“I wanted to let you know that I got back safe and sound (if somewhat jet-lagged) from my visit to Annie, Tony and Monica aboard Laissez-Faire. We had a fine time, and I kept telling them how you'd enjoy certain things we did - hikes through the exotic terrain, walks along the powdery-sand beaches, frequent snorkeling, just plain hanging out and relaxing. I know it's not possible for you to join them this time, but if they ever invite you to the Florida Keys or somewhere near reasonably priced accommodations where you can bunk on land at night, then I would heartily recommend getting a "winter tan," as the French call it. It is really an enticing experience to spend so much time in/on the water and under a tropical sun, and to enjoy all the appealing aspects of island life. That way, you'd get some "sea time" in before you go on your long-anticipated cruise. (Which you are still planning, right?)
I arrived Tuesday morning a week ago. It was a long series of flights, including a "red eye" that left the West Coast at 9 p.m. and arrived in Miami at 5 a.m. I got a few hours of sleep on the Miami leg, and I felt pretty good when I boarded a prop plane for the hourlong flight to the Bahamas. It's an impressive journey at dawn, as the island chains below appeared unannounced from the shimmering aqua sea. When we landed in Great Exuma, it was already 80 degrees (with 80% humidity, of course). Annie had instructed me to ask other passengers if they'd like to share a cab, but there were only six others on the flight, and they were going
to resorts whose car services were dispatched to pick them up. So I walked out to the taxi stand, where six cabs were waiting. The first driver was abrupt and rude, insisting that I couldn't share a cab with anyone, so I asked the woman cab driver behind him (who was more polite), if this was true. She responded yes, but deferred to the cab driver in front of her because he was first in line. So I had to climb aboard his van (he didn't bother to help me with my bags) and told him I wanted to go to Georgetown, 8 miles away. "That's $25, payable in advance," he said. Realizing that I couldn't very well walk, and not knowing the bus schedule (if there even were a bus), I resigned myself to the rip-off. (That experience was typical of services in the Bahamas, sad to say. The people know they've got you between a rock and a hard place, and they tend to take advantage. As I told Annie, there should be a sign at the airport: "Welcome to the Bahamas. Now give us your wallet.")
Luckily, Annie and Tony and Monica were motoring into the harbor just as I arrived, so there was no panic trying to find them. They all looked strikingly tanned, even Annie with her relatively fair skin. (Monica and Tony, blessed with Italian genes, were both Coppertone bronze.) After some happy hugs, we all sat down to breakfast at a local cafe overlooking the water. Though they opted for traditional eggs and toast, I tried something call pig's feet souse - a soupy concoction made from the eponymous feet but spiced up with fresh lime juice and a hot red pepper. It was surprisingly good. That and a fresh conch salad a few days later turned out to be the only really Bahamian dishes I had,
because we were soon back in the dinghy, heading to the boat, which Annie and Tony had anchored for the last month in a sheltered cove near a sandy beach frequented by dozens of other cruisers. This beach, its volleyball nets and a rustic hut/bar/cafe dubbed "the Chat 'n' Chill" (which serves grilled food, countless bottles of Bahamian beer, untold cases of rum and at least one huge pig a week) form the vortex of social life for the cruisers in the harbor (most of whom are Americans, with a few Canadians and some English and French thrown into the mix). There's even a Sunday service: Beach Church, an ecumenical hour of worship that Monica and I attended (and which she described as being punctuated by more laughter than Catholic mass - I told her she hadn't been to hear Father James in Middletown!)
We spent our first afternoon aboard Laissez-Faire under the bimini in the cockpit, chatting and catching up as the sun blazed overhead. Annie had prepared a pitcher of her now-legendary rum punch (based on, believe it or not, Crystal Lite lemonade, but with coconut water and guava juice, along with whatever local citrus is available, so it's never exactly the same), and we all imbibed liberally before calling Mom to wish her a happy birthday (apologies if I slurred my words during the call; perhaps you thought it was just a bad satellite connection?). More rum punch and hors d'oeuvres followed, and then a trip to volleyball beach to pick up Monica (who had gone off to join her group of friends). We enjoyed a quick stroll to the oceanside beach (most islands in the Bahamas have two sides - a calmer, protected side facing Florida; and an ocean-facing side whose built-up dunes and wide strands are a testament to the pounding ocean surf and high winds of frequent tropical storms), then caught up with Monica at the Chat 'n' Chill, where we enjoyed a Kalik, the Bahamian national beer (quite hoppy, reminiscent of a good Pilsner - Dad would like them, even though, as Annie would say, they come at a price: $38 a case! Which probably explains why we consumed such quantities of Bahamian rum, much more cost-effective at $9 a liter.)
