Every once in a while something comes along so good it just completely blows your socks off. As a youngster, full of the joys of spring, this sort of thing happens all the time: Sparklers, Scalextrix, Star-Wars, and Special Brew spring to mind, hopefully roughly in that order. As time slides by, though the spacing of these superlatives starts to stretch, and it becomes significantly harder to find the next Best Thing since Sliced Bread, new attractions plowing a steady downward path from the perfect to the paltry to the downright pathetic: Pop Tarts, Pay TV, Paris Hilton and Pension Plans, until ultimately your biggest thrill is a poke up the posterior at your annual prostate check. So it was with a certain sense of skepticism that I booked a trip to the paradise of Palau.
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