Island maid, or what I learned this week
I guess this is the week for quirky confessions. Yesterday I told you about my ignorance regarding the Prisoner of Zenda, today I’m going to tell you about my geographical ignorance. You see, I have never in my life been more than two hours drive from the ocean. Really. Never, ever. I am an island girl. I was born and grew up on Moloka’i, Hawaii, an island so small that you could drive from end to end in less than an hour. And then, all you could do was turn around and drive back. Then I went to school in the SF Bay Area, where I was never more than a few minutes from the ocean. Once we drove inland towards Sacramento as part of a birdwatching excursion for an Ornithology class, and that was as far as I ever got from the sea. After university, I briefly worked in New York City, and that’s just another island. And, of course, now I live in New Zealand, which is also an island, albeit a much …