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!

Island Time

After rainy, stormy weather the Turtles hit land on the island of Tortola, part of the British Virgin Islands.  They rented a car and braved the winding roads.  A couple of brief stops later and they were at a ferry terminal (just because they are spending day and night on a ship doesn’t mean they can’t do even more boating!).  Another twenty minutes later and they arrived at an island called Jost van Dyk – named after a Dutch pirate, can you believe it?

At first they were at a loss but as luck would have it they ran into a group of four friends who were headed to White Beach and an open-air taxi (like a minibus without doors and windows) was shared by everyone.  The views from the hills were breathtaking and the Turtles were almost sorry that the journey to the beach was so short.  The seven passengers agreed with the taxi driver to pick them up again at 4:30pm as the last ferry back to Tortola was at 5pm and it was not exactly the type of placed that swarmed with tourists and taxis.

White Beach is a small stretch of, yes, you guessed it, white sand and the weekend “yachties” often stop close to the beach and then swim, drinks held high above the heads, towards the Soggy Dollar Bar.  Apparently sailors have been known to do this for many years, hence the bar’s name.  It was an odd sight – people doggy-paddling using their legs and one arm while the other arm was stretched high above their heads.  Like human submarines.

Myrtle headed to the change room and overheard the following conversation between two women who were in line for the same facility:  “I’m not gonna wait, I’m gonna have another painkiller and will come back later”.  “Mmmm”, the other woman replied, “I have to go now”.  “OK, can I get you another painkiller too?”  “Yeah, sure, thanks”.  Myrtle’s mouth hung open and the questions, in her mind, ran wild.  Handing out painkillers, in public?  Were they hurt? (One woman had a minor scrape on her leg, but did that really warrant medication?) Is it common for girlfriends to share pills? (Except for the odd Panadol or Disprin none of my friends have offered me drugs – do I hang out with the wrong crowd?)  Were they going to offer me a painkiller and more importantly, would I accept it? (They didn’t so I didn’t either).

Myrtle couldn’t wait for Tony to reappear from his side of the change rooms to tell him what she overheard.  Before he came out she saw a sign above the dustbin: “Please help us recycle – place all Painkiller glasses in this bin”… it took a couple of seconds but the penny finally dropped:  A Painkiller is the signature cocktail. Duh!  Maybe too much holiday makes you dense.  Or maybe it’s not the holiday…

Anyway, the Turtles had a ball on the beach, swimming, playing, singing along to the tunes drifting from the beach bar and generally enjoying a fabulous day out.  At 4:20pm the Turtles, always cautious, were waiting for the taxi.  At 4:35pm they were joined by the four frisky friends who had way too many Painkillers.  At 4:45pm even they were worried.  At 4:50pm the Turtles knew they were going to miss the last ferry, would have to overnight on Jost van Dyk and then fly to Martinique to meet up with the ship!  At 4:53pm Mr Bunt, the taxi driver, arrived.  “You’re killing us, Mr Bunt!” one of the friends called.  “No mon,” Mr Bunt replied, “da ferry will wait, island time, mon.”  Da ferry did wait and the Turtles made it back to the ship, just in time.  Phew!  Close call but a great day all in all!

Comma. Period.

Although most people on the cruise were perfectly friendly, only a few long conversations were had with the Turtles’ cruise mates.  That was, until a little girl ran up to Tiny a couple of days ago at the swimming pool.  Her mom came along and struck up a conversation.  She is a Romanian, married to a Dutchman and they live in Rotterdam.  After about 30 minutes the Romanian started to share her opinions of the other passengers – loudly.  The Turtles were stunned to silence by her statements:  “We don’t like going to the Lido deck – I don’t like the smell of old people!”  “These Americans on board are so unfriendly and arrogant!”  “Germans always expect you to speak German, even if you would rather speak English.”  And so on and so forth. 

One day the Turtels were sitting at the pool when the Romanian-Dutch family joined us for a chat.  She told Myrtle that she couldn’t go snorkeling as she was having her “period” (she mouthed the last word).  Tony wasn’t concentrating so he looked up, his face wrinkled with a puzzled expression on his face.  “Why can’t you swim?” he asked incredulously.  If there was a table Myrtle would have kicked Tony’s shins but it was too late.  She leaned towards Tony and Myrtle sat back to watch the spectacle.  Myrtle didn’t take her eyes off Tony’s face as Mrs Romania repeated herself, this time a little louder: “I have my period (the word was mouthed again)”.  Tony’s face changed from curious to shock to horror to embarrassment in a matter of milliseconds!  Africans are just not as open as Europeans.

There was a whole contingent of little girls on the cruise – all older than Tiny.  They took her under their wings and Tiny had a lot of fun.  Being the “baby” in the group she raked in the attention and was carried around, played with and helped with her painting and puzzles.  Quite relaxing for the older Turtles – they could sit back and watch from a distance while catching up.

The next stop was the U.S. Virgin Islands, St Thomas being the capital city.  They ventured into town but it was a bit of a nightmare.  There were tourists everywhere.  The biggest cruise ship in the world (Oasis of the Seas) docked the same time as the Turtles’ ship and two others.  Overweight men in bright palm-tree-print shirts huffing and sweating on their way to the next restaurant…

The Turtles headed to a coffee shop (the coffee on the ship is disgusting) and sipped on good lattes whilst Tiny napped.  It was a bit of a relief to get away, although, we are sure if you braved the throng of people you would find many interesting things to do.  The Turtles were sissies and rather headed back to the ship for a swim!

Disappointment in St Tomas

Although most people on the cruise were perfectly friendly, only a few long conversations were had with the Turtles’ cruise mates.  That was, until a little girl ran up to Tiny a couple of days ago at the swimming pool.  Her mom came along and struck up a conversation.  She is a Romanian, married to a Dutchman and they live in Rotterdam.  After about 30 minutes the Romanian started to share her opinions of the other passengers – loudly.  The Turtles were stunned to silence by her statements:  “We don’t like going to the Lido deck – I don’t like the smell of old people!”  “These Americans on board are so unfriendly and arrogant!”  “Germans always expect you to speak German, even if you would rather speak English.”  And so on and so forth. 

Their daughter was also a little bully and Myrtle had to tell her not to push Tiny as her mother didn’t do anything.  Luckily there was a whole contingent of little girls on the cruise – all older than Tiny.  They took her under their wings and Tiny had a lot of fun.  Being the “baby” in the group she raked in the attention and was carried around, played with and helped with her painting and puzzles.  Quite relaxing for the older Turtles – they could sit back and watch from a distance while catching up.

The next stop was the U.S. Virgin Islands, St Thomas being the capital city.  They ventured into town but it was a bit of a nightmare.  There were tourists everywhere.  The biggest cruise ship in the world (Oasis of the Seas - with, allegedly, 7,000 passengers) docked the same time as the Turtles’ ship and two others.  This meant that thousands of people descended on St Thomas.  It was busy, it was hot and not very pleasant.  If you like shopping for souvenirs, jewelry and Hawaiian-style shirts this is the place for you.  If not, like us, you hang your head in shame for taking a cruise as the cruise ships carting the millions of passengers to St Thomas on a daily basis, has ruined the place. It is a pity but we've heard that, if governments refuse a request from cruise ship companies, ships mysteriously miss those islands on their cruises and the tourist dollars dry up.  So the governments, whose annual budgets are probably less than some of the cruise ship companies', give in.

Enough cruise ship criticism - it is too late now and the Turtles are planning on enjoying the remainder of their holiday.  The next day was a day at sea and was that sea rough!  Passengers drunkely stumbled across the ship and kids apparently puked through the night.  Luckily Tiny has sea legs so she had a good night's sleep, the rocking actually made for a better night!  Tiny had a great day with the little posse of girls and she is, of course, a favourite of the crew.  The cabin attendant (his name is Made and he is from Bali) makes a towel-animal every evening and perches it on Tiny's bed when the Turtles have dinner.  Tiny can't wait to finish dinner and then proceeds to run across the ship, wondering aloud: "I wonder what Made made for me".  As soon as the cabin door opens she runs inside and then stops about three paces from her bed.  "What is that, Mamma?", she asks, half-afraid, half excited.  Made has made an octopus, a dog, an elephant, a gorilla and a jelly fish.  These towel animals are carried around and they have to sit next to her bed and wait for the next morning.  They are then played until they are, once again, three small towels.

The next day was spent on a beach in the Bahamas (Half Moon Cay) and a lot of swimming, sliding and playing in the sand was had by all.  The water was quite cold but Tiny refused to get out, even when she could hardly get any words out as she was shivering non-stop! 

Today the Turtles are in Fort Lauderdale in Florida.  They have run around buying a few necessities (like nappies for Tiny) and will board the ship soon.  Tiny noticed a Volkswagen Beetle in the parking lot and said: "Hallo, little turtle car!"  Now we know what we should get, if the need for wheels arise again - a Turtle Mobile!  She went with Tony to the ATM and when Tony took the money, she said: "Thank you for the dollars, machine!"  Tony and Myrtle thought it was very cute!

Anyway, time to go.  Once again the internet access is not great on the ship so the postings will be intermittent.  Miss you all!

Danger in Dominica

The next stop on the cruise itinerary was on the island of Dominica (apparently pronounced DomiNEEca, not to be confused with the Dominican Republic (pronounced DoMINican Republic).

The ship docked on a Sunday morning and the Turtles took a stroll around Roseau, their capital “city”.  The shops were closed as Sunday trading has not yet reached the Caribbean – the people are deeply religious and it sometimes feels like the towns we grew up in.  All shops closed on a Saturday at 1pm and remained closed until Monday morning.  Remember those days?  A far cry from Singapore or Hong Kong where you can get your hair cut at 9pm on a Sunday evening. (Myrtle is writing in the same style as the Turtles’ stroll through Roseau – venturing here, turning there, not really going anywhere…)

They passed several churches at the end of the sermon and heard people, in their cute Caribbean accents talking: “Did you hear da Spirit talkin’ mon?”  At their stop in the U.S. Virgin Islands they were in a taxi where a sermon was being played full blast on the radio – the pastor would say a few words and the organist would play a cord or two for dramatic effect.  “And Gideon led the people…”   Da-dammmmm… 

During their short stroll through Roseau Tiny fell asleep and the Turtles headed back to the ship.  Dominica is a beautiful island – reasonably undeveloped with a focus on adventure trips and nature.  Unfortunately most of the activities were for people aged 6 and up so the Turtles didn’t partake in any of the adventures.  Myrtle is acutely aware that, if they exposed Tiny to potential danger (like canyoning down a river or “foefie sliding” (flying fox) over tree tops), Myrtle’s mother would confiscate Tiny.  And Tony and Myrtle have grown quite fond of Tiny.  They’ve decided she (Tiny) can stay.

After the relaxed visit to Dominica the Turtles decided to plan better for their next stop: Antigua.  So they rented a car as soon as they get there – but not before Myrtle made an utter fool of herself.  After asking around about car rentals, the Turtles were directed to a woman with a Hertz briefcase.  She confirmed that she was from Hertz and that we could rent a car.  After walking around the corner, with the Turtles in tow, Myrtle realized that a dreadlocked man was watching their every move.  He followed them around each corner and when the lady stopped and opened her briefcase to take out the rental contract, he stopped right there, took a seat on stairs opposite the road and continued watching us.  This made Myrtle extremely nervous, especially since the Turtles were expected to produce a credit card.  Myrtle mentioned the potential stalker to Tony, already envisioning the scoundrel following them around the island to a deserted spot to relieve them of their cash, cards and possibly, their lives.  Eventually Myrtle couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.  She turned to the Hertz lady and asked: “Do you know that the guy sitting over there has been following us?”  The Hertz lady turned, looked and started to laugh.  “Yes, she answered, he is da driver that will be getting da car for you…”  Myrtle blushed, mumbled an apology and started talking to Tiny as if nothing paranoid was ever said.

After the formalities were finalized, they took off in their little 4WD and were grateful that they did not choose one for the small cars.  The potholes were big enough to swallow cars whole or bend a smaller car’s chassis if you weren’t careful.  The Turtles set off to English Harbour, about 20 kilometres from St John, Antigua’s capital city.  English Harbour is the home to the only working Georgian dockyard (built in 1745) in the western hemisphere and is called Nelson’s Dockyard.  The Turtles walked around staring at the “yachties” working on their vessels, hearing the hammering and working on boat hulls in the buildings and then sat down for a decent cup of coffee overlooking the harbor.  There are still many Brits living in Antigua as Antigua only gained independence from Britain in 1981.

The Turtles then turned their little green car towards the west and drove down Fig Tree Drive – through a tropical forest with the most beautiful, lush, dense plants.  They stopped at a couple of beaches but the waves were too rough for Tiny who is fearless at the moment – she runs straight into the sea with a parent in tow.  Instead, they had lunch at Fort James before heading back to the ship.  Not before getting caught up in a funeral procession for some time – slow going to put in mildly but then, what’s the rush?

Cruise Crowd

The Turtles have been on a cruise or two before but today was not a good day for them…  The average age of the “cruisers” is approximately 60, if you include Tiny…  Before you think Myrtle just doesn’t understand senior citizens – her dad was 42 years old when she was born so she basically grew up with an older person.  Funny that, when it is your own beloved father jumping the qeue, or pretending to be deaf when he is doing something he shouldn’t, it is just so cute.  When it is a strange geriatric jumping on a bus that you’ve been waiting half an hour with a squirming toddler, it is not so funny.  Blog readers will know that Myrtle and Tony are now notorious fight pickers with qeue jumpers but people look at you funny when you scream at old people, especially when they suddenly put on their “oh, I’m so old and frail, look at these intimidating youngsters screaming at us and we didn’t even do anything wrong” faces.  Hope they don’t break a hip when Myrtle “accidently” trips over their walking canes, sending it, and them, flying…

Don’t worry, Myrtle is not so aggressive in real life, only in her own little world that she calls her imagination.  The irritation continued as the Turtles walked the narrow little cobble lanes of San Juan in Puerto Rico.  As Puerto Rico is an unincorporated territory of the US, it is littered with US franchises – McDonalds, Wendy’s, Starbucks, Burger King and the like on every corner.  In our opinion it detracts from the wonderful architecture of the 16^th century colonial buildings – an opinion not shared by our fellow cruisers as they excitedly pointed out the Walgreens…  The Turtles are possibly no longer part of the cruise crowd, sad to say.  

Apart from the architecture Puerto Rico also has a good reputation for growing great coffee beans and we sampled a cup of delectable coffee while waiting for a sudden rainstorm to pass.  Their bad moods soon turned good again, phew, crisis averted!

The next morning our ship docked in the harbor at Gustavia, St. Barts.  What a beautiful little French fisherman’s village – in the middle of the Caribbean!  The island is mountainous with houses built about halfway up – all facing the ocean, of course.  The Turtles stopped at a property agent and looked at the houses advertised…  be willing to spend from €2,200,000 (about HKD or R22,000,000) to be a resident of this gorgeous dot in the Caribbean sea.  After walking the length of the harbor, the Turtles were hot and headed for the first cool restaurant they could find.  After a meal of good French food they were sufficiently fortified to enjoy the rest of the day.  The only regret is that they couldn’t spend more time here…  At least it gives one something to aspire to…

The internet access is once again patchy so Myrtle is writing the blog entries in Word and posting them in batches when she gets a chance.  Gotta run, the other Turtles are in the pool, waiting!

Travel Tension

Goodbye Grand Cayman!

The Turtles reluctantly left the shores of Grand Cayman yesterday.  They had a fabulous two weeks in a fabulous country.

They ate rum cake (the local specialty and really yummy), the played on the beach, they swam in the blue waters and lounged about.  The last afternoon was spent on lilo’s (air mattresses), floating in the sea.  Tiny had her water wings on and she happily climbed from one lilo to the next, splashing about in the water in between.  As the Turtles lay there chatting, they realized that they were, with the exception of one lady sitting far away, the only people on the beach and in the sea.  It was very quiet and they could see a rain storm approaching from the land.  They were still admiring the rainbow that appeared behind the palm trees when a school of fish swam passed, jumping out of the water, dashing by.  The wind picked up and they were about to get out of the water when the storm turned and went the other way.

A lovely way to spend their last day in Paradise.

The next day they flew back to the Bahamas to board a three week cruise.  They had problems with their visas (as you sometimes do when you carry a little green passport) and there was a very real possibility that they would be denied boarding. Myrtle reviewed documents that they obtained from all sorts of sources to ensure that their story was straight but, in the mayhem that ensues when you unload suitcases, strollers, baby and all sorts, she their documents in the taxi!  Disaster! To Tony’s credit – his jaw set in a disappointed (read: furious) grimace but not once did he utter one resentful word.  Myrtle was extremely relieved when they were allowed to board without documents or explanations and especially relieved with Tony’s jaw relaxed…  If the roles were reversed Myrtle would possibly not have been as graceful about the situation.  Even after almost 12 years of married life (and 18 years as a couple) can you learn from your partner…

Invictus

Tony turned on the telly and an image of Matt Damon with a curious accent flickered to life on the screen.  Moments later Morgan Freeman appeared with a very good Madiba accent.  It was the start of Invictus, a film Myrtle never saw as she feared sentimentality would overcome her (and she thinks most Hollywood actors do horrendous South African accents – do we really sound so bad?).  Tony had seen the movie before but Myrtle sat, riveted.  She re-lived the whole 1995 Rugby World Cup and the excitement that went with it.  Unfortunately it was also the year that Tony and Myrtle completed their Honours degree, which meant loads of studying and guilty game viewings.  However, the feeling and the vibe were palpable, especially on that memorable afternoon that marked South Africa’s victory over the All Blacks.  The whole country seemed to be on a high and it was a truly wonderful moment in history.

After the movie Myrtle felt oddly sad (the tears that flowed freely at the end of the movie didn’t help much) and she realized, after brief introspection, that she was missing her family, friends, people, country, sense of humour, warm Highveld winter afternoons, fiery autumn trees on the golf course, the feeling that you are part of change, rooibos tea, All Gold and Jelly Tots.  She wondered whether she was taking something special away from Tiny by not letting her grow up in the country where her parents grew up, happily.  There are so many things that Myrtle misses from “home”. 

At the other end of the scale, there are many things she doesn’t miss about home. Most of all waking in the early hours of the morning with a start.  Thinking you’ve heard something and trying to convince yourself that there isn’t someone in your house with an AK47 and ill-intent.  Imagining what it must feel like to be shot in the stomach or watching a loved one being gunned down (Myrtle’s vivid, albeit somewhat sick, imagination seems to work overtime at 3a.m.).  Or worse, being wakened by the security alarm, seeing a red light flashing on the control panel showing the area in your house where, indeed, there is a prowler.  The sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, blocking all other noises, making sure your room door is locked and waiting for the call from the armed response company.  Ring-ring. “Hello” you whisper.  “Good morning, ma’am, everything OK?”  “I don’t know”  “OK, stay where you are, we are coming”.  Five or ten minutes of agonizing waiting (or longer, depending on the efficiency of your particular security company) until you see the headlights of a car turning into your property.  You realize there is no way they can get inside the house without you unlocking the doors for them, and that means you have to open your bedroom door.  Something you really wanted to avoid, given the previously mentioned prowler.  You remember the gate and garage door remote controls that are in your side table drawer and you open the door that opens onto the patio, tip toe out in your pajamas, hang over the balcony railing and press the buttons that allows another stranger, this one definitely carrying a gun, into your house.  Dressed in pajamas, woman alone, 3:15 a.m. and a stranger with a gun (even though the stranger has a uniform and is allowed to carry a gun, you never know…) walking into your house.  Not the most comfortable feeling in the world.

Then of course, there are the hi-jackings.  None of us have been a victim, God forbid, but I know people who have.  Myrtle, who is hyper alert in any event, is like one of those dogs with the nodding heads that plot people have in their cars when she has to stop at a red light.  Her head shakes from right to left and left to right, side mirrors, rearview mirror and back again.  Especially at night.  Myrtle is grateful to many of her male colleagues who, after a late night working at the office, would follow her home until she reached her gate, then only would they head home.  But this isn’t normal, is it?  Of course, when you live in South Africa you make do with your circumstances.  It is nothing strange to call your hosts after a visit to confirm that you are home safe (and then you can thank them, too so not always a bad thing).  And which South African hasn’t been in so much trouble after leaving their parents’ house, arriving home and forgetting to make The Call!  Your phone will ring about 5 minutes after your estimated arrival time with an anxious mother on the other end: “Are you home?” she would ask, breathless and forever worried. 

So yes, if you are a South African you live in constant fear – the good thing is that you often don’t realize it until you’ve left the country and you still live your life, despite the ever present danger.

But the fantastic nature – great beaches, majestic mountains, savannahs, winelands, bushveld filled with magnificent beasts are unrivalled. Myrtle still misses evenings spent around a campfire, where, after the jokes and laughing have died down, the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the grunting of lions. She misses seeing Impala jumping gracefully and playfully, she misses the sight of a huge elephant and so much more.

Then there are the people.  Oh my, Myrtle can write pages about the people but will mention only the following: South Africans have an ill-understood sense of humour.  Myrtle has never come across another nation who will circulate jokes a day after a tragedy.  About the tragedy.  It may be a coping mechanism, it may just be sick but it is what it is.  Myrtle has never laughed so hard in the presence of any other nationality and maybe Tiny wont “get” her parents if she doesn’t grow up in South Africa?  But then again, Myrtle sometimes didn’t “get” her parents and she grew up there!

Many South Africans love to “braai” (barbeque).  Not hamburger patties on an open flame but lamb chops (cutlets), beef steak and boerewors (a South African long sausage) with pap (corn meal porridge). 

The black-white issue and history will never be erased (in Myrtle’s view) and although South Africans have come a long way in dealing with it, racism still bubbles up every now and again.  Myrtle likes to believe that racism is dead in a working environment and she wishes that it was dead in all spheres of life but the truth of the matter is that it is not dead.  Some races share commonalities the same way some nationalities do. (Who, but South Africans use the word “shame” to express sympathy, for example?). The trick is to make it work for everybody – not an easy task.

So this blog entry is not a rant but rather an expression of confusion. What is best for the Turtles? What is best for Tiny?  Hopefully the Turtles will figure it out along the way and promise the next entry will be about the adventure!

Turtle Touching

Apart from swimming in the lukewarm ocean, laying about in hammocks and building sand castles, the Turtles attempt, on very energetic days, to take in some of the tourist attractions here on Grand Cayman.

Yesterday morning started with a couple of thunder showers and windy conditions and the Turtles decided it was the ideal day for breakfast at a coffee shop followed by a visit to Boatswain Beach.

Icoa is the name of the coffee shop we selected.  The Turtles ran from the car, through the rain, into the coffee shop and as soon as they stepped over the doorstep Myrtle knew there were going to be problems...  The coffee shop is part of a store selling fancy household goods.  Beautiful glasses, plates, cutlery and other items lined the racks - well within reach of Tiny's grabbing little hands.  Myrtle understands that stores have no obligation to cater for customers with toddlers and that it is parents' responsibility to control their own children.  However, if the Turtles are in a coffee shop where Tiny is unable to break anything and she can roam fairly free, the Turtles are much more likely to order another cup of coffee or a piece of cake.  In other words, more money in the pockets of the coffee shop owners.  Where Myrtle and Tony have to take turns to chase after Tiny to remove a crystal pepper pot from her inquisitive little fingers, breakfast becomes hard work.  Something you have to get over with as soon as possible.  No extra cake, no extra coffee, no extra bucks.    Hopefully Icoa makes enough money from child-free people and don't need candy covered dollars from people like the Turtles.  It would have been easier, though, if there was a sign on the door stating the obvious: "Children not welcome".

One place where children, and adults, are welcomed with open arms, is the Turtle Farm on Boatswain's Beach.  They breed all kinds of Turtles, a large percentage of which is set free in the ocean.  The ten year old turtles are huge, or as a Spanish family exclaimed upon seeing these monsters: "Grande Tortuga!"  The members of staff were friendly and willing to answer all questions.  One even handed Tony (Tiny refused) a baby turtle to hold.  Eventually Tiny was convinced to touch the tiny thing and Myrtle returned it to the water - it sped away, not knowing we are family!

Tony and Tiny have slapped on sunscreen and hats and have gone down to the beach. Myrtle is still sitting on the patio, in her pajamas, writing this entry.  Time to go and find fish swimming in the shallow water, see ya!

Happy Birthday, Tiny!

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Tiny, happy birthday to you!” After hearing her parents’ tone-deaf singing, Tiny decided it best to rather sing it to herself… which she did regularly to herself the whole day on Thursday.  Yes, our beautiful white egg turned two years old. 

The Turtles decided to turn the rainy day into a sunshine day (or a hot dog day, as Tiny calls a good day) for Tiny.  So they put her wrapped gifts in the lounge the night before so she would see them when she woke up.  Tiny was very impressed – most of all by the cheap, plastic trolley filled with beach toys and the bag they came in…  Cake was on the menu for breakfast and Tiny had no problem blowing out the two lit candles and devouring the cake.

After playing with her new toys they walked down to the pool and beach and had a nice play.  After naptime the Turtles set off for the playground on Seven Mile Beach where the Turtles had a go on the swings, the slides and the jungle gyms.  Then off to the Haagen Dasz shop for Tiny’s favourite treat – ice cream!  She ate her ice cream with gusto, drinking the last drops from the cup… 

Afterwards the Turtles got ready for an early dinner, which was enjoyed at a restaurant called Edoardo’s.  The food was good and Nina was sung to by the waiting staff who brought her a piece of tiramisu with a candle on.  A great day for the Turtles.

Myrtle has had to relax some of Tiny’s strict routine and in one or two instances it worked out really well.  Like Nina taking her nap in a hammock on the beach…  Myrtle and Tiny hop onto the hammock and after a couple of agonizing moments where Myrtle is convinced the two of them are going to tumble out* onto the sand, they settle in.  Myrtle reads to Tiny and the swinging sends her to dreamland soon after.  An hour and a half’s bliss is had by all Turtles concerned.  There are six hammocks under a tiki roof so they are all in the shade but the breeze can still blow through the hammocks, swinging under the roof.  If Myrtle had a second baby she would invest in a hammock, no matter where the Turtles lived.  It rocks Tiny to sleep within minutes and Myrtle positioned a chair nearby and read, every so often rocking the hammock with her foot.  The hammock nap is now a daily occurrence and it has miraculously led to through the night sleeps too.  Myrtle thinks the Turtles should immediately start looking for jobs in Grand Cayman!

* Yesterday an elderly gentleman decided to position a beach table next to the hammock.  He proceeded to climb onto it to enable him to gracefully get into the hammock.  It didn’t work.  He fell onto the sand with a thump, the table flying into an opposite direction…  He seemed unhurt and Myrtle was just able to muffle her guffaws…

Plot People in Grand Cayman

Myrtle grew up in South Africa, on a plot.  For the non-South African readers: a plot is a common (pun intended) term for a small farm.  Most plot people own at least five dogs of dubious origin, a chicken coup, with our without chickens (depending on the fierceness of the five dogs) and a car without wheels on bricks.  Of course there are plot people whose cars have wheels and who have neatly tended gardens and glittering swimming pools.  Not many, but they are out there.

Saturdays were Auction Days on the plots.  Myrtle and her brother accompanied their father to the auction – in part to look at the animals and in part to eat the home made “church bazaar food”.  The churches in the vicinity had stalls selling curry and rice, jaffels (like a round toasted sandwich filled with minced meat), vetkoek (a bun fried in oil) and the famous N.G. Church cinnamon pancakes.  Their dad would scout the auction, looking for a good looking cow (I’m still talking about the cattle), sheep or pig and Myrtle and her brother were not allowed to look excited – lest wthey tip the seller off that there is an interested party and they get a friend to bid against the very interested buyer.  All very cloak and dagger type stuff.  The auction would start off with the cattle and then move to a huge warehouse on the same property where everything else was sold.  From second-hand tractors to second-hand beds and corrugated iron.

When Myrtle saw an advertisement for a “Farmer’s Market” in a Grand Cayman magazine where the parents could buy organic vegetables while their children petted farm animals and played in a maze, she was filled with happy memories of her childhood and convinced Tony to take the 30 minutes drive to Lower Valley. 

What a disappointment! Pumpkin, plantains and sausages for sale.  Three chickens clucking around outside the wall-less building.  Empty cattle pens.  No jaffels, no vetkoeke and no pancakes. Eish!

Tiny said goodbye to the chickens (or “tsikens” as she pronounces it – much like many Capetonians) and the Turtles were on the road again.  They drove past Old Man’s Cay with its huge graveyard.  Yes, Old Man’s Cay Graveyard… They then swiftly proceeded to Rum Cay where they had a nice lunch at a restaurant called Over the Edge where you can look at the fish through the deck planks while eating.   

They drove back to Seven Mile Beach through Bodden Town – the first capital city of Grand Cayman.  It is a quaint little place with magnificent ocean views from the winding road.

Who would think that Grand Cayman has plots and plot people?  Wonder if their plots produced a Charlize Theron… ours did!

All Grand in Grand Cayman

The Turtles left the beautiful Turks and Caicos islands yesterday and arrived in a rainy Georgetown, Grand Cayman.  They barely had enough time to buy nappies and water before the rain pelted down again.

Upon arrival at their apartment, called London House, they knew there was no going out for dinner and they had not yet stocked the cupboards.  So they ordered curry from The Old Gaol Cafe (the name should have been warning enough) and supped on mediocre Chicken Tikka Masala and Lamb Biryani.  Tiny, who was deliriously tired by then, pranced, hopped and bounced through the apartment, taking a bite of naan or rice whenever she deemed it necessary, which was not often.

After unpacking and having had to bathe in lukewarm water, the Turtles hit the sack.  The late night didn't stop Tiny from waking up at 6am..."Mommy, open your eyes!"  When Mommy didn't obey, Tiny took India's (that's her doll's name) plastic hand and poked it into Mommy's eye with a "be careful, India!"... It is hard to stay asleep with a doll's finger in your eye, as Myrtle can attest to.

The Turtles reluctantly arose from their short sleep and headed off to a restaurant for breakfast, then off to the grocery store for some much needed purchases.  The Turtles were pleasantly surprised to find a rack filled with South African goodies (All Gold tomato sauce, Mrs Ball's chutney, rooibos tea, Eat Sum More's and Jungle Oats amongst others) but their smiles turned to frowns when they saw the prices - R60 for a packet of Freshpack rooibos!!  But they were, by then, yearning for a piece of home (m.a.w. hulle lus het uitgehang!) that they still bought a packet of Romany Creams and a bottle of Mrs. Balls.  Myrtle may just motivate herself to jump into the kitchen and make bobotie and pancakes!  Viva South Africa!

PS.  The rain just stopped and the sun is peeking through the clouds.  When Tiny wakes up the Turtles will walk down to the renowned Seven Mile Beach (visible from their living room) and do some beachcombing.  That's what they're here for, after all...

Other people's kids

In Afrikaans there is a saying that goes  Elke hen dink haar eier is die witste (directly translates to “every hen thinks her egg is the whitest”).  In other words; we all think our children are the most wonderful beings to walk the earth’s surface.

When traveling with a child, you are bound to start conversations with other parents.  Tiny bounces towards every child she meets and starts up a game.  Most parents are too happy to have their kids play with other children, watching and guiding (i.e. shouting at them not to splash water in the baby’s face) from the sidelines.

The Turtles love when this happens as Tiny is starved from social interaction with other children and, of course, it gives them a chance to have a complete conversation while watching Tiny from a distance.  Unfortunately they had the misfortune to meet the two meanest little girls prowling around the Caribbean.  They were relaxing on the beautiful Grace Bay beach in Turks and Caicos when two sisters, four-years and six-years  old respectively, ran up to Tiny to play.  The older Turtles started talking to their parents and soon all concerned were playing and chatting.

Then the girls’ true colours became apparent – they intentionally splashed water in Tiny’s face and her astonished look saddened her parents but, they thought, it is part of life.  We all get splashed in life sometimes.

After throwing sand at her, grabbing her toys, refusing to let Tiny play with their toys and telling her that they didn’t want to play with her, Tony had enough. He grabbed his little white egg and waded away from the poltergeists.  They tried to follow but Tony ignored them and headed to the deep end to show Tiny the frog figurines on the island in the middle of the pool.

Before you think we are overprotective and that we should expose Tiny to “life” – the meanies’ parents didn’t do a thing!  They just sat there, muttering an occasional “don’t do that” or “you are going to get a time-out”…without any consequences.   We all know that it is tiresome to discipline and none of us get it right all the time, but there are limits!  If Tiny is able to say please, thank you and is (usually) willing to share, those two brats can do the same! That is Myrtle’s rant for the week and she feels much better!