After two previous vacations to off-the-beaten-path countries, Bahamas was a refreshing return to cliche. This Caribbean hotbed of tourism is pretty much what one expects on face value, which is to say sunny, beautiful, and easy to travel in.
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| Best damn daqs in the world |
There are the luxury resorts that we forgone (Atlantis king among them) adjacent to a veritable billionaire’s row of yachts in the pier next door. The placement offers privileged guests easy access to the meticulously manicured beaches of paradise island (so renamed from Hog’s Island as to render it more palatable to visitors). Easy access is also offered to the rather elegant casinos in the resorts (think a smaller version of Vegas or Macau rather than Reno).
Then there are the mass attractions for the hordes of thousands who come by Carnaval or Princess cruises. They take a respite from their nonstop buffet of on board choices between poolside lounging, shitty magic shows, obnoxious “tropical” cocktails, and well…. actual buffets, to go on a port “adventure.” These consist of slipping through the Atlantis water park (where one can see captive sea fauna from the ease of urine-soaked water-slides!) or gauche yellow “scubas” that bear striking resemblances to diving outfits a la Jules Vernes (you know… for those who want the scuba diving experience without the hassle of anything so pesky as… kicking your own fins).
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| Lion fish for dinner |
What I found more interesting than the tourists, is the rotating international cast of ex-pat workers who make up a large part of the service infrastructure in dive shops, bars, hotels, and tour groups.
These are people like Toru, the Japanese captain at Stuart Cove’s who drove us on most of our dives. His indefatigable cheer splashes through his broad smile and his mysteriously delightful Japanese accent (it’s unclear to me why his accent has persisted despite him having lived in New Providence for over 10 years ever since moving here as a teen).
Then there is Neil, a most excellent ex-hockey bro from the Mid-West, whose laid back brand of friendly frat-starism was somehow perfect for leading us on our lion fish hunts.
There’s also the Aussie surfer chick who led us on our last day of diving. I forget her name, and that might have been because I was distracted by her prodigious use of endearing epithets: “sweetie pie the water is GORGEOUS today,” “be a darling and hand me that rope will you honey?”… Incorrigible, that one…
Whats-her-name really owned her Aussie girlism, with locks of long hair that had a sun-baked frizziness, braided with colored string, plastic rings, rubber bands, and who knows what else (you know… hippie shit). She also boasted several intricate tattoos. My favorite was a tree on her arm with beautifully differentiated shadings on its leaves. Switch out the accent and I’m sure she would have felt right at home in Santa Cruz circa 1970.
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| All of the conch |
Lastly there’s Geoff’s friend from Westchester who recently moved out here for a marketing job at a local operation. Was it out of a sense of adventure? Was she sick of the big city? Did she crave a slice of tropical paradise? Maybe all of the above, but I was too busy cooking up lion fish for dinner to find out.
The centerpiece of our vacation was of course the diving, and the diving was good. Bathwater temperatures, best visibility I’ve ever seen, and a surprisingly robust coral system despite the heavy tourist traffic, all make for a very fun dive destination. It’s been about 2 years since I’ve gotten my dive certification now, and while I still very much enjoy it, I don’t think it will ever be a more than a once or twice a year thing for me. It also strikes me as odd that some people characterize diving as an edgy or somehow thrilling adventure sport.
I suppose I understand where the notion comes from. The premise of the activity after all, is to be underwater, an environment in which humans traditionally die, usually by ways of drowning, which I hear is quite unpleasant. But to the initiated, the experience of diving is not adrenaline-shooting thrills, but rather an almost meditative calm.
The blues, greens, and aquamarines of calm ocean waters, the auditory muting from submersion, the surprising calm of underwater fauna and their apathy to your presence, and especially the ethereal weightlessness of neutral buoyancy all make the experience a meditative and almost sleepily surreal experience.
A good dive is what I’d imagine a happy lucid dream to be – vivid colors and beautiful sights, otherworldly lighting and the awesome feeling of flight. Happy to report, we had a good many good dives from this trip.
Jack Wang 