Back before we left, while we were still in the dreaming stages of our big adventure, I would catch Ryan staring off in deep thought, lost in some day dream. When I first started noticing him deep in his own world, I would get a little giddy thinking he was lost in thoughts about how much he loved me or something gooshy like that. When I would ask him what was on his mind – much to my newlywed dismay – he would confess he was dreaming of machete fights in Central America. Machete fights?! Damn. I quickly lowered my expectations and tried to focus my romantic daydreams on the awesomeness of my bicycle (that I miss soooo badly) or something equally as unromantic.
Yesterday, we bought a machete and upon first swing I realized what all the hype and daydreams were about. MACHETES ARE AWESOME. I loved cracking open coconuts to drink the water and eat the flesh, hacking at trees, playing machete/coconut baseball, picking my teeth, scratching mosquito bites… the list goes on.
I was a bit annoyed that Ryan was treating me like a child – “watch your fingers”, “be careful”, “don’t swing so close to others”, “you’re going to chop a finger off” – but then I realized I am like a child when it comes to anything potentially hazardous like sharp objects, fire, tasers, dancing… this list goes on as well.
Coconuts beware, I’m headed to the beach – machete in hand.