As in, hot. I mean, really hot. Bursting out of your own skin hot.
The world simmers like freshly laid tar. Chips and Sprite never tasted so good.
But under the water…all is well. Fish of all different colours pass like indifferent commuters. Lazy turtles lie still and do very convincing stone impressions.
On the beach, sand and driftwood are bleached white by the relentless sun, providing stark contrast to the colourful flap of the kites, left in the sand like stranded jellyfish.
Everything is easy on Bonaire. On first impressions the past seems to rest easy with the present. It’s the kind of place a week passes by without you even noticing.
But beware the sun. Let the final photo of this gallery serve as a warning to those of you who are fair of face. Factor 30 simply isn’t enough in the Caribbean, people.
Oh, and please don’t worry about the donkeys too much. This lady is all over it, so you can always send her a donation.
Kite surfing at Union Island
Skipper surfing over an island inhabited by a solitary rasta
We were welcomed to Bonaire by these guys. The locals eat them. Tastes like chicken, apparently
Bloodshot moored at one of the many free day moorings around the island. Tranquil scene belies dinghy walk of coral urchin death which came after
Salt pans. Big salt industry here
Europeans brought domestic animals including donkeys to Bonaire. They were all replaced by machinery and many now roam the island unwanted
Bonaire kite surfing school
Skipper letting off steam
Dead coral litters the shores and tinkles in the waves like tiny bells
I’m starting to wonder if I need to seek out a companion of a more spiritual ilk
Stone slave houses from late 17th century, not tall enough to stand up in
This is not my sultry face. It is my “face hurts every time it moves” face