A Song While Island Hopping By Douglas Charles

 

percent. Those condos start at over 3M inBarbadosdollars, which is 1.5M US. We get a

 

table and order the refreshing Banks beer. The Bajans and her sister order the beef stew

 

while we each have the pricier local flying fish, a sandwich for me, and the salad for her,

 

with the flying fish on top. The stew dish is superior and I would have it on my last night.

 

By8pm, unlikeLong Island, there is no light in the sky, but we stay, we laugh, we talk,

 

we drink the10 ozbaby Banks.

 

 

In the morning we walked north down the beach for a swim, going past the table where

 

fishermen cut up the catch and the old man tells me tuna run about a mile off shore.  He

 

is not as friendly as those hawking watercraft. We pass the spot where the trailers come

 

to deposit boats to rent. On the beach is a small14 footHobie cat that we would later see

 

demasted about a half mile out and get rescued by one of the big catamarans that work

 

the area, taking tourists to the turtles, taking them for a sail. We would start each day this

 

way after a cup of coffee, the walk to this place, a long luxurious swim. The four of us

 

would recant what had happened the night before, the people we met like Sean, friendly

 

with his dreads at the waterfront bar. He told us about a local place called The Golden

 

Anchor, and later while walking there I see a tall fellow with a limp catching up to us and

 

for a moment I am concerned. “What a coincidence” said Sean as he caught up to us and

 

I chastised myself for my concern but I did not know he was that tall, or that he limped

 

from an accident, we had been sitting down when we met hours before.

 

 

 

The last day we had a fine lunch at the water’s edge, just the two of us. That night the

 

steel band played at the waterside place and I had the beef stew. We talked about the

 

highlights of the our visit, remembering sheep that looked like goats, the warmth of the

 

place and it’s people, the way the traffic moved like the pulsing bloodstream of a small

 

cellular organism,\the monkeys we saw by the side of the road,  the trip to Oistins for the

 

fish fry where over 1000 people milled about, ate all kinds of fresh fish, listened to music,

 

drank Banks. For her a highlight was visiting a former prosperous plantation hacked out

 

of the rough country nearly 400 years ago, now a landmark, where sugar cane was grown

 

and Mahogany trees first imported, where the English extracted wealth from the new

 

world, made rum that remains a main export today. The former manor lords and

 

overseers had a very different life than those that toiled after a hellish trip in chains, or

 

maybe even worse, getting born into slavery. The trade winds served a different purpose

 

centuries ago, and this was a delicate subject that we avoided with the locals we met.

 

 

 

Rain was threatening as the plane went west over the spine ofLong Island, with golf

 

courses and highways below.  We landed, cleared customs easily, got home by10pmand

 

found a poltergeist scene. Things knocked over, a painting hanging askew. Something

 

was in the house and it took some looking to find the exit hole in a screen upstairs, big

 

enough for a bird or a squirrel, that likely came down the chimney.

 

 

I have good news and bad news, what do you want asked my assistant on Tuesday

 

morning when I went into the office without the walk and swim, but with two strong cups

 

of coffee. Good news was that a loan had been approved, great! Bad news was the person

 

who hired me over 10 years ago, formerly my direct report before he was promoted to

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