Then she starts to blog again...

Myrtle thought the blog's purpose was to document the Turtle's 6-month adventure in the Caribbean.  She therefore stopped writing as soon as they arrived in South Africa.  Besides, most of the readers are South African and what can Myrtle write that they don't already know?  However, the urge to write came back after 6 weeks so here she is, documenting parts of their life again.

The Turtles spent a wonderful two weeks in Johannesburg.  They slept at Myrtle's brother's house (for blog purposes known as Byrtle) and visited Tony's family in Pretoria.  The Turtles then set off for Uvongo, in Kwazulu Natal, to visit Myrtle's mother.  After 10 days they flew to Cape Town where they spent a glorious three weeks.  At the moment they are back in Johannesburg trying to finalise various (boring) administration issues.  Like their will...  and their SAICA (South African Institute for Chartered Accountants) fees... and their stupid policies... and... and... and. 

First the update, now the story.

The Turtles have never experienced any kind of racial incident in their 33 years in South Africa.  They left South Africa and worked overseas for over 4 years, came back for a holiday to experience just such an incident...

The Turtles packed a picnic basket and headed for the magnificent Camp's Bay beach.  There is a huge tidal pool where Tiny loved joining the other kids, catching fish with a net and building sand castles.  As the Turtles walked across the beach, they scanned the area for a suitable picnic area.  Myrtle spotted a flat rock close to the water and imagined the rock ladened with the tasty treats they packed - like a little table!  They headed for the rock but just before they got there, a young black man, who was approaching from the other side, sat down on the rock.  Of course he had no idea the Turtles wanted to use the rock as their dining room table.

The Turtles veered off to the right, the disappointment visible on Myrtle's face (she still hasn't mastered the art of expressionlessness (no such word, she knows)).  They decided that the second best position was one right at the water so they could watch Tiny closely.

As the Turtles continued to set up the umbrella, lay out the beach towels and food and coaxing Tiny into her swimmers, the table sitter was giving them the evil eye.  Myrtle noticed the disapproving looks he shot to them, interspersed with angry mutters.  His reaction baffled Myrtle and made her seriously nervous.  What was he so worked up about?

After about half an hour of this he disappeared into the bathrooms (yes, Myrtle was watching him like a hawk.  Who knows what he was up to?  He could have been a child abductor or a murderer and Myrtle was not going to be caught unawares, no sirree).  When he returned he stared at the Turtles while walking past on the boardwalk.  It became so bad that even Tony, who is normally oblivious to looks and even remarks, noticed the man staring and muttering.  When Tony turned to take a good look, the angry man flipped Tony the bird.

Now, everyone who knows Tony will be aware that he is not an easily ruffled or angered man.  He normally keeps calm under tremendous stress (which includes his wife's antics) and, as proven by the Havana Check-In story, is able to ignore conflict situations.  However.  Yes, however...  he jumped up like a flash and shot across the beach to the boardwalk - faster than Myrtle has ever seen him run.  In Myrtle's haste and surprise she swung her head around to look what her husband was up to.  This lead to her hat falling over her eyes so she missed the next couple of seconds.

The boardwalk is about a metre higher than the beach and the bird flipper was also protected by a railing.  When Tony asked him what he was up to he said:  "You are racists!"  Tony's mouth fell open with astonishment.  "Why would you say that? You don't know me!"  To which the very mature, non-racist answer was: "F*&^ you, you racist!"  At which Tony started to laugh and came back to the umbrella.

Myrtle thinks that the man saw the Turtles turn away from the rock right after he sat down on it.  He probably thought the Turtles didn't want to sit close to him as he was black...  Had he asked why we chose another spot, he would've known that that was not the case.  Another case of a stupid assumption: If you are white and Afrikaans you MUST be a racist. Nice one. 

Pictures of Camp's Bay -  but beware, frostbite possible!

Funerals and Feasts

Death in the Western world is a stiff (uh-uhm), stuffy and serious affair.  Mourners contain their grief and try not to cry too hard, evident by many a shivering chin and sniffles.  The Chinese are equally stoic when faced with death.  The difference being that the Chinese colour of mourning is white, in the West it is black. (There are many other differences too, but this isn’t the point, right now).

Enter the Caribbean way of doing things.  The Turtles drove their golf cart right into a funeral procession in Harbour Island.  Not difficult, given the island’s size (or lack thereof).  At first they thought it was some kind of party.  People were dressed in their Sunday bests, music was blaring and all of the adults had beers in their hands (the posh people wrapped a brown paper bag around their beers, the “common” ones dank uncovered beer. Maybe you get stylishly drunk when you cover the brand?).  They were loudly chatting in groups, congregated around golf carts outside the church.  It was only when the Turtles spotted people walking from the cemetery, chatting and drinking that they realized that this was no party.  It was a funeral. 

Some of the funeral goers sported t-shirts with a photo and birth date of the deceased person on the front.  (He was in his late seventies and, apparently much loved by all in the community).  At the back of the t-shirt a list of names followed two headings in bold:

Loved:

Followed by the names of everybody he loved.  He loved many people.  His widow may be a little concerned, but maybe she isn’t the suspicious type.

Disliked:

One name appeared.  Myrtle couldn’t get close enough to read the name, not due to a lack of trying, but people were starting to stare.

The lively funeral got Myrtle thinking. Maybe a party was a good way to celebrate someone’s life and, as long as the t-shirts were made from a quality fabric, you may be remembered for a fairly long time.  The final revenge on the Disliked Ones is also a nice twist, don’t you think?

Bliss

The Turtles are spending their last days in the Caribbean on an island called Harbour Island.  It is part of Eleuthera, a group of islands which in turn, form part of the Bahamas.

Harbour Island is a tiny island with brightly coloured wooden cottages lining narrow streets.  Chickens roam the sidewalks and streets (the only downside to Harbour Island, if you hate the feathered ones as much as Myrtle does, also the roosters make sure that there are not sleeping in!).   The Turtles took residence in a hotel called The Landing, built in 1800 by a doctor.  It was used as a house and is surrounded by a wide porch.  The room originally booked by the Turtles was still occupied which meant a free upgrade to a bigger room!  Old wooden floors, large bathroom and views over the small harbour.  The Turtles were in heaven.  Especially since their previous lodgings, called Orange Hill, was a grimy hovel, but we won’t linger…happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

There are some cars on the island but transport is mainly by golf cart.  So the Turtles rented a golf cart and started exploring the island.  In typical Bahama fashion the sea is a kaleidoscope of different hues of blue.  Crystal clear and clean.    Harbour Island has a unique beach – the sand is pink!  Years of natural coral erosion caused small pieces of coral, ground and bashed by the waves into tiny pink pieces as small as grains of sand and mixed with the powdery white beach sand creates a pink tinge.  Magnificent.

Sunday was one of the best days ever for the Turtles:  they took off in their golf cart to hunt for breakfast.  By chance they turned into a small hotel called Runaway Hill and made themselves comfortable on the large porch overlooking the ocean.  A lovely, leisurely breakfast was had by all. 

The Turtles boarded their tiny little golf cart and growled away into the quiet streets.  They passed many churches and from the windows of one church, the sound of voices singing drifted out.  They parked their little golf cart and headed through the glass doors.  There were about 20 kids of all ages sitting, bouncing and laughing in the pews and the Turtles shifted into the back one, for an easy getaway if needed.  The kids were all local and supervised by a large aunty with an even larger voice (and backside, but you wouldn’t dare say it to her face…).  She commanded some singing and Tiny joined in to sing hymns that Tony and Myrtle hadn’t heard since they were kids.  Of course the foreign visitors made the kids even more boisterous and eventually, after much tugging, pinching and giggling, one boy was called forward by the aunty.  “Come here, boy!” she bellowed.  He made his way to the front where she clipped him behind the ear and made him sit right under her nose.  Then she started bombarding the kids with questions:  “Who was Joseph’s last brother?”  “Ruben!” called one little voice.  “Why are you so stupid, boy?” she called.  “You said it right the first time – Benjamin!”  “What are the five books of the Law?” (The first five books of the Bible, was the right answer).  Then they all had to stand up and recite all the books of the Bible.  Impressive.  After more singing the kids dispersed to their respective Sunday school classes and the Turtles headed back home to their hotel for a midday nap. 

All three of them fell asleep within a minute and awoke two and a half hours later.  Just in time for a late lunch!  They headed to Sip-Sip, a quite little restaurant, also overlooking the beach.  As they were devouring their yummy food, another patron noticed a shadow in the clear water below.  The Turtles, inquisitive as ever, also scoured the water and saw a giant stingray swimming (or rather gliding) through the water.  Its giant wings flapping every now and again.  Wow, what a sight!  Of course Myrtle claimed that the water was too cold for swimming after the sighting but she was obviously just afraid to be stung by a stingray.  Like Steve Irwin.  No thank you.  Despite the sure headlines and shocked whispers by locals, that would not be her first choice of departure from this earth.  No sirree. 

After lunch the Turtles played on the beach, running , building, digging, more running and laughing.  Tony and Myrtle even demonstrated a race to Tiny.  A starting line was drawn in the sand and the end line about 10 yards further.  Not very far, but it required bursts of speed and a  shotgun start.  On your marks, get set, go!  Tiny was fascinated by the spectacle (Tony won, by the way) and the older Turtles had to demonstrate it over and over and over again…  Much better than sleeping pills to induce a good night’s rest, that they know now!  Dinner was a slice of take away carrot cake devoured by three Turtles on the floor of their room (and extra food for the little one, please don’t call the Welfare Department!).  What a hot dog day! (As all good days are now called, thanks Mickey Mouse!).

After three months on the road the Turtles are sure about one thing:  It has been the most wonderful experience of their lives.  It doesn’t matter if funds are low, that Tiny had to give up her toys, that they had a couple of hairy travel moments.  Nothing can take the memories away and they are so grateful for the time they could spend as a family so far.   Now they know what it feels like to be peacefully content.  They are heading back to the US tomorrow, one night in Miami then off to the Big Apple for three nights.  Freezing weather and no winter clothes! Yikes!

World Champion

The Turtles enjoy a game of table tennis (ping pong) every so often and every cruise ship as a table or two to test your skills.  Tony and Myrtle had a table tennis table when they lived in South Africa and, upon arriving back home after work, they would first play a game – loser cooks dinner.  This led to fierce competition and true colours appeared… Unfortunately (for Tony) they were already married – Tony was not aware that Myrtle was such a bad loser and Myrtle was not aware that Tony could be so ruthless when it came to competitive games.

They played a couple of matches on the ship – only if Tiny could be distracted by other kids for a period long enough to allow the older Turtles to fight it out for the Table Tennis Cruise Crown.  When the official table tennis tournament was held on the ship the Turtles were too late to enter the competition but stood around watching the other passengers fight it out.

Two semi-finalists really stood out: an old lady who returned every single smash and serve from men much younger than her. Without cracking a smile.  Not even once.  The other was an elderly gentleman with a white beard rolled to form two long “tails”. Old Lady No Smile continued to beat her opponents and one bad loser, who was asked whether Old Lady No Smile beat him, answered: “Yeah, the old lady beat me but she cheats!!”  So there are worse losers than Myrtle… 

Old Lady No Smile turned out to be the undefeated champ and the Turtles were told, by the runner up, that she was married to Long Beard.  She is 85 years old (!), he is 65 years old (you go, girl!) and they were on a world cruise.  But get this – she is the WORLD champion in her age group!  It would have been much cooler to have met Lee Westwood, but you take what you get, right?

From Aruba to Africa

The next cruise stops came quickly:

First up was St George in Grenada where the Turtles took a slow water taxi to Grand Anse beach, getting soaked by a rainstorm on the way there.  The beach was rather dirty and many stray dogs sniffed around the water, hoping to find a tasty morsel.  At first the Turtles hung around the beach café, drinking juices until the rain eventually subsided.  They took a walk along the beach but were followed very closely by one of the said stray dogs.  Tiny is currently terrified of dogs which meant that, even thought the poor dog meant no harm and was not in the least aggressive, Tony was compelled to carry Tiny (“You want to carry me, Pappa?”) all the time.

The sand was fairly gritty, due to broken shells, not necessarily dirt. But, being spoilt by the most gorgeous of powdery white beaches, the Turtles decided to ditch the current beach.  The Turtles boarded the water taxi and spluttered towards Port Louis Marina, rumoured to have a good restaurant.  Unfortunately the restaurant was in the process of being renovated and the opening night was about 6 hours away. 

The Turtles then took a taxi (land based, this time) back to the ship.  The route took them through Bridgetown and, 6 years after Hurricane Ivan, there are still buildings that have not been repaired.  Possibly as a result of a lack of funds or due to the infamous island time.  Who knows?

The next stop was Bonaire, one of the three islands forming the Dutch Antilles.  Dutch is one of the official languages which made communication much easier for the Turtles.  Although it was raining again they decided to take a gamble, and a glass bottomed boat, to go snorkeling.  As the boat chugged across the channel to a small island called Klein Bonaire, the most beautiful coral passed under them and the skies cleared somewhat.  Tiny screamed excitedly when she saw the fish.  They made a stop close to the beach and the passengers (there were about 8 of them) had the option to snorkel.  Myrtle was keen (to snorkel…) so Tony offered to look after Tiny first.  He would have a turn upon Myrtle’s return. 

Myrtle, sporting her goggles swam to the beach, walked out and across before heading back into the ocean for the swim back to the boat. The coral reef starts at a fall in the ocean floor and swimming off the edge caused a tremendous feeling of vertigo.  Myrtle started floundering about wildly almost gulping mouths full of salty water.  She calmed herself down, concentrating on breathing regularly and finally started enjoying the wonderful sights under the sea. Close to the boat she turned to see a school of fish at her feet.  She was convinced that she felt them nibbling at her toes and she foamed up the water behind her as she hastened back to safety.  By that time the wind had picked up again and Tony didn’t feel like snorkeling (of course he was sorry later).

Curacao was the next, and biggest island, in the Dutch Antilles (no longer called the Dutch Antilles as Bonaire is now a municipality of Holland and Curacao and Aruba are independent).  Willemstad, the capital city, is split in two by a canal.  You can cross from one side to the other using a pontoon bridge.  When a large ship needs to sail out to the ocean, the bridge has to open – slowly.  It is great fun to stand on one side watching people running across and jumping the gap before it opens completely!

There is also a floating market where Venezuelan merchants peddle fruit and vegetables from their boats.  They cross the 70 kilometres of ocean between Venezuela and Curacao every single day (a ship owner from Rotterdam told us that it would probably take 3 and a half hours to do the 70 kilometres.  That’s a lot of travelling to get to work…those of you who have to brave the N1 between Pretoria and Johannesburg on a daily basis will probably have sympathy for these poor people).  Another interesting fact (or legend) about Curacao is that a previous governor suffered from migraines and he ordered that all homes in Curacao be painted pastel colours as bright white painted houses exacerbated the suffering. It made Curacao a sight for sore eyes, that’s for sure!

The Turtles spotted a playground and Tiny ran, jumped and squealed with the rest of the children.  A local girl of about five came up to Myrtle and asked something in a foreign language.  Myrtle assumed she asked where they were from and she answered: “South Africa”…  Myrtle only realized much later that the child was asking what Tiny’s name was, as she ran after Tiny yelling: “Africa, Africa!”

Aruba was the final island on the Turtles’ itinerary and they visited two beaches:  Arashi and Palm Beach.  Arashi is ideal for snorkelers but not so much for swimmers and children so the Turtles headed off to Palm Beach after about 10 minutes.  Palm Beach is heavily commercialized and the beach is filled with permanent tiki huts and many bars and restaurants that line the strip.  The Turtles didn’t spend much time on Aruba but it looks like an okay place for a family holiday.  But then again, so is Margate and, for South Africans, at least, much easier to get to.

After Aruba the Turtles headed back to Fort Lauderdale, Florida and Starbucks and wi-fi…  Not necessarily a good thing but not so bad either…

Sacrifices

Myrtle never believed in the terrible twos.  Not their precious white egg, oh no!  Besides, Tiny is such a pleasant, docile, friendly, easy-going child.  Terrible she cannot be.  Then she turned two years and one month en toe begin die poppe dans (and then the trouble started). 

The Turtles woke up and raked Tiny closer to change her nappy.  As one does first thing in the morning.  She started screaming like a banshee: “no, no, no, no, don’t take my nappy off, no, no, no!!!!!” Tony and Myrtle stared at each other with amazement.  Who is this child?  They coaxed her out of her nappy (it took about half an hour, including 10 minutes when she sported Myrtle’s underwear, tied in a knot around her waist) and proceeded to take clothes out for her to wear.  “No, no, no!! I don’t want to wear that shirt!!!”  She usually gets a choice between two garments and she decided on a different colour.  OK, no problem.  Until Myrtle wanted to help her get dressed… “ No, no, no!  By myself!”  OK, no problem, by yourself then.  The whole episode was probably excacerbated by a late night -  the Turtles took Tiny to see a song and dance show on the cruise and she loved it!  She sat still for a full hour and a half, taking in all the sights and sounds.  She has not yet mastered the art of whispering and she had many questions: “What is the uncle singing?” “Where are the aunties now?” “What are they doing?”  “Why are they dancing?”.  At top volume, of course.

When the Turtles set foot in Barbados it was late morning and rainy.  The Tiny-tantrum episode, especially the part where Tiny didn’t want to have a new nappy on, plus the part where she rather wanted to wear Myrtle’s underwear made the Turtles decide to replace Tiny’s potty that was left behind in Hong Kong.

Yes, that’s right.  Whilst the other tourists explored the island, probably swam in the warm water and almost certainly lazed on the beach, the Turtles braved Bridgetown (the capital city of Barbados) in search of a potty.  They found one which is now used, irregularly but comfortably by Tiny (who insists that all the Turtles use an American accent to say potty – in other words, the accent on the first half of the word and the “t’s” almost pronounced as “r’s”).  As there is no space in the already overweight luggage, Myrtle will probably be required to transport the potty on her head as a hat.  Things one has to do for your child…

There is hope for our, currently difficult child:  First of all the stubbornness seems to come and go and not everyday is a struggle, for now.  Second of all was a bossy comment Myrtle received from her only child.  Myrtle says a prayer with Tiny at bedtime, after which it is bedtime and no more talking is done.  Myrtle was lying next to Tiny, propped up on her elbow and staring down at her white egg.  She was just drinking in Tiny’s lovely face before it was time to turn out the lights when Tiny’s patience wore thin: “Mamma, you must close your eyes and talk to Jesus.”  Myrtle has a feeling that she will be doing a whole lot more talking to Jesus about this little angel fish of them before she turns three…

Europe in the Caribbean

The Turtles had a second stop in St Barts and decided to rent a car to visit some of the beaches.  The winding, very narrow roads strengthened the whole European feel that already envelopes St Barts.  That is, until you look at the view over the Caribbean Sea with white yachts dotting the blue ocean. Now this is Paradise, with great food!

Tony had to “spin” the little red car up a couple of hills (you can take the man out of the West Rand but you can never get the West Rand out of the man…).  All the wheel spinning was worth it, thought. The Turtles arrived at St. Jean beach where they had coffee while Tiny took her midday nap.  They indulged in great sushi and then hopped off the verandah for a swim in the ocean.  Being so “European” there were many a French bare breasted lady.  Myrtle was a little worried leaving Tiny in Tony’s care… Tony may lose concentration and let Tiny float back to Hong Kong with the current!  Luckily he appeared to give Tiny his undivided attention whilst swimming (not when he was back safely on dry land, but then again – he’s just a man). 

St Barts is the Turtle’s dream island – if we ever had billions (millions won’t cut it), that’s where the Turtles would retire!  Then again, they would have to buy a yacht too as the airport at St Barts is right on the sea and the landings looked nerve wrecking – it is supposedly one of the ten most dangerous airports in the world.  The small planes almost plunged in the sea before touching down a couple of metres from the water…

The next stop was Martinique, also a French territory like St Barts.  Theoretically the Turtles were supposed to have obtained visas to both St Barts and Martinique prior to arrival but they were only allowed to apply at the French Consulate in Hong Kong… However, they were not planning to journey back to Hong Kong for a visa that would have been used for a full three days.  The cruise line was entitled to deny boarding if the Turtles didn’t have the correct visas but the Turtles chanced it.  They prayed that they would not be banished and made to walk the plank when the officials found out and their prayers were answered.  Nobody said one word and they enjoyed the two days in St Barts without a problem. 

The day before they arrived in Martinique the Turtles received a message to report to the front desk and present their Shengen visas…  A-hem.  They were told that they had two choices:  they could either stay on the ship or they could buy visas for 60 euros per person.  For the ten hours on shore.  Party because the Turtles were skaamkwaad (an Afrikaans expression meaning that you are embarrassed that you have been caught out and it makes you angry at anyone but yourself…) and partly because it was raining they decided that Martinique could take their visas and (as this is a family-blog Myrtle will not complete the rest of the sentence.  You have permission to use your imagination.) 

After breakfast the Turtles received another message.  They were now allowed on shore without a visa...  Of course they would hope to make some money off the tourists – if they don’t want to spend on a visa they may spend money on other cheap trinkets.  As Myrtle had an affidavit that had to be witnessed by a “Notary Public” they decided to go for a walkabout in the mighty metropolis of Martinique.  Myrtle received blank stares upon enquiring after the necessary Notary Public (Commissioner of Oaths, in South Africa) and she then asked to be pointed in the direction of the nearest police station.  The port authority offical swallowed nervously and then said she would have to ask her supervisor.  Myrtle was confused – how would you not know where the closest police station is?  Anyway, Mr Supervisor approached Myrtle and asked politely what she wanted.  “The nearest police station, please” she asked, equally polite.  His eyes bulged and he licked his lips and then only did Myrtle click…they thought she wanted to report a crime or something similar.  “We need to have a document witnessed” she quickly added and relief washed over Mr Supervisor’s face.  “Ohhhh” he said and proceeded to give directions to the cop shop. 

Unfortunately the police lady did not understand one word of English.  Tony and Myrtle tried English, then Afrikaans but it didn’t do the trick.  They don’t know sufficient French to make themselves understood (parle vous anglais doesn’t really count…) so, as a last resort, they started gesturing like imbeciles.  Tony gave up and went outside with Tiny and at last Myrtle pretended to stamp her paper.  A light went on and the lady disappeared into an office with the document.  She came back with a stamp and a signature certifying that Myrtle signed the document in his/her presence.  The fact that the document was not yet signed did not seem to bother anyone in the least…

After a brief stroll the rain-curtain came down and the Turtles ran back to the safety of their ship.  Martinique is supposed to be the playground of the rich but unfortunately the Turtles didn’t spot any celebrities during their brief time on the island. Au revoir Martinique!