Update...

Highlights from solo Bahama trip: eating lunch at Skans on West Bay St. (ok food, great local atmosphere, surly waitresses) I heard, behind me, a sonorous and beautiful male voice singing Sinatra, softly. All through my meal (1/4 of a chicken club sandwich), he sang. When I left, I said hello and thank you. A handsome older man -- could've been 60 or 70s) who looked pretty much exactly like I thought he would -- or should -- sat with his friend. According to his friend, he had been tapped to sing for.. the movie Jaws! Okay, Jaws 4, but so what. Will also always remember Max (pictured), aged 9, selling his mother's homemade soap outside her shop on Bay Street. Max is a soccer player (but really should be in sales). He warned me not to eat the soap (which really did smell eatable) because it would "put chemistry into my body."

Treated myself to a meal at 5-star restaurant Graycliff, just up the hill. Lots and lots of old-world atmosphere, most deferential and friendly staff, and good food. Not good enough for what I paid, but hey. I paid for an experience. Which was great - but needed to be shared. Oh well.

Funniest conversation involved miscommunication with my friendly cabdriver. I asked about the zoo (a ticky tacky but still wondrous place). He told me it had burned down. I proceeded to express way too much horror and shock ("Oh my god, what about the animals?!") until he told me that he was talking about The Zoo, a popular nightclub.

Bahamas Bound

Yes, it's been a while. Just remember, this is a log, not a blog. So. I flew alone today on JetBleu which I love to Nassau, Bahamas. Why? Because I was cold and lonely. I'm still lonely but not cold. So that's good. Actually I'm not lonely either. Back when I booked, I thought I was sooo smart to get on first flight out, to be able to be on the beach by 11 am.

Well. I plum forgot how hard it is to wake up at 4 am. Hard as in I couldn't do it. But I've done the trek to JFK so many times now (going to Maine) that I just thought I'd be fine. Totally forgot, also, that international flights require at LEAST one hour before boarding. Oops. I had to wheedle and plead and do my kewpie doll sad face to get them to let me even get a boarding pass. Phew! Then 2.5 hours, window-seated, next to I swear one of the Jersey Shore couples. We landed, got through customs, found a working ATM, found cab, got to hotel, sweating gently.

Then I hit the beach, swam for nearly 40 minutes and luxuriated. Then had to eat at the outside bar (great burger) and met a nice woman from Atlanta who had been to Maine! In her childhood! At a camp for underprivileged kids! Just like my dream Frog Pond Fund project.

We drank guava margaritas and chatted until the sun came back out. I told her there were many more black people there now, which is good. Damn, she said, pissed that she wouldn't be special there anymore.

Notes on hotel: still love it (British Colonial Hilton) with its rich history and great private beachfront. Did not like the concierge (hello, you've never been asked where a girl can get a pedicure? really?) and the hotel's messed up wireless system (2 out of 5 floors have it in-room. Huh?).

But that's okay. Tomorrow it's back to the beach and meditating and reading (Let the Great World Spin, which is oh so very good). Update: Watching Hope for Haiti program on the teevee. Amazing. I never watch this kind of thing but the twitterverse compelled me and I'm so glad. So moving, so well done. 50 hankies for this production. I hope everyone who watched has or will give to help Haiti. I've also fallen out of love with my netbook which is NOT all that light and too damn small and just today lost its magic ability to transmit my voice so goodbye Skype and for pete's sake. It's yours if you haul it away.