A Rough Start with
ATM not working. No money. No rental car. Dim roadside bars with shady characters. It took me back to days in
. The dark greens of the
jungle, the heavy sky, rain gushing over the edges of the roof, wind howling
thru the palm branches. The house more worn and weather-beaten than I’d
expected. Mosquitos. Bats. And then that mysterious knocking. Liberia
Atlantic, filled with
kelp and tangled fishing baskets. No real beach. Stressful driving on the left
in narrow, crowded towns. Shops with meager fare promised limited meals.
Above all, the comparison with lovely
|The neighbors' house|
But after a week, it’s won me over. Colorful houses and gardens, friendly people, curious goats, and the very old-fashioned feel of everything - this is a place to fall in love with.
After all that - it feels supremely comfortable.
The house is spacious, open, artistic. Wooden staircase to a sleeping loft with a view of the ocean, large outdoor shower with a jasmine tree growing in it. Two resident lizards in the shower.
|Our lovely wooden rental house, deep in the jungle.|
The breeze is exquisite. The wide balcony extends around the house. It’s completely private. The worn wooden floors, the mosquito nets, even the bats zooming in and out the open doors are a treat. The house is well hidden, down a long path, at the end of a jungle road.
No cars, no traffic, no noise. Just the sounds of goats, chickens, and the waves below the house. Moonlight.
Clouds and sudden rainstorms, birds, plants, lizards - It’s a good place to just - enjoy. Nap. Read. Sort photos. Play guitar, Rewrite book (which is what Stan is doing-), and finally read the blogs that I’ve been bookmarking forever.
St. George, the pocket-sized capital, has a picturesque harbor and lovely old buildings. There are marinas and markets, beaches and boats, but it’s still a “local” town, and the locals are delighted to share it with us.
People have time to talk. No strangers here.
This is the friendliest island so far.