The long goodbye
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Your trip in one sentence
A visit to see family in the Abacos causes us to reflect on the many ways we say goodbye throughout our travels
Why did you travel there ?
We had an Iago like itch for travel and hopped two planes and a small ferry to see family. Of course we traveled with the usual assortment of fly rods, books, brood, and food that for some reason my mother insisted we bring.
How did you get there ?
two planes, a small wooden ferry, and a push cart
Where did you sleep ?
At a family villa overlooking the harbour.
What was the biggest cultural shock ?
We have been visiting Elbow Cay over the last twenty years and are still floored by the unassuming nature of the island. Our young children (8 & 10) had free reign of the small island and ditched shoes after day 1/2.
What was your most interesting encounter ?
swimming pigs further south
What did you do at night ?
Drank far too many Goombay smashes and Manhattans whilst sitting on the patio. Asleep by 9:30 most nights save for the islands Trivial Pursuit championship (we came in a close second).
What were your cultural activities ?
We fished for bonefish, we swam in turquoise water, we threw our iphones in the pool. We never looked back.
Which song illustrates best your trip ?
Listened to the Clash's "One more dub" ad nauseum
Your favourite local word ?
"doggie". look it up.
Your favourite local food ?
conch everything
Your favourite place ?
The sandbar off Tahiti beach and the quietness of Johhny's Cay
Will you go again ?
We always do......
A visit to see family in the Abacos causes us to reflect on the many ways we say goodbye throughout our travels
Why did you travel there ?
We had an Iago like itch for travel and hopped two planes and a small ferry to see family. Of course we traveled with the usual assortment of fly rods, books, brood, and food that for some reason my mother insisted we bring.
How did you get there ?
two planes, a small wooden ferry, and a push cart
Where did you sleep ?
At a family villa overlooking the harbour.
What was the biggest cultural shock ?
We have been visiting Elbow Cay over the last twenty years and are still floored by the unassuming nature of the island. Our young children (8 & 10) had free reign of the small island and ditched shoes after day 1/2.
What was your most interesting encounter ?
swimming pigs further south
What did you do at night ?
Drank far too many Goombay smashes and Manhattans whilst sitting on the patio. Asleep by 9:30 most nights save for the islands Trivial Pursuit championship (we came in a close second).
What were your cultural activities ?
We fished for bonefish, we swam in turquoise water, we threw our iphones in the pool. We never looked back.
Which song illustrates best your trip ?
Listened to the Clash's "One more dub" ad nauseum
Your favourite local word ?
"doggie". look it up.
Your favourite local food ?
conch everything
Your favourite place ?
The sandbar off Tahiti beach and the quietness of Johhny's Cay
Will you go again ?
We always do......
Checklist
▾
Take your Hejbook
Join the mile-high club on your way there
Learn the coolest word of the local language
Eat the local speciality
Become smarter in a local museum
Find the fleamarket and buy someting exotic
Befriend and give your business card to the local mob boss
Wander in the city at night
Get lost at least one time
Engage a (drinking for instance) contest with a local
Sleep with a local
Pretend to be local and have someone believe it
Go to the zoo and hug a bear
Share all your crazy stories with the world on hejorama.com
Join the mile-high club on your way there
Learn the coolest word of the local language
Eat the local speciality
Become smarter in a local museum
Find the fleamarket and buy someting exotic
Befriend and give your business card to the local mob boss
Wander in the city at night
Get lost at least one time
Engage a (drinking for instance) contest with a local
Sleep with a local
Pretend to be local and have someone believe it
Go to the zoo and hug a bear
Share all your crazy stories with the world on hejorama.com
Links
▾
Imperial Black - http://imperialblack.blogspot.com/2012/04/long-goodbye.html
In the Abacos we reflect on the different goodbyes faced when traveling and how these leavings have changed over the years.
In the Abacos we reflect on the different goodbyes faced when traveling and how these leavings have changed over the years.
Story
▾
The long goodbye
The wooden ferry lurches forward and a plume of smoke settles over lower town dock. As we pull away we are waving at my mother. The children with their new splashes of freckles and sand flecked hair wave the hardest. The gap between stern and dock widens and we head towards the cut in the mangroves that will lead us into the channel proper.
I push fly rod tubes and duffels onto the floor and sit on the cooler as the channel opens up. The colours change from the dun of the marina into thirty shades of blue. We are now waving as frantically as lunatics on a day trip. The children blow kisses and my mother becomes smaller still as the captain opens up the throttles. We move into the absolute blueness of the straits. Following the curve of shoreline I can just make out another dock, now slanting and twisted, were I have fond memories of my father at his happiest. His chambray eyes twinkling as he scanned this same water. Further along I can just make out low breakers sipping at the reef. Beyond that is the darkest blue of the sea. Then Africa.
The engine note picks up and we are lashed with salt spray. My mother is not yet a speck so we wave harder still. She seems to be mirroring the intensity of our waves. Her long silver hair glinting like chromium in the morning sun. There are now the most sublime aquamarines between she and us. Our eyes tear up but we later pass it off as salt and wind.
Travel is the thread that runs through all that is Imperial Black. A constant flurry of arrivals and departures has perhaps left us a bit numb. Some places do resonate deeper and you feel a pang as you say your goodbyes with the thought that you might not ever see these people, this place, again. Lots of goodbyes over the years but where has the long heartfelt one gone?
These days We get booted out of the car at the airport. Perhaps a quick kiss through the drivers window and then thrust into the maelstrom of security. Disoriented, we focus on the removal of necessary items, and the grotesqueness of the barefooted smudge dissipating on the metal detector foot pad One might briefly look back to see a significant other making a dash for the exit ahead of the taxi queue.
Trains sound romantic but rarely are (US trains not even given consideration here). Paul Theroux has these splendid train journeys which I never seem to experience. Then again his journeys tend to start on his own and end on his own. Mine usually begin with a run from the taxi, a quick scan of a foreign departure board whilst an ear splitting Teutonic klaxon reverberates the pigeon speckled space.
I suppose that leaving a loved ones house counts but only if they have a long drive. There is waving but all too soon children's ear phones are plugged in and you are scanning the radio for a better start to the journey....
My mother is now officially a speck that becomes a blur. She then fades into the blueness of the water. We wave for a bit longer just in case she can see us. Then arms are down and we simply watch the island fade away. A vaguely Sundayish depression settles over me as a thought nags I'll never see her again. The feeling is unshakeable for a half hour before it vanishes as we nudge our arrival at another islands dock. Someone else's departure and someone else's goodbye.
E.M.M.
The wooden ferry lurches forward and a plume of smoke settles over lower town dock. As we pull away we are waving at my mother. The children with their new splashes of freckles and sand flecked hair wave the hardest. The gap between stern and dock widens and we head towards the cut in the mangroves that will lead us into the channel proper.
I push fly rod tubes and duffels onto the floor and sit on the cooler as the channel opens up. The colours change from the dun of the marina into thirty shades of blue. We are now waving as frantically as lunatics on a day trip. The children blow kisses and my mother becomes smaller still as the captain opens up the throttles. We move into the absolute blueness of the straits. Following the curve of shoreline I can just make out another dock, now slanting and twisted, were I have fond memories of my father at his happiest. His chambray eyes twinkling as he scanned this same water. Further along I can just make out low breakers sipping at the reef. Beyond that is the darkest blue of the sea. Then Africa.
The engine note picks up and we are lashed with salt spray. My mother is not yet a speck so we wave harder still. She seems to be mirroring the intensity of our waves. Her long silver hair glinting like chromium in the morning sun. There are now the most sublime aquamarines between she and us. Our eyes tear up but we later pass it off as salt and wind.
Travel is the thread that runs through all that is Imperial Black. A constant flurry of arrivals and departures has perhaps left us a bit numb. Some places do resonate deeper and you feel a pang as you say your goodbyes with the thought that you might not ever see these people, this place, again. Lots of goodbyes over the years but where has the long heartfelt one gone?
These days We get booted out of the car at the airport. Perhaps a quick kiss through the drivers window and then thrust into the maelstrom of security. Disoriented, we focus on the removal of necessary items, and the grotesqueness of the barefooted smudge dissipating on the metal detector foot pad One might briefly look back to see a significant other making a dash for the exit ahead of the taxi queue.
Trains sound romantic but rarely are (US trains not even given consideration here). Paul Theroux has these splendid train journeys which I never seem to experience. Then again his journeys tend to start on his own and end on his own. Mine usually begin with a run from the taxi, a quick scan of a foreign departure board whilst an ear splitting Teutonic klaxon reverberates the pigeon speckled space.
I suppose that leaving a loved ones house counts but only if they have a long drive. There is waving but all too soon children's ear phones are plugged in and you are scanning the radio for a better start to the journey....
My mother is now officially a speck that becomes a blur. She then fades into the blueness of the water. We wave for a bit longer just in case she can see us. Then arms are down and we simply watch the island fade away. A vaguely Sundayish depression settles over me as a thought nags I'll never see her again. The feeling is unshakeable for a half hour before it vanishes as we nudge our arrival at another islands dock. Someone else's departure and someone else's goodbye.
E.M.M.
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The chronicles gather all of the experiences and stories of travel that the Hejies wish to share about their destination. A chronicle is composed of photographs, videos, interviews, places, and questionnaires. All of these mediums are used to record an experience of a travel as well as possible, to share this and to possibly inspire you.
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