01/09/25 - 01/11/25

 01/09/25

    Our alarm went off at 4 am. I booked an Uber last night to pick us up at 4:25. Boarding was at 6:55, flight at 7:45. I had showered late last night, even straightened my hair, so I could wake up, get dressed, and be out the door without much effort.

In the car, since I was already awake, I put in my headphones and tuned in to my latest companion, the RadioApp. 105.9 WQXR. Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-Sharp Minor was playing.

5:35 am

    I’ve never flown American and I’ve never been to this terminal of JFK before. The only open shops were a Hudson News with a Dunkin Donuts attached (and an exceptionally long line) and a hole-in-the-wall spot (with a much shorter line) simply named New York Deli. Looking into the prep area I could see a man working at a griddle. Thinking this was a step up from Dunkin’s microwaved sandwiches, H and I opted for the deli and ordered two bacon, egg, and cheese’s on a roll and two hot coffees. I was pleasantly surprised to find, as we sat at our gate awaiting the arrival of R, B and L, that the quality of the BEC was not much different than that of a typical bodega on the street. The coffee, scalding hot, only cooled when our crew members finally arrived closer to boarding.

    H and I had upgraded our seats so as to not be so far in the back of the plane and despite paying extra to do so we ended up in a row with no window, like, at all. Just a wall. The row across from us had a window...

    I used the first hour of the flight to nap longer than I thought I could and the second hour to listen to a station on NTS Radio playing 80’s J-pop. Despite paying $8 for the Wifi it proved to be absolute shit so for the last hour and a half of the flight I watched Mulan on the free in-flight entertainment, which I must say, is so good, like, better than I remember. Reflection gave me chills. Stunning.

    During landing, we could see the bright blue waters of Antigua from the window in the aisle next to us.

12:44 pm

    We arrived at the small airport and the heat made us slowly strip off our New York winter layers as we made our way through customs and out to meet our car rental attendant. He brought us to a tiny Suzuki mini van with a rattling AC and a steering wheel that made comical groans when it turned. I jammed a folded up ballet ticket from The Nutcracker that had been in my wallet since December into the AC vent to stop the rattling. Worked like a charm.

We putzed off to our rental home. A complex situated on a hill with an incredible view of a harbour filled with taller masts than I’d ever seen, and the ocean just beyond it. “That’s English Harbour. We’ll pick up our boat there”. 

    The house smelled exactly like my grandmas house used to. Moth balls and strong AC.

5:52 pm

    The sun was setting over the quiet beach we drove to on the north end of the island. Sitting in the sand drinking a Carib beer I noticed a man and his dog walk from the road we drove in on to the water. He gave the dog a bath. It sweetly stood in the shallow as the man poured water over it. While I packed up the car, I watched as the man and his dog, now refreshed, walked on into the night.

6:08 pm

    Zooming back across the island, the air finally cool, windows rolled down, L took our little Suzuki through a rough pothole filled shortcut up to a vista as the red glow of the setting sun illuminated the nearby island of Montserrat and its volcano. A long streaking plumb of smoke had risen and wafted in a long streak across the sky. B played a succession of folk rock songs that fit our elated mood so perfectly. No one talked, we were all taking It all in. The air was fresh with the scent of a new and unfamiliar place. I was once again tinking that Earth is such a beautiful place.

7:58 pM

    We were in English Harbour on the south side of the island for dinner at an open-air bar next to the marina. Plastered over the ceiling were handwritten notes from patrons dating anywhere from 2012 to yesterday. The lights were completely off. “Keeping the bugs away”. I ordered a margarita and took it on a walkabout of the marina to ogle at the people enjoying cheese and wine served to them on the decks of their large boats and to bite my thumb at the “superyachts” that appeared empty aside from the polo and Bermuda short clad crew members meandering around the docks. The coconut shrimp I ordered was amazing.

    I plopped down on the extra cushy couch in the living room while everyone else sat around the dining table drinking glasses of rum. I drifted off. H tried to wake me but I didn't want to get up. He threw me over his shoulder, walked me down the lengthy hallway of the rental and laid me to rest in our extra firm king-sized bed. I fell into a deep slumber.

01/10/25

    L and B came back from the airport with N and G. We’re all here now. We gathered around L’s computer to watch two informative videos from the sailing company. The first, going through the boat specs and safety equipment locations in the manner of a pre-flight safety video. And the second, detailing the bays around the island and their various qualities in a monotone, excruciatingly slow, way and with the quality of a high school PowerPoint presentation. Also in high school fashion, I barely paid attention for the long duration of the videos and only came out of it hearing a very funny phrase that would be repeated for the duration of our trip: “as it tis a lee shore”.

    It’s raining today. H and L are out buying groceries. I took a 3 hour nap.

01/11/25

    Third day in Antigua. Check in at the boat dock is 3:30 pm.

Waking up early felt so nice. H and I listened to his favorite station on NTS Radio, one that plays impossible-to-find-on-streaming oldies and 60’s rock. We sip on our coffee on the deck of the rental. Around 8:30 am I swam in the pool alone. I could hear the music and chatter from above. The breeze brushed over me while I laid floating on my back. The water was refreshing in the brutal heat. The sky was clear.

9:33 am

    The seven of us packed into the van and drove to a white-washed wooden shed on the side of the road that housed a local Italian spot run by a lively woman named Roberta to pick up croissants for our hike. We put in an order of sandwiches to pick up on our way back for lunch later on. H needed basil for a dinner he planned on the boat, Roberta said she’d give us a cutting from her plant when we got back.

    We parked down the road of some resort’s beach, walking across the hot sand in our tennis shoes to get to the cliffs on the southern end of the island. The tide was low, a flat shelf of rock was the stage for local fisherman throwing lines into the bright blue waters. I peered into tide pools filled with little fish and dark purple urchins. After eating our croissants, B and L lead us the long way back, up through a cactus filled hillside and down a dirt road to the beach. H, G and I jumped in the water as we had some of time to kill. I combed the sand collecting little shells and a big sunburn.

    H and I packed and dragged the 7-day supply of food and water to the front door. L drove everyone's luggage and the first round of our crew to the boat dock. Our little Suzuki could only handle so much.

4:46 pm

    After an extremely tedious check in process and the unloading of our 7 day reserve, we boarded our yacht. A 46-foot sailboat called “Shore Thing”. The first moments aboard felt sort of like exploring a big hotel room at the start of a vacation. Picking rooms, checking out all the facilities and unpacking. There was a small kitchen with a 4-burner stove, a mini fridge and a tiny double sink. N, G, H and I had the two rooms towards the stern. Pretty decently sized beds and a small cabinet for our things. B and L had the larger room towards the bow. R will be using the breakfast banquette that transforms into a bed when you push the table down into the hull and use the cushions from the seating. There are three bathrooms on board. I could say this is a better layout than most New York apartments.

    Bouncing around from dock to boat, our excitement was electric. The people in the catamaran next to us, German tourists who had just sailed from St. Barths, inquired about our trip.

    It’s required of us to stay docked at the marina for our first night so we had dinner one last time at Galley Bar. Over copious amounts of rum punches, coconut shrimp and jerk chicken, we discussed our plans for the morning.

    H and I were drawn to the historic hotel in front of where our boat was docked by the live jazz piano we could hear playing before dinner. Sitting at the bar for one last drink, the friendly bartender jokingly refused to serve me a Coke with a lemon. “No baby drinks after 9”. H ordered “Whatever you recommend”. Reggie the bartender made a traditional rum punch. When it was time to turn in I promised Reggie I wouldn't order a baby drink next time. This was more so a promise to myself, hoping I'd be back.

The room and the bed were comfortable, outside of the low drop ceiling that I would most certainly be hitting my head on come morning.

Playlist

Year of the Cat - Al Stewart

Snowqueen Of Texas - Mamas & The Papas

Parables Of Pabado - George & John Murphy

東京は夜の七時 - Maki Nomiya

Hungarian Rhapsody No.2 in C Sharp Minor - Franz Liszt