Should the quintessence of me not be Irish, it is probably tropical.
What pleases most people about places tropical, pleases me, too, and what rankles many, still pleases me. In my estimation, sea and coastline have always trumped mountains—when a preference is required—and in tropical climes that sea seems ever near and ever resplendent in such a stunning array of blues. And then, there are boats, all kinds of boats—personal and passenger, pleasure and business! My skin and sinuses rejoice in the Tropics and my flimsy hair awakens: it has body and bend. The sense of parting the atmosphere as I pass through heavy air delights me, and I like its rich and heady weight in my lungs. Rain claims a full repertoire, from mist to deluge, and the sun maintains a fairly regular rise and set schedule all year round. Trees and vines and bushes and grass monopolize the adjectives lush and verdant. People know how to cook fish in ways that carry me to gastronomic ecstasy. And there are mangos . . . on trees even!
Ten days in the Philippines, with its natural beauty and lovely people, quickly converted me again to island life.
Boats!
Tammy and I went out on the Nino!
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