I've been meaning to keep up with this blog more than I've done since our return from the Bahamas. I'd blame my lack of posting on the general busyness of life since we got back, but if I'm totally honest, I'd admit that's not the full truth. In fact, I have long been plagued by a need to make everything I write for an audience as close to perfect as I can get it, and this urge does not translate well into quickly-written posts about what is going on in life. I'm going to attempt to get past that roadblock, though, and forge ahead by giving myself permission to write without constantly analyzing sentence structure and word choice. I can't necessarily get rid of the editor's voice in my head, but I can do my best to try to work around it.
Last Friday marked the first official day of spring (on the calendar, at least - the weather in Maine apparently didn't get the memo), so I've been thinking about the seasons lately and how they can be a relatively appropriate metaphor for our experiences over the last six months. This is not the first time I've had such thoughts - I was particularly aware of the seasonal metaphor in the early days of our grief, in part because of the way summer came to such an abrupt end on the day Noah died and was born. The day before had been a perfect late-summer day, with clear, blue skies and warm sunshine. The clear skies continued through the night, showcasing the full moon as we drove to the hospital, though at that point I was too focused on the pain to give the night sky more than a passing glance. By the time we left the hospital 18 hours later, it was like someone had flipped a switch - the sky was cloudy and the temperatures had dropped dramatically. Summer was over, and so were our days of happy ignorance. We held the memorial service for Noah in an outdoor pavilion four days later and the biting wind reminded us of the finality in summer’s departure.
As I've considered the weather as a metaphor in recent days, I've decided the summer to fall transition doesn't truly capture what we've gone through. More accurately, our experience was like enjoying a perfect, carefree summer day and waking up the next morning to find subzero temperatures and a howling blizzard that has damaged our house, knocked out our electricity and left us clinging to each other in an attempt to find some sort of warmth. In the early days, the primary goal is survival, but eventually the electricity comes back on and we’re able to resume some activities of “normal” life, working around the damage we’ve sustained. It’s still winter, though, and spring seems like a distant dream as we bundle up in heavy clothing, plod through snow drifts and navigate ice patches. For us, winter started September 16 regardless of the beautiful colors and occasional warm breezes that insisted we did have a fall in 2008.
Now, I think our experience and the current weather are lining up again. Mainers call this time of year “mud season.” The high temperature for the day has started reaching about 35 degrees on a fairly regular basis (with the occasional 45-degree day thrown in there just to get our hopes up) and the slightly warmer air has begun to melt the layers of snow that have been piling up for months. The result is slowly-expanding patches of wet, muddy ground covered in brown grass and interspersed with slowly-diminishing piles of dirty, gray snow. Mud season isn’t particularly pleasant, but it brings with it the knowledge that the worst of the winter is over and spring is in sight. We’ll certainly have more cold days to endure before we get there, and we may even get another snow storm, but the cold will not cut as deeply, and the snow won’t last long.
I am in an emotional mud season. I have made it through the worst of the deep winter, and on most days, I am anticipating the hope and promise of a coming spring. I still have cold days when the happiness of spring seems far away, and sometimes it still snows in my world, but the pain of the cold is less intense, and the snow quickly melts. I look back on the winter and am amazed at what we’ve come through, and I thank God for giving us the strength to survive. I look ahead to spring and pray for patience as I wait for it to arrive. And I sit here in mud season, thankful that at least some of the snow has melted.
The writer in me is not satisfied with this post, but looking back at my first paragraph I’ve decided to just let it go and throw this out there. I don’t have time to hone each post into perfection, and perhaps some of the raw honesty would be lost if I did.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Travels Concluded
I’ve neglected the end of our travel story since life has been fairly busy since we arrived back in Maine. Obviously, we did make it safely from the Bahamas to Portland, but not without a few travel difficulties. Of course, when I’m traveling, difficulties and delays are more the norm than the exception, so I guess I should have known…
I left off the last post sitting at the Nassau airport, waiting for my missing suitcase. Our flight was at 2:45 p.m., we knew we needed plenty of time to get through customs and the suitcase was meant to arrive at 12:30. Well, 12:30 came and went with no sign of the suitcase, and as the clock approached 1 p.m., Mark decided to go to the luggage carousel at the domestic terminal and see if he could locate the bag. I sat and waited, watching the minutes tick by and wondering how long we should make before deciding to leave the suitcase behind to avoid getting stuck in Nassau indefinitely.
Fortunately, Mark found the suitcase as it was coming off a plane from Eleuthera, and we managed to get in the customs line by 1:30. The line wasn’t necessarily moving quickly, but it wasn’t terribly slow, either, so we made it to our terminal with time to spare. Our flight boarded and took off on time, so we made it to Charlotte with an hour to get to our connecting flight.
The flight from Charlotte to Portland also took off on time and all seemed to be going well until about half an hour in, when we saw the flight attendant rushing toward the back of the plane with an oxygen tank. A few minutes later, the pilot made an announcement that there was a medical situation and we were going to make an emergency landing in Richmond, Virginia. We’d already reached cruising altitude, so the descent was fast and intense – definitely a little scary. We made it safely to the ground, though, and there were several emergency vehicles waiting to greet our plane. The EMTs boarded as soon as they could, and after a few minutes they trooped off the plane carrying a woman who was moaning about something hurting. We never got a full story on it, but apparently the woman passed out while we were in the air. Mark thinks he heard the word asthma, but I’m not sure if that was the culprit or not. Fortunately, there was a doctor on board who started treating her and who advised the pilot to land.
We discovered that the only quick thing about an emergency landing is the descent – we ended up being on the ground for more than two hours while the plane got more fuel, someone restocked the emergency equipment, and the flight crew filled out paperwork. Once we took off again, we had a somewhat bumpy ride to Portland, where we landed around 10:30 p.m. Our luggage came, though very slowly, and we arrived at our house at almost 11:30 p.m., after expecting to be home by 9.
So ends the story of our vacation. We had a wonderful time, and when I have a few extra minutes on my hands, perhaps I’ll write a post with more reflections, as most of what I’ve written so far has been simply description. I’m also hoping to post about some of the things we have going on now that we’re home, particularly in terms of Noah’s Law. For now, though, I need to figure out what is going on with my work e-mail so I can achieve some level of productivity today…
I left off the last post sitting at the Nassau airport, waiting for my missing suitcase. Our flight was at 2:45 p.m., we knew we needed plenty of time to get through customs and the suitcase was meant to arrive at 12:30. Well, 12:30 came and went with no sign of the suitcase, and as the clock approached 1 p.m., Mark decided to go to the luggage carousel at the domestic terminal and see if he could locate the bag. I sat and waited, watching the minutes tick by and wondering how long we should make before deciding to leave the suitcase behind to avoid getting stuck in Nassau indefinitely.
Fortunately, Mark found the suitcase as it was coming off a plane from Eleuthera, and we managed to get in the customs line by 1:30. The line wasn’t necessarily moving quickly, but it wasn’t terribly slow, either, so we made it to our terminal with time to spare. Our flight boarded and took off on time, so we made it to Charlotte with an hour to get to our connecting flight.
The flight from Charlotte to Portland also took off on time and all seemed to be going well until about half an hour in, when we saw the flight attendant rushing toward the back of the plane with an oxygen tank. A few minutes later, the pilot made an announcement that there was a medical situation and we were going to make an emergency landing in Richmond, Virginia. We’d already reached cruising altitude, so the descent was fast and intense – definitely a little scary. We made it safely to the ground, though, and there were several emergency vehicles waiting to greet our plane. The EMTs boarded as soon as they could, and after a few minutes they trooped off the plane carrying a woman who was moaning about something hurting. We never got a full story on it, but apparently the woman passed out while we were in the air. Mark thinks he heard the word asthma, but I’m not sure if that was the culprit or not. Fortunately, there was a doctor on board who started treating her and who advised the pilot to land.
We discovered that the only quick thing about an emergency landing is the descent – we ended up being on the ground for more than two hours while the plane got more fuel, someone restocked the emergency equipment, and the flight crew filled out paperwork. Once we took off again, we had a somewhat bumpy ride to Portland, where we landed around 10:30 p.m. Our luggage came, though very slowly, and we arrived at our house at almost 11:30 p.m., after expecting to be home by 9.
So ends the story of our vacation. We had a wonderful time, and when I have a few extra minutes on my hands, perhaps I’ll write a post with more reflections, as most of what I’ve written so far has been simply description. I’m also hoping to post about some of the things we have going on now that we’re home, particularly in terms of Noah’s Law. For now, though, I need to figure out what is going on with my work e-mail so I can achieve some level of productivity today…
Monday, March 9, 2009
Bahamas Trip: The Final Chapter
We're currently sitting at the Nassau Airport (though I'll have to wait until we get home until I can actually get online to post this), waiting on a suitcase that is missing in action. Those of you who know me and my travel history will not be surprised to hear we're already having difficulty, but I'll save the story for a little later. Mark wanted me to make sure I didn't let our frustration over the luggage trouble taint my reporting of the last few days.
On Friday afternoon, we had lunch at a deli Davida and her friends had highly recommended. The day was relatively cool again, but we sat in the sun as we ate our sandwiches and managed to stay warm in short-sleeved shirts. After lunch, we headed into Governor's Harbor, which is the closest town to the place where we were staying, and is also the capital city of Eleuthera (though you would never know it to look at it). We drove around a bit and then got out to explore the library, which is in a recently-restored historic building.
While we were in the center of town, we also wandered around an old Episcopal Anglican church and went through the cemetery, reading the gravestones. I've always been fascinated by cemeteries, imagining the stories behind the dates and phrases written on aging stones. We were particularly affected by a little family plot in which a woman was buried with five of her children, all of whom died before she did. Two were quite young - one died at five months old and the other at two years old - and died within a few years of each other. The other three were aged 29, 25 and 11, and they died within a year of each other nearly thirty years after the first two. Amazingly, the mother lived for another ten or fifteen years after that tragic time when she lost three children within such close proximity. Looking at those graves gave us a new sense of perspective. Here we are, still so caught up in our grief over our loss of one child, and there are people in the world who have suffered so much more. Such a humbling thought...
After our explorations in Governor's Harbor, we gathered our beach gear and went to Ten Bay, which is also listed in the book of elusive beaches, though judging from the number of people who were there, it's not all that elusive anymore. The sun was warm but the wind and water were still cool, so I opted to hang out on the beach with my book while Mark went snorkeling. Mark was freezing when he came out of the water, but he said the snorkeling was definitely worth the discomfort. He saw a lionfish, a blowfish, several starfish, jellyfish, and he collected a few beautiful sand dollars.
That evening, we went back to the Spanish tapas restaurant to have a drink at their bar that overlooks the ocean. We actually decided to go for a drink based on some snippets I'd overheard at the library. Mark knew that Lenny Kravitz was on the island (he apparently owns a house north of where we were staying), and that he occasionally goes to different restaurants on the island. While we were at the library, I thought I heard the phrases "Lenny Kravitz," "Beach House" (the Spanish restaurant) and "from four to six." I wasn't at all sure that those phrases belonged together, but Mark thought it was worth a try. As it turned out, I must have misheard - the Beach House was almost deserted except for one other young couple at the bar. It was a nice atmosphere for enjoying a drink, though, and we ended up chatting with the other couple.
They were from Boston, and in the course of conversation, they told us they had sat at a table with Lenny Kravitz and Penelope Cruz at a restaurant/club earlier in the week. I guess we were in the wrong place at the wrong time...
Several people told us about an event that happens every Friday night in Governor's Harbor called a fish fry, so we headed there after our drink at the beach house. We'd heard it was a great place to see "local color," but aside from the people who were selling food and drinks, the crowd was almost entirely made up of tourists. Everyone who told us about the fish fry said we should definitely try the conch salad, so we got in line at a stand where the creation of the dish was apparently as much a part of the experience as eating it. We watched as a man cleaned the conch and then chopped it along with a variety of vegetables, tossed in some salt, squeezed lime juice on it and scooped it into a Styrofoam bowl. The result was surprisingly tasty. We washed it down with rum punch and watched the other tourists milling around.
We weren't really interested in the fried fish aspect of the fish fry, and since we shared the conch salad, we were ready for dinner when we left the event. It was getting late and we didn't feel like going to a restaurant, so we ordered a pizza and ate it in our apartment. After dinner, we ended the evening by taking some wine down to the beach, though the wind made the experience a little chilly.
Saturday was our last full day in the Bahamas, so we spent the morning cleaning up the apartment and packing so we'd have the afternoon free to do something fun. We didn't have enough food on hand for lunch, so we went to an Italian restaurant called Dolce Vita. Several people had recommended it, particularly because of their homemade gelato. There were only two other people in the restaurant, so we had the deck where we were eating almost to ourselves. We split the bruschetta as an appetizer and then split a vegetarian pizza for our main course. Both were delicious and since the pizzas were designed for one person, we had enough room left to try the gelato for dessert.
That afternoon, we borrowed the kayaks from Davida, packed a bag with beach stuff, put a couple of beers in a cooler and headed down to the Caribbean Sea. We paddled out to an island we'd found during our first kayaking adventure and pulled the boats on the shore. I settled on the beach with my book while Mark went out snorkeling. Again, the water and wind were much too cool to motivate me to get in the water, but Mark didn't want to miss out on any chance to check out the undersea world. He came out saying the snorkeling was great, but he was shivering harder than I've ever seen him do before, so I didn't regret my decision at all. Once Mark dried off a bit, we had a drink and picked little seashells out of the sand.
The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees, so we decided it was time to paddle back to the mainland. The wind had picked up quite a bit, so the journey back was challenging. We were both fairly soaked by the time we pulled onto the main beach, but fortunately I was warm from the effort I had to put into propelling my boat.
Since it was our last evening, we went back to the restaurant we'd liked most, a place called Tippy's. We were both starving after our active afternoon, so we ordered a salad and an appetizer to share before our meals were ready. The salad was baby greens, arugula and feta with tiny tomatoes - delicious. The appetizer was chopped tomatoes tossed in a balsamic vinaigrette with fried onions on top - it sounds strange, but was also delicious. The tomatoes on this island are amazing, although my opinion might be slightly skewed since it's been several months since I had a good, fresh tomato. Our main courses were also good - I had a pasta dish with roasted chicken and Mark had Cajun grouper with pineapple chutney.
We ended our final evening with wine on the beach, which gave us a chance to reflect a bit on the last week as well as on the last six months. I don't think we'll know the full impact this vacation has had on our mental state until we're back home, but I think this has been a very healing time.
So, that brings us to today, which started out well but has quickly gone downhill. We remembered to set our clocks back (though we were not thrilled about losing an hour of sleep on our last night), finished straightening the apartment and said good-bye to Davida before heading to the airport. Once there, we discovered that their computer wasn't working, but they went ahead and loaded us all on the plane anyway, and we took off thirty minutes ahead of schedule. As a result, we landed at the time we were supposed to take off and everything seemed to be going well until we went to collect our luggage. Mark's bag appeared on the luggage carousel, but mine was nowhere to be found. I was not alone, though - several other people were missing bags, too. As it turned out, the pilot decided the plane was too heavy and asked to have ten of the bags taken off before we left the Governor's Harbor airport. Needless to say, none of us were happy with this news as we were all needing to get through customs with our luggage in time to make it on flights to the U.S. The Bahamas Air representatives told us they'd try to get the bags here by 12:30, and we'd just have to wait for them. So, that's what we're doing right now - waiting and hoping the bags will arrive with enough time for us to get through customs and security. We've been sitting here since 11 and it's now 12:20. Our flight is at 2:45 and the line for customs is not moving very quickly. We'll see...
Edit: I'm back in Maine and will finish the travel story soon...
On Friday afternoon, we had lunch at a deli Davida and her friends had highly recommended. The day was relatively cool again, but we sat in the sun as we ate our sandwiches and managed to stay warm in short-sleeved shirts. After lunch, we headed into Governor's Harbor, which is the closest town to the place where we were staying, and is also the capital city of Eleuthera (though you would never know it to look at it). We drove around a bit and then got out to explore the library, which is in a recently-restored historic building.
While we were in the center of town, we also wandered around an old Episcopal Anglican church and went through the cemetery, reading the gravestones. I've always been fascinated by cemeteries, imagining the stories behind the dates and phrases written on aging stones. We were particularly affected by a little family plot in which a woman was buried with five of her children, all of whom died before she did. Two were quite young - one died at five months old and the other at two years old - and died within a few years of each other. The other three were aged 29, 25 and 11, and they died within a year of each other nearly thirty years after the first two. Amazingly, the mother lived for another ten or fifteen years after that tragic time when she lost three children within such close proximity. Looking at those graves gave us a new sense of perspective. Here we are, still so caught up in our grief over our loss of one child, and there are people in the world who have suffered so much more. Such a humbling thought...
After our explorations in Governor's Harbor, we gathered our beach gear and went to Ten Bay, which is also listed in the book of elusive beaches, though judging from the number of people who were there, it's not all that elusive anymore. The sun was warm but the wind and water were still cool, so I opted to hang out on the beach with my book while Mark went snorkeling. Mark was freezing when he came out of the water, but he said the snorkeling was definitely worth the discomfort. He saw a lionfish, a blowfish, several starfish, jellyfish, and he collected a few beautiful sand dollars.
That evening, we went back to the Spanish tapas restaurant to have a drink at their bar that overlooks the ocean. We actually decided to go for a drink based on some snippets I'd overheard at the library. Mark knew that Lenny Kravitz was on the island (he apparently owns a house north of where we were staying), and that he occasionally goes to different restaurants on the island. While we were at the library, I thought I heard the phrases "Lenny Kravitz," "Beach House" (the Spanish restaurant) and "from four to six." I wasn't at all sure that those phrases belonged together, but Mark thought it was worth a try. As it turned out, I must have misheard - the Beach House was almost deserted except for one other young couple at the bar. It was a nice atmosphere for enjoying a drink, though, and we ended up chatting with the other couple.
They were from Boston, and in the course of conversation, they told us they had sat at a table with Lenny Kravitz and Penelope Cruz at a restaurant/club earlier in the week. I guess we were in the wrong place at the wrong time...
Several people told us about an event that happens every Friday night in Governor's Harbor called a fish fry, so we headed there after our drink at the beach house. We'd heard it was a great place to see "local color," but aside from the people who were selling food and drinks, the crowd was almost entirely made up of tourists. Everyone who told us about the fish fry said we should definitely try the conch salad, so we got in line at a stand where the creation of the dish was apparently as much a part of the experience as eating it. We watched as a man cleaned the conch and then chopped it along with a variety of vegetables, tossed in some salt, squeezed lime juice on it and scooped it into a Styrofoam bowl. The result was surprisingly tasty. We washed it down with rum punch and watched the other tourists milling around.
We weren't really interested in the fried fish aspect of the fish fry, and since we shared the conch salad, we were ready for dinner when we left the event. It was getting late and we didn't feel like going to a restaurant, so we ordered a pizza and ate it in our apartment. After dinner, we ended the evening by taking some wine down to the beach, though the wind made the experience a little chilly.
Saturday was our last full day in the Bahamas, so we spent the morning cleaning up the apartment and packing so we'd have the afternoon free to do something fun. We didn't have enough food on hand for lunch, so we went to an Italian restaurant called Dolce Vita. Several people had recommended it, particularly because of their homemade gelato. There were only two other people in the restaurant, so we had the deck where we were eating almost to ourselves. We split the bruschetta as an appetizer and then split a vegetarian pizza for our main course. Both were delicious and since the pizzas were designed for one person, we had enough room left to try the gelato for dessert.
That afternoon, we borrowed the kayaks from Davida, packed a bag with beach stuff, put a couple of beers in a cooler and headed down to the Caribbean Sea. We paddled out to an island we'd found during our first kayaking adventure and pulled the boats on the shore. I settled on the beach with my book while Mark went out snorkeling. Again, the water and wind were much too cool to motivate me to get in the water, but Mark didn't want to miss out on any chance to check out the undersea world. He came out saying the snorkeling was great, but he was shivering harder than I've ever seen him do before, so I didn't regret my decision at all. Once Mark dried off a bit, we had a drink and picked little seashells out of the sand.
The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees, so we decided it was time to paddle back to the mainland. The wind had picked up quite a bit, so the journey back was challenging. We were both fairly soaked by the time we pulled onto the main beach, but fortunately I was warm from the effort I had to put into propelling my boat.
Since it was our last evening, we went back to the restaurant we'd liked most, a place called Tippy's. We were both starving after our active afternoon, so we ordered a salad and an appetizer to share before our meals were ready. The salad was baby greens, arugula and feta with tiny tomatoes - delicious. The appetizer was chopped tomatoes tossed in a balsamic vinaigrette with fried onions on top - it sounds strange, but was also delicious. The tomatoes on this island are amazing, although my opinion might be slightly skewed since it's been several months since I had a good, fresh tomato. Our main courses were also good - I had a pasta dish with roasted chicken and Mark had Cajun grouper with pineapple chutney.
We ended our final evening with wine on the beach, which gave us a chance to reflect a bit on the last week as well as on the last six months. I don't think we'll know the full impact this vacation has had on our mental state until we're back home, but I think this has been a very healing time.
So, that brings us to today, which started out well but has quickly gone downhill. We remembered to set our clocks back (though we were not thrilled about losing an hour of sleep on our last night), finished straightening the apartment and said good-bye to Davida before heading to the airport. Once there, we discovered that their computer wasn't working, but they went ahead and loaded us all on the plane anyway, and we took off thirty minutes ahead of schedule. As a result, we landed at the time we were supposed to take off and everything seemed to be going well until we went to collect our luggage. Mark's bag appeared on the luggage carousel, but mine was nowhere to be found. I was not alone, though - several other people were missing bags, too. As it turned out, the pilot decided the plane was too heavy and asked to have ten of the bags taken off before we left the Governor's Harbor airport. Needless to say, none of us were happy with this news as we were all needing to get through customs with our luggage in time to make it on flights to the U.S. The Bahamas Air representatives told us they'd try to get the bags here by 12:30, and we'd just have to wait for them. So, that's what we're doing right now - waiting and hoping the bags will arrive with enough time for us to get through customs and security. We've been sitting here since 11 and it's now 12:20. Our flight is at 2:45 and the line for customs is not moving very quickly. We'll see...
Edit: I'm back in Maine and will finish the travel story soon...
Friday, March 6, 2009
Bahamas Trip Part Three
Before I begin writing about our latest vacation activities, Mark wanted me to be sure to point out that we’ve been enjoying a glass of wine on the beach every evening since we’ve been here – I may have neglected to mention that after the first time because it seemed repetitive. The evenings have been incredibly windy, but it’s nice to be so close to the crashing waves and to watch for shooting stars (we’ve seen a few – one really spectacular one and some so-so ones).
Anyway, I left off with our kayaking adventures on Tuesday afternoon, so I’ll try to pick up there. When we got to the apartment after kayaking, we had a visit from Giant (which is his nickname – not sure what is real name is), who is Davida’s handyman and is also renting us a car. When we met Giant during our first night on the island, he told us about his day job doing construction at the Island School, which is basically a study abroad program for high school students. It’s unique because they are trying to be entirely self-sustainable in terms of the energy they use, food and products they consume, etc. Giant invited us to come for a tour of the school, so on Tuesday afternoon he came by to make arrangements for the next day and give us directions.
Up until this point, Mark had been having trouble setting up a trip to go diving because the dive shop wouldn’t take one diver and didn’t have anyone else interested in going. While Giant was here, Darryl, the guy from the dive shop called, and Giant asked for the phone. Giant apparently knows Darryl fairly well, so he did some persuading and got Darryl to agree to set up a dive trip for Thursday morning. By the time Giant left, we had mapped out our next two days.
That evening, we went to Coco di Mamma for dinner. When we arrived, we asked to sit on the deck at first so we could watch the sunset. The man who was seating us led us to a table, pulled out my chair and then looked at me and asked if I was part Chinese or Korean. I was completely surprised – I had no idea how to respond. He said I looked like I could be part Asian, and then Mark, apparently trying to rescue the situation, agreed with him. Mark later admitted that he didn’t really see the Asian thing, though he wondered if it was because I have a round face – thanks, Mark.
We moved inside for dinner and were the only people in the restaurant aside from a woman eating by herself. Not long after we sat down, another couple came in, but they were silent for the entire meal, so it seemed a bit like everyone was listening to our conversation. Not that we have anything to hide, but it was a bit awkward. The food was good, though – the restaurant is owned by a man from Italy, so Mark had pasta with black truffle sauce and I had spaghetti with basil pesto.
The next morning, we got out for our beach walk early since we were planning to head to the school that morning. When we returned to the apartment, there was a message on the machine from Darryl, the dive shop guy, saying that he was moving up the Thursday dive and it would instead start in one hour. Our choice was either to postpone the plans with Giant or to risk Mark not being able to dive at all on this trip. For Mark, it was a no-brainer – he didn’t want to take the chance that he would miss a diving opportunity. We rushed around to get ready for the trip, and Mark left a message on Giant’s cell phone saying we weren’t going to make it to the Island School as planned.
Darryl had agreed to push back the time of the dive by half an hour, but it took us an hour to get to the marina, so we just barely made it in time. Darryl had found one other guy who wanted to go on a dive, and he pulled in just behind us. We all boarded the boat – I was going along just for the ride – and we headed out into the ocean to find the first of the two dive spots.
While Mark, Darryl and the other guy were diving, I read my book on the boat, though there were times when I wondered if I was going to get pitched overboard because the water was so choppy. Fortunately, I didn’t get seasick, although I was certainly glad that all I’d put in my stomach so far that day was toast and water. Mark loved the diving – he saw lionfish, lobster, a giant eagle ray, angel fish, coral of various shapes and colors, and more. If we could afford it, I think Mark would want to go diving every day.
The Island School is on the same end of the island as the dive shop, so after we returned to the marina, we decided to try to find Giant and work out a new plan with him in person. Giant’s directions were good, so we made it to the school where apparently everyone knows Giant, so it didn’t take us too long to find him. Unfortunately, we discovered that he hadn’t gotten our message and we had missed a tour he set up for us that morning as well as lunch with some people he thought we’d like to meet. I felt TERRIBLE, but there was nothing we could do. Giant was going to try to find someone else to give us a tour that afternoon, but it was 2 p.m. and we hadn’t had lunch yet, so we decided to reschedule for the next morning. We weren’t familiar with that part of the island, so Giant led us to a newly constructed resort area where there is a coffee shop/restaurant that seemed similar to something you would find in the U.S. Giant had to leave, so Mark and I were on our own to order sandwiches and enjoy a beautiful view of the Caribbean as we sat on a deck that could easily have been used in a Pottery Barn catalogue shoot.
By the time we made it back to the apartment, it was almost 5 p.m., so we decided to just relax for a little while before finding a place for dinner. When we did get up the energy to head out again, we went to a place called the Buccaneer Club, which is a restaurant that attracts both locals and tourists. The people watching was great, but the food was relatively mediocre. It was inexpensive, though, so we got what we paid for. I had a grilled chicken sandwich while Mark had a “conch burger” (basically fried conch pieces in a bun). I also ordered a Bahama Mama, in part because Mark wanted to try one but didn’t think it was very manly to order one himself. It was okay, though I still prefer wine over sweet cocktail drinks.
On Wednesday morning we headed back down to the south of the island where the Island School is located. We connected with Giant and started our tour, which turned out to be fascinating, particularly in terms of the innovative things they are doing to be environmentally friendly. For example, they take used cooking oil from the cruise ships that pass through and turn it into biodiesel fuel to run all of their vehicles and machinery. They also have a wood mill so they can process local wood to use in their building projects. The soil isn’t great for growing food, but they have some plants and trees in a garden, and they also raise pigs for meat and goats for milk. Most of the energy the school uses comes from solar panels and a wind mill, and they use only collected rain water.
After Giant gave us an initial tour, a guy who teaches there and is also working on his Ph.D. showed us the research facilities and explained some of the projects they have going on there. Mark understood more than I did, but I’ve lived with Mark long enough to be familiar with the challenges of research in general, so I was able to keep up with the conversation. Mark’s starting to think he got his Ph.D. in the wrong field, though. If he had gone for marine biology instead of muscle biology, he could get a job at the Island School and then be paid to go diving every day.
Our tour guide took us to lunch at the school – everyone eats together – and then we said our goodbyes to Giant and hit the road again. Mark had read about a beach at the extreme southern tip of the island, so we decided to try to find it. The information Mark found was in a book called “The Elusive Beaches of Eleuthera,” and we quickly discovered that the beaches are elusive because they are almost impossible to access. We drove for three miles on a road that seemed to have been constructed to discourage anyone from driving on it rather than to facilitate transportation. There were huge potholes as well as giant rocks that Mark had to try to navigate in our SUV. The beach was worth the trip, though – we ended up on a gorgeous part of the Caribbean Sea. The air was cool, so I opted to sit in the sun with a book while Mark went in the water, and I apparently missed out on the best snorkeling yet. Mark found live coral and quite a few schools of fish while he was exploring.
We did some exploring on foot, too, and found an old lighthouse, though it’s a bit of a stretch to call it a lighthouse after what we’re used to seeing in Maine. It was a rundown square building about twenty feet high – I’m a little surprised anyone could see it from the ocean. The most it does now is act as the namesake for the beach, which is known as Lighthouse Beach.
There was no one else on the beach and we enjoyed having it to ourselves, but around 4 p.m. we decided we should probably start heading back in case we had any trouble getting out. We had to use the four wheel drive for a minute, but otherwise we were okay. Once we got back to the apartment, we took a little time to relax before we went to dinner at Captain Jack’s. We had been there for lunch on our first full day here, and were pleasantly surprised to see a much more extensive dinner menu. Mark had mahi-mahi and I had grilled chicken – both were excellent.
I think I’m caught up now, and I need to stop writing so we can get out and enjoy our last couple of days here.
Anyway, I left off with our kayaking adventures on Tuesday afternoon, so I’ll try to pick up there. When we got to the apartment after kayaking, we had a visit from Giant (which is his nickname – not sure what is real name is), who is Davida’s handyman and is also renting us a car. When we met Giant during our first night on the island, he told us about his day job doing construction at the Island School, which is basically a study abroad program for high school students. It’s unique because they are trying to be entirely self-sustainable in terms of the energy they use, food and products they consume, etc. Giant invited us to come for a tour of the school, so on Tuesday afternoon he came by to make arrangements for the next day and give us directions.
Up until this point, Mark had been having trouble setting up a trip to go diving because the dive shop wouldn’t take one diver and didn’t have anyone else interested in going. While Giant was here, Darryl, the guy from the dive shop called, and Giant asked for the phone. Giant apparently knows Darryl fairly well, so he did some persuading and got Darryl to agree to set up a dive trip for Thursday morning. By the time Giant left, we had mapped out our next two days.
That evening, we went to Coco di Mamma for dinner. When we arrived, we asked to sit on the deck at first so we could watch the sunset. The man who was seating us led us to a table, pulled out my chair and then looked at me and asked if I was part Chinese or Korean. I was completely surprised – I had no idea how to respond. He said I looked like I could be part Asian, and then Mark, apparently trying to rescue the situation, agreed with him. Mark later admitted that he didn’t really see the Asian thing, though he wondered if it was because I have a round face – thanks, Mark.
We moved inside for dinner and were the only people in the restaurant aside from a woman eating by herself. Not long after we sat down, another couple came in, but they were silent for the entire meal, so it seemed a bit like everyone was listening to our conversation. Not that we have anything to hide, but it was a bit awkward. The food was good, though – the restaurant is owned by a man from Italy, so Mark had pasta with black truffle sauce and I had spaghetti with basil pesto.
The next morning, we got out for our beach walk early since we were planning to head to the school that morning. When we returned to the apartment, there was a message on the machine from Darryl, the dive shop guy, saying that he was moving up the Thursday dive and it would instead start in one hour. Our choice was either to postpone the plans with Giant or to risk Mark not being able to dive at all on this trip. For Mark, it was a no-brainer – he didn’t want to take the chance that he would miss a diving opportunity. We rushed around to get ready for the trip, and Mark left a message on Giant’s cell phone saying we weren’t going to make it to the Island School as planned.
Darryl had agreed to push back the time of the dive by half an hour, but it took us an hour to get to the marina, so we just barely made it in time. Darryl had found one other guy who wanted to go on a dive, and he pulled in just behind us. We all boarded the boat – I was going along just for the ride – and we headed out into the ocean to find the first of the two dive spots.
While Mark, Darryl and the other guy were diving, I read my book on the boat, though there were times when I wondered if I was going to get pitched overboard because the water was so choppy. Fortunately, I didn’t get seasick, although I was certainly glad that all I’d put in my stomach so far that day was toast and water. Mark loved the diving – he saw lionfish, lobster, a giant eagle ray, angel fish, coral of various shapes and colors, and more. If we could afford it, I think Mark would want to go diving every day.
The Island School is on the same end of the island as the dive shop, so after we returned to the marina, we decided to try to find Giant and work out a new plan with him in person. Giant’s directions were good, so we made it to the school where apparently everyone knows Giant, so it didn’t take us too long to find him. Unfortunately, we discovered that he hadn’t gotten our message and we had missed a tour he set up for us that morning as well as lunch with some people he thought we’d like to meet. I felt TERRIBLE, but there was nothing we could do. Giant was going to try to find someone else to give us a tour that afternoon, but it was 2 p.m. and we hadn’t had lunch yet, so we decided to reschedule for the next morning. We weren’t familiar with that part of the island, so Giant led us to a newly constructed resort area where there is a coffee shop/restaurant that seemed similar to something you would find in the U.S. Giant had to leave, so Mark and I were on our own to order sandwiches and enjoy a beautiful view of the Caribbean as we sat on a deck that could easily have been used in a Pottery Barn catalogue shoot.
By the time we made it back to the apartment, it was almost 5 p.m., so we decided to just relax for a little while before finding a place for dinner. When we did get up the energy to head out again, we went to a place called the Buccaneer Club, which is a restaurant that attracts both locals and tourists. The people watching was great, but the food was relatively mediocre. It was inexpensive, though, so we got what we paid for. I had a grilled chicken sandwich while Mark had a “conch burger” (basically fried conch pieces in a bun). I also ordered a Bahama Mama, in part because Mark wanted to try one but didn’t think it was very manly to order one himself. It was okay, though I still prefer wine over sweet cocktail drinks.
On Wednesday morning we headed back down to the south of the island where the Island School is located. We connected with Giant and started our tour, which turned out to be fascinating, particularly in terms of the innovative things they are doing to be environmentally friendly. For example, they take used cooking oil from the cruise ships that pass through and turn it into biodiesel fuel to run all of their vehicles and machinery. They also have a wood mill so they can process local wood to use in their building projects. The soil isn’t great for growing food, but they have some plants and trees in a garden, and they also raise pigs for meat and goats for milk. Most of the energy the school uses comes from solar panels and a wind mill, and they use only collected rain water.
After Giant gave us an initial tour, a guy who teaches there and is also working on his Ph.D. showed us the research facilities and explained some of the projects they have going on there. Mark understood more than I did, but I’ve lived with Mark long enough to be familiar with the challenges of research in general, so I was able to keep up with the conversation. Mark’s starting to think he got his Ph.D. in the wrong field, though. If he had gone for marine biology instead of muscle biology, he could get a job at the Island School and then be paid to go diving every day.
Our tour guide took us to lunch at the school – everyone eats together – and then we said our goodbyes to Giant and hit the road again. Mark had read about a beach at the extreme southern tip of the island, so we decided to try to find it. The information Mark found was in a book called “The Elusive Beaches of Eleuthera,” and we quickly discovered that the beaches are elusive because they are almost impossible to access. We drove for three miles on a road that seemed to have been constructed to discourage anyone from driving on it rather than to facilitate transportation. There were huge potholes as well as giant rocks that Mark had to try to navigate in our SUV. The beach was worth the trip, though – we ended up on a gorgeous part of the Caribbean Sea. The air was cool, so I opted to sit in the sun with a book while Mark went in the water, and I apparently missed out on the best snorkeling yet. Mark found live coral and quite a few schools of fish while he was exploring.
We did some exploring on foot, too, and found an old lighthouse, though it’s a bit of a stretch to call it a lighthouse after what we’re used to seeing in Maine. It was a rundown square building about twenty feet high – I’m a little surprised anyone could see it from the ocean. The most it does now is act as the namesake for the beach, which is known as Lighthouse Beach.
There was no one else on the beach and we enjoyed having it to ourselves, but around 4 p.m. we decided we should probably start heading back in case we had any trouble getting out. We had to use the four wheel drive for a minute, but otherwise we were okay. Once we got back to the apartment, we took a little time to relax before we went to dinner at Captain Jack’s. We had been there for lunch on our first full day here, and were pleasantly surprised to see a much more extensive dinner menu. Mark had mahi-mahi and I had grilled chicken – both were excellent.
I think I’m caught up now, and I need to stop writing so we can get out and enjoy our last couple of days here.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Bahamas Trip Part Two
Today is our fourth full day on the island of Eleuthra, and already it seems as if time is escaping much too quickly. I suppose that’s a good sign, though, in keeping with the sentiment “time flies when you’re having fun.” We are certainly glad to be away from New England right now, as we’ve heard stories of the late-winter snow storm that hit yesterday. Ah, winter in Maine – it never ends.
On Sunday afternoon, I ventured out with the snorkel gear for the first time. Mark had done some exploratory snorkeling on Saturday while I sat on the beach and watched/read. I have to admit that I also laughed as he tried to walk in flippers – he was really struggling to figure out how to get himself from the beach into the water. Fortunately for me, he’d figured out a system of wading out and then putting the flippers on by the time we went out on Sunday afternoon. Mark led our little expedition and we saw quite a bit of coral and a few fishes, but nothing too spectacular. I did enjoy just floating in the water, though it’s certainly not as warm as I expected it to be, so I was glad for the wet suit Davida lent me.
That evening, we went to a place called the Sunset Inn with the intention of having drinks while watching the sunset, but our plan was foiled by the cloudy sky. Some clouds make for a beautiful sunset, but too many clouds lead to nothing more than a gradual darkening of the sky. The restaurant was quiet, though, so we sat and had drinks anyway. We were also interested in ordering a conch appetizer, so I asked the waitress what conch pieces were like. She told me it was like cracked conch, which to me means conch right out of the shell, so I ordered it thinking we would get straight conch meant. However, to Bahamians apparently “cracked” translates as “fried.” It was not what we were expecting, but when in Rome…
The menu at the Sunset Inn wasn’t hugely appealing and it was still early for dinner, so we decided to go to another restaurant for dinner. We ended up at a place called the Beach House, though we almost couldn’t tell if it was open because there was only one other car in the parking lot. It turned out they were just having a slow night, so we got our pick of tables on a deck by the ocean. The atmosphere was great – low lighting, candles, rattan furniture with cushions – and the food was excellent as well. It was a Spanish tapas restaurant, so we ordered three dishes to share: brie with raspberry sauce and almond slivers, stuffed Portobello mushroom and jumbo shrimp with roasted tomatoes. Everything we tried was delicious, so our dinner certainly made up for our appetizer experience.
On Monday morning, we checked out a little “farmer’s market” that’s close to where we’re staying. The selection wasn’t fabulous, but we were able to get some fresh tomatoes for our lunch and homemade guava jam for our breakfast bagels. After lunch, we headed north armed with directions to a few different points of interest. I was amazed at how uninhabited the island is in some parts – in between towns, we would go several miles without seeing any houses. We saw some old silos, so we assume the land must have been used for farming at some point, but I’m not sure what grows well in the sandy soil of an island that is only two miles wide.
After more than an hour of driving, we pulled onto a road that seemed almost impassable because of the huge potholes and general deterioration. We bounced on down in our SUV, though, and made it to a place called Preacher’s Cave. Apparently the cave is so named because of the sermons given there for more than 100 years. I could imagine it as a good location for preaching – there was a large rock that could easily be used as a pulpit, and there was a circular clearing at the mouth of the cave that would have been perfect for audience seating.
We explored the cave for a bit, climbing over the rocks and inspecting the different holes in the ceiling. At the back of the cave was a hole with a rope hanging down, so of course Mark wanted to try climbing out of the cave. He made it out all right, but the getting back down part was a little more difficult than he had anticipated. I was glad we managed to make it out of there without any major injuries.
Across from Preacher’s Cave is a beach that is supposed to be good for snorkeling, so Mark pulled the gear out of the SUV and we headed for the water. I was much less enthusiastic about the idea of snorkeling as the air was actually quite cool yesterday, and I was fairly certain I’d be freezing if I got wet. I brought my book along so I could sit on the beach and read while Mark went into the sea, but as it turned out, the water was too choppy for snorkeling so we ended up just walking the beach for a bit before going back to the car.
On our way back south, we experienced the Glass Window Bridge, which everyone had told us was a “must see” on Eleuthera. The bridge is unique because it’s a narrow passage where the Atlantic is on one side and the Caribbean is on the other. As a result, you look at dark, gray-blue water on one side, and bright, green-blue water on the other. Unfortunately, the bridge isn’t a good spot to get out of the car, so we just tried to take in the view as we drove. It’s amazing to see how different the waters of the Caribbean and the ocean really are.
Mark was determined to find some good snorkeling water, so on our way back toward the place we’re staying, we stopped at a resort/restaurant called Coco di Mamma where there’s a nice beach on the Caribbean side (according to Davida, the people at the resorts don’t care if you use their beaches even if you aren’t staying there). Unfortunately, the water was choppy there, too, so we just ended up going into the restaurant for a drink. Coco di Mamma has a beautiful deck overlooking the Caribbean and is supposed to get gorgeous sunsets, so we braved the cool wind and sat outside. I was still a bit of a wimp, though, and bundled up with Mark’s jacket and one of the beach towels.
The sunset here is surprisingly later than it is in Maine – I still haven’t figured that one out, but neither have I looked at a map to see how everything is lined up. So, we were early for the sunset and after about thirty minutes of shivering on the deck we decided to throw in the towel (figuratively, of course – I wasn’t about to give up the towel wrapped around my legs). As we were driving, we decided to give the sunset thing on last go by driving down to a point right across from where we’re staying. We made it just in time – as we parked, we could see the sun beginning to sink behind a coral island in the sea. The colors were gorgeous, and I don’t think it would have been any better from the deck at Coco di Mamas.
For dinner, we went the casual route and headed to a pizza place about five minutes from the place we’re staying. The first thing Mark saw when we walked in the door was a Green Bay Packers flag, so he was instantly a fan of the restaurant, which is called Mate and Jenny’s. Once we sat down, we realized the Packer flag probably wasn’t an indicator of the owner’s loyalty – the walls and ceiling were covered with paraphernalia from various sports teams, as well as some random posters (including one of Michael Jackson circa 1985) and other knickknacks. The specialty at Mate and Jenny’s is a conch pizza, which sounded a little strange but was actually delicious.
Today is Tuesday, and Mark is beginning to feel like our time is disappearing and he wants to try to make the most of it. We spent a chunk of the morning searching for a good place to go snorkeling, but were ultimately unsuccessful. I thought it was too cold to go in the water anyway, so I stayed on the beach and read while Mark went in the water at a point all the way south on the island. He gave up after about twenty minutes, though, saying there just wasn’t much to see.
This afternoon, we loaded up the kayaks and went to the Caribbean side of the island to paddle. The water was a little choppy, but it was warmer than it has been in a few days and it was wonderful to feel the sun on my shoulders. We went out to a coral island and got out to explore a little bit, but we didn’t have the right shoes to get far, so we didn’t stay long.
So, I think I’m finally up to date, and I apologize for another lengthy post. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I have a tendency to ramble. I’m also justifying it in this case because I think there are some family members who are truly interested in all the details, and I’m hoping anyone who finds the details tedious will skim through them. When this trip is over I’ll work on being more concise.
On Sunday afternoon, I ventured out with the snorkel gear for the first time. Mark had done some exploratory snorkeling on Saturday while I sat on the beach and watched/read. I have to admit that I also laughed as he tried to walk in flippers – he was really struggling to figure out how to get himself from the beach into the water. Fortunately for me, he’d figured out a system of wading out and then putting the flippers on by the time we went out on Sunday afternoon. Mark led our little expedition and we saw quite a bit of coral and a few fishes, but nothing too spectacular. I did enjoy just floating in the water, though it’s certainly not as warm as I expected it to be, so I was glad for the wet suit Davida lent me.
That evening, we went to a place called the Sunset Inn with the intention of having drinks while watching the sunset, but our plan was foiled by the cloudy sky. Some clouds make for a beautiful sunset, but too many clouds lead to nothing more than a gradual darkening of the sky. The restaurant was quiet, though, so we sat and had drinks anyway. We were also interested in ordering a conch appetizer, so I asked the waitress what conch pieces were like. She told me it was like cracked conch, which to me means conch right out of the shell, so I ordered it thinking we would get straight conch meant. However, to Bahamians apparently “cracked” translates as “fried.” It was not what we were expecting, but when in Rome…
The menu at the Sunset Inn wasn’t hugely appealing and it was still early for dinner, so we decided to go to another restaurant for dinner. We ended up at a place called the Beach House, though we almost couldn’t tell if it was open because there was only one other car in the parking lot. It turned out they were just having a slow night, so we got our pick of tables on a deck by the ocean. The atmosphere was great – low lighting, candles, rattan furniture with cushions – and the food was excellent as well. It was a Spanish tapas restaurant, so we ordered three dishes to share: brie with raspberry sauce and almond slivers, stuffed Portobello mushroom and jumbo shrimp with roasted tomatoes. Everything we tried was delicious, so our dinner certainly made up for our appetizer experience.
On Monday morning, we checked out a little “farmer’s market” that’s close to where we’re staying. The selection wasn’t fabulous, but we were able to get some fresh tomatoes for our lunch and homemade guava jam for our breakfast bagels. After lunch, we headed north armed with directions to a few different points of interest. I was amazed at how uninhabited the island is in some parts – in between towns, we would go several miles without seeing any houses. We saw some old silos, so we assume the land must have been used for farming at some point, but I’m not sure what grows well in the sandy soil of an island that is only two miles wide.
After more than an hour of driving, we pulled onto a road that seemed almost impassable because of the huge potholes and general deterioration. We bounced on down in our SUV, though, and made it to a place called Preacher’s Cave. Apparently the cave is so named because of the sermons given there for more than 100 years. I could imagine it as a good location for preaching – there was a large rock that could easily be used as a pulpit, and there was a circular clearing at the mouth of the cave that would have been perfect for audience seating.
We explored the cave for a bit, climbing over the rocks and inspecting the different holes in the ceiling. At the back of the cave was a hole with a rope hanging down, so of course Mark wanted to try climbing out of the cave. He made it out all right, but the getting back down part was a little more difficult than he had anticipated. I was glad we managed to make it out of there without any major injuries.
Across from Preacher’s Cave is a beach that is supposed to be good for snorkeling, so Mark pulled the gear out of the SUV and we headed for the water. I was much less enthusiastic about the idea of snorkeling as the air was actually quite cool yesterday, and I was fairly certain I’d be freezing if I got wet. I brought my book along so I could sit on the beach and read while Mark went into the sea, but as it turned out, the water was too choppy for snorkeling so we ended up just walking the beach for a bit before going back to the car.
On our way back south, we experienced the Glass Window Bridge, which everyone had told us was a “must see” on Eleuthera. The bridge is unique because it’s a narrow passage where the Atlantic is on one side and the Caribbean is on the other. As a result, you look at dark, gray-blue water on one side, and bright, green-blue water on the other. Unfortunately, the bridge isn’t a good spot to get out of the car, so we just tried to take in the view as we drove. It’s amazing to see how different the waters of the Caribbean and the ocean really are.
Mark was determined to find some good snorkeling water, so on our way back toward the place we’re staying, we stopped at a resort/restaurant called Coco di Mamma where there’s a nice beach on the Caribbean side (according to Davida, the people at the resorts don’t care if you use their beaches even if you aren’t staying there). Unfortunately, the water was choppy there, too, so we just ended up going into the restaurant for a drink. Coco di Mamma has a beautiful deck overlooking the Caribbean and is supposed to get gorgeous sunsets, so we braved the cool wind and sat outside. I was still a bit of a wimp, though, and bundled up with Mark’s jacket and one of the beach towels.
The sunset here is surprisingly later than it is in Maine – I still haven’t figured that one out, but neither have I looked at a map to see how everything is lined up. So, we were early for the sunset and after about thirty minutes of shivering on the deck we decided to throw in the towel (figuratively, of course – I wasn’t about to give up the towel wrapped around my legs). As we were driving, we decided to give the sunset thing on last go by driving down to a point right across from where we’re staying. We made it just in time – as we parked, we could see the sun beginning to sink behind a coral island in the sea. The colors were gorgeous, and I don’t think it would have been any better from the deck at Coco di Mamas.
For dinner, we went the casual route and headed to a pizza place about five minutes from the place we’re staying. The first thing Mark saw when we walked in the door was a Green Bay Packers flag, so he was instantly a fan of the restaurant, which is called Mate and Jenny’s. Once we sat down, we realized the Packer flag probably wasn’t an indicator of the owner’s loyalty – the walls and ceiling were covered with paraphernalia from various sports teams, as well as some random posters (including one of Michael Jackson circa 1985) and other knickknacks. The specialty at Mate and Jenny’s is a conch pizza, which sounded a little strange but was actually delicious.
Today is Tuesday, and Mark is beginning to feel like our time is disappearing and he wants to try to make the most of it. We spent a chunk of the morning searching for a good place to go snorkeling, but were ultimately unsuccessful. I thought it was too cold to go in the water anyway, so I stayed on the beach and read while Mark went in the water at a point all the way south on the island. He gave up after about twenty minutes, though, saying there just wasn’t much to see.
This afternoon, we loaded up the kayaks and went to the Caribbean side of the island to paddle. The water was a little choppy, but it was warmer than it has been in a few days and it was wonderful to feel the sun on my shoulders. We went out to a coral island and got out to explore a little bit, but we didn’t have the right shoes to get far, so we didn’t stay long.
So, I think I’m finally up to date, and I apologize for another lengthy post. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I have a tendency to ramble. I’m also justifying it in this case because I think there are some family members who are truly interested in all the details, and I’m hoping anyone who finds the details tedious will skim through them. When this trip is over I’ll work on being more concise.
Monday, March 2, 2009
The First Post: Bahamas Vacation Part One
I've been meaning to start a blog for a while, and I think one of the main reasons I haven't yet is because I can't think of a name that seems both creative and appropriate. In fact, as I type, Mark is wandering around, trying to come up with names he deems worthy. So far, he's come up with "What Does Linds Say," "Kermit the Blog," and "Life in the Biddo." Not surprisingly, none of those names have resonated with me, so I've put the name thing on the back burner for now while I focus on writing a first blog post.
I was finally inspired to take the plunge into blogging by the fact that we are currently on vacation in the Bahamas with access to the Internet but no phone service (at least not at a price I'm willing to pay). Blogging seems more appealing than the idea of writing several e-mails to tell similar stories to the different people in our lives. I'd also like to have something of a record for ourselves, because otherwise I'm sure we'll forget most of the stories from this week before
we even return to the U.S. When we do return, I hope to keep up with the blog as a way of staying in touch with our long-distance friends and family members.
As most of you know, my dad suggested the idea of this trip shortly after we lost Noah in September. This plan to escape the long Maine winter and to spend a week just relaxing has given us something to look forward to in the most difficult season of our lives. We are incredibly thankful to my dad and to everyone else who helped make this trip possible for us. The warm air, the chance to relax, and this time to just be together are like a healing balm for our hearts. I was trying to think of a less cheesy way to say that, but I can't come up with one and, goofy as it is, that line describes how I'm feeling.
We are staying on the island of Eleuthera, which is one of the less touristy islands of the Bahamas. One of Mark's co-workers has a step-mother who owns a house here, and she was willing to rent us her garage apartment for a really good rate. To call this place a garage apartment doesn't quite do it justice - it has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room a kitchen, and ceilings that must be fifteen feet high. We have more than enough space, and we're able to hear the ocean from just about anywhere in the apartment.
We arrived at the apartment around 5 p.m. on Friday evening, and Davida, who owns the house and apartment, invited us to come to the cocktail party she was hosting at her house. Mark and I were tired after a long day of travel, but the idea of not having to go anywhere to find dinner was appealing, so we changed into slightly nicer clothes and put on our happy social faces. Meeting other people at the party actually turned out to be fairly interesting - many of the other guests
have been coming to Eleuthera to escape the northern winters for several years, and they were all happy to give us tips on what to do during our time on the island. We had several interesting conversations, but were still somewhat relieved to get some time on our own when the party ended. We escaped down to the beach where we marveled at the number of stars that were
visible in the dark night sky.
The next morning we were awake early because of the sunshine in our room, so we decided to take a walk on the beach. Walking the beach in and of itself isn't all that novel for us - I take Syd to the ocean every day while we're at home. However, it has been a long time since I've been able to walk the beach without wearing multiple layers of clothing. However, I have to admit that it's easier to walk on our beach at home - the sand here is quite soft, so each step takes
quite a bit of effort. I can't complain too much, though - it's fabulous to feel the warmth of the sun on my face and to enjoy the ocean breezes instead of having to brace myself against the biting wind.
After our walk and breakfast on our deck, we went over to Davida's house to get the scoop on what to do while we're here in Eleuthera. She had a number of restaurant recommendations and she also pointed out the best beaches to visit. Mark busily tried to take notes, but I'm not sure he got it all down. Davida also gave us snorkeling gear to borrow, so we can explore the ocean without having to pay rental fees.
For lunch, we decided to try out a restaurant that is located on the beach, about a mile from where we are staying. It was pretty amazing to have our transportation to lunch be a walk on the beach - I could get used to that. We sat at a table near a couple from Toledo, Ohio, so we chatted a bit about Ohio, the winter, etc. Everyone here seems to be quite friendly, perhaps because the atmosphere is just so laid back in general. Our food was good - Mark had a salmon burger, I had lobster spring rolls and we shared a bowl of conch chowder. I thought it was a little strange to order something with lobster during our "escape" from Maine, but the spring rolls were among the least expensive options on the menu and they turned out to be very tasty.
We rented a car for the time we're here, so yesterday afternoon we drove around to get our bearings. We were able to find the restaurant Davida had recommended for that night because of the Bahamian music they were featuring, and we also went to a beach on the Caribbean side of the ocean where the shallows were literally covered with conch shells. We had expected to
be driving an SUV, but it apparently wasn't available yet, so we had a regular four-door car with the steering wheel on the same side as in the U.S. Mark seemed to get the hang of driving on the left side fairly easily, though it seems like everyone else in this country has trouble with it - every time we encountered an oncoming car, we practically had to stop because the other person was driving in the middle of the road.
Tippy's was the name of the recommended restaurant for that evening, and it turned out to be a pleasant place. We had a table at the edge of a screened-in porch that looked out over the ocean, so it felt like we were eating right on the beach. We went the cheap route and split a hummus appetizer and a pizza with feta, arugula and fresh tomatoes. The Bahamian music started around the time we finished our dinner, so we stuck around to listen for a little while. The band mostly just played Bob Marley covers, but it was fun to listen. After we got back from the restaurant, we went down to the beach for another evening of star gazing. We both saw a few shooting stars, which is always rewarding.
Today is Sunday, and Davida's house is located quite close to Church Street (which is so named because there are at least five churches in a quarter-mile span), so we decided to see what a local church service would be like. We chose the Methodist church since I come from a Methodist background (sort of) and because we knew the service started at 11 a.m. It was definitely an interesting experience. As soon as we walked in the door, I could tell we were going to stick out like the proverbial sore thumbs. I have never felt so conspicuously white in my life - there was not a single other white person in the room. I also felt incredibly under-dressed in my sundress and flip flops, and I think Mark was even worse in his shorts and button-down shirt. All of the men were wearing dress shirts and ties, and several of the women were wearing suits and hats.
We settled into one of the back pews hoping that if we weren't going to blend, perhaps we could try to hide. There was no hiding in that church, though, and almost immediately a man came up to greet us. We were happy to exchange pleasantries, but the strange thing was that the man seemed to think he knew us. We were tipped off by the fact that he leaned over and told me he had talked to my parents last night. My first reaction was total confusion. "Really?" I said, as if it were possible that he could have talked to my parents last night. Mark was a little more on top of things, though, and clarified that the man probably had us confused with someone else. The man apologized, though I'm still not sure who he thought we were. It's not like we looked similar to anyone else in the congregation.
The service started, and as soon as one of the ministers (I think there were two or three of them) got up to do the announcements, he looked directly at us and said, "I think we have some visitors among us today, stand up and tell us a little about yourselves." All I can say is that I haven't felt quite so awkward in a long time. Mark and I stood up, feeling like there was a spotlight making us look whiter than ever, and Mark said a few words about how we were visiting the island and staying with Davida (as if everyone would know who Davida was). I kept trying to sit back down before he was done, and as a result I think I probably looked like I was trying to curtsy. So embarrassing.
The service was an interesting mix of African-American-type gospel and traditional Methodism. The minister announced the number of the first hymn we were going to sing (Mark's convinced he specifically said blue hymnal, though I don't remember hearing that), and as we reached for the blue book marked "Hymnal," three people jumped toward us, gesturing at some battered books of hymns that were also in the seat. The man in front of us grabbed one of them, found the first hymn and handed the book to Mark, and then he did the same for me. I wonder if he thought we had never used hymnals before. After about twelve hymns and ten gospel songs it was almost time for the sermon to begin when the woman behind us started shouting that the Lord was calling her to request another song. I don't think the ministers quite knew what to do with her, but she was very insistent, so eventually the choir just started in to the song she requested. Finally, one hour and fifteen minutes after the service began, a minister got up to do a sermon. His message was a good one and I'm glad we were there to hear it, but when we finally left the church at 1 p.m., it felt like we'd been there a very long time.
The other Sunday story is about the car we are now driving. The SUV was ready on Sunday morning, so the person who is renting to us switched cars shortly before we went to church. When we went out to get in the car, we discovered a British-style vehicle with the steering wheel on the right side instead of the left like in the U.S. Mark quickly discovered that more than just the steering wheel is backwards in the car - the wiper and headlight/turn signal levers are also reversed. So, every time we went to make a turn, Mark turned on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal. At one point, he wanted to signal to another driver that he could turn first, and instead of flashing his lights, he squirted wiper fluid onto the windshield. I still get hysterical every time.
I need to just stop writing and post this, or else it's going to turn into a journal just for me. Already, I'm finishing and posting this entry a day late. I think I've decided to call the blog "Mainely Rambling" even though Mark says the Mainely thing is totally overdone and uncreative - he didn't come up with anything better, and as you can see from the length of this post, I have a tendency to ramble. I'm hesitant to post this without editing it - the English major in me hates to publish anything that isn't perfect - but Mark is eager to get out and enjoy the day, so I'm just going to do it. Please excuse any errors.
I'll share more about our trip later.
I was finally inspired to take the plunge into blogging by the fact that we are currently on vacation in the Bahamas with access to the Internet but no phone service (at least not at a price I'm willing to pay). Blogging seems more appealing than the idea of writing several e-mails to tell similar stories to the different people in our lives. I'd also like to have something of a record for ourselves, because otherwise I'm sure we'll forget most of the stories from this week before
we even return to the U.S. When we do return, I hope to keep up with the blog as a way of staying in touch with our long-distance friends and family members.
As most of you know, my dad suggested the idea of this trip shortly after we lost Noah in September. This plan to escape the long Maine winter and to spend a week just relaxing has given us something to look forward to in the most difficult season of our lives. We are incredibly thankful to my dad and to everyone else who helped make this trip possible for us. The warm air, the chance to relax, and this time to just be together are like a healing balm for our hearts. I was trying to think of a less cheesy way to say that, but I can't come up with one and, goofy as it is, that line describes how I'm feeling.
We are staying on the island of Eleuthera, which is one of the less touristy islands of the Bahamas. One of Mark's co-workers has a step-mother who owns a house here, and she was willing to rent us her garage apartment for a really good rate. To call this place a garage apartment doesn't quite do it justice - it has two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room a kitchen, and ceilings that must be fifteen feet high. We have more than enough space, and we're able to hear the ocean from just about anywhere in the apartment.
We arrived at the apartment around 5 p.m. on Friday evening, and Davida, who owns the house and apartment, invited us to come to the cocktail party she was hosting at her house. Mark and I were tired after a long day of travel, but the idea of not having to go anywhere to find dinner was appealing, so we changed into slightly nicer clothes and put on our happy social faces. Meeting other people at the party actually turned out to be fairly interesting - many of the other guests
have been coming to Eleuthera to escape the northern winters for several years, and they were all happy to give us tips on what to do during our time on the island. We had several interesting conversations, but were still somewhat relieved to get some time on our own when the party ended. We escaped down to the beach where we marveled at the number of stars that were
visible in the dark night sky.
The next morning we were awake early because of the sunshine in our room, so we decided to take a walk on the beach. Walking the beach in and of itself isn't all that novel for us - I take Syd to the ocean every day while we're at home. However, it has been a long time since I've been able to walk the beach without wearing multiple layers of clothing. However, I have to admit that it's easier to walk on our beach at home - the sand here is quite soft, so each step takes
quite a bit of effort. I can't complain too much, though - it's fabulous to feel the warmth of the sun on my face and to enjoy the ocean breezes instead of having to brace myself against the biting wind.
After our walk and breakfast on our deck, we went over to Davida's house to get the scoop on what to do while we're here in Eleuthera. She had a number of restaurant recommendations and she also pointed out the best beaches to visit. Mark busily tried to take notes, but I'm not sure he got it all down. Davida also gave us snorkeling gear to borrow, so we can explore the ocean without having to pay rental fees.
For lunch, we decided to try out a restaurant that is located on the beach, about a mile from where we are staying. It was pretty amazing to have our transportation to lunch be a walk on the beach - I could get used to that. We sat at a table near a couple from Toledo, Ohio, so we chatted a bit about Ohio, the winter, etc. Everyone here seems to be quite friendly, perhaps because the atmosphere is just so laid back in general. Our food was good - Mark had a salmon burger, I had lobster spring rolls and we shared a bowl of conch chowder. I thought it was a little strange to order something with lobster during our "escape" from Maine, but the spring rolls were among the least expensive options on the menu and they turned out to be very tasty.
We rented a car for the time we're here, so yesterday afternoon we drove around to get our bearings. We were able to find the restaurant Davida had recommended for that night because of the Bahamian music they were featuring, and we also went to a beach on the Caribbean side of the ocean where the shallows were literally covered with conch shells. We had expected to
be driving an SUV, but it apparently wasn't available yet, so we had a regular four-door car with the steering wheel on the same side as in the U.S. Mark seemed to get the hang of driving on the left side fairly easily, though it seems like everyone else in this country has trouble with it - every time we encountered an oncoming car, we practically had to stop because the other person was driving in the middle of the road.
Tippy's was the name of the recommended restaurant for that evening, and it turned out to be a pleasant place. We had a table at the edge of a screened-in porch that looked out over the ocean, so it felt like we were eating right on the beach. We went the cheap route and split a hummus appetizer and a pizza with feta, arugula and fresh tomatoes. The Bahamian music started around the time we finished our dinner, so we stuck around to listen for a little while. The band mostly just played Bob Marley covers, but it was fun to listen. After we got back from the restaurant, we went down to the beach for another evening of star gazing. We both saw a few shooting stars, which is always rewarding.
Today is Sunday, and Davida's house is located quite close to Church Street (which is so named because there are at least five churches in a quarter-mile span), so we decided to see what a local church service would be like. We chose the Methodist church since I come from a Methodist background (sort of) and because we knew the service started at 11 a.m. It was definitely an interesting experience. As soon as we walked in the door, I could tell we were going to stick out like the proverbial sore thumbs. I have never felt so conspicuously white in my life - there was not a single other white person in the room. I also felt incredibly under-dressed in my sundress and flip flops, and I think Mark was even worse in his shorts and button-down shirt. All of the men were wearing dress shirts and ties, and several of the women were wearing suits and hats.
We settled into one of the back pews hoping that if we weren't going to blend, perhaps we could try to hide. There was no hiding in that church, though, and almost immediately a man came up to greet us. We were happy to exchange pleasantries, but the strange thing was that the man seemed to think he knew us. We were tipped off by the fact that he leaned over and told me he had talked to my parents last night. My first reaction was total confusion. "Really?" I said, as if it were possible that he could have talked to my parents last night. Mark was a little more on top of things, though, and clarified that the man probably had us confused with someone else. The man apologized, though I'm still not sure who he thought we were. It's not like we looked similar to anyone else in the congregation.
The service started, and as soon as one of the ministers (I think there were two or three of them) got up to do the announcements, he looked directly at us and said, "I think we have some visitors among us today, stand up and tell us a little about yourselves." All I can say is that I haven't felt quite so awkward in a long time. Mark and I stood up, feeling like there was a spotlight making us look whiter than ever, and Mark said a few words about how we were visiting the island and staying with Davida (as if everyone would know who Davida was). I kept trying to sit back down before he was done, and as a result I think I probably looked like I was trying to curtsy. So embarrassing.
The service was an interesting mix of African-American-type gospel and traditional Methodism. The minister announced the number of the first hymn we were going to sing (Mark's convinced he specifically said blue hymnal, though I don't remember hearing that), and as we reached for the blue book marked "Hymnal," three people jumped toward us, gesturing at some battered books of hymns that were also in the seat. The man in front of us grabbed one of them, found the first hymn and handed the book to Mark, and then he did the same for me. I wonder if he thought we had never used hymnals before. After about twelve hymns and ten gospel songs it was almost time for the sermon to begin when the woman behind us started shouting that the Lord was calling her to request another song. I don't think the ministers quite knew what to do with her, but she was very insistent, so eventually the choir just started in to the song she requested. Finally, one hour and fifteen minutes after the service began, a minister got up to do a sermon. His message was a good one and I'm glad we were there to hear it, but when we finally left the church at 1 p.m., it felt like we'd been there a very long time.
The other Sunday story is about the car we are now driving. The SUV was ready on Sunday morning, so the person who is renting to us switched cars shortly before we went to church. When we went out to get in the car, we discovered a British-style vehicle with the steering wheel on the right side instead of the left like in the U.S. Mark quickly discovered that more than just the steering wheel is backwards in the car - the wiper and headlight/turn signal levers are also reversed. So, every time we went to make a turn, Mark turned on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signal. At one point, he wanted to signal to another driver that he could turn first, and instead of flashing his lights, he squirted wiper fluid onto the windshield. I still get hysterical every time.
I need to just stop writing and post this, or else it's going to turn into a journal just for me. Already, I'm finishing and posting this entry a day late. I think I've decided to call the blog "Mainely Rambling" even though Mark says the Mainely thing is totally overdone and uncreative - he didn't come up with anything better, and as you can see from the length of this post, I have a tendency to ramble. I'm hesitant to post this without editing it - the English major in me hates to publish anything that isn't perfect - but Mark is eager to get out and enjoy the day, so I'm just going to do it. Please excuse any errors.
I'll share more about our trip later.
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