Green parrots screeching

...and rain pouring down on the hatches wakes us up in Pirate's Bay this morning. The pelicans are swooping down and coming up with breakfast in their pouches. The wooden fishing boats lie on the still waters , their two poles out on either side, like giant insekt-antennas. A quiet, green morning.

We clear in at the immigration/customs. Serious business here, with newspaper clippings warning about the stiff fines and fail sentances for lying, swearing or carrying firearms.

At the bus-stop we have an hour's conversation with a Derry man living in Scotland and a crewmember from Danish,"Jonna", last seen in Union Island. We get a recommendation for a rain-forest guide, Son-son. And, abracadabra,there he is. We agree to meet him and three Canadians tomorrow, 8am, at the pier. Bring the binoculars.

I'm not sure if our Derry man's bus ever arrived.