The best travel love stories are, without a doubt, those written by Juliette from the Snorkels to Snow blog.Mine is here.As we sat on our sun loungers, my sister and I took in the view of the horizon of the ocean off the coast of Niue, a small island in the South Pacific with less than 1,000 people.
At the resort, we were the only two guests.Additionally, it just so happened that a group of muscular, tanned, and frequently shirtless New Zealand builders were working on the resort’s renovation.Naturally, it didn’t take long for me to start talking to these handsome men.Toward the finish of our most memorable day, we’d scored a greeting out to Niue’s just club the following evening.During the time that my newlywed sister served as my wingwoman, a builder and I fell in love.
With hammers, wheelbarrows, and power tools slung low around their waists, these imposing figures would pass by our balcony every morning as we awoke.We were mesmerized by the ripples of their tanned muscles with each whack of their hammer and vibration from their electric drill, so we didn’t care about the noise of the construction.The sea view wasn’t really awful by the same token.
My lover would sneak in a visit and provide us with suggestions for places to visit on the island.He advised us to visit a farm that grew tomatoes and lettuce under hydroponic conditions.
A neatly arranged bouquet of hydroponic lettuce and tomatoes was on the doorstep of our apartment the following morning as we opened the door to leave. He knew that food, not flowers, was the way to a woman’s heart. After four years, the handsome builder became my husband.