By Kathy Giuffre
In an try to get away from her demanding existence as a unmarried operating mom of 2 younger boys, Kathy Giuffre books a year-long journey for 4 in a tropical paradise. on the final minute, her boyfriend broadcasts he is not becoming a member of them, and Kathy reveals herself in an unlivable apartment in Rarotonga, a tiny speck in the midst of the South Pacific Ocean. Her not likely savior is Emily, an 82-year-old Maori girl with a wide white condo at the fringe of the sea, which the 2 ladies proportion with callous missionaries, the ghosts of Emily’s ancestors, and, in short, a strange couple from jap Europe. As time passes, Kathy is seduced by way of the island and its humans and via emotions she hasn't ever earlier than skilled. this is often an inspirational tale approximately having the braveness to look for whatever higher and discovering it—serenity, sensuality, and, eventually, love.
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Extra info for An Afternoon in Summer: My Year on a South Sea Island, Doing Nothing, Gaining Everything, and Finally Falling in Love
I wanted him to regret what he had lost as much as I did. I had lost him, but I couldn’t seem to leave him behind. In one of those sadistic jokes that the gods like to play, the only brand of instant coffee available on Rarotonga had turned out to be called “Gregg’s” — even spelled his way, with three gs. Every morning a fresh batch of Gregg’s was delivered to my hotel room, every restaurant table had a stack of Gregg’s packets in a glass container in the centre, and I couldn’t go into the grocery store without seeing him everywhere.
There are a handful of restaurants and fried chicken takeaways, government offices, a doctor’s surgery, and two benches for sitting on while staring out at the rusted remains of an ancient wreck at the mouth of the harbour. Rarotonga itself is shaped like a slightly squashed circle, with a narrow band of level land at the shore and steep, jungle-covered mountains in the middle. It is too breathtaking to be pretty, but is beautiful in the way that things can be only if they have something dark hidden in their depths.
Both would come out to the table to take our order. ” the cook would say, lifting Tris up into his chair. ” We ate ika mata — raw fish marinated in lime juice and coconut cream. Aiden, especially, loved it, but I had a dream one night that I was eating a barbecue sandwich. I grew up in Arkansas, in the same faded town where my mother and her mother and her mother’s mother had grown up. In a sixth-grade classroom I had planted the seeds of my year in the South Seas. I was bored, browsing in the back of the classroom on a dusty shelf where books were kept on the slim chance that some freakish child might some day want to read something.