A few weeks ago, I went down to my friend, Skip's, house in Brick Bay. Well, it is not his house, but he is the permanent house sitter. It was one of those things that come along once in a while that turn out to be good luck. (A couple here vacationing at the resort brought up the subject that her mother and dad had built a 4 unit apartment here, but no one in the family was using it regularly, and it had been burglarized several times over the years. So they were looking for a house sitter, and Skip fit the bill. His wife will move here to join him after her US citizenship comes through, and 2 living on his small boat will be a bit crowded. This worked out perfectly.) I had wanted to see the place and so asked if I could come down for a couple nights.
The house is about a half mile from the main road in the center of the island, and there is nothing there to do - no tv, radio, and the neighbors dont speak English. Their dogs are good company for Skip though.
We used Edgar for the taxi ride, stopping at the store for groceries. Then Petrosun for a beer. Then we stopped at a little bar in Los Fuertes that I know, and drank - oh, about 8 or 9 more. Below is the bartender there. We had so much fun - in broad daylight, dancing and acting the fools. This place gives the designation 'dive' a new meaning.
Skip poses with this cutie - the bartender and not a 'bar girl' - her husband works at Eldon's, the good grocery store we use all of the time.
Here's a blurry shot - thanks Skip - of her again, and the other one IS a bar girl who came up and put her arm around me with the speed of light.
Notice the lady and her son in the background - they enjoyed watching the Gringos having fun and playing around.
Happily married, she still danced and played as much as the other. A real cutie....
We arrived at the the house in the dark. Skip took forever to find the key, the doorknob, and unlock the door. The whole time, there were at least 3 dogs growling at me in the dark. (Here, at night, away from towns, it get REAL dark.
But the next day, I got to see this place and it was great. Rustic, for sure, but a nice place for a private vacation, as the neighbors work all day.
A small living room and kitchen -
The view out the front windows - well they really aren't windows, but screens with very nice wooden slatted shutters.
A nice balcony on the second floor where the bath and 2 modest bedrooms are - I should add that when laying in bed, you can see the living room lights, or bedroom lights peeking in from knotholes and nail holes, and the neighbors ARE just inches away. It is not very sophisticated construction.
The front yard -
A short walk to a small sitting deck - you can see one of the growlers from the 1st night, who became instantly friendly in daylight, sprawled on the deck, napping in the shade. Skip keeps a waterbowl filled for them by the front door.
Another of the guys who seem to use his deck as their daytime offices.
As I keep old bread, crackers and cookies for my watusas, Skip buys cheap cookies to feed to his new friend. On the walk to the main road (very treacherous at midnight, I might say) he introduced me to HIS friend, this wonderful old monkey, who lives on a chain, has a little roofed house, and presumably is fed regularly.
They sit on this stone bench like 80 year old lovers, attentive to each other, affectionate, sort of holding hands and thinking of the past.
She really didnt like my intrusion, and started acting a bit queer, so we left. The next time we passed, I stayed on the road, leaving them to their private conversation.
The obligatory chicken and rooster came by for scraps.
The half mile walk to the main road, a left and 200 yards down the road, and you find Morris Johnson's place. Cold, and cheap beer, and home cooked food. He gets up early, and bakes bread, and cinamon rolls. These are 2 of his bartender/daughters I think. There are young people everywhere, and you have to watch where you step, or you might stomp on a kid. It is a nice place, with friendly people and kids everywhere. Morris owns many small houses on the property, so the family and tenants are in and out all day and night.
The front yard -
A short walk to a small sitting deck - you can see one of the growlers from the 1st night, who became instantly friendly in daylight, sprawled on the deck, napping in the shade. Skip keeps a waterbowl filled for them by the front door.
Another of the guys who seem to use his deck as their daytime offices.
As I keep old bread, crackers and cookies for my watusas, Skip buys cheap cookies to feed to his new friend. On the walk to the main road (very treacherous at midnight, I might say) he introduced me to HIS friend, this wonderful old monkey, who lives on a chain, has a little roofed house, and presumably is fed regularly.
They sit on this stone bench like 80 year old lovers, attentive to each other, affectionate, sort of holding hands and thinking of the past.
She really didnt like my intrusion, and started acting a bit queer, so we left. The next time we passed, I stayed on the road, leaving them to their private conversation.
The obligatory chicken and rooster came by for scraps.
The half mile walk to the main road, a left and 200 yards down the road, and you find Morris Johnson's place. Cold, and cheap beer, and home cooked food. He gets up early, and bakes bread, and cinamon rolls. These are 2 of his bartender/daughters I think. There are young people everywhere, and you have to watch where you step, or you might stomp on a kid. It is a nice place, with friendly people and kids everywhere. Morris owns many small houses on the property, so the family and tenants are in and out all day and night. Morris is an interesting fellow, and welcomed me like a brother. Each time I pass now, I stop in for a cold one.
I cannot remember this kid's name but he was a regular friend who loves to dance to reggae music. (Surprisingly, US country music is very popular here, and he doesnt dance to that.)
I drank too much. Made a drink with ice from fetid water. Became dehydrated. And from one of those things, or a mix of it all, spent a week back on AF feeling bad and low. But the trip was worth it.
I cannot remember this kid's name but he was a regular friend who loves to dance to reggae music. (Surprisingly, US country music is very popular here, and he doesnt dance to that.)
I drank too much. Made a drink with ice from fetid water. Became dehydrated. And from one of those things, or a mix of it all, spent a week back on AF feeling bad and low. But the trip was worth it.
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