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January 27, 2009
The Intro, I Suppose
Well, I’m about a day out from Spain, so I suppose I should probably get this thing up and running. I haven’t exactly picked the angle from which I want to approach this blog, but, in the meantime, I think I’ll just let everyone concerned—and everyone who’s not—know what’s going on.
Ok, so, for those of you who don’t know, or only sort of know, I’ve been on a ship since January 19 on the first leg of my voyage around the world. The first stop is Cadiz, Spain followed by Morocco, Namibia, South Africa, Mauritius, India, Thailand, China, Japan, Hawaii, and Guatemala. I kicked the trip off in Nassau, Bahamas when I flew in on January 18. After checking into the Towne Hotel—a fabulous, locally run and operated hotel within easy walking distance of anything you might want to walk to—I went exploring.
My first objective was to locate and consume some phenomenal conch salad. Having thoroughly picked the brain of my cab driver between the airport and hotel, I knew I should head towards an area known as Fish Fry. It’s a string of not-quite-restaurants-more-like-shacks along one of the main docks in Nassau. All were painted in warm colors—pinks, yellows, blues—and most proudly displayed signs for Kalik, the local brew—a very light beer, much akin to Corona, though a bit more satisfying, and with the ability to stand on it’s own (no need to fruit this beer). I made several trips up and down this strip considering which stand would provide me with the best—I knew they’d all be good, but I wanted the best—conch salad, and trying my hardest to blend in with the locals despite the fact that I was one of very few people in the area who had to be concerned about sunburn. Finally, I settled on one. There were several factors: the pile of fresh conch I saw waiting patiently to be eaten by me, the lack of a menu—they served conch salad and beer. period.—the number of locals gathered there, and, last but not least, the reggae blaring from the inside. How could it be bad?
It wasn’t. It was incredible. I sat at the bar. That’s really all there was—an L shaped bar extending from a shack of a building onto the dock with a few places for patrons to sit, a cooler where they kept their beer, and a cutting board where they prepared the food. I ordered a salad and a beer, and, sipping my drink, watched the wedge-shaped hammer knock a hole in the living shell of the conch, watched the machete carve the meat out—it looked like a huge slug, or the tongue of a large mammal—watched it curl in protest, and watched the machete fall again and again and again—dicing tomatoes, onions, peppers, and the conch. It can’t be much fresher than seeing your food die... sounds kinda gross I guess, but the meal was fresh and light, perfect for the Caribbean setting. It’s such a simple dish, but one that’s been perfected to the point of, well, perfection. The conch in the salad was like blueberries or strawberries in your morning cereal. Y’know, the cereals okay on it’s own, but every time you get a bite of one of those berries—yes!—there’s that little celebration amongst your taste buds to let you know, “ya, that was good. do that again!” So it was each time my teeth clenched, and my tongue tasted, one of those sweet, succulent, kind of chewy morsels of meat.
Satisfied with my meal, I willingly paid the absurdly high price quoted me. The vendor probably thought he was pulling one off on me, but I think it was the other way around. Any ‘real’ restaurant would charge an arm and a leg for something that good, and I was more than willing to pay this guy. So I did, and made my way back to the hotel, and mingled with several folks going on the trip, too. We probably stayed up too late—I was pretty tired the next morning—but when I should have been dragging, my excitement to board the ship fueled me better than any coffee.
Check in went smoothly, and I boarded. Once I got past the gangway, actually on the ship, I could no longer tell I was on a ship. It seemed more that I had just checked into a way overpriced hotel. Red carpet and well burnished hand rails welcomed me, and gold embossed wall signs directed me where to go. I found my room, and went in…..
This is getting kind of long, and I have some things I must attend to. However, I’ll do my best to post again soon. I just wanted to get something up before I get to Spain. If I have time, I’ll even post again tonight… Right, so, tata for now!
Ok, so, for those of you who don’t know, or only sort of know, I’ve been on a ship since January 19 on the first leg of my voyage around the world. The first stop is Cadiz, Spain followed by Morocco, Namibia, South Africa, Mauritius, India, Thailand, China, Japan, Hawaii, and Guatemala. I kicked the trip off in Nassau, Bahamas when I flew in on January 18. After checking into the Towne Hotel—a fabulous, locally run and operated hotel within easy walking distance of anything you might want to walk to—I went exploring.
My first objective was to locate and consume some phenomenal conch salad. Having thoroughly picked the brain of my cab driver between the airport and hotel, I knew I should head towards an area known as Fish Fry. It’s a string of not-quite-restaurants-more-like-shacks along one of the main docks in Nassau. All were painted in warm colors—pinks, yellows, blues—and most proudly displayed signs for Kalik, the local brew—a very light beer, much akin to Corona, though a bit more satisfying, and with the ability to stand on it’s own (no need to fruit this beer). I made several trips up and down this strip considering which stand would provide me with the best—I knew they’d all be good, but I wanted the best—conch salad, and trying my hardest to blend in with the locals despite the fact that I was one of very few people in the area who had to be concerned about sunburn. Finally, I settled on one. There were several factors: the pile of fresh conch I saw waiting patiently to be eaten by me, the lack of a menu—they served conch salad and beer. period.—the number of locals gathered there, and, last but not least, the reggae blaring from the inside. How could it be bad?
It wasn’t. It was incredible. I sat at the bar. That’s really all there was—an L shaped bar extending from a shack of a building onto the dock with a few places for patrons to sit, a cooler where they kept their beer, and a cutting board where they prepared the food. I ordered a salad and a beer, and, sipping my drink, watched the wedge-shaped hammer knock a hole in the living shell of the conch, watched the machete carve the meat out—it looked like a huge slug, or the tongue of a large mammal—watched it curl in protest, and watched the machete fall again and again and again—dicing tomatoes, onions, peppers, and the conch. It can’t be much fresher than seeing your food die... sounds kinda gross I guess, but the meal was fresh and light, perfect for the Caribbean setting. It’s such a simple dish, but one that’s been perfected to the point of, well, perfection. The conch in the salad was like blueberries or strawberries in your morning cereal. Y’know, the cereals okay on it’s own, but every time you get a bite of one of those berries—yes!—there’s that little celebration amongst your taste buds to let you know, “ya, that was good. do that again!” So it was each time my teeth clenched, and my tongue tasted, one of those sweet, succulent, kind of chewy morsels of meat.
Satisfied with my meal, I willingly paid the absurdly high price quoted me. The vendor probably thought he was pulling one off on me, but I think it was the other way around. Any ‘real’ restaurant would charge an arm and a leg for something that good, and I was more than willing to pay this guy. So I did, and made my way back to the hotel, and mingled with several folks going on the trip, too. We probably stayed up too late—I was pretty tired the next morning—but when I should have been dragging, my excitement to board the ship fueled me better than any coffee.
Check in went smoothly, and I boarded. Once I got past the gangway, actually on the ship, I could no longer tell I was on a ship. It seemed more that I had just checked into a way overpriced hotel. Red carpet and well burnished hand rails welcomed me, and gold embossed wall signs directed me where to go. I found my room, and went in…..
This is getting kind of long, and I have some things I must attend to. However, I’ll do my best to post again soon. I just wanted to get something up before I get to Spain. If I have time, I’ll even post again tonight… Right, so, tata for now!
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