She drinks the ocean with her gaze, a cup of tea in her hand.
Agatha Christie sits on the lanai (veranda) of the Moana Hotel (now Moana Surfrider) on Waikiki Beach.
Bursts of laughter and ukulele notes mingle with the crashing of the waves.
The air is filled with ginger and coconut oil.
It smells of the islands.
What is she thinking?
In the plot of a novel around a death by drowning?
No.
She dreams of surfing, the first thrills of which she tasted in Muizenberg with her first husband, Archibald.
"
It's one of the most perfect physical sensations I've ever experienced
," she says in her autobiography.
As soon as they arrived in Honolulu, the couple set off to take on the crystal clear waters while surfing.
"
Based on our experience in South Africa, we thought we knew it all.
However, it is very different in Honolulu.
Your board, for example, is a large slab of wood, almost too heavy to carry
,” Agatha wrote to her mother.
At the time, these surfboards could…
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