Dear readers, this piece I started three years ago or so when I was on a wonderful trip around Central America. I cannot remember the rest of the days, as in what happened day by day, but I thought I would leave you with this. It’s quite moving reading this and thinking of how much I’ve moved on, and remembering this wonderful holiday.
Monday 28th November 2011
We decided to stroll the island at leisure today and see what wildlife we could find. In other words, dad and me wanted to arse around with our cameras while mum actually took note of the wildlife. It was a nice walk, quite windy to start off with, but the turquoise waters and horizons cays were rich. The only annoying thing was when dad was trying to take a perfect picture of a pelican on a small jetty when a big thick prick of a yank walked past wanting to get up closer to the pelican, knowing full well the pelican would fly off. That was the first time in a long time I heard my dad use the word arsehole. I was a little shocked.
We then had a late ferry back. We stopped for lunch. One of the things I noticed with the man serving was that he had a teardrop tattoo and MS13 tattoos on his arm, meaning he was or is in a violent gang and the teardrop symbolizes that he’s killed someone. After that, we went to the boat and saw a dolphin. That was better than seeing the waiter anyway.