Respite.

Cat Island. I didn't take any time while we were there to tell the tale of the place, but it is worth telling. Xavier must have been pretty converted because I started to receive links to real estate listings on the island in my inbox from him at night when we were near the little hub of internet connection. Apparently, he was seriously considering asking the owners of the resort about the possibility of running the joint when they were ready to retire. I understood implicitly. We stayed at a little family run place (Fernandez Bay Village) - actually the opposite of what "resort" usually implies...this is a string of small beach houses along a remote bay. The owner's family inherited the bay ~1800 - such a thing to inherit! (The injustice/generosity of colonial history). I guess he and his wife decided to take a portion of that land and run a resort there. So they raised their two children on the remote island (where it was difficult to find basic supplies while we were there. The guy has a pilot's license and plane so that he can fly to Miami to supply up) and I guess they had an instructor on the island for school and then went to Florida when high school came around. In any case, it really is a faraway and fantastical place. On either end of the bay (which is like 1 mile long), there are reefs and great snorkeling - tiger stripes, translucent white fish with blue eyes, yellow ones, vibrant blue - beauty. And then the water - maybe the most striking part of the place. I have always said that out of the places I choose to travel - the same place twice is not a good idea. This was an exception.










This little froggie took a liking Xavier's razor.


(Little lady locks turned completely curly in the humidity).

This water.

Colette échouée.

Cat Island. We're happy. Colette A+

'Round Cat.

Xavier building things.



Churches.






School uniforms.




A bus stop in never-never land.

Red.

One thing I realized about tropical places (I guess I knew it before) is that a 'natural' color scheme is completely altered - almost at odds - from what I would generally consider nature's colors. Those branches above are dead and so they have a gray, muted tone - the tone of many things I would think are 'natural.' But here, turquoise and bright red and hot pink and bright yellow and chartreuse are all completely legitimate and genuine.

The Hermitage on Cat Island.

Since I am the daughter of my father, I insisted that we climb the highest mountain in all of the Bahamas..."mountain" is perhaps stretching it in this case. It rises only 206 feet above sea level, but it is still the highest point on these islands. Up there on that rise sits the Hermitage of Cat Island, built by Father John Hawes circa 1940. It is a replica of 12th century abbeys in Europe and hermit "Father Jermone," as he was called, lived up there all alone. He came to the island to retire - he was an architect - but also to meditate and die. But when he came he found a grand connection to the native people and ended up building six churches, one school, one monastery, one convent, one heritage and a medical clinic for their communities. Up here he would sleep and pray, and he was always seen barefoot.

Des coquillages miniscules.

In Marguerite's honor (because these are being shipped to her), and as she would say with squinted eyes and with little fingers pinching the object and thrusting it close to your eyes: "tout petit, petit, petit, petit, petit"...

Benoît.

That is his name. I spotted him scampering quickly and ran after. He just stopped and looked at me at some point, and then ran toward me. I made a cat noise, rarr, and then he froze in place, both mitts up in position to fight. I called for Xavier to come quick to have a look at this fella. This is what happened when he did:


Foiled.


Oh, what to do now...




Not this.


ET-mad.


Triumphant once again.


Equally...