Of Turtles, and Sunsets

I think I have a new friend. He's a turtle. Or a tortoise. I don't know the difference.
He/She swims just off the hotel beach coming up for air about every five minutes or so. I think I'm the only one who sees him/her. There are no surprised shouts, in any of the multitude of languages spoken here, of "Hey look a turtle!". There's no waving of arms or pointing of fingers in the general direction of the surfacing creature. Nobody swimming out with mask and snorkel to investigate. I watched this happen from my sixth floor lanai for most of the day, in between chapters of a new novel called "It's Superman".

I was frustrated trying to get a picture. He would only stay surfaced for about 10 seconds, and by the time I picked up the camera, turned it on, zoomed, focussed and clicked the shutter he/she was gone. I have a lot of pictures of water showing indistinct blurs of darkness.
So I spent the day watching the turtle, drinking Awake tea, reading, waiting on housekeeping to do the room, pondering the sea, and getting a bit too much sun. I also watched the hotel catamaran come and go, figured out where the break is in the reef for the boats to get in and out, and drank some root beer. Dr Brown's Root Beer. It's not a bad drink. Kept me hydrated with a bit of flavour added.

 So it was a light day. Light on thinking, light on pondering, light on drinking, light on all the stuff that fills my days back home.

There was nothing light about the sunset. It was full on bright, heavy with color, and intense cloud. It was one of those sunsets that people stop and stare at without saying a word. God, as artist, in all his glory.

After dark with soft Hawaiian themed music coming from performers at The Edge bar down below, it was perfect for gin and tonic, and a multitude of silver twinkling stars, and soft reflected glow from the pool deck. I let the velvet cloak of the tropic night wrap me up, and I thought of nothing, for a long time.