Wednesday, February 8, 2012
The sound of the surf and the wonderful sensations of the salt breeze on my face, and my laptop under my fingertips: this is vacation at its best, at least to me.
We arrived at the resort in Freeport, in The Bahamas early Monday evening, just at dusk. I can report that our “ocean view” room really affords us a totally awesome, full-on ocean view.
We’re on the fifth floor, and from our balcony we can see the grounds of the resort, including some of the pools, and the ocean—big, blue, and magnificent.
I’ve found an unoccupied cabana (alas, no Cabana boys in attendance) and I’m intending to test how long the battery on my laptop will work. I’m only a few feet from one of the pools—the one that has the pool bar in it. This pool also has a special feature that makes it look as if it bleeds into the ocean.
I haven’t dipped my toes in the pool yet. That’s because I’m watching these big burly types standing on the stairs, water only up to to their knees, just standing there, chatting together, acting as if the pool isn’t far and away too cold for their tastes.
I’ll get into it by and by. At this moment, however, having deposited me safely where I can write, my beloved has taken himself to the beach, not even 100 feet from where I sit. He loves the ocean. He’ll swim every day, no matter the weather, just because he can.
Our kids think that’s funny as hell because in years past, their dad never liked to swim and so never went into the water. His stated reason? Because the water was wet.
Yesterday morning as we were having our first coffee of the day on our balcony, I thought of my parents. In their day (let’s say the early 1960s), this kind of travel was something only the very rich were able to afford, and this resort something they might only have ever seen on the silver screen.
Sometimes, especially lately with the downturn in the economy that we’ve all experienced, it’s easy to forget that we as a society have come a long way in the last fifty years.
But we have, and in no area more dramatically, I believe, than in the realm of vacations and vacation travel.
What used to be considered a special privilege that you would only allow yourself once every two or three years, is now an annual, or even semi-annual entitlement. What used to cost thousands of dollars now costs but hundreds. And while that is still a lot of money, a Caribbean vacation is not out of reach, really, for anyone who wants one badly enough and is willing to save up for it.
In the mean time, while I’m not certain when I’ll venture into the too-cold for Morgan pool, the hot tub seats about 12 and is very, very fine.
As for Mr. Ashbury, he has returned from the ocean, and the pool, and has noted that one of the hammocks—the one fairly close to where we’re sitting, in fact—is unoccupied. He’s never actually tried one out before, though he has heard tales from others who have and swear by them. The two gentlemen who come immediately to mind in this instance are our oldest son, and Mr. Wildes, beloved husband of my dear friend, Emma Wildes.
David gave it a good try Tuesday afternoon, and has judged it a good place to spend some time. He needs but a towel under him and a book in his hand, he said and he will be content.
Apparently, we’re not that far apart on our individual interpretation of the word, ‘paradise’.