, in the back of the house. A similar walkway led to a typical outhouse. Would I ever us a real "bathroom" again? The young man shined the light all around inside, then, handed the light to me. He discreetly walked back toward the house, but stayed where I could see him. After brushing a spider from the seat I looked around for paper, there was none. Drip dry again, just like the boat, thank goodness I had a roll of paper in my suitcase for the next morning. (Carol had warned me to be prepared for anything.)
Back inside I crawled under the net, feeling very much like a kid in a playhouse. The old man was already back asleep, on his wooden pillow. How could anyone sleep like that? How could I sleep like that? But the one bare light bulb was turned out and immediately I went to sleep in "paradise."
Roosters crowed, cocoa boiled, and radios announced, "this is 2AP, Apia, Western Samoa, and I awoke. I fought my way out from under the netting, fully dressed, having slept that way for two days and two nights, in the same clothes. YUCK! And once again I had to make a trip outside, but THIS TIME, I was prepared. I had TOILET PAPER!
When I returned, everyone seemed busy, including Fia. Soon the boy came in, from somewhere, with several loaves of unsliced bread and a pound block of real New Zealand butter. The old woman took a toaster from a shelf, plugged it into the socket, where the light bulb had been, then sat in the middle of the floor. She sliced the bread and placed two pieces at a time into the toaster. When those popped up, she handed them to Fia, who put a mound of butter on each piece, and spread it liberally. Once again, the old man and I were served first. This time I wasn't so concerned when the plate looked ready to serve the entire family, I knew that I didn't have to eat it all. My cocoa, was served in one of two "fancy" cups. The other fancy cup held extra sugar which was also set before me, in case I needed it. Once again, the old man, through Fia, had a conversation with me.
"He want's to know why a young American lady, like you, is in Samoa, alone? He says that you should find a nice Samoan man, marry him, and stay in Samoa."
"Tell him that I'd love to, if I can find a man as handsome as he is."
Everyone laughed and I felt that I had said the right thing. While we continued to talk, I saw that his feet were bound in some sort of rags. Whether for warmth or just as a covering, I never found out.
After Fia had eaten and helped clear away the dishes, I wasn't allowed to help, she wanted to walk into town and find her parents. I had changed clothes, behind a sheet, stretched across the room and slipped into some new flop flop sandals.
"This is Thursday, so all the outlying villagers will bring their produce to the market. My parents are sure to be there."
We walked and walked. The market, downtown, everywhere, but no parents. It was hot! It was humid! It was dusty! My body was sweaty, my feet were swollen and blistered from the new flop flops and my nerves were stretched to the breaking point. Where, in blue blazes, where they?
AT LAST! At last, she saw her mother, sitting at a picnic table. A tearful reunion and much happiness was shared before Fia remembered to make introductions.
"They never received our telegram," she explained. "We'll leave for our village as soon as my father gets here."
Tears. Involuntary tears began to sting my eyes. "Fia, I can't go. There's no way that I can sleep on the floor another night, listen to people speak a language that I don't understand. I can't go another day without a bath and clean underwear. I don't want to fight spiders, just to go the the toilet."
I felt terrible about my outburst, but I seemed to have no control over my actions. I was fed up with being an adventurer. I just wanted to go back to being a "plain-ol'-camera- around-the-neck-tourist!"
"I'm going to a hotel," I said.
"Please come with us," Fia begged. "I'm sure you'll enjoy our village."
The tears came faster and I guess they convinced her that I was serious because we loaded into another pick-up and returned to the house to pick up our belongings.
"Mildred, it would be nice for you to leave some money for the family," Fia suggested. "They were glad to have you, but they're very poor."
I had thought of that, but was afraid that they might be offended by such an offer.
Fia suggested twenty American dollars, which I left with a very happy family.
The only hotel that I had heard of was Aggie Grey's. I asked to be dropped off there. I also thought about giving her money, but then remembered, I had already paid for all of our expenses, plus buying some things for her since our arrival so I thanked her for an adventure of a lifetime and they drove away. I then, turned and walked into the cool shaded hotel and signed the register.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
ISLAND DREAM: Chapter 3: "AT LAST"
"ISLAND DREAM"
Hassie Mildred Gaugau
Chapter 3: AT LAST!
The Rainmaker Hotel
Pago Pago, American Samoa
July 23, 1979! Twenty one years. For more than twenty one years South Pacific Islands had been the dream of my heart and soul. Now, I would actually realize that dream. How can one express the feelings that almost overwhelm you, when a fantasy, held sacred for that many years, is about to be fulfilled?
The fateful day seemed to take another twenty one years as I anticipated what was ahead. Vikki and Penny wanted to come with me, but realized that this was "mom's dream." They drove me to the airport and wished me well. Their appreciation of my dream however, was not shared by all. Many friends, relatives, and neighbors felt that my decision to travel halfway around the world, ALONE, was just down right CRAZY! I had even heard it voiced that, "a woman her age, ought to know better." Still others came to the airport to wish me well and even envied my "adventurous spirit."
The only part of the trip that worried me was the night to be spent in Los Angeles. It was uneventful however and even went well the next morning until hurrying through the automatic doors, of the airport terminal, my foot turned, twisted my ankle, and broke the heel of my shoe. "Oh No! Don't let this be an omen of things to come, not already!"
But as I dug another pair of shoes from my bag, a little voice came to me, "you are where you are, otherwise you would change." CHANGE, a little broken heel and a hardly swollen ankle wasn't going to interfere with this change in my life, this dream of a lifetime.
Determined and happy, I found the correct check-in-counter. The first stop was to be Hawaii, but there was a separate line for those of us who would continue on to Pago Pago, New Zealand, and finally Australia. As a little girl daddy had taught me to travel light, he didn't want to be one of those men who had to lug three or four bags into the motel every night and back out the next morning. Consequently there was only one small bag to check and the carry on of a purse and overnight case.
At the gate, I began to wonder if the "ought to know better" people might have been right. Everyone else was, with someone. Honeymooners, tour groups, and families filled the waiting area. Sitting alone, the thought came that I wasn't really lonely, just alone. I had found out that being alone is better than being WITH someone but still being lonely. As I watched those around me, happiness filled my heart. Being alone was better that the dramas that were playing our before me. Some of the families were arguing, some in the tour group certainly didn't look happy, and some looked to be "on their last leg." A little silent prayer of thanks settled in my mind. Thanks for being able to take this trip while still young enough and in good enough health to enjoy everything to the fullest. Thankful also, to be able to realize what a privilege this really was because looking around at the other passengers, some truly looked as if they wouldn't be able to recognize a good time, if they had one.
"We are boarding flight number one for Honolulu, Hawaii, Pago Pago, American Samoa, and Auckland, New Zealand," the announcement ended all thoughts of being alone.
On the big DC10, my seat was easy to find, by the window. Slowly we taxied down the runway then up, up, and away, right into the clouds. But soon we broke through to clear skies and the tiny islands, that hugged the coastline came into view. surf rolled onto fringes of white beach, "will my island look like that?"
Soon all points of land were out of sight, leaving only the blues of the sky and the ocean. The hues merged and I felt that right side up or upside down, the scene would be the same. The usual boredom of a long flight stretched over the five hours. Drinks; lunch; headsets passed; movie; headsets retrieved; more drinks; warm hand towels; and at last the the final decent into Hawaii.
Those of us who would continue on, had only an hour wait before the call to re-board. The plane was less than half full, on this last leg, for me. With my face pressed to the window the sight of the beautiful aquamarine shades of the ocean mingled over the reef and the rain clouds played peek-a-boo with Diamond Head. Yes, this is truly paradise, on my return there will be time to enjoy this marvelous place. But right now----next stop-----SAMOA!
Soon, the same scenario, blue skies, blue ocean, and boredom. I looked around for some way to occupy myself and noticed a young woman, who looked as if she could use some kind of diversion also.
"Excuse me, but I overheard as you talked to someone about Samoa and you pronounced it totally different from whats been told to me. Could you teach me to say it correctly?"
Her dark eyes lit up and a big even toothed smile broke across her bronzed face. She moved from her row over to mine. As she did, she fiddled with what seemed to be hair that had a mind of it's own. She tugged, twisted, and finally captured it into an crude bun.
"My name is Fia," she stuck a huge comb into the unruly mop. "I'm on my way home to Western Samoa. What's your name?"
"So glad to meet you Fia, my name is Mildred." We shook hands. "How long have you been away?"
"Oh, I was in America for two years. My parents sent me to take care of my cousin, but she died last week and now, I'm going home. Are you going to New Zealand?"
"No, I'm going to stay in American Samoa for a few days then go to Western S a m o a, oh how do you say it?"
"Saa' moa," she pronounced it carefully. "But you don't want to waste your time in Pago Pago, there's nothing there. Why don't you come with me? My father is going to receive his chief's title. It's a very special occasion."
Our conversation was interrupted with the announcement that we had just crossed the equator. Certificates were presented and a mini-celebration took place as everyone looked out to see if things had changed.
(Sorry it's a little crooked and worn after almost 35 years, but it is still very special to me.)
"Are you sure that your family won't mind if I join your ceremony?" I resumed the conversation after determining that there was nothing different after all.
Before we landed Fia had me convinced that I would be welcomed. Furthermore, she insisted that one night in Pago Pago was more than enough and we should leave as soon as possible for her homeland.
Darkness greeted touchdown. Very few lights were visible after the landing beacons were turned off. A strong wind, not the gentle breezes that had soothed me in Hawaii, gusted around me as we walked into the building. But even with the wind the heat felt was like a giant wet blanket had been thrown over me.
This was the tropics? What about my dreamland? Was this what had been my fantasy for so long? All that greeted me was a hot, sticky, dirty, little island, in the middle of no where.
Inside the terminal was even hotter, stickier, dirtier as we waited for our luggage. More than an hour passed as box after box, trunk after trunk, and one giant, and I mean humongous suitcase, after another spilled off the crude turntable. My small bag escaped through the masses early on, but Fia had many of those boxes, trunks, and cases, so we waited and then waited some more. while the customs officials checked each and every one of them.
She seemed to know, at least half of the people there. One acquaintance, a security guard, arranged for a taxi. After I caught a glimpse of the dilapidated vehicle, I wasn't so sure that he had done us any favor. She and the driver, who she seemed to know also, loaded and reloaded until most everything fit, with the trunk tied down. With Fia's overflow, all around me, and my little cases, on my lap, we clanked, rattled, and bumped off into the darkness.
For what must have been at least thirty minutes (I couldn't see my watch) the only time that I could see anything was when we passed by the strange, little, open houses, called "fales." Then only a dim light gave evidence that there actually were people around. Fia and the driver talked continually, while I tried, very hard, not to panic!
Eventually lights became more frequent and we passed what looked like small stores.
"Ah, wasn't that the hotel?" I looked back at the sign we had just passed as it faded away in the distance.
"We'll go to my uncle's, then the driver will bring you back," Fia informed me.
All that was left for me to do was to pray that Carol's telex had arrived and that there would be a room for me, when, and IF he brought me back. We traveled through what looked to be somewhat of a real town, then turned onto another very dark road, then we stopped.
"Here's my uncle's phone number," she handed me a small note. "When you get up, in the morning, call and we'll make the arrangements for Apia."
With all of her "luggage" piled in front of the house, the cabbie and I left without ever seeing anyone greet her.
The driver did deliver me to the hotel, I paid him, Fia's share as well, and trudged inside. My weariness abated as I took in the vast round lobby. The entire area was open to the outside. Huge chandeliers, made entirely of shells, hung from the center of the peaked roof. Bright floral patterned cushions, on sturdy wicker couches and chairs invited my tired body. If there was no room for me, I would just sleep on one of those. But after a while I regained my faculties and walked to the desk.
"My name is Mildred Lunkley, I hope that you have my reservation."
The girl, at the desk, looked at me as if I had asked if she breathed air. "Of course we do, Misses Lunkley. How many nights will you be with us?"
I signed the register for one night and the security guard/bellman showed the way to my room. The smell of mildew greeted me as he opened the door. He placed my bags on the stand and opened the patio door. Flower scented ocean air brushed in and swept away the musty odor. I tried to tip him, as he left, but he only bowed and declined. What a nice surprise!
Now, I was wide awake and much too excited for bed, also the airplane food had worn off long ago. I locked up and went back to the lobby.
"I'm sorry Misses Lunkley, but the dining room is already closed for the evening, but our coffee shop, downstairs is still open."
Downstairs, I treated myself to a luscious banana milkshake which I carried with me as I strolled back to the room. The flavor of the milkshake seemed to be enhanced as I luxuriated in the salty sea breeze that enveloped me. From my patio, I couldn't see but could hear the waves pulsing onto the shore, just a few feet away. Not wanting to but knowing that I must, I reluctantly closed the door and went to bed.
After a restless night, I was up early, my body clock was still on Oklahoma time. My first morning in PARADISE! Clouds covered the volcanic mountain that seemed to make up ninety percent of the island, but even in overcast gloom, the beauty was more than I could ever have imagined. I walked slowly toward the dining room and savored the splendid scenery at every turn. Inside, once again the unusual simple grandeur of the architecture astounded me. The same type of high ceilings as in the lobby were supported by huge columns covered with island carvings. Curtains crafted from shells danced lightly over the open windows. The hotel was located on a point of land that jutted out into the harbor. Giant tankers, cargo ships, and fishing boats were moored alongside yachts and tiny outriggers. Across the bay the cloud shrouded mountains seemed to pour right down into the water. As I tried to absorb the wonders that surrounded me, I was suddenly sad. Sad that I had no one to share this miracle.
"Good morning Misses, may I serve you?" A bright smile and eagerness that I hadn't seen in many years chased away my melancholy.
"Yes, thank you, I'll have bacon, two eggs, toast, and a big glass of pineapple juice," I told the cheerful waitress. After all this could be my last chance for such a meal since I'm going on an adventure. No more the average-camera-around-the-neck-tourist for me! I would be a part of native life.
My breakfast came, the waitress catered to my every need. She filled and refilled my water and juice glasses as well as my coffee cup. With her great service, I finally realized that there was hardly anyone else, in the room for her to serve. How could that be? An undiscovered Utopia where there were no tourist to spoil things?
After breakfast, I walked slowly, (this was getting to be a pattern because before my walking pace was hard to keep up with) back to my room and sat on the shaded patio. A small inlet fronted my side of the hotel. The sand, the color of toasted marshmallows, held the fingered roots of the palm trees as they reached for the shore. A little man was at the feathery top of one very tall palm. He cut the dead fronds and let them flutter to the beach and lava below.
At last I pulled myself back inside and called Fia. We decided to meet at the village market, which she said was only a short walk from the hotel.
On the way, I was filled with excitement, my dream WAS really coming true. However, my feet soon let me know that Fia's idea of a short walk and mine differed greatly. Almost a mile and a half later, there she was, watching for me.
"Now we have to get our tickets for the boat," she greeted me, no hello, how did you sleep, just we have to get tickets "FOR THE BOAT?"
"THE BOAT?"
"Yes, that is the way island people travel, besides I can't afford to go by plane."
I sank down onto a crude wooden bench and rubbed my swollen feet. Between new shoes, walking over a mile, and the humidity, my feet resembled clown feet.
By boat, that seemed to be the plan, no discussion, no alternate, just, "we'll go by boat."
"Come on, we don't have much time."
I struggled to my feet and we walked back to the pier and ticket office.
"He says that you'll have to have a passport or letter of identification," Fia translated for the agent.
"But everything that I read, before coming stated plainly that as long as a visitor was in Western Samoa less than a two weeks, there was no need for a passport. Why now?"
"Maybe if we were going by plane that would be true, but going by boat, everyone has to have identification."
"Well, what do we do? All I have is my birth certificate."
Just as she had taken over ever since we started to talk, she took charge and we were off to get the official documents. My poor aching swollen feet. But swollen feet, legalities, long lines, nothing stopped a determined Fia. She knew a person here who knew a person there, who could connect with another somewhere else. No polite pressures used, we pushed ahead, sneaked behind, bribed, and flirted our way through. In less than two hours we (Fia) accomplished what I was told later by ones who had gone through the same process, had taken them two to three days.
Now I was legal. I had my letter, even if it did identify me with black hair and brown eyes, right beside my picture with blond hair and green eyes.
All obstacles seemed to be eliminated and we took a taxi to her uncle's house. Outside, her aunt sat under a water faucet, fully clothed, doing her laundry. The water spattered down on her and the clothes. She would take a bar of soap, scrub the piece of clothing, then with a worn stick, bombard the crap out of the article for a good two minutes.
"What a way to take out your frustrations," I said as Fia went inside.
Here, her uncle was a judge, their house was very nice even though it was one of the open fales and yet his wife sat , on the ground, beating her laundry with a stick. She hardly missed a beat to say good-by to Fia as the driver loaded the boxes, trunks, and cases, into the cab.
We returned to the hotel and retrieved my things. When we reached the pier and were actually ready to board, I realized which boat was the "Antonio."
"You've got to be crazy!" surfaced from deep inside me. "You're really ready to put your life in jeopardy and travel eighty miles, across the ocean, on that TUB?"
Fia and her friends carried our things on board. My feet wouldn't budge.
"Okay," came from that same deep place inside me, "This is just another leg of your DREAM VACATION, so get a move on! Where to from here?"
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