It has become increasingly clear to me that I am meant to live in an island paradise on a part-time basis.
read more ↓When I was in Puerto Rico in June, I mellowed out a lot. When I was in Faial in September, I found my sense of humor again. When I was in Tahiti in December, a born and raised Tahitian looked at me and said, "She's Polynesian," as he watched me tear the husk off a green coconut with my teeth and bite into it to drink the fresh water inside. This was after I'd spent most of my day happily laying on a beach... when I wasn't snorkeling. On that trip I'd achieved a sense of bliss and calm that I didn't know I was capable of.
And here in the Bahamas, I've really enjoyed playing the role of observer. In the past in a group scenario I've kind of felt it necessary to... maybe not position myself as the center of attention, but definitely be close enough to it that I didn't feel left out. On this trip? Not so much. Maybe I came off as aloof or anti-social, but that wasn't my intent so much as I just didn't feel like talking so much for once. I was perfectly content to sit and watch the world go by... and there's been plenty of opportunity to do that on this trip.
It started out at Atlantis on Paradise Island, which - if you've never been - is gorgeous, but behemoth in size. When I was first here in 2005 I remember them breaking ground on the tower we stayed in on this trip, and the result is stunningly beautiful. It's an all-suite hotel with beautiful oak accents, a marble bathroom with a giant sunken tub, king-size beds, two flat-screen TVs, a living room and a balcony that looks out on the ocean. All the suites look out on the ocean, actually, so no matter where you stay you get an incredible view. Taking the walk from check-in to the elevator is an event in itself. The lobby path is all open air, lit with candles in hurricane glasses, accented by modern marble fountains and fish ponds.
We were supposed to go snorkeling the first day here but the waves were a bit too choppy, so our guide called and cancelled for safety reasons. Instead, we hit the water slides - one of which had a 120-foot drop - and floated around Aquaventure in innertubes. A quick trip to the spa for an incredible Swedish massage followed by dinner at a French restaurant ensured an incredible night's sleep.
The next afternoon we flew out to Cat Island. It's definitely not small - it takes about two and a half hours to drive from one end to the other. But it feels like there's nobody on it. We checked in at the Fernandez Bay Village, a boutique hotel with one and two bedroom suites and houses, all of which are just steps away from the beach. Most people just give up on wearing shoes, as I did - there's just no point. I was inspired to do so after Donna, the day manager, greeted our car barefoot with a beaming smile on her face. Donna moved to Cat Island 19 years ago and didn't regret it for a minute. Her commute is about a five-minute walk down the beach. And she was greatly amused by us lugging our big winter coats along with our suitcases.
"Okay, so what are we doing first?" asked one of my travel mates.
"First you're putting your bags down, then you're relaxing, and that's all you have to do," Donna told her.
So that's what I did. I checked into my room, which - as promised - was steps away from the beach, and I put on my bikini. I laid in a hammock and listened to the waves, then walked up and down the beach, from one end to the other. And I knew, just as I always have, that I have to do this more often than I do.
The thing of it is I also realize that I also have to work at making my home more of an island oasis. I didn't really realize until I got home from Tahiti that I infuse my home with stress, often times unnecessarily so. I get home and drop my bags in the front door, then jump on the computer and do all the things I usually do to screw up my constitution - I don't eat on time, I sit with poor posture, I type with my shoulders clenched, gripping my stomach and holding my breath. I don't take time out to have a meal, often times eating at my desk. And I rush. Way too much.
Yet when I'm away on assignment, I have all the same things that I need to do at home with me when I'm on the road. I still have bills to pay and assignments to work on, interviews to do and articles to turn in, and I always make the time to do them without stress or worry. My naturopath once said to me, "We need to work on making you feel at home the way you feel when you're on a working trip," and I finally get why she said that. Because although there are lessons that I take home with me, often times I fall back into my habits and start rushing, rushing, rushing, and then I wonder why I start to feel like hell and can't wait to get back on the road again.
That said, I love my home and the city in which I live, but I also love to get away from it too. It's been a dream of mine to split time between L.A. and paradise for quite a while now, 'cause I know I couldn't stay in paradise full time - I'd go mental. But doing both? Hey, why not?
I have dinner in an hour and a half, and then I have some deadlines to finish up on. My day starts early tomorrow morning with a Blue Reef tour, and I'm on a plane again by 4pm. Home by 9pm, in bed by 11 if all goes well, a day to unwind, chill and repack, and then back on a plane by 9:30 the next morning.
I'm already getting solicited for trips taking place next year. It's so hard to say no... but I'm saying it. I need to root down at home for a while, reconnect with friends, and reacquaint myself of all the things that made me fall in love with L.A. when I moved there six years ago.
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