9/10 Covid-19 Travel Diary: Nassau, Mar. 5

We got a call from our pal Delroy the next morning inviting us out for a night on the town. He would pick us up at 8PM. With our evening to look forward to we set out on the jitney for another island adventure.

Love Beach is tucked away down a secret staircase off of Compass Point resort. Because of its hidden entrance it is often empty. An entire stretch of pristine white sand and turquoise ocean all to ourselves. We felt safe and free. We stretched our muscles in the sun, floating around, feeling the divine weightlessness that comes with salt water submersion. I was so full of gratitude for the friendship of these two incredible women. This trip is just the most recent chapter in the evolution of us. It is the scariest chapter, but not the craziest. I look forward to reminiscing about all of it when we are old and grey. Hopefully, our love for each other will only have grown. Long friendships are rare and so special. There is no one else in the world I would rather have had a near death experience with. For all the shock and terror, we handled ourselves calmly and efficiently and managed to come out the otherside unscathed but for a bit of residual PTSD. Connie and Jenny, my ride or die babes for life.

Back at the house Delroy and his friend arrived right on time. They drove us over to Lyford Cay, the very wealthy, very private end of the island that Prince Andrew, Michael Jackson, Oprah Winfrey and Robert DeNiro have all enjoyed. The gated community on steroids was in the news just before we arrived because Canadian fashion mogul Peter Nygard was just busted for using his oceanview mansion there to run a sex traffiking ring. We pulled up the long dirt road to Philosopher’s Smokehouse, an outdoor party complex with twinkly lights, picnic tables, a cute DJ, and what smelled like delicious BBQ. Under the sweetest protection of our generous friends we wiled the night away dancing until we dropped. I made a gorgeous new friend who looked like a Bahamian Queen. Her name was Cornelia and she had been Nygard’s personal assistant until the week prior. I was dying to hear stories, but we parted ways with promises to get in touch for a brunch that never happened. Connie, Jenny and I stumbled back into the house for a nightcap on the upstairs patio. Everything was alright.

8/10 Covid-19 Travel Diary: Paradise Island, Mar. 4

I called the cops first thing in the morning to inquire about the police activity on the block the night before. They assured me it wasn’t related to our robbery. The news of the passengers stuck in quarantine on the Diamond Princess cruise ship in Japan was a headline. We brushed off our feelings of fear and discomfort determined to have an incredible day. The glorious tropical sun was shining all our troubles away.

We got ourselves decked out in swimsuits and sunscreen and hopped on the jitney. The bus driver was blasting Kenny G. classics really getting us in the mood for a wonderful day. We hopped off at the ferry docks and took the boat across to Paradise Island where we tried to sneak into the epic mega resort Atlantis. We have done this before without any problems, but the security was TIGHT! Crime has risen significantly in the Bahamas since Hurricane Dorian decimated many residents’ livelihood in 2019. The Rolex store at Atlantis had fallen victim to an armed robbery the week prior. So we hoofed it to the public part of Paradise Island unattractively titled Cabbage Beach. Don’t let the name fool you though because this is one of the most beautiful, pristine beaches in the world. The water is clear turquoise and the perfect temperature; just cool enough to be refreshing. We indulged in rum drinks in coconuts and sunned our skin from white as Canadian snow to lobster red. My old pal Randy manifested and offered to roll us a spliff. The vibe was chill, at last. Perfect, actually. Ahhhhh yas. Toes curling in the sand, hair in salt waves, and skin bronzed. We made it. It felt like we had another chance at life. But a life without fear of death. Liberated. And no fucks given. I was enjoying this new attitude.

We taxied back to Nassau and scored a comfy cabana at Bikini Bar on Junkanoo Beach where we immediately ordered conch fritters and bottomless Bahama Mamas as we watched the sun set. A flea-ridden stray beach dog sat with us and acted as our guard dog as twilight fell. The four enormous cruise ships docked on Paradise Island shipped out one at a time. We imagined the cruise ship scene; everyone showered and dressed for dinner on board as the monstrosity head back out to sea. Connie would be on one of those with her family the next week if her passport arrived in time. The manager of Bikini Bar sent us a round of drinks on the house and offered to get us a cab home. He also gave us his reggae album. What lucky girls!

New Providence Travelogue Part One: The Scott Mansion

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YOLO

DEEP SOCK’N/TASTE IT

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The FUTURE is NOW

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REALITY iS WHAT U MAKE

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Suck Something Sweet / Who Run dis world / Girls Bitches

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BEAUTY IN THIS BEASt…..

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Biggie

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Jungle ASS or get Blast

Nassau Mansion-15 Nassau Mansion-14 Nassau Mansion-13 Nassau Mansion-12 Nassau Mansion-11 Nassau Mansion-3 Nassau Mansion-8  There was an island wide black out on New Providence Island over the past two days and nights that led to the kind of human celebrating and real talk that can only be had when we are forced to survive without our cell phones or tablets, our coffee-makers, our stove tops, our lights, our refrigerators, our AC etc. With the BBQ fired up and many candles lit uninterrupted quality time was had by all. Of course the rum shack across the street runs on a generator all the time and, boy, was he doing a great business. In the eerie vibe we took an afternoon drive around the perimeter of the island and stumbled upon a glorious mansion that had all its windows shot out and was grown over like the Secret Garden. Of course I had to explore further. Crossing my fingers that it wasn’t a working drug den and a dude with a machine gun wouldn’t pop out of the shadows and start unloading rounds I gingerly stepped over the floor of broken glass in my flip flops and marvelled at the tattered wealth. It is old hat for artists to join elements of the sacred and the profane as a sure way to create something beautiful and this dilapidated mansion, an example of rotting wealth, was a prime example of such beauty. I hope you enjoy the exploration as much as I did. xo