The Crazy World of "Market"

Recently, I worked for an apparel showroom in the Atlanta and Dallas market centers.  I have worked with showrooms for years but always as a buyer.  Working on the other side of the table was an entirely different animal.   When I was packing to leave for Atlanta it occurred to me that this industry has its own culture and was worth writing about. 

For those of you who are not familiar with the apparel industry, let me give you some background information.  The apparel market centers are buildings of showrooms where stores can choose what goods will stock their stores for the next season.  “Market” takes place several times a year and lasts about 5 days each.  There are major markets in Dallas, Atlanta, New York, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas.  Smaller markets exist around the country as well.  When the market week is over the orders are tallied and sent to the manufacturers for production.  In 3-6 months the goods arrive to the stores.  The manufacturers pay the showrooms a commission once the goods are paid for by the stores.  Sounds simple, yes? Not on your life.

 

My first experience with market was when I was trying to stock my new bridal shop in the 90’s with wedding gowns, veils and all of the other things I didn’t even know I needed yet.   I showed up to the Dallas Apparel Mart (which since has been torn down and turned into a driving range) and offered my obligatory credentials to prove I was a legitimate store and not selling out of my garage.  After my paperwork was duly scrutinized, I walked into the main part of the building and felt completely dwarfed and overwhelmed by the seemingly endless choices of showrooms.  Where to begin?

Where to begin indeed.  Most people on the outside see the market center as a secret world of haute couture, where six foot tall models don for us the cutting edge of yet to be seen fashion.   In reality, it’s a (somewhat dirty) world of stores fighting for territory exclusivity, overworked and underpaid sales reps and certifiably insane designers. 

Typically, in a market building, each floor is a different industry.  Western wear on one floor, children’s apparel on one floor, bridal on another and so on.  I would take the elevator to the bridal floor and choose a showroom to peruse.    Entering a showroom for the first time usually gets you stares.  It sometimes felt like your store's worthiness is judged by how well you are dressed.  It often appeared like I had to sell myself to get a manufacturer to agree to sell to me, or sometimes even talk to me.  This always seemed so backwards.   Eventually I established well solidified relationships with my favorite manufacturers (after proper schmoozing) and I stayed loyal to those selected few. 

It’s customary for showrooms to offer wine or cocktails during market.  Of course, this is to get you to buy more.  And it usually works.  Four months later, I would open a box and think “What were they serving in that showroom?”

Several times a day there would be scheduled fashion shows featuring a particular designer.  You would be supplied with an order form and check mark the styles you wanted to purchase.  Bridal shops only stock samples so it is only necessary to purchase one piece of each style.  However, it is easy to spend thousands of dollars in one 30 minute show.  It would usually take me 2 days to get every dress for the bride, bridesmaids, flower girl, and mothers of the bride ordered for the following season.     

In the 90’s, credit card and NET 30 terms were not very common with bridal manufacturers.  COD was still the preferred method of payment.  But the C stood for Cash.  That’s right.  We would pay the UPS driver cash for all of our deliveries.  Wedding dresses are expensive!  Can you imagine counting out thousands of dollars from your register to a delivery driver every day?

In those days the Internet was in its infancy.   Now, bridal has become extremely competitive.  Online bridal shops can offer gowns at greatly reduced prices because of the low overhead. It’s not unheard of for a bride to use a store’s resources to try on gowns but then order it online cheaper.   I’m not sure how most brick and mortar stores are surviving. Of course, I could fill a book on some of my experiences with my bridal shop.  When I watch the TV show, “Say Yes to the Dress”, I can feel my blood pressure rising.  But that’s a blog for another time.

Fast forward several years…I have now sold my bridal shop and entered the world of high end children’s fashion.    When I opened my children’s store the Apparel Mart was still open.  If I remember correctly, Peaches N Cream was the very first line I ever wrote.  The children’s industry  was so different than bridal it was like starting all over again.   The biggest difference between kids and bridal is the amount of money you have to spend to stock your store.  In bridal you usually only purchase one piece of a style as a sample, hoping many customers will place orders for every style.  In children’s you usually order 6 pieces per style , hoping many customers buy every piece.   The other big difference is showrooms seem genuinely happy to see any buyer walk in the door.  I’ve never felt scrutinized.     

Flash forward another decade…The Apparel Mart has been torn down for quite some time and apparel showrooms have been moved to the World Trade Center across the street.  Parking is a challenge during market times but I love the building.  The layout makes much more sense than the last building.  I never did figure out the complicated hallway number system over there.   All of the children’s apparel is on the eighth floor at the WTC.  I am now a seasoned pro in the industry, on a first name basis with manufacturers and designers and have even sat on the Dallas Market Center Advisory Board. 

I have often described the environment during market similar to the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.  I would always make a valiant effort to come prepared with all of my reports in hand, Excel spreadsheets of past performance, etc.  But during peak times, purchase orders are flying from buyer to rep faster than shares of stock are exchanging during  Facebook’s IPO.  It makes referencing your neatly prepared reports difficult to say the least.   

Over the decades, many showrooms and manufacturers have come and gone but a surprising number of them are still going strong.  One such showroom is the Klein Group.  They celebrated their 30^th birthday this year.  Can you imagine what styles were like in their showroom in 1983??  The Klein Group represents dozens of manufacturers and has showrooms in Dallas and Atlanta.  Arguably, they are one of the busiest and most successful showrooms in the children’s industry.  I know they got most of my orders! 

Happy 30th Birthday to the Klein Group

After I sold my stores, I went to work for the Klein Group helping out during market times.  It sounded like fun and I would get to travel.   I’m not afraid of hard work and most would argue that I’m a workaholic.  But I’ve never worked as hard in my life as I did in those few weeks.  Most of the commission paid to showrooms is generated from orders placed at market.  I guess you could say their entire season’s salary depends on it how productive they are in those 5 days.   The days start early, end late, and you better wear your comfortable shoes.  Eating meals and going to the restroom are for the lucky ones.  But hey, it’s only 5 days, right?   I remember one particularly busy day at the Atlanta market when I had to sit on the floor in the corner to write a purchase order because it was so filled with buyers.  It’s fairly common to work with a store for 3-5 hours.  When your are finally through with them, as you are saying your goodbyes, your arms filled with signed copies of purchase orders, the showroom receptionist says, “Chris, can I introduce you to  your next appointment?”  And so it continues.

The days are made survivable by the camradery and support of the staff.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  Everyone is buzzing about trying to help stores and each other with smiles on their faces.  Just when you feel like you have too many balls in the air and you’re pushed to your breaking point you turn and find another employee at your side offering a hand.   They were more than comrades at that point, they were family.

The Atlanta Crew
I would ask where Ginka is but I'm sure she's taking care of business!!

Everyone loves Maureen!  She's the glue that keeps it all together!

 I was surprised how much I enjoyed working with other stores.  I’ve noticed over the years that buyers consider themselves competitors with each other and are not always keen on previewing lines at the same time.  I guess they are afraid they will give away their buying secrets.  I’ve actually seen stores get up and storm out or rip up orders in dramatic fashion when they see a competitor is buying the same line.  So I was concerned once a store found out who I was they would be resistant to working with me.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.   As soon as I told them I had owned children’s stores  the buyers’ impression of me would change from order taker to consultant and co-strategist.  “Would you have bought this for your store?  What color would you have bought this?  How did you do with this line?  How did you calculate your budget?”  So on and so on.  I had a great time helping buyers make choices that were right for their stores.  By the time the appointment was over we were hugging each other and exchanging emails.  I may even have committed to a few “store visits”.   I began to feel more like an advocate for the stores at that point.

There is lots of work to do between markets as well.  Processing and monitoring of orders fills a lot of the time and before you know it it’s time to prepare for the next market.  Market reps typically travel between major market dates.  Jackson, Mississippi and Florida are common territories.  This is exhausting and back breaking work for sure. The funniest thing I ever heard was when two of the Atlanta showroom reps told their story about  a recent trip to Florida to call on stores.    One of the girls is quite the fashionista and wore skinny jeans…in the 100% Florida humidity.  They had to park the large trailer quite a ways away from one of the stores they were visiting.   To get the goods to the store they schlepped rolling racks full of clothes back and forth, through an outdoor restaurant!  By the time this was done the rep decides she has to use the restroom.  Now imagine trying to peel off her skin tight jeans in Florida humidity after hours of exhausting work.  Now imagine trying to peel them back on.  Her legs were so sweaty she tried blotting them with toilet tissue.  All this accomplished was the tissue dissolving right on her skin.  She takes the stall door and starting swinging it wildly trying to fan her skin dry.  Remind you of a "Friends" episode?  The whole time her partner is wondering where the heck she is.  We all had tears in our eyes as we listened to the story. (I hope I don't get in big trouble for telling that story!)

I think the most important thing I learned during my experience at market is running a showroom is much more than simply taking orders.  It’s mostly about building relationships with stores and helping them strategize their buying.  The more that can be accomplished the more successful the stores, manufacturers and showrooms will be.  I was proud to represent The Klein Group as a member of their “family” during market.  Here’s to another 30 years!

Cheers! Marilyn Klein and Rae Moore

Arp, Texas

Ever been to East Texas?  Of course.  Ever been to Tyler? Sure.  Ever been to Arp? Um, huh?  This is what I was thinking when someone recently told me they lived in the town of Arp, Texas.   How could there be a place so close to the D/FW area  I’ve never even heard of.  I decided it needed further investigation.

Just minutes southeast of Tyler, you can find Arp off of Highways 64 and 135.  The town began as a stop on the Missouri Pacific Railroad in the mid 1800’s.  Originally named Jarvis Switch, the town changed its named to Strawberry Junction and finally renamed itself to Arp after a famous newspaper reporter.   

My excursion to Arp begins on a bright sunny day of mild Fall weather.  My daughter accompanies me and my plan is to meet up with my friend who lives there.  One of the first sights to greet me before I get into town is a rustic red barn facing the highway.  In the field was the obligatory longhorn resting in the grass and staring at me.  The scene was just begging to have its picture taken.  I pull  over on the side of the road to grab my camera.  There wasn’t much of a shoulder so I am pretty close to the traffic.  The next 18 wheeler that comes by practically takes me out.  To get the best picture it requires actually crossing the highway.  I look back to the car and see my daughter cover her eyes.  When I decide I have the right picture I run back to the car and try not to trip.

 

When I get to the Arp city limits I decide to get out and take another picture. Again, narrow shoulder. Again, aggressive 18 wheelers.  Again, my daughter yelling at me to not get killed.  I miss getting hit but the fire ants get me.  The drivers of some of those trucks I'm sure get a good laugh at me jumping up and down trying to knock the biting ants off of me.   I decide it's time to quit the extreme photogging and continue on our journey. 

I finally catch up with my friend, Laura, who would turn out to be our unofficial Arp tour guide for the day.  As an educator in the Arp ISD I can think of no one better suited.   The first place she wants to show me are the ruins of a college that closed over 100 years ago.  Just outside of town, we stop the car next to a wooded area.  She gets out of the car and begins telling us the history of the college.  Confused, I look around trying to find where the heck this college might be.  Then Laura starts walking into the thick woods saying, “If you didn’t know it, you would never know it”.  We follow her into the woods about 20 feet or so pushing the vines and branches out of our way.  And then, with my jaw dropped,  I am standing in front of the crumbled facade of the Summer Hill Select School.   I can't believe it. 

 Steps lead up to a brick wall mostly covered in graffiti and vines.  Apparently, this is the place of choice for teenagers to hang out away from the watching eyes of their parents.  We walk up the steps and through the entrance into the belly of what used to be the school's gymnasium.  The roof is nothing more than a steel frame with tree branches snaking through it.

 

We have to carefully climb through a window and scale down a wall to go further.  When we get to the dirt floor we look around stunned at what we see.  Partial stone walls surround us encasing the thick green growth of trees, vines, and ground cover. The ground is damp and every vine looks like a snake to me.  Curiosity and trepidation battle each other inside of me as I look around not sure where to go next. 

 

 

Our unofficial tour guide, Laura.

 

 I let Laura lead the way to the back side of the school.  Enormous rock walls stand in remarkably good shape.  It's hard to believe a school so well respected that it attracted students from all over the country now stands cloaked and camouflaged by the forest from the rest of the world. It truly is this community's best kept secret.

 

 

 

We head back to the car and I'm thinking it will be difficult to top this discovery.  But we venture on. 

Laura drives us around this sweet and peaceful town pointing out houses that have been homes to important citizens in their history.  Generations of the same families have lived in many of these homes.  She tells me that low property tax and close proximity to Tyler keep residents in Arp.   For a small town, there are quite a few churches.  At least 5 by my count.  However only one bank.  As a matter of fact, when Laura told me to meet her at the bank, I responded, "Which one?"  She laughed and said,  "There is only one." 

Old mailbox

 

 

 

 

 

There is not a traditional grocery store in town.  You can buy most staple food items at the Valero, otherwise you need to travel to the next large town to do your major shopping.  Below is a building that  if you look closely to the top you can see where it used to say Piggly Wiggly. 

 

 

There are two large cemeteries, The Mason and Ebenezer.  Both were founded in the 1800's.  As we respectfully walked around reading names and dates, we notice than a good number of people were alive before Texas was a state.  What history these people must have witnessed!  Many of the family names on the tombstones are still the names of  Arp residents today.  I even recognize one of the names from Laura's history lesson she gave us.

 

 

Our last significant point of interest is in a nearby town of Old London.  An awful tragedy happened there in 1937.  Fortunately, something very important and life saving was the result of it.  Below is the text from its historical marker:

 

On March 18, 1937 a massive explosion destroyed the New London Junior-Senior High School instantly killing an estimated 296 students and teachers.  The subsequent deaths of victims from injuries sustained that day brought the final death count to 311.  The explosion was blamed on the natural gas leak beneath the school building.  Within weeks of the disaster the Texas Legislature passed  a law requiring an odor to be added to natural gas which was previously odorless and therefore undetectable. 

 

Can you imagine the devastation to such a small town? They lost practically every teenager in the community.  I never knew this is why an odor was added to natural gas. 

 

(the current) New London High School

 

We end our day with a delicious meal at Bruno's Pizza in Tyler.   It was interesting to see how bustling Tyler seemed compared to Arp.  Living in Dallas, I consider Tyler the sleepy town. Funny how our perspective changes with the backdrop. 

 

My daughter and I drove back home facing the setting west sun.  As the sky grew dark I thought about how much I enjoyed my day.  I always say there is a story everywhere and Arp certainly has theirs. 

 

 

A big thank you to Laura Dacus for our tour and a lovely time. 



 

 

 

 

The Second Half of the Trip

Wednesday morning. Bright AND early we get ready to take the Fast Ferry to Eleuthera.  We are supposed to be at the dock by 7am for an 8am departure.  I have timed the entire morning down to the minute.  Of course, my family is not moving as fast as I want them to so I am barking orders at them like a drill sergeant. We check out of the hotel, grab a cab and we are at the dock in 8 minutes flat.  And it’s 6am.  WHAT???? I look at my bleary eyed family in disbelief.  Why is it 6am?  Their reply, “Didn’t you know the clock in the hotel room was fast?” Clearly, I did not.   I thought my watch was not working properly and had set it to the hotel room clock.  Now we have a 2 hour wait for our departure. 

The dock is pitch black and we share the space with giant cargo freight, even bigger forklifts and some locals who appear to be waiting for day labor opportunities.  No ferry employees have arrived yet so we just sit on our luggage and sleepily stare at each other.  I try to take pictures but my family is completely uncooperative and this early morning light isn’t any good anyway. 

We are very excited when our departure time arrives.  We board the Bo Hengy Ferry (old Bahamian for Brother Henry) along with several containers of freight that appear to be packaged food.  I’m not sure what we expected but this sleek and modern vessel was not it.  Our tickets are for the main cabin downstairs that has a great view of the ocean through its large windows.  But you can go upstairs to the top floor and enjoy an outdoor view as well.  There is a VERY REASONABLE PRICED breakfast bar on board where we load up on coffee and breakfast sandwiches and fruit.

The Bo Hengy

There are only a few other tourists on board.  Mostly it’s locals, possibly commuters.  The one way trip is 2.5 hours at a cost of $120 so hopefully that’s not a commute they have to do very often.  The breathtaking view of the calm turquoise water is back dropped by a perfectly clear blue sky.  Mike and the kids take naps but my eyes are glued to the horizon. Could this be the most peaceful place on Earth?

Our choice for arrival ports could be Spanish Wells or Harbour Island.  Freddie, our contact, has suggested we port at Spanish Wells and take a water taxi to the main island.  So as instructed, we get off at the island of Spanish Wells.  There are no signs instructing you what to do and nothing that says water taxi.  So we just follow some people we see getting on a small boat and cross our fingers.  We could be going to Eleuthera or we could be going to Cuba. 

Riding the water taxi.

The ten minute ride is relaxing and lovely as we look around at the amazing surroundings.  Shallow clear blue water is below us, bright blue sky is above us and easing going Bahamians sit next to us.  When we arrive at Eleuthera, or as the locals call it Family Island, Freddie, the caretaker of the property where we are staying is there to meet us.  He is a 70 year old local, born and raised in Eleuthera, with children ranging in age from infant to 49 years old.  He loads us up in his van and we start the long drive to the property.  Eleuthera is a long skinny island with the Atlantic on one side and the Caribbean on the other.  Down the center is The Queen’s Highway (named after Queen Victoria) that splits the island in half.  The road is narrow and winding and the jungle grows all the way up to the road making it difficult to see around turns or the oceans that are mere feet from you. It is blistering hot, but it is August.  Turns out, August is in the “off season”.  This really surprises me because in Europe it is the peak month for travel.  This intense heat could be the reason. 

Freddie suggests we stop at a grocery store he knows so we can load up on supplies.  We think this is a fabulous idea considering what we have spent at restaurants in the last 48 hours.  We pull up to a small warehouse style building with a gravel parking lot.  Inside is a small selection of a lot of things, mostly packaged items.  Remember this is an island and almost every single thing on it arrived by boat or plane. We hit the produce first.  We normally want our kids to eat as much fruit and vegetables as they want. But after the small $10 watermelon, the $7 blueberries, $7 strawberries and $8 apples we tried to steer them to the more moderately priced junk food.  $136 later we are back on the road to our final destination of Rainbow Bay.  At one point in the drive the highway becomes very narrow and only one car can pass at a time. The Atlantic and Caribbean are literally only feet away from each other.  It’s known as The Glass Window and it’s an awesome sight.   Because there are no reefs to break up the waves this spot can get hammered with roaring water from the Atlantic. Several years ago a storm pushed the bridge about 11 feet closer to the Caribbean side.  And that’s the way it was left. 

During the drive Freddie updates us on the island and explains some of the important information we need to know. He gives us directions to some of the more popular beaches. We remind him we need a rental car and he makes a phone call to arrange it.  He says it will be delivered to the house.

It’s not much longer now.  We make two quick turns and there we are.  It’s my friend’s house who has been kind enough to let us use it.  The property is known as Coral Reef.  No address.  Just Coral Reef.  A two story coral colored (what else) stucco house facing the Atlantic.  The grounds are full of palm trees and yucca plants while the patio is lined with sea shells, treasures from previous guests.  Inside are all of the creature comforts of home but with a rocking view of the beautiful Atlantic.  We can’t put our suits on fast enough!  The heat is really starting to take its toll on me and I’m hoping the cool water will fix me up.

Gotta love the Yucca plant.

 

Ella and I are ready first and are too impatient to wait for the boys.  We walk down the street a ways, to a small patch leading to Smuggler’s Beach.  This is a sandy beach with large rocks along the shore line, perfect for viewing maybe not so much for swimming. Ella and I play for an hour or so then we decide to go find the boys. 

Mike decides he wants to find Rainbow Beach that Freddie spoke of but our car hasn’t been delivered yet.  We call Freddie to follow up and our car arrives a short time later.   We stand there staring at what we shall call “an older model” vehicle.  I’m sure the salt air is hard on cars and being on an island does make accessibility to them difficult.  The entire transaction is not much more than a handshake and promise to pay on departure.

We jump in the car and take off to find Rainbow Beach.   It’s just across the street a ways on the Caribbean side.  If it wasn’t so hot we really could have walked.  We get out of the car and we cannot believe our eyes.  We are staring off the edge of a small cliff overlooking a turquoise bay with a white sandy beach.  There are 2 people floating on foam noodles in the water but other than that we are alone. The first few steps into the water are a little bit sharp but then it’s soft sand after that.  The temperature is perfect and we swim out to where we can barely touch. I float on my back and to my amazement it requires no effort.  The water must be more buoyant here because I can float endlessly without moving a muscle.  I could practically fall asleep doing it.  My friend calls this particular beach her “swimming pool” and that’s exactly how it feels.  The other couple leave and we have the beach entirely to ourselves.  It has taken a lot to get here but we are beyond happy that we have found it.  The kids play and we practically fall asleep in the cool, beautiful, and peaceful water.  We finally realize we are hungry so we reluctantly return to the house.

 

Rainbow Beach

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Once we are washed up we decide to try out Rainbow Inn, a restaurant close by that is on our list of recommendations.   When we pull up we are immediately impressed.  The landscaping is thick with palm trees, yuccas and hibiscus.  Just the sight of it lowers your heart rate.  The entertainment for the evening is an elderly local singing pop classics from his generation while he strums the guitar.  We are seated at a table with a perfect view of the ocean and setting sun.   It’s a small menu but all fresh selections of grouper, snapper, lobster and conch. We are starting to see a pattern.  The food actually takes quite some time to be served especially since there is only one other table of patrons in the entire place.   I attribute this to everything being made from scratch and by hand.  It turns out to be all worth the wait because it’s wonderful. 

Our view at dinner.

Thursday morning Mike and I are up before sunrise trying to check our email and take care of a few items of business.  The internet connection is extremely weak and only one of us can be on at the same time.  I’m not sure why this surprises us considering how remote we are.  It’s ironic that in order to relax we need to feel connected to the insanity of the outside world.  

 

The pier in the town of James Cistern.  My favorite photo.

Everyone eats their own idea of breakfast and we start the beach hopping all over again.  We have heard that there is a beach on an old Club Med property that is worth checking out.  It’s about 30 minutes south from Coral Reef just outside the town of Governor’s Harbour which turns out to be a worthwhile discovery in itself.  Adorable wood frame houses sit on the hill while 200 year old churches line the bay.   We want to take a longer look around but we want to find this beach even more!  It’s about another 15 minute drive. 

In 1999, Hurricane Floyd hit Eleuthera and all but wiped out the Club Med Resort.  What buildings remained after the water receded were abandoned.  We know we have reached our destination when we drive up to these old deserted buildings that appear to be swaying in the wind.  The rooftops sag, the white paint is mostly gone and there isn’t a perpendicular angle in sight.  Some of the shacks are completely engulfed by tall grass creating an eerie atmosphere.  We are not certain if these particular buildings were part of Club Med or a different resort.

 

 

 

Adjacent to the Club Med property is Tippy’s Bar.  Just beyond that begins an area of luxury homes on a winding beach front road. We park across the street from Tippy’s and walk down to the beach and gasp at the sight before us.  As far as we can see in any direction is pinkish white sand, turquoise clear blue water and not another soul in sight.  The entire beach is ours.  For the next several hours we enjoy this slice of heaven.  Every couple of hours or so someone will wander down to “our beach”.  It’s as if they know they are intruding and they simply pass through.   Every couple of hours or so I have to pinch myself to make sure I am not dreaming.  By 6pm we decide to make our way back so we can cook dinner.

 

 

 

Tippy's Bar

 

Friday morning we have a heated debate on which beach to go to.  Because we can’t agree we decide to find Navy Beach.  Supposedly, this is a beautiful beach at a deserted US Navy base.  We follow the directions we have been given but it’s difficult to find.  As we have discovered over and over, street signs are not a priority on this island.  The first unmarked drive we turn down has an old military style guard house.  Surely, this is it.  But now what?  When we pass the guard stand we are faced with a couple of choices.  All lead to narrow paths where the jungle engulfs your vehicle.  Surely this can’t be right.  We put the car in reverse, start over and choose a different path. This time we end up at a dead end.  So the only choice left is this large concrete area that ends at a cliff.  We can see the beach but the only way down is to scale it sideways.  As we look around we are surprised to see a herd of goats.  Apparently, locals use this property for dumping.  We have to carefully tip toe around broken glass, an old toilet and other items of junk.  We are completely alone except for the ghosts of military past. We carefully make it down to the beach still scratching our heads.  I think our friends have left some details out. Once again we find ourselves on an amazingly beautiful beach.  And once again we find ourselves completely alone. We play for a while but we are not enjoying ourselves like at Club Med.  Maybe it’s the abandoned military buildings that are being  reclaimed by the jungle.  Maybe it’s the unsettling alone feeling.  Maybe it’s the goats.  But it’s starting to feel more like an episode of Lost than a vacation.  We long for Club Med.

US Navy Base Guard Shack

 

I wish I would have gotten a better shot of the price of gas when this was abandoned.

Navy Beach

We jump back in the car and drive back to Governor’s Harbour.  It was like the Club Med Beach was saying “Welcome Home”.  We spend a few glorious hours floating, swimming and sunning until a storm comes through.  The lightening off in the distance scares my daughter so we decide to pack it in.  Just in time, too.  The moment we close the car door the sky opens up.  By the time we make it back to Rainbow Bay the rain is stopped and the sky is beautiful again.  The kids don’t want any more beach time so we drop them off at the house to let them pound away on their IPads and we spend the rest of the daylight hours at Rainbow Beach.  We share the beach with 4 others this time.  They are speaking Italian and it occurs to me how far they must have traveled to get here.  I wonder if they know about the gorgeous beaches in Croatia, practically a stone’s throw away from Italy.

  

When we get back to the house Mike and I evaluate our cash situation.   We didn’t realize most places wouldn’t take credit cards and I’m pretty certain there is no Wells Fargo on the island.  So we budget our cash for the rest of the trip.  We still have to pay $240 for the car rental on the day we leave (and he definitely doesn’t take credit cards).  That doesn’t leave much left for food.

Saturday morning Mike gets ready to go back home to Dallas.  Because of work obligations he leaves a day earlier than we do.  He is taking a charter plane from Governor’s Harbour Airport to Nassau.  You know the kind of airline that asks you how much you weigh.  This terrifies me but Mike is left  un-phased.  He has a layover in Miami this time which means he’ll be travelling for most of the day.  For many reasons it’s sad to say goodbye.  Besides the fact we will miss him I’m starting to get panicky that I have to manipulate this island by myself.  Have I mentioned that they drive on the left hand side of the road?  Didn’t mention that? Neither did my friend.  Thank goodness the island is fairly uninhabited or we would have taken out a few cars by this point.

After we drop him off at the airport we continue on to Harbour Island.  This is a popular tourist destination on the northeast side of the island.  Everyone says you can’t get lost on Eleuthera because it’s basically one highway dividing the island.  But when you get to a fork in the road and there are no signs, then what?  Stubbornly, I have turned off my data service on my phone to save money on international data.  So, no Google Map.  We finally have to stop for directions and we eventually make it to the northeast end of the island.  From there you take a water taxi to Harbour Island, $5/person/ each way.  As the harbor comes into view it is obvious why this is popular with the tourists.  The island is very hilly and everywhere you look is an adorable colorful wood frame house trimmed with white paint framed in lush natural landscaping.  

 

When you port there are dozens of golf cart rental companies waiting for you.  This is the preferred method of getting around on the island.   Surprisingly, it’s only $40 to rent the cart for the whole day.  My son is chomping at the bit to drive.  I at least want to get off the dock before I let that happen.  We putt around town with no real agenda, trying to avoid hitting roosters crossing the road every now and then.   It’s stifling hot but we are enjoying our sightseeing.  With no map we are constantly finding ourselves on dead end roads or private drives.  So we spend the day making a lot of u-turns and decide it’s time for lunch.  It’s too hot to scout out the perfect restaurant so we just pick the first seafood place we see by the dock (there’s dozens of them).  You order at the counter (don’t mind the rooster walking between your feet) and choose a seat on the patio overlooking the bay.  It’s beautiful (and did I mention hot??)  We order grilled fish and coleslaw, $15 each.  We patiently wait for our food to be served.  Well, not so patiently.  The sun is really beating down on us now and we forget that Bahamians have their own version of expedience.   Finally, our food arrives.  I must admit, it is definitely worth the wait.  Plump shrimp are sautéed in fresh lime and spices, served with coleslaw.  I am usually not a coleslaw fan but this Bahamian version is great.  We eat fast so we can get back on the golf cart and get some breeze going to evaporate our soaked bodies.   I do let my son drive and he does pretty well.  It gives me an opportunity to take pictures…until he drives off the side of the road and almost flips us.  No worries.  All is well.  I’m back behind the driver seat and I hand the camera to Ella.  It pains me to admit that some of the best pictures taken on that excursion were by her.  Guess who’s getting a camera for Christmas?

Typical Bahamian unmarked roads. 

 

 

We find a sign that points us to a beach.  When we find the spot it’s basically a dead end with a narrow sandy trail between overgrown trees.  We climb up to the top and we are just a couple of feet between 2 multimillion dollar homes.  I have no idea if we are supposed to be there or not.  As usual, not much is marked.  Ella and I are not interested in swimming at this point so we let Tony take a quick dip while we drive around the neighborhood a few more times.   When we come to get him he has a happy and content look on his face.  He had the beach to himself and enjoyed every minute.  The sun is getting low in the sky so we head back.  We have a long and complicated journey ahead of us.  So I drive back making right and left turns constantly to make sure we haven’t missed any sights.  As we approach the dock my son says the words no mother wants to hear, “Mom, don’t get mad”.  While he was kicking back on the golf cart he laid his sandals next to him on the seat and they apparently fell off during one of the turns.  He has no idea where and I’m not sure I can remember all of the turns I made.   But we were able to back track and find one, then the second of the abandoned flip flops. 

We turn the cart back in by parking it and walking away.  How would they ever know if we hadn’t?  No credit card was taken, no contract filled out, no name given.  This is typical here.  Crime is practically nonexistent and people don’t seem to be worried about much.  The same water taxi is docked and loading a few people up.  We hop on and make the 10 minute ride back to Eleuthera.  When we dock we must have arrived around the locals quitting time.  There are about 100 commuters, laborers I think, looking for a ride home.  I think it’s common practice on the island to offer rides to anyone you can.  You can call them hitch hikers but it’s more of a way of life.  No one seems worried about picking up someone dangerous.  After all, they all know each other. 

We drive off and after a few minutes I reach another unmarked fork in the road.  It dead ends at a trash dump so we turn around and take the other way.  I immediately know this is going in the wrong direction also.  Now I’m really frustrated.  I decide to go back to the dock and start over.  As soon as I get there I realize I had gone the wrong direction completely and several locals look at me with amusement I’m sure.  By now we are really exhausted from the heat and the long day.  We just want to get back to the house. 

Having been here for a few days I feel I’m really getting familiar with the roads, despite driving on the left hand side of the road and total lack of street signage.   The highway follows the coastline, of course.  I’m thinking to myself how turquoise blue the Atlantic is on my left hand side.  Wow, really, really turquoise.   I know something is wrong.  The Atlantic isn’t that turquoise blue, the Caribbean is.  The town we are in doesn’t look the least bit familiar.  I keep driving though, hoping something will jog my memory.  Alas, I can go no further.  I am at the end of the island.  There is nothing more but ocean in front of me.  What the heck?  I ask Ella to turn my phone’s data service on and pull up Google Maps and find out where the heck we are.  When we finally ping on the screen I can’t believe my eyes.  We are on the north side of the island (we should be going south) and that WAS the Caribbean on my left.   Apparently, I took the wrong side of another unmarked fork in the road.  Well, at least I got to see a side of the island I wouldn’t have otherwise. 

It’s getting late and there is no food left at the house.  Every restaurant I come to is closed for the season.  I need to mention that most restaurant signs are a piece of plywood with the restaurant name painted on by hand hammered to a utility pole.  We end up at a gas station to fill up our rental so we can turn it in the next day.  When I go inside to pay there is a small grocery store inside.  And they take credit cards!!!  I tell the kids to load up on anything they want.  When we get back to the house we dine on a lovely meal of Ramen Noodles, Ravioli, cookies and bananas. 

Tony and I take one last dip at Rainbow Beach.  After an hour or so I have to force myself to get out and go back home.  I don’t want to leave Ella alone for too long.  Goodbye beautiful beach.  Goodbye gorgeous sunset.  Goodbye sand dollars.  Goodbye clear, rubbery, snake looking things curled up on the ocean floor.

I had grand ideas of getting up early and making one last beach trip.  But there’s too much packing and cleaning to get done.  When we are all packed up we have about 2 hours to kill so we take one last trip to Governor’s Harbour to buy snacks (hopefully) and take pictures.   When we get there I notice the sign that states the town was settled in the 1600’s.  I’m not sure I’ve ever been to a town that old in the United States.  It was Sunday morning and everything was closed except for the churches.  As I stood on the bay taking my panoramic shots I could hear the choirs singing from at least 2 different churches. It was a profound moment.

 

Governor's Harbour

It’s time to check in at the Governor’s Harbour Airport and return the rental car.  The airport consists of 2 small buildings, the terminal and the liquor store/rental car place.  We turn the car in and pay the man in cash, $60/day.  No one comes out to check the car or that I filled up my obligatory ½ tank of gas or make sure I actually brought it back at all. I guess they figure what else could I do with the car except turn it in.  It’s an island after all. 

Three different airlines fly out of there.  There is no security, no x-ray machines, and everyone gets to keep their shoes on.  There is a sign prohibiting propane tanks and fireworks on board.  Well thank goodness for that.  We fly on Southern Charter Air because it was recommended to us.  One of the other airlines is names Pineapple Air.  I don’t know why I find that so funny.  When it’s our time to board I let the kids have the first 2 seats behind the pilot.  The co-pilot asks Tony if he would be in charge of opening the hatch in case of emergency and then showed him how. Later Tony said he didn't understand a word he said.  Lol.

 Eighteen minutes later we land in Nassau (with exactly $20 left to my name).  We have at least 2 hours before our connection to DFW so I’m thinking we can relax and get a bite to eat.  Well, thank goodness we got there that early.  US Immigrations takes over an hour to get through.  The Miss Teen Pageant USA was in town over the weekend and all of the contestants and their families share the line with us.  I’m staring at more makeup and sprayed hair than I’ve seen in several days.  Reality has slapped me hard.

When I board the plane I have a big lump in my throat.   I am sad to leave this little slice of heaven.  But I also feel fortunate to have found it and even more fortunate for the lessons it taught me.   Happiness is found in the places we are with the people we love.  What more do we need?