Some of you may remember the story of my graceless face plant on the street in Brussels, and it seems that it is doomed to become a regular occurrence in my travels. Tonight I had a semi-legitimate reason. We decided to go over to the neighboring guest house's restaurant to grab some Twix fritters for desert. It's about 400 meters in the sand, with a small stream in the middle that has a very untrustworthy and makeshift bridge over it. Rain had been looming all day, and as we heard it start just as the credits for Borat started, we paid our bill and made a run for it. This is no gentle Seattle drizzle we're talking about-these were large droplets of water that were quickly increasing in size and quantity! We started to run-thank goodness we weren't wearing shoes. We were half way, and we braved going across the bridge together to avoid further drenching. Across the bridge, I ran to catch up with Lewis. In this dash, I forgot about the hill I had to run UP to get to the level of sand our bungalow was on. All it took was one misstep in that squishy sand, and I was on the ground with a thud. Luckily it was an uphill slope, and my fall was lessened. I saved my face from hitting the ground, but was covered in wet sand, all clumpy from the rain. Because it was only continuing to rain harder, I just kept going. It wasn't until I was in the bathroom with the bidet hose trying to clean off that I realized how much of a mess I was!
At least I wasn't on my was to the full moon party, which is tonight. The famous all night party is a few beaches away, and all those people must be miserable, unless they're already too drunk to care. The party goes 'till 7am tomorrow, and everyone who took a boat there is just stuck on the beach...
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