The ripples of sunlight reflected through the waves made the whole experience seem surreal.
This year, six of my friends and I escaped the Philadelphia rain and cold to Paradise. Literally. We went to Paradise Island in the Bahamas and had access to facilities in the Atlantis, the largest hotel and tourist attraction in the country. We did a range of activities from water sliding with sharks, swimming with dolphins and buying alcohol legally (the drinking age in the Bahamas is eighteen.) Despite all the excitement that Atlantis offered, my most memorable experience from the trip was not on Paradise Island.
It was our last full day on the trip. The sun was glaring and it was slightly breezy. My friends and I piled into Peng Win, a boat named to sound like “penguin” and a testament to the character of its owner. It was just big enough to hold us, our stuff and our “captain,” Mark. Mark was a Bahamian and knew the waters and islands like the back of his hand. For a while, I saw nothing but the sky and the wide-open sea. Finally, we came upon a series of little islands that were home to nothing but trees and sand.
“Pick one!” Mark shouted over the wind and rumbles of the boat. We gleefully pointed to a tiny island far away from the traffic of cruise and cargo ships so several of my friends could try their hands at water skiing. Not being the most athletic person, I cheered and took pictures. Later, we anchored Peng Win, and ran like little children onto the shore. Apart from us, it was deserted. This was our own island.
We had a small picnic, feasting on sandwiches and potato chips that we had packed. Some of my friends tanned in the Bahamian sun and listened to music. Others, myself included, decided to go snorkeling. Because we were so close to the shore, the water was unusually shallow. I felt I could almost reach out and grab the fish and other inhabitants of the sea. Several times, I was afraid I was going to kick and destroy the colorful branches of the coral. The ripples of sunlight reflected through the waves made the whole experience seem surreal.
When returned to the island, I asked Mark what time it was. He looked at his bare left wrist and shrugged, “Some time in the afternoon, I guess.” On this little island, it was curious to think that there was more to the world than keeping up with a schedule. Sometimes, it was okay to just let time pass. I laid myself on the sand and listened to the sound of the ocean.
Article by Panarat Anamwathana.
