Eleuthera
OK, I know this picture might seem like rubbing it in since I hear that the weather in NY is bad. But that's not my intention. In fact, if my camera battery wasn't dead, I would be downloading pictures of the lemon yellow 1998 jeep I'm sitting in right now which has 146, 713 miles on it. It also has a bad gasket, terrible shocks, the interior smells like dirty socks, and it roars and creaks when I start the engine.
Or I'd publish a picutre of the teeny, tiny one room stucco library building next to the "convenience" store that's a quarter mile down the pothole-riddled road that leads to the beach house. It is my favorite respite on the island. It is the place that I can access wireless.
But it wasn't easy finding this lovely little spot. It took me two days of intelligence gathering to accomplish this.
First, I tried Mate and Jenny's, the local dive for pizza. I tried the electronics shack up the street ( Mr. Noah is NEVER opened ). I tried the guy who runs the fresh produce farm on the Queen's Highway.
Finally, someone from town ( that's Governor's Harbor, population--maybe--150 ) told me that Rosemary Thompson ran a little library in Palmetto Point next to the phone booth on the way to the public beach. I was on a mission. I pulled over next to the building to take a look. The hours were posted: Monay through Friday 1-6pm; Saturday 10am - 2pm.
It was Saturday morning, 11am. The library was closed. Forget what the sign said. And I was getting desperate to use the internet to answer some urgent email. Why not use my cell? Well, that's an option, of course. But I found myself talking to myself too often with a dropped signal and no one on the other end of the line. Or, I was constantly saying: "Can you hear me now?"
I walked across the lane to the store. A tall, middle aged Bahamian man, wearing glasses smiled as I walked to the counter.
"Do you know Rosemary Thompson?" I asked, with my best smile.
"I do."
"Well, I need to use the internet, and I can't get a password since the library across the street isn't opened. Can you tell me where to find her?"
"I can", he replied. Calmly, he picked up the phone and dialed a number.
"Rosie, someone to talk to you 'bout the library."
"Hello," I began. " Listen, I'm wondering if I could pay to get the password, Rosie. I really need to use the internet."
Laughter from the other end of the line. " Oh, there's no password. Just sit on the front stoop. It'l work fine."
Sigh.( Mine. )
"But, Miss," she continued. "We like donations, you know. We're just starting out. Would you give it to my husband--he's right there with you. He'll be sure I get it."
So, here I sit, six days later in the yellow jeep, parked next to the yellow library with the lime green front door.
Oh, and just for the record--I have been here morning and afternoon every day since then. The red sign in the window of the library reads "Open". But, trust me. The library hasn't been opened a single time that I've sat on the stoop. Every time I come here to use the signa, I listen to the sound of the waves at the little beach down the lane, and marvel at the contrast of simple, even primitive surroundings, and the newest, best technology living side by side.
I leave tomorrow. I'll miss my stoop, the tiny library with the green door. I'll even miss the lemon yellow jeep.
But truth be told, I'll be very, very glad to return to the world of instant access.
M.C.
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