I was telling a friend the other day about my many adventures in the Bahamas. First, I loved going to the Bahamas when I lived in Florida. It was a quick trip across the water from where I lived. And who wouldn’t like an entirely foreign country that is 30 minutes away by air?
There’s no such place in Seattle. If you fly 30 minutes you either end up in Portland, Eastern Washington or make a horrific splashing, ripping metal sound in the Pacific Ocean. The nearest tropical port of any worth is nine hours away in French Polynesia.
Sorry, I don’t count Hawaii. It’s the U.S. It’s like flying from Orlando to Key West. It’s still America. If there’s a McDonalds, then I will want to simply pass it by. Too American.
I’m sure the Bahamas has a McDonalds. But I frequented the lesser known places. For instance, Green Turtle Cay in the Abacos. Population about 450. The bank is only open something like four hours a week and there’s no doctor on the island. Hell, there’s not even an ATM.
My kind of place. Like the vast majority of vacations over the last 20 years, I didn’t have to pay for these trips. They paid us. Ah, the life of a pirate entertainer. The Abacos call and the ol’ Hurricane will be more than glad to go, even if it’s with his estranged, then divorced wife staying in the same room. Put that under the “what was I drinkin’ category.
Going somewhere so remote yet still familiar is very Twilight Zone. It’s feels like America, but it’s not. There are plenty of ex-patriated Americans on the island, so you don’t have to work too hard to understand people. They speak English, and in many cases, the same dialect I’ve become accustomed to.
The food looks familiar too, at least if you feel a dire need to have American food. There are burgers at the bar the American guy owns, the Sundowner. And in the local stores, there are all the familiar brands, largely because all the food arrives from Miami, just across the way.
In fact, the Bahamas feel a lot like Canada, but with palm trees. This is not a slight on the Bahamas or Canada. Rather, it’s a reference point for me, being from Washington State. Canada is 2 1/2 hours to the north. It’s like the U.S., but with colorful money and a Grammys show where no one seems familiar to me, except Bryan Adams and Alan Thicke. It’s an entirely different country that doesn’t require a long transit by boat, plane or automobile. You can weekend there.
And that’s how the Bahamas feels when you’re in Florida. There’s still some American culture. Hard to avoid it as you’re just across from it. How can you keep America out, especially with all those damned Americans.
In fact, Green Turtle Cay was founded by Americans. Well, actually they were anti-American Americans. It seems our forefathers didn’t take too kindly to those still loyal to the king. They would tar and feather them, beat them, take away their property, that sort of thing. So those loyal to King George fled to the Abacos and landed in Green Turtle Cay. As such, it’s an odd mix of Caribbean, jolly old England and the U.S. Like I said, Canada with palm trees.
One of my fondest memories on the island was at their annual heritage festival. Now, I know what you are thinking. My memories are of the fresh conch and the fresh lobster, the out of this world Mac ‘n’ Cheese and the Goombay Smashes that were created right here on the island.
Well, you’re right. But I also remember the people I met along the way.
One of them was the Prime Minister. He attended the festival each year. That was a really nice gesture on his part as it must be difficult to schedule visits to all 700 islands in the Bahamas when you only have 365 days in a year. But there he was, doing meet and greets with everyone at the festival.
And here’s where it gets a little screwy on me. It’s hard to remember that the Prime Minister of the Bahamas is on the same level as the President of the United States. He is a head of state. He can call up Obama and say he wants to have lunch and the President will say, “Sure!, Mr. Prime Minister.”
But instead of having a couple dozen men on his security detail, he has just one. A very large Bahamian man with a pistol under his jacket. And then there’s me. I’m dressed on this particular moment as pirate turned Bahamian Governor Woodes Rogers. The Prime Minister is making his way down the receiving line, something I was loathe to be in, but was given no choice.
He continues down the line, shakes the Queen of England’s hand, a couple ladies in waiting, then the Governor of the island, me.
I’m not really sure what he’s thinking. He’s polite, but a little perplexed at seeing some guy dressed as one of his predecessors. Hey, it’s a living. He shakes my hand, looks me in the eye and we exchange a few non-sensical words. As I said, weird!
Then all the official ceremonies start. Speeches are made, presentations presented. Finally, the national anthems are played. Yes, anthems. They start by playing the Star Spangled Banner. Hey, I know that one. I doff my hat and place it over my heart and look very solemn. Then a second song starts playing. I don’t know this one. And then I realize it’s the Bahamian national anthem.
So that’s why everyone’s singing! I quickly doff my hat again and rather than look solemn, I look somber this time.
I don’t sing, largely because, well, the Bahamas anthem doesn’t exactly make my patriotic nipples hard. It’s not the music – it’s the words:
“See how the world marks the manner of your bearing!
Pledge to excel through love and unity,
Pressing onward, march together to a common loftier goal;
Steady sunward, though the weather hide the wide and treach’rous shoal.”
See what I mean? A bit of a yawner. It’s all peace and love and harmony. There’s no bombs bursting in air, rockets red glare, the juicy war mongering stuff we Americans so enjoy in a song. Instead it sounds like John Lennon wrote it during his bed-a-thon with Yoko. Hey, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
In the Emerald City, wondering why the flag always seems to be at half mast these days,
– Robb