A man bends over the unconscious body of a boy, shouting words that can barely be heard over the roar of the wind. “Lenny, Lenny! Son, are you OK?...��“Kurt,” Storm shouts, “check the boy! I’ll take the tiller and settle the wind so we don’t capsize!”I am there in a second, crouching opposite the man in the now-crowded cockpit. Quickly, I turn the boy onto his back, leaning forward to shield his face from the rain. He is wearing a bulky life jacket, so I do not have to tilt his head very far. The bus stopped in the middle of an open market jammed with shops and kiosks selling overpriced tourist crap. We have to fight past the vendors to get to the entrance to the fort and then pay the admission to get in. Four stone walls and a rotting wooden door do not a fort make (at least in my opinion). According to the tour guide this was the highlight of the trip. That was it. With Millie right behind me I skirted around the market place looking for a taxi. By dumb luck I found an operator. More

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