Qantas - - Qspirit. -

I went to Cen­tral Amer­ica with some­one spe­cial and we stayed in a chic jun­gle house near a beach­side town. At night, the howler mon­keys in the trees sounded like mon­sters.

At a ram­shackle zoo run by lo­cals, a baby jaguar called Maya gnawed on my fin­gers.

Our favourite bar had sand for a floor and we laid in ham­mocks drink­ing fruit Daiquiris. Then we stag­gered to the open-air cafés and ate fried fish with rice and beans. It was heaven.

Dur­ing the day, we sat on the beach un­der thatched-roof pala­pas and bought cooked lunch from ven­dors.

I wish Aus­tralian beaches would dirty up. Why must they be pris­tine? Why can’t there be thatched-roof huts with ven­dors serv­ing you corn tor­tillas and Mar­gar­i­tas in a plas­tic cup? Can you imag­ine the hap­pi­ness?

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