First dive of the year for Adrian and snorkelling for me, along with a French guy training for his PADI certificate. The outfit looks quite professional, but the Belgian ex-para has a fiery temper (witnessed when the engine faltered) and poor business sense. He bought the business two months ago and seems to be struggling to build a business plan. What motivates people to want to make a living this way? They always seem flawed as businesses, run by men (ostensibly) in unsatisfactory relationships who feel thwarted by providence.
The coral is in poor shape, but the lagoon is very large. Only on very calm days can the dive boats go outside the barrier reef, but not a bad dive. Too cold for long-distance snorkelling, but walked into the village with Georges at lunchtime. This was gratifying, because we had a credible reason for wandering through a typical village: each home has a very clearly defined compound of 7’ high sticks woven with more pliable ones. The houses are principally wattle and reed, with some of wood or concrete – these are usually the businesses – Chez Alex (hotel), Chez Thomas, Chez Micheline (bar-restaurants), La Boulangerie and Le Video Club. (L’epée de Destinée!) The ubiquitous little stalls selling piles of forty peanuts (100Fr) or three pineapples (5,000Fr!) or small, bony fish threaded onto sticks, emerge from front gateways, primarily for locals.
We booked lobster with Thomas, and Adrian and Georges then did a second dive – verdict – crap. I read all afternoon – Philip Pullman and Anita Brookner. Big Treat for me. The beer at lunchtime at Chez Alex sitting in the sun exposed my shoulders. Ouch. Three English vazalys from London are piecing together the reverse of the trip we did down RN7, so we dumped all our advice. Jake is an artist but makes his living doing up houses in central London which feature, on sale, a tropical garden – he’s an expert in baobabs and pachy podia and euphorbia. Ian, their “tour manager” is his partner and Louise, an archaeologist, is a friend they holiday with.
For dinner we trudged down the beach and ate lobster, rice and dhal beneath a hurricane lamp and a candle, all for £8 including beer. Georges (and a local youth) joined us so we returned to Alex’s for drinks (rum, citron and ginger). Apparently, one of the local girls (whom Georges pronounces to be “very horny – all the time”) had married a vazahy, but they never returned, tho’ the guests did and danced ‘til dawn – allegedly. We left at midnight and found the empty night sky, as we walked down the beach, just awesome. And some. Constellations like mothholes in cashmere.