The Willow Bay

"I've a taxi for us," he said grabbing her hand and pushing through the airport. A small battered looking blue taxi was waiting out the front. That was when Michelle met Ny the taxi driver.

Yousef sat next Michelle in the back seat and said something to the driver who nodded and started the car.   They sped along a narrow tarmac road, littered with potholes.  The land they went through was vast and semi arid separated from the road by barb wire fences.   At times they passed through small villages and Michelle caught the smell of woodfires burning.  A group of women walked on the dusty roadside carrying bundles balanced on their heads, their clothes bright and colourful in traditional print.  Children waved to Michelle as they passed. She saw a baby being carried on its mother's back by a towel wrapped round her in what looked like a piggy back ride. After a time they reached the beachfront tourist area Jeypen.

"That's the strip," Yousef said pointing to a walkway surrounded by restaurants, bars and shops.   The hotels and apartments were on the beachfront.   The car turned up a winding tarmac road with flowers at its side and the hotel, a majestic white building came into view.  Ny helped Michelle with her luggage and a doorman opened the glass door and greeted them as they stepped into the Willow Bay Hotel.  
Michelle had choosen a deluxe boutique hotel.   The cool air from the air conditioning felt like a winter's day once they crossed the wide expanse of white marble floor to the reception desk.   A blonde english woman around Michelle's age looked up her booking, handed over a key and called a porter to take their bags

The End

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