WELCOME from the fifty households on the island, written on a piece of cardboard held by a man called Steve. Might he carry my backpack? Together we walked the opposite way from the stream of tourists that were headed to the hotel. If I was excited, he asked, before getting started on a short story about his health.
And did I know we exist of eighty percent water. A bit less than that, I remembered: sixty. “Not on the island -ha. The sea wind blows more water into your pores.”
“You just wait,” he said “You’re going to feel fantastic. Water is healing!”