Nassau – 2 miles in dinghy, 4 kilometres walked
Our friend Ruth arrived sometime after 8pm to meet us at the Poop Deck restaurant for our final get together. Ana and I had been there for an hour, enjoying the sublime view over the harbour, a cold drink, and an order of conch fritters (delicious and filling, but not as conchy as those served on SeaLight) as we discussed the trip and all the fun we’d had in Nassau on the eve before our final sail out of the harbour. Ruth seemed to be moving slowly and in some pain.
“What happened?” Ana asked.
“Hurt my back this weekend,” she said. “But the painkillers are kicking in so I’m good.”
“Did you trip on something?" I asked.
“No, it was actually a swinging injury,” she said reluctantly. We waited. “You see I had gone to my house to check on the progress of the renovations and I spotted a centipede on the floor. So I ran to get my machete.”
“Machete?” Ana and I said together.
“Yeah.”
“Like the kind you’d make conch salad with?” I prodded.
“No, bigger. Anyway, I got the machete and slashed it to bits. And the swinging threw my back out.”
We sat stunned, picturing Ruth performing trench warfare on an insect.
“We have to come to your place sometime,” I said.
“Sure, anytime. Why?”
“To see the rocket launcher you use to slaughter house rodents.”
We had a lovely meal and visit with Ruth and left knowing we had reestablished our relationship with our Bahamian friends that mean so much to us. The only regret we had was that Sheldon and his wife were unable to join us due to another commitment, but we were happy that we’d at least had one great visit with him.
Dave had been in touch with Ana and he reported on their night of luxurious passion in a magnificent king suite, a spectacular dinner, and day of water slides, surf machines, and lazy river hijinx at the Baha Mar hotel, thereby experiencing the island as a high roller vacationer. By the end of their bonus Sunday Funday they were back on a rescheduled WestJet flight home. What a week!
We, by comparison, had a leisurely slow day as the hours were consumed with laundry, provisioning, and planning out the next few days of our trip in the wake of another strong weather system on its way. Ana did have some fun at the laundry. The high-powered front loading dryers did not stop when you opened the door, but she wanted to extract the smaller items as they dried. Have you ever seen that game show where they put the contestant in a telephone booth that has American currency piled up to the knees, but you aren’t allowed to start grabbing bills until they turn on the fans that blow the money into a frantic, green whirl? Well, that’s what it looked like when Ana opened the door then stuck her hand in, trying to snag socks, shirts, and small towels, which mostly evaded her grasp. Once she finally grabbed a few things, I started helping her fold, under supervision. As I was struggling with a pair of underwear, she looked over my shoulder out the open door to the back of the building and said, “Oh my god, is that a rat?”
It sure was. A big one, in full view for a few seconds before disappearing into a jagged hole in the concrete wall. Surprisingly, Ana didn’t run out of the laundry, vowing never to return, leaving me to do my regular crappy folding job that she always has to redo. No, instead she took it in stride, and admitted that on first glance she thought it was a cat.
Before leaving for the restaurant we sat in the cockpit watching the boats ripping around, far more than usual, kicking up wakes and rocking all the anchored boats from side to side. We realized it was Sunday, family day in the Bahamas, and it had been a beautiful hot day so every Bahamian with a speedboat or jet ski was on the water. Some of the kids ripping by on jet skis came so close to our boat that they sprayed ocean water into the open hatches. Bahamians love going fast and have little regard for where the boat wakes end up. After all, it’s just water.
I think I’ve discovered why the Bahamians you meet are usually happy, smiling, and quick to laugh. For many Canadians, you go to work from Monday to Friday then you get two days off. During those days you probably do yard work, gardening, or shovel snow, take your kids to hockey or soccer games, meet up with friends at somebody’s house, or if you’re real lucky, go camping in a buggy forest or boating on a cold and murky lake.
Now consider Bahamians. They too go to work for five days then get a couple off. But on their days off they’re in the Bahamas! Imagine that. A limitless supply of idyllic islands, pristine beaches, and oceans full of wonder, easily accessible on your day off.
Damn. No wonder they’re so happy.
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