A cool breeze blows in; darkness arrives.
This is 2018. This is the future.
Where we unpack our future gear.
And spin up our flux capacitors.
And do some hackin’.
Then we do some art.
Christmas cookies for Christmas time.
Flower’s favorite time!
Sigma’s favorite time!
And time to head to… Naples?
For safety, we try not to smile.
But it’s hard not to smile on a Saab twin-prop.
It’s Christmas in the Bahamas!
First, we rent a car.
Veryfine is very tempting…
But stouts win outs.
With an occasional Bahama Mama to wash them down.
And a stout to wash those down.
The town is crowded… hopping… full of life…?
Well, vultures are life.
We visit them in their dining room.
But they don’t seem to pleased with the company.
Shunned by the wildlife, we head underground.
And meet the underground cave fishes.
They bask in the limited light.
Down there is one of the world’s longest underwater caves.
We decide it’s best to avoid that.
And head back to safety.
Maybe there is some more wildlife above.
Or at least a tall tree?
There is wild coffee.
And another small cave.
There is hibiscus.
And a toilet.
There may be floods.
But there are definitely mangroves.
The vultures swings by to see if we have left yet.
But we have not. We are still in mangroves.
We find land-crab holes, but no land-crabs.
How big are these crabs, exactly?
Another, less camera shy, lizard appears.
And a humming bird poses for a shot.
Just before we reach our real destination.
A vast expanse of empty beach.
And the shimmering “welcome mat” of the Bahamas.
Isabelle steps on the welcome mat.
Somewhere out there is a coral reef.
But we’re headed back to land, with the red-winged blackbirds.
It followed us, warning of dangers hidden in the mangroves.
“Beware the dangers,” it squawked.
But the mangrove raccoon was not very dangerous.
Except to fishes.
Done with mangroves, we drive home.
Home is pretty nice.
The next day, Sigma greets us at the botanical gardens.
It is guarded by ducks.
The ducks also guard their prisoners.
Imprisoned for illegal immigration.
There’s a pond.
There’s a restroom.
There’s a heron.
There’s an imprisoned Rose-ringed Parakeet.
And a pair of free ones!
Isabelle’s mom is also imprisoned.
A lizard peers out from within a head.
A woodpecker peers out from within a tree.
A swarm of fishes peer out from within a pond.
Three small heads peer out from within a pond.
They are turtles.
After that, we head to the bitcoin shop.
And hang out on our patio.
And hang out on Isabelle’s family’s patio.
And take Christmas pictures.
Of Erik and Mikaela.
And then of a Christmas shark.
And then of three Christmas sharks.
The next day is Christmas day, and boat day.
I can’t take pictures under water, but we do go there.
Isabelle swims like a dolphin and masters the seas.
I, on the other hand, am attacked by a Parrotfish and nearly drown.
This sailboat drowns.
There are yellow-crowned night herons.
After the boat, we head back to our favorite beach.
We are joined by a few dozen lizards.
And a dozen sand pipers.
Isabelle finds the reef. I refuse.
I just stick to some light beach reading.
We save the planet on the way home.
Well, on the way to eggnog.
And on the way to a commercial beach.
I am talked into swimming to those far rocks for snorkling.
We see a stingray, a sea turtle, a tube fish, a parrotfish. It’s terrifying.
I need some white sweet potato stew to calm down.
And maybe some peanut and seaweed drink? No, bad idea.
We make a friend and name her Fishball.
She adopts our plant as her home.
And sometimes our chairs.
The neighbors illuminate the bay for late-night fish watching.
The bay has upside-down jelly fish.
And Sergeant-Major fish.
The apartment has lizards.
The closest bar rents “water bikes”.
Which are these amazing things.
But we do not rent them.
Isabelle eats an egg.
And splashes about in the sea.
And befriends a foot-less sand piper.
I make her true American cuisine.
And some for Fishball.
We celebrate New Year’s.
With baked lamb.
And green jellyfish.
Isabelle’s family moves out, and we let Fishball move in.
The year ends, the Bahamas ends, but the trip does not. We go for tacos.
The best place for tacos is the United States.
The best place for Robert and Sarah’s cat is New York City.
Jam wears a neck brace, and is sad.
We hang out in Manhattan.
We play some records.
We drink with friends.
We drive to Newark.
And we fly home, to 2019.