Sunday, March 22, 2015

Nirvana in Bahamas

After five days, a flat and motionless aura still hovers over The Bahamas. With hot, placid days like these, I'm reminded of summertime in The Hamptons when the sea is calm; the sky, clear; and the air, dry. Yet, even for Bahamaland, it's way too early for these particular summer-like conditions. Then again, perhaps my thumbs-down cranky attitude has to do with my own personal confinement.

Into my sixth and final week recuperating from neck surgery, with only days to go before freeing myself of a cumbersome neck brace, the restrictions finally get to me. I'm done. I've reached the end of my spectator days, ogling others as they swim and kayak in front of me. It all seems so deliberate. Don't they know I'm suffering with growing envy?

No longer able to contain myself, nor keep a blind eye to the outdoor privileges of others, I set out for Nirvana.

Located "out west," and hugging the famous turquoise shoreline, Nirvana is one of the many breathtaking beaches of Nassau.

When I reach the Nirvana archway, I can't help but notice a blossoming red wall of Bougainvillea.

After admiring the necklace of flowers, I drive down an unpaved road towards the beach. As I get out of the car, my ears recognize the catchy beat of legendary Bahamian music.  Collecting towels and other beach necessities, I sing along to "Naughty Johnny" by Eddie Minnis. Living in Bahamas for the past 14 years made it easy for island music to adopt me.

Even before feet hit the shell-less sand, the turquoise colored ocean fills my all-encompassing view. It's well past breathtaking, for sure.

On this particular wanting day when I so urgently need to quickly fall into the waiting sea, I walk in the opposite direction of where people gather. The possibility of meeting someone I know who wants to yak and yak will only deter me longer from meeting my Nirvana. Having packed food and beverage, I also have little need to visit the colorfully painted pavilion which houses indoor/outdoor eating areas, as well as two bars and elevated dining overlooking the coral-lined shore.

When I find the perfect resting spot, I release the Velcro on the back of my white neck brace. And, as if it might complain my neck isn't attached to it, I tie it to the back of the beach chair. At least it has something to hold onto.

When I turn and face the sea, I ready myself for the coolness of off-season, tropical water. Wait. Who am I kidding? I once swam this time of year in New York. That was cold water. Like the saying goes, "If you can do it there, you can do it anywhere!"

Another minute or two finds me underwater rejoicing over my temporary freedom. Wonders, of wonders, my neck doesn't cave in and my head still adheres to my shoulders.

With the myriad of gigantic noisy birds known to fly overhead -  names such as JetBlue, Virgin, American Eagle, and so on, as well as the many patches of jagged coral reefs that make it a bit challenging for freestyle swimming, some might say Nirvana isn't the ideal Bahamian beach.

After six weeks of confinement, Nirvana is just what the doctor ordered.


  1. Wouldn't mind planting my feet on that beach.. Great post.

  2. Didn't know we could use that beach! Sounds great. So glad your neck is getting better, Jeralyn.