Travel Reference
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stallations: public transport, schooling, the medical world, international finance, crime pre-
vention, and, in general discipline, amongst those in high and not so high places in office.
I dreamed my troubled dreams; I was a long way from the sunny Caribbean on my little
boat on some little French vacation destination island. I finally surfaced more tired than
before I slept, groggy and grumpy. I made a little breakfast and cleaned up inside the boat.
I was sitting in the cockpit later that afternoon, fishing with a hand line. I had netted some
small minnows swimming about the yacht earlier. Now, I sat staring into the blue, my line
held poised in my motionless hand, concentrating on any nibbles I might get from the min-
now baited on the hook. I felt homesick.
Suddenly I felt a sharp tug and then another, I jerked the line up and could feel the sat-
isfying weight of a hooked fish. “Come to papa,” I said excitedly. It felt quite heavy and
sluggish. The water must have been around thirty feet or so deep. Then the fish started to
fight.
“No!” I yelled out, “easy does it or you'll get free!”
Slowly but surely, the fish came up. I was patient; I knew that any sudden movements
would cost me my fish, and this one did feel like a good sized meal. Suddenly, the fish was
at the surface, and I saw it was a beautiful, blue parrot fish. I quickly climbed down into the
dinghy and, with a rag, very carefully pulled the fish up higher. As the fish's head cleared
the water, it started to struggle violently, but I was as quick and deftly grabbed the body
with the rag wrapped around my hand and held on tightly. Carefully, I pulled the fish into
the dinghy and then into the cockpit.
I was well pleased with my effort. The fish would be a feast for two people. It was at least
sixteen inches long and, after I had gutted and skinned it, I laid it out in a pot with a thin
layer of lime juice.
I was busy washing up the mess in the back when I heard my name being called from a
neighboring boat. A man on the boat was waving his arms at me and pointing to the shore.
I looked towards the shore and saw what appeared to be Darleen waving at me. I gave the
French neighbor the thumbs up and rowed off towards the dock.
I rowed past the neighbors' boat towards the shore. I waved a greeting at the young French
sailor and smilingly nodded when he commented on the nice “feesh!” I made my way to
the dock where Darleen was sitting and waiting. She smiled her brilliant greeting, looking
as young and lovely as her youthful years portrayed. “Jurre jong, what kind of a ferry ser-
vice is this man?” she said grinning.
“It's the only one in town madam, or you could swim. How are you?”
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