Ali and Timbul are a hit with us and the locals too. Hey rasta Mon, where you from?
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Wine, cheese and baguettes. Of course we are back!
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From the Caribbean Sea to the Atlantic Ocean, over hill, over dales (what are dales?) fording streams burbling murky swamp water into the ocean, across beaches, trudging along wheel tracks left by earlier pioneers, stumbling down rocky roads washed out by last seasons hurricane and finally plodding along behind four broken down horses, with still more broken down tourists spilling their white flab over the saddles we crossed the entire country and back. Granted, the north end of the island is only two miles wide if you are fortunate enough to be a bird. Maybe next life!
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