Whaddyadoallday? Real Life on a Desert Island Rotating Header Image

March, 2013:

Hidden in Plain Sight

In a few weeks we will mark the 12th anniversary of living on this little 35 square miles of rock in the middle of the sea. Where does the time go? How is it possible that I have lived in this house longer than I have lived anywhere since I left my parents’ home? More importantly, how is it possible that I have lived here that long and can still discover new places and new people?  And I’m not talking about finding new things that are new to the island. I’m talking about places that have been here longer than we have and are simply new to us.

It’s bad enough that we actually got lost last Thanksgiving while heading for Limestone Bay. (see the “Staycation” post from November 26.) At least then we were heading to someplace we used to visit but hadn’t been to in a long time, and people build houses, and the roads change, and the bush grows up so everything looks different, and well, it was Michael’s fault.  But, yes, on that outing we ‘explored’ some back roads on this little island that we’ve never ever driven on before, but they are in what you would term “residential areas” where we wouldn’t really have any reason to venture. And yes, we did ultimately travel between two major points of interest since we started out from Crocus Bay and eventually stumbled upon Shoal Bay East; but I would bet that you could badger Mapquest for alternate routes for that trip until the goats came home and it would eventually send you to Antigua and back before it would ever suggest however it was that we got there.

But as is typical, I digress in my narrative just as we did on the roads that day. So….

Yesterday, Michael was making some Matzo Ball Soup. (And we turn again.). He had some Matzo meal in the pantry. (That’s just who he is.) And it is Passover. (No, we are not Jewish.) So he was making Matzo Ball Soup. He had the balls formed and the chicken stock made, but time got away from him, and he elected to hold off on serving the soup until today.

Today being Thursday, last night was Wednesday night. And Wednesday night is “Wings Night” at the Ferry Boat Inn.  We know this, but we have never been. Chicken stock, chicken wings, somehow the association was made and we headed off for the long 1.5 mile drive down the coast to this little, classic Caribbean beach bar and restaurant.

Where had we been all of its life? It’s adorable in that simple, island way. Nothing fancy. But a great location right on the water with a big square bar, fabulous breeze, and a lovely view.  The parking area was chockablock full, but there were still some tables left. So we settled in to enjoy our wings and fries and were surprised to only see five people that we recognized even though the place was primarily populated with what appeared to be “regulars” including a bunch of guys at the bar playing a giant version of the game, Jenga, made with a tower of foot long two-by-fours and requiring that the players always hold a drink in one hand when executing a move! (We have to get out the chop saw to make our own right now.)

You could just imagine Norm and Cliffie wandering in to knock one down at this island “Cheers”: casual and comfortable and fun. Just a really nice evening at a great little place. And to think that it’s been right there all along.

What Happens in Anguilla Stays in Anguilla

I’ve been incommunicado lately because Michael finally had neck surgery in the States so we haven’t been home on island. We returned on Friday evening, though, and yesterday went out for a let’s-celebrate-a-successful-surgery lunch with the friends who had been house-sitting for us.

A good time was had by all. And while it might be considered improper for me to go into very much detail about the day (especially since not all involved party members remember all of it), suffice it to say that it started with a Hard-On* and ended with three stuporous housemates in their beds and two, enormous live lobsters in my freezer.

The housemates were all revived later last night while the poor lobsters never were; but they did form the basis for a fabulous – albeit comparatively sedate – dinner this evening.

On the other hand, I’m relatively certain that everyone will remember today come tomorrow.

*A mixed alcoholic drink made from undisclosed ingredients