Travel Writing

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Travel Writing

Monday 16th of December, 4 pm. I got out of the plane and walked down

a glass tunnel, disappointed. During the whole trip, I was imagining

that it would just paradise. A bright blue sky, exotic birds,

multi-coloured pelicans, coconut trees everywhere and the

pulchritudinous sea. I was wrong. The airport was at least ten miles

away from any town and more than fifty miles away from the sea. The

only thing that was true was the sky’s cyanosis and lividness and it

kept my hopes up that I would soon be putting my feet in the Pacific

Ocean. I could hear people talking in lots of different languages. In

front of me was Asian group talking, with their ever shrinking cameras

hanging from their necks, and behind me I could hear a French couple

discussing what they were going to do for the rest of the day, their

faces hidden under a map.

I was looking for my parents because a huge crowd of tourists had

separated us. I finally see them on the other side of the group of

tourists, talking to the custom agent with...

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