Bahama Mama Day One (and Day Two...)

6 months of planning. 1 week of packing. 4 a.m. alarm. 7 hour trip. 1 gate at the Bahamas airport. 2 immigration officers. 1 circa 1990 Dodge van.

And we are here...

I almost thought we wouldn't make it. Our rented van looked like we could have outright bought it for what we paid to rent it for the week. We thought we might find a few day laborers taking a siesta inside the van, which is apparently held together with (literally) duct tape and thumb tacks. I guess vehicles are hard to come by on Abaco Island. Correction: running vehicles. The good news is, if our van breaks down, there are about a dozen abandoned cars and trucks littering the 20-mile stretch of wilderness between here and the Marsh Harbor airport that we could scavenge for parts.

But when I really thought we were in trouble was when I saw this:

Instead of a GPS, or hell, even Mapquest directions to our villa, Mandy had a compass and a road-less map of the island printed off the internet. A compass. The original GPS. GPS 1.0.

But we made it.

And it was raining.

Now, rain was a welcome sight for our sore, drought-plagued Texas eyes. But perhaps the faction of our party that just experienced flooding in Tennessee would argue otherwise. The sound of rain on the rooftop and the ocean lapping on the beach just outside our window made for a restful night's sleep. And in the morning we were welcomed by a rainbow!

The house itself wasn't quite what we expected. But then again, when has a rental house ever really been exactly as advertised? The back story behind this trip, for those of you who don't know, is that Zach bid on and won this trip at a charity auction for Hand in Paw. We were told that this house "rents for $8,000 a week." I think the truth behind that statement is more like this: someone, somewhere, at a charity auction got MORE drunk than Zach and bid $8,000 on a trip. I hope that man (and we know it HAD to be a man) lived the beating his wife gave him and actually got to come and enjoy his little slice of paradise. The house is lovely and clean. The towels match and look somewhat new. The kitchen is amply stocked with pots, pans, cooking utensils, dishes, and glasses- only some of which look cast-off like you would expect to find in a rental beach house. The view is spectacular! But admittedly $8,000 is a stretch!

Speaking of what things cost, milk is $8 a gallon. Yes, this was a shock for us Texans who are used to complaining that milk is $2.49 a gallon at Target, up from last year's sales of $0.99 a gallon. My brother, however, who lives on an island, would not find this unusual. Anyone want to take a guess at what a Dairy Queen ice cream cake cost at the local grocery store? If you guessed $59.00, you were right.

This morning the rain broke long enough to enjoy a little time on the beach, taking a walk and talking to the neighbors. We waded out to a sandbar and found a gigantic starfish. Bea found the first sand dollar. There are conch shells galore. Grampy set up his salt water fly rod, and Grammy (predictably) did laundry. Here are a few photos: