I couldn’t help having visions of bubbling witches’ brew, chanting “double double toil and trouble” as well as Harry Potter and Salem, Massachusetts all dancing in my mind's eye.
Tweet and I had a tame beach visit (no long hikes, major swim workouts), just pure relaxation. The mood fit the hotel’s beach, a well-manicured strip of sand with fairly straight lines bulldozed that morning (and apparently every morning) in the sand. The palm trees were spread out carefully every so many meters. In the distance smallish mountains and sparkling blue water capped the look of a miniature perfect get-away (even with the visible next hotel beach over a fence but not as well sculpted).
It was a weekday and no one was out until a young woman dressed in all black of course arrived with her three children. (And yes for those believing folks she styled herself "Ninja Mom.") The youngest boy and girl played right at the shoreline; the oldest, another boy of about ten or so, got to rent and take out the hotel’s jet ski. (I guess the hotel waives age limits for certain families.) He played for about half an hour but wasn’t doing a great job. That jet ski was just not moving very far or even all that fast.
Ninja Mom got up and walked into the water. She didn’t seem to care that her expensive abaya was soaked. She pushed off the boy forcibly from the jet ski. He landed in the water with a stunned look and started to cry. Ninja Mom didn't seem to turn her head a bit at the crying.
Now my attention was really caught.
She then got on the jet ski and took off. Her face veil and extra abaya fabric flapped behind her in the wind. Drats! I could have made a fortune selling the photo of a witch on water to Yamaha!
