In which Layla and Roz have a beach holiday (and Roz is attacked by a jellyfish)

By Layla

Only Roz would spent a part of an hour and a half cruising across the Caribbean sea to a tropical island on her laptop, writing her blog, but upon arrival, both of us were hit with a slower pace of life, and we have relaxed into it. Met by the guesthouse owner on a golf buggy, we were conveyed out of town to our guesthouse which turned out, delightfully, to be an entire little house with living room, huge kitchen, bathroom, and two bedrooms. Not to mention a front porch complete with hammock! Nice.

No sooner had we arrived and had a quick read in the comfort of our luxurious living space, our lovely guesthouse owners had offered to drive us to Flamenco beach, widely considered one of the best beaches in the world. We arrived, had quesadillas and Medalla light (local beer) for lunch at a beach kiosk, and then we hit the beach. No expense spared: we even paid for sun loungers and a parasol (it was ridiculously sunny; despite said extravagance, I was still ridiculously sunburned!) The beach was a horseshoe of everything a Caribbean island beach should be: brilliant blue/green, clear water, soft white sand, and backed by palm trees and greenery, all below a bright blue sky. What a delight. We leapt in, and spent a really lovely afternoon alternating jumping in the waves and reading our books (the latter with a pina colada in hand…).

In the evening we headed into Dewey, the ‘capital’ of Culebra, which comprises a few restaurants. We went to Mamacita’s, where we had passion fruit mohitos (amazing) and vegetarian pasta, sitting next to the water, amid twinkling lights and romance.

Despite our extremely early bedtime (we’d had to quit beer and dominoes in our living room due to exhaustion), we still struggled to get up at 7:30 today, but we hauled ourselves up: we were off on an all-day snorkelling trip! Alas, I like snorkelling rather more than Roz, who doesn’t enjoy the effort of coordinating her breathing with the snorkel, but I distracted her with breakfast burritos at the ‘Dinghy Dock’, Culebra’s drinking (and breakfast) hotspot. And also, conveniently, where our trip was to leave.

Five minutes before departure time, the sky darkened and the heavens opened. We looked at each other, aghast, and frantically sipped our orange juices as the giant raindrops splashed on the tables. And then, oh joy, the sky cleared, we boarded a little motorboat along with a family of two pensioners, their daughter, and her husband, and we were off!

Said companions were old hands at snorkelling (‘we grew up on the water’ said they), and we compared rather poorly to their snorkelling finesse. As soon as we jumped from the boat at the first of five snorkelling locations, in picture perfect coves off the coast of Culebra, Roz remembered that she didn’t enjoy breathing into a snorkel. After a little light panic and water inhalation, and a quick glance at some fish, we rapidly retreated to the boat and requested our next stop be by the shore to enable us to practice with our feet safely in the sand. Newly confident, we motored out to another choice snorkelling spot. Roz mustered all her courage and was soon snorkelling like a pro, looking at the fish and the undulating coral below… only to be punished five minutes later with a rather impressive jellyfish sting across her entire chest and down her legs. Alas, our tour guide was unmoved, and of little help, but she mustered her courage and got in again at the next stop, despite the pain and emerging blisters… We stopped at a few more places and then, finally, in an attempt to placate me in my quest to see a turtle, stopped at a bay frequented by them. Assuming that this, as with so many animal viewing attempts, was a doomed enterprise, I was both surprised and charmed to see two turtles swimming around and munching grass from the bottom of the sea.

Finally, when we reached dry land, we decided to medicate Roz’s stings with a Baileys Colada (me) and mohito (her)… and then, after much hunting and exhausted wringing of hands, we spotted a taxi and were conveyed home in style.