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.