I kidnapped a knitting friend this morning to go to The Clearing to walk the trails. It was lovely. And we stopped for ice cream, chocolate ice cream on the way home.
May 21--Palau. You ride along on the dive boat in the early morning cool. The water is turquoise and shallow. You watch stingrays dart away and see the shadows of the boat shift as the angle of the sun shifts when you dodge around the Rock Islands. It's so peaceful, serene and green, you can't imagine anything bad happening in this idyllic place. Then your boat rounds an island and there's the evidence that war touches every place on earth. A Japanese ship, a hole torn in its hull, lies on its side half out of the water. It has been there long enough that corals and sponges have colonized it. Sea anemones with their resident clownfish have replaced the tools of war, but fifty years have passed since the last battle of that particular war and the scars are still visible, even in this place where nature thrives so lushly, the violence of men is slow to be converted to peace.
I loved Palau. I'd go back in a heartbeat if it wasn't so far away and there was no such thing as jet lag.