PokerFink
11-10-2005, 02:36 AM
The trail up to my villa was a stepped, sun-baked, red brick path that sizzled in the afternoon heat. I made the mistake of walking on the path barefoot only once, and spent the rest of the week either in sandals or walking on the crisp Caribbean grass. The villa itself sat perched atop a hill, encased in foliage. Its perimeter formed by a stunning mix of red and yellow flowers, its cool shade provided by the massive leaves of various tropical palm trees. Small lizards scuttled about beneath the flowers and through the grass like the squirrels I’m used to seeing back home. Each villa exemplified typical tropical resort architecture, red brick with a yellow tile roof and arched windows, as if they had been mass produced at a factory for Caribbean resorts and hotels – Relaxation Corporation. My favorite spot proved to be a landing at the top of the stairs where a single beam of light from the window pierced the shade of a nearby palm and warmed my back. My perch overlooked the rest of the resort and provided a dramatic line of sight to the ocean no more than a hundred yards off.
At the base of the path was the lobby, a small log cabin with fading red paint chipping off its walls and a hardwood floor that formed a deck outside which slowly disappeared into the sand. The beach itself was pristine – dotted with umbrellas made of logs and straw, it ran in a half-mile semicircle to form a small bay at the mouth of the ocean. The vacationers laid out on plastic recliners, their toes burrowing into sand that ran like liquid silk through my fingers. The waves softly emerged from the shallow bay and slid quietly on and off the beach. I could wade out into chest-deep water and spot a dime on the ocean’s floor – a far cry from the murky abyss of the Jersey Shore. Thirty yards out two titanic yellow trampolines bobbed up and down in the waves, providing a launch pad for children to propel themselves out into the water. During the evenings, I curled up in a hammock on the beach to watch the auroral sunset – the sun’s red and orange rays reaching out across the sky, grasping to hold on for one extra moment of daylight.
Thoughts?
At the base of the path was the lobby, a small log cabin with fading red paint chipping off its walls and a hardwood floor that formed a deck outside which slowly disappeared into the sand. The beach itself was pristine – dotted with umbrellas made of logs and straw, it ran in a half-mile semicircle to form a small bay at the mouth of the ocean. The vacationers laid out on plastic recliners, their toes burrowing into sand that ran like liquid silk through my fingers. The waves softly emerged from the shallow bay and slid quietly on and off the beach. I could wade out into chest-deep water and spot a dime on the ocean’s floor – a far cry from the murky abyss of the Jersey Shore. Thirty yards out two titanic yellow trampolines bobbed up and down in the waves, providing a launch pad for children to propel themselves out into the water. During the evenings, I curled up in a hammock on the beach to watch the auroral sunset – the sun’s red and orange rays reaching out across the sky, grasping to hold on for one extra moment of daylight.
Thoughts?