Apparently on islands in the Indian Ocean there are no wells, only rainwater and of course, the ocean – the turquoise, translucent green, Tiffany blue, silent white foam in the far distance, ocean. All salt water; only salt water. Drinking water is transported to the islands by boat or plane for the tourists or the inhabitants who can afford it.
What I am getting at is that there is no such thing as a cleansing, refreshing, not sticky freshwater shower. Day four and my skin and psyche have not adjusted. One more day to go. At how many days does the skin stop itching? At how many nights will I no longer be awakened by the sensation of sheets being peeled off my legs?
I’m not sure I want to know. The words of a spoiled, white girl from the comforts of the U.S. who has only been to the westernized islands of the Caribbean and Hawaii. Imagine the surprise of stepping into a saltwater shower, brushing your teeth with salt water. Something I only did one time before darting to the other end of the beach bungalow for the mini plastic bottle of water the hotel provides free of charge. Blech!! And I thought I was nauseous on the snorkeling boat.
I’m not complaining. I’m really not. I am just learning new things about myself and about the world. Islanders of the Indian Ocean eat, bathe, hunt, fish of salt of the sea; storing rain water for drinking. Me, I am a white girl with skin sensitivities I had been unaware of and way too tight to buy enough bottled water to bathe in!!
Oh My God! A tropical downpour! Layla! Go grab our shampoo!
Please check out new pictures in www.AWritersSpace.com/gallery and new Travel Shorts. Cheerio!