In the afternoon we returned to the airport to fly on to Flores. We are now at the Westernmost tip of Europe, unless you count Greenland. Flores has a population of 4,400 and receives about the same number of visitors in a year. We expected it to be lush and beautiful, but we have landed in paradise.
For the next four nights our home is a little stone house in the tiny village of Fajā Grande.
Gord: When Ruth was three years old she lived in England. One of her most enduring and traumatic memories from that period was an encounter with a very threatening domestic goose. Poor Ruth relived that experience yesterday on a road in Faja Grande. While the goose was not head height, as it was when she three, it did rush at her repeatedly, hissing and with the clear intention of taking a nip. As at three, I believe Ruth may have wet herself a little. In the aftermath my lack of chivalry was the subject of some criticism, but in my defence, I had been immobilized by my own laughter. Ruth recovered later with a glass of Moscatel on our patio.
You brought your walker into the ocean! Good idea.
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