Katy Betz
I can hear the scraping of sand and coral on the bottom of the resting ship. The rushing waterfalls are roaring, parrots are chirping, locals are chattering and the ship�s crew is singing.
As I run out onto the deck of the ship, the rough boards slap at my bare feet. My hands rest on the railing. Their fingers smooth out the holes and knots in the wood, bravely avoiding all splinters. I can feel the cool, salty breeze whisper in my hair as the boat rocks beneath me.
The crystal clear waters make the ocean floor look only inches away. Tiny fish dart through dark chasms. Where the ocean meets the beach, sugar white shores and softly swaying palm trees take over. Even further up, jungle vines and canopy holds chattering monkeys, dark-skinned locals, and rainbow colored parrots.
Craning my neck even higher, I can see the top of a lonely mountain, ringed in mist.
A young boy runs up and hands me a slice of bread saturated in pineapple sauce, covered in Mahi Mahi. The tangy sauce mixes with the moist bread and tender fish. It�s the best thing I�ve ever tasted.
The hints of salt mingle with the wonderful cooking of the ladies and the jungle lets out amazing smelling spices and vegetation breaking through a rich black crust. The crisp air from the mountain reaches my nose and makes it tingle.
As I step off the boat, mud covers my feet and my toes seem to melt into cool, refreshing seashore.
I know I will love this place always.