Maun to Virgin Gorda, BVI
Amid my maid’s check fraud scandal (she cashed one of my checks in her name) and subsequent arrest, I left Maun for a much needed break to stay with friends in a house in Virgin Gorda. My credit card was frozen in Joburg because Mastercard feared some theif was trying to buy biltong, almonds and Chanel lipstick at O. R. Tambo. When I tried to call them to explain that it was I, Elena Dovydenas, who wanted these items I discovered my iphone had died somewhere between Maun and Joburg. So no Chanel lipstick.
We landed late in Atlanta and I had to jog through the airport with about 40 lbs worth of magazines I had managed to buy before Mastercard got suspicious. That flight landed late as well and I missed my flight from San Juan to Tortola but they put me on stand-by for the next flight out and I eventually made it on that one and landed in Tortola in a haze of exhaustion and painfully bruised shoulders from carrying my boat tote and duffle jogging through airports to catch flights. I exited customs (Without declaring my two bottles of champagne and large bottle of Tanqueray. I amaze myself with my natural inclination of lying to customs officials. I get it from my father.) and landed in a heap on the floor, too late realizing that I was dangerously close to a trash bin but too exhausted to move. As I lay there like a khaki-clad vagabond many airport staff came up to me asking, “Are you ok?” or “Is someone coming to pick you up?” In my haze of misery I just kept saying, “I’m fine. I know I may not look fine, but I’m really fine.” I assured them I was just waiting for my fellow travelers to arrive on the next flight.
And how fabulous it was to finally see Ellen and Josh! We survived a surprisingly choppy boat ride to Virgin Gorda where we picked up a car and drove to the house Josh had rented. Utter bliss. White sand. Clear green water. Cool breezes. Waves crashing in the distance. Palm fronds rustling against palm fronds. More later.
