Day one, which is really more like day three considering the extensive air travel and a seven hour layover in Dubai, we drive on the left side of the road to town to exchange our U.S. dollars for Seychelles Rupees.
On the way I’m in a hazy, but happy mood until someone reproaches me for having my window down and I yell “Scott!” as he nearly careens into my parent’s car ahead of us when it stops abruptly, getting called out for being a backseat driver by everyone in our car.
When we get to town, I tell Scott I’ll exchange a certain amount of US dollars he deems not enough and we debate back and forth about how much money to exchange in front of my sisters. When he finally says “Why won’t you just do it?” I have no answer and concede, albeit in a defeatist manner. I mope through town on my Dad’s heals as sweat beads appear on my body like dew on morning blades of grass.
When my dad and I get back from the bank, Scott apologizes for being so short and insistent with me and I dramatically state “Sometimes I feel more alone on family vacations than I do when I’m sitting at home by myself.”
We eat lunch down the street in Victoria where some spicy spaghetti and a Coke I normally don’t drink pull me out of my pity party. I put my arm around Scott in the place where his shoulders seem to have shaped to hold it and smile while we tell funny stories from our recent visit to his parent’s.
The next car ride is happy again and hilarious. After turning a few corners and beholding every shade of blue in the water out our windows, we all enthusiastically conclude “This is the most beautiful place we’ve ever been!” with real sincerity.
As we drive through teeming jungles, my sisters and I inappropriately use the walkie-talkie my dad gave us in case we got separated to say things like “Monkey balls!”. They don’t respond.
We arrive at our hotel an hour later. We will stay here two nights until our boat is ready for the sail. Our little hut has a view of the tropical mountains and Danielle cries as we are given a tour because she is so thankful and so overjoyed.
We swim, go to the beach and order room service. We make it to 8 p.m. where we nearly all fall asleep in our food.
I wake up at 1:30 a.m. convinced and excited that it must be morning. I try desperately to fall asleep and even succumb to counting sheep. I abandon this intention at 3:30 a.m. and 497 sheep to write this journal entry.