Macey
As another May rolled by, I found myself one year older. I spent a lovely day with my grandma and dad, then drifted south on the great concrete river that is I-75 to the largest city we have seen in months, Boynton Beach, FL. Tracing my fingers down the colorful halls of my aunt & uncle’s house, I was filled with nostalgia; I entered the room that was once mine and fondly remembered reading many books within those walls while my cousins discovered Guitar Hero in the living room and, though it is years later, I can still hear all the wrong notes they missed. On this night that same room was filled with conversation for hours as my uncle kept us well stocked with beer for Dustin and greyhounds for me, the smell of garlic and homemade pizza wafting through the air. Lucky me: another birthday cake!
Morning came early, accompanied by the smell of delicious Swedish pancakes, bacon, and eggs. A good way to start the day, for today, an adventure was to be had! Down at the Suntex Marina I was immediately impressed by the gargantuan garage that housed boats from floor to ceiling. Rows upon rows faded into the darkness making it impossible to imagine how many boats called it their home.
The sense of freedom of the wind wrapping around you as the sun glistens on the water, boat cutting through, is one of the best feelings this world has to offer. On the flip side, if you’ve experienced that feeling, you might also know the unsettling feeling instilled by distressed machinery. Half way through our leisurely stroll in the bay the engine started crying with an insistent beep, beep, beep. Determining it wasn’t fatal, Captain Chris led us though the bay. We passed Trump’s Winter White House (Mar-a-Lago), Peanut Island (allegedly where president Kennedy’s bunker was located), and the port from which we were to set sail the following day. We were out there long enough to get a sunburn even after putting on sunscreen and moving at the pace of an injured turtle we headed back to the marina. Never ungrateful for an opportunity to experience something different, nothing could dent the smiles on our faces.
My cousin and I, both hiding from the sun and reminiscing about the trips our grandparents had taken us on.
After the boat trip was a few beers and wings at “Key Lime,” but the real finale was the Chicken Piccata my Uncle made us that night. Yum.
Today We Set Sail
Rocking gently in the harbor 15 minutes away from my aunt and uncle’s house waited the ridiculous “MV Grand Celebration” cruise ship. It didn’t take long to pass through security and climb on to the ship where we were greeted by an adorable young Scottish boy, “Your room is down the hall, to the right, and we are serving lunch on deck 10.” We made our way to our room and enjoyed the fact that it hid down an awkward hallway, tucked away from all the “normal” people.
The rest of the time before take off was well-spent, watching the intricate ant-like workings of the “Tropical” shipyard that was just south of the boat. Curled up in a little bean-pod-type chair, we read the afternoon away until obediently dragging ourselves out of our books to the safety meeting. We rather enjoyed the cruise director’s banter, thick with a southern accent as he went between selling us on the ship and telling us jokes. “Why don’t chickens wear underwear? Because their peckers are on their head. Come on, if you don’t laugh at that then you have no sense of humor, because that’s funny!” Being on the cruise ship reminded me of the dark-windowed casinos of Las Vegas in the sense that you lose all track of time, and soon enough we were watching the “Celebration Dancers” in which we were delighted to see that the cute Scottish bellhop from earlier was the star of the show! It made me wonder what the janitor or the waiter that served us that evening could do in their free time.
Sleeping on a bed that was as hard as a board left us a little stiff and yet still bright eyed and ready to feast on a breakfast buffet before we set out to see what the Bahamas had in store for us. We drifted through a fairly relaxed customs office and found ourselves waiting for a taxi in a chaos of disorganized persons and a display of a gentleman trying to get everyone where they needed to be while being yelled at by a woman in a language we could not understand (and yet was probably English). We hopped in a taxi with a young gentleman who, when prodded with a “how are you?” responded , “Ayyyy I’m alllright, I’d be better if that woman back there wasn’t making so much noise.”
“Where are you two from?”
“Colorado,”
“Alll-right, the new Jamaica! Here everybody smoke, and who don’t smoke, drink. Who don’t drink, smoke. Who don’t do neither, they on coke.”
It was an exciting ride accentuated by the strangeness of driving on the left and the taxi driving at least 3 times the speed limit.
On the island things move slower—the check-in process, the internet, time—but we didn’t mind. After getting our bearings we headed straight for our dear friend, the ocean. Despite our excitement for the “real deal,” we decided to check out the pool across the way as well, the designer of which has certainly earned my respect.
The water slide was actually fun!
Despite our ravenous cravings we lived frugally and split a “piña colada burger” from the Taino on the beach restaurant that evening. We spent the rest of that evening hiding away in the hotel room drinking Bushmills and Malibu rum from the duty free and the only excitement came from the hotel room next door, in which a woman was wailing and we felt sorry for the man.
“You can’t leave me here… ‘Cause I put my head down on the bar? Because I was drunk?”
“No, because you actin like this. Where’s my passport?”
“You’re not going to leave me here! My phone got no service. I don’t even know where I am.”
“Don’t touch me. Give me my passport.”
Dustin enjoyed the dark window into a life. We’re so thankful for ours.
A New Day
With black out curtains and no obligations it was hard to tear ourselves away from the bed, despite it being one of the worst beds we have yet to encounter. After a comforting bowl of tomato soup and crackers we eventually braved the rain and hopped on the sleepy ferry that schlepped us to the Lucaya Marketplace, where we wandered the colorful streets and managed to fend off the tschotschke sellers and managed our way out having only gotten ice cream and 2 patties from the wonderful “House of Ice Cream” (and some Kalik and Coor’s Light).
We sat on the deck and drank a CL smooth while the sky faded from gray to black.
Cheers to you, Rich!
Don’t Trust Google
Inspired to see a little bit more of the island we decided to walk on the beach south-east to the little knife and fork icons that Google Maps lead us to believe would have food. Living in our bubble we did not consider that the hurricane would have wiped out many of the businesses. As we walked, tripped, and climbed over tree roots and rocks along the unkempt beach I was in awe of the beauty and strength of the ocean. After finding three restaurants closed indefinitely, we decided to walk back. We considered taking a street, but the darkness and people sitting in their parked cars made me uneasy and I felt safer trusting nature to be kind then to step into the unknown of man.
As if keeping up a promise for nature to show its beauty and strength we awoke to torrential downpours and wind that whipped the palm trees back and forth and for a moment I imagined that the palm trees would have very tangly hair. With not much else to do and limited WiFi we worked on projects we had long ago promised to finish. The book I was reading, “Shadow of the Wind,” came to an incredible ending, and not long after that Dustin read the last pages of “Man’s Search For Meaning.” We were both so anxious to tell one another about the tales we had just read, we immediately switched books. The rain wept all night and into the morning. Unable to head to the nearest church, as we often do while traveling (for it is a unique display of culture) we settled to watch Nassau’s Anglican church on the local channel. We had everything we could need, homemade bread and coffee. But soon the need to stir from our room arose and we ran at top speed to the pool to ride the waterslide at least twice before it closed and, of course, we had to try the swim up to the bar at least once.
Bahama Mama and Goombay Smash
As all trips must come to an end we tidied up our temporary home, ate the rest of the food we had accumulated and crammed into a taxi van with others returning to the ship. The taxi was zipping along and as they flew around a cop a lady let out a loud and long, “Dang,” to which the taxi driver said, “Welcome to the Bahamas, Baby!” Ironically we said our farewells to the island and immediately ran into the nice couple we had kept running into again.
After stashing our stuff in the room on the ship, we contentedly watched another shipping yard in the distance and were completely engrossed in our books for hours only pausing to watch the boat creep away from the harbor and the water change from cyan to a deep blue. Living in luxury after our frugal holiday, we enjoyed a 3 course meal of some fancy foods I can’t pronounce, even though the swaying of the boat had turned my stomach sideways. We sat next to a nice couple from Jamaica and a couple that were the quintessential Minnesnowtans, fully equipped with Midwestern-style dad jokes. We excused ourselves so we could catch some of the dance show. A case of the body snatchers had occurred for though it was the same people from the show before, we were astounded at the performance they put on this time. My jaw dropped as they did it up Cirque du Soleil style and performed magic tricks that I will never understand. They finished up the show with Pat Brown who had us laughing so hard, tears surfaced. Well done, Bahamas Paradise Cruise Dance Team, you really showed us. Dumbfounded we headed back to our room where we laughed at the fake window and Dustin spent an hour or so infatuated with the audio assistance with which the TV was equipped.
One of the channels was a camera showing the front of the boat in real time. We left that on all night and were delighted to wake up to the view of the port. As every second seemed like a precious moment to be reading, we took our time eating breakfast and drinking coffee. When it was time we headed off the boat and were almost immediately greeted by my aunt. She went off to work and I spent the day hanging in cousin Doug’s room—which really brought me back to younger years—and writing this. Dustin worked and then our evening was spent eating perfectly prepared tuna steaks and drinking greyhounds while watching Battlebots.
We woke up early to say goodbye to Uncle Chris before he left for work and he said we were welcome to stay another day or four if we wanted. And while I told him we best be getting on our way I saw no look of surprise on his face when he returned hours later and found us there. We had fallen into a time warp trap of a “How It’s Made” marathon and we just had to wait to see the episode with an accordion. It also does not take much coaxing to stay for another Chris Geivett meal. So that Dustin could see what my uncle gets himself involved in, he took us to an amazing beach house that belongs to his boss and long-time friend. I was happy to feed my seashell addiction and say one more “till next time” to our good friend, the ocean. We stayed another night, enticed by the promise of spaghetti and sausage, and as we waved goodbye to my aunt and uncle’s home, which I had visited so long ago, and thought of all the time that had passed so quickly between now and then, astonished by the events that had taken place in between and the fullness of my current existence, I thought of this passage from “Man’s Search For Meaning”
“The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old?”
Great read, loved the story! Glad you had such an adventure! Can’t wait for the next one..
Above the comment button is a URL link. Clicked that an I could see the pictures!
Do I need a passport for this trip?
Generally, yes.