The French have landed!

The dreaded day came on Wednesday. The French arrived on the Paris flight, along with a few other Europeans’. 235 of them. We anticipated fighting for space on our already crowded SCUBA boat. The dive briefings would be done in French and English. They would plummet to the bottom, shoot to the top, and wait for the slow Americans to join them. Thankfully they separated us on two different catamarans.

Other than competing for the boat, we have thoroughly enjoyed the new faces. Everyone so far has been so polite. I just finished talking to a French businessman about the new French business climate. He is happy about the influx of foreigners in France . . . imagine that? And he was handsome, which is an added bonus to the conversation. I am sitting here at the beach bar taking a break from the sun while he and Joe chat. Reggae music overhead, a mojito beer (crushed lime with dark stout beer), accents, gentle waves rolling in, and crystal clear blue water. What a life!

It’s Friday, a melancholy day for most of the guests as they prepare to go home tomorrow. Not us. We are here for one more week. We might go to the airport to wave goodbye to them. The airport is one building split into two rooms. Incoming and outgoing. Checking in at the airport is done here at the resort . . . with the airline staff here. Cool huh? Then everyone gets on a Club Med bus or just walks over to the airport. Your luggage is waiting for you. The jumbo jet lands, the stairs get rolled across the tarmac, the pale-work weary newcomers come down, the bronze-vacation weary guests go up. This repeats itself three times a week.

The diving has been amazing! The reef sharks are out patrolling the coral. The nurse sharks are napping under a ledge while the invasive lion fish flounce around with their feathery fins. We were warned at one dive site that the tunnel we planned to explore was guarded by several sharks. As we approached the opening we were greeted (well, greeted makes it sound like we were welcome) by 3 sharks. When we didn’t heed their darting back-and-forth warning, they tried the charging technique. It is really intimidating to have that shark face coming straight at you. But we  entered their tunnel anyway. I like to think they looked defeated, but it was probably a look of anger . . . it’s hard to tell.

Now a French Canadian beauty is sitting with us sharing our French fries. She works here at the bar. Her name is Brooke. Her legs are so long they practically are the level of my armpits. Here’s a photo J  Her fiancé is in charge of water sports. Super nice couple.

Speaking of couples; there is a group of couples who brought their own blow-up water noodles, they congregate in the ocean drinking margaritas. One day Charles, the Chef de la Village, was walking down the beach with his staff handing out fresh fruit. The group out in the water yelled out “Hey we want some fruit too!” Charles promptly kicked off his shoes and walked into the ocean with a tray of fruit held overhead. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch this phenomenon. I ran out of the water and got my camera to film it. He walked out of the water straight up to me and offered me some melon. He looked kind of like James Bond.

I’m beginning to think the reason I like Club Med so much is the people. It’s a great opportunity to research and study characters for my books. The newlyweds, or the two couples who meet here every year, the deaf guy who talks so loud you can hear him from fifty yards, the sharp looking Miami couple, the athletic couple, the drinkers, the flirts and the talkers.

Oops, Joe just served into the net. He’s playing beach volleyball with 12 people. The ocean is like glass today. The boats look like they’re floating in the air. Here’s the view from my little perch.

I’ve opened two more bottles of wine, both from Hatcher, a Syrah and their Shake Ridge Zinfandel.

Lots of love, Heidi and Joe.