Day seven. We took the snorkel boat, and within nine minutes everyone had found their usual sort of place. Sun at the bow, shade at the back. We sat in the shade with our books. Before Molokini a man proposed at the rail, and a drone rose from the boat to film it. They had arranged quite a lot for a boat trip.
The turtles were wonderful. I could have stayed watching them longer.
Back on land, I had my favorite ride: the villa grocery cart through the gardens, with the driver naming the varieties of plumeria. Four miles an hour is quite enough when you aren't trying to get anywhere.
At the gates on Wednesday, a man from the resort side asked, “What is this place?” I said, “Residences.”
“But whose?” he asked. The gate opened for me by name before I answered. As I went through, I heard him tell his wife, “Ellison.” I didn't go back.