Meeting people in a bar is a tired cliche.
Go in. Lubricate courage with adult beverages. Say stuff you might not otherwise say. Toddle home.
When in Charleston, I keep to myself when I go out. Maybe it’s because I’m still stunted by my father, who talks to every person in a place whether they want it or not.
But I don’t want to be like the woman I saw once.
She ventures into the same restaurant every day. Perches on the same high chair at the bar overlooking the sea. Orders a bottle of wine. Downs the whole thing. She only exchanges words with the bartender.
On Saba, I try to be sociable. Especially now that I can enter a room without unshowered stench preceding me.
Anne knows everybody on Saba. She is approachable and warm, an exquisite conversationalist. When she wants to drag me to a bar, I’m happy to bask in her wake.
And because of her, I met everyone else in the featured photo. Allie (r) is on her way back to Georgia as you read this post. She spent almost a year on Saba but decided to return to Cobb County for another opportunity.
Casey and Jill, the couple on the left, run one of the dive shops. I’d only meet them in a bar, because I will NEVER strap on a tank and a claustrophobic mask to swim with ravenous sharks.
But I want to share more about Anita. She is the woman to my left.
Last week, she left her home and boyfriend in eastern Switzerland and flew to this speck of rock in a giant sea. Her purpose? To strap on a tank and claustrophobic mask to swim with ravenous sharks. Or as she would say, to go diving.
Saba weather has been unseasonably insane during my visit. Gale force winds. Billowing walls of rain. An ocean too choppy for fishermen, let alone dive charters. (I’m not complaining. It’s been exquisite writing weather.)
But Anita flew all this way, took a week of vacation, solely to explore the ocean in another part of the world. She will also be on a flight home while you read this post, having never set fin in the water.
I asked her tonight if she was sorry she made the trip.
She laughed and said, “Not at all. Everyone is so friendly. I’ve never bought my own drinks anywhere. The landscape is stunning, and I’ve caught up on my reading. Plus, I met all of you. Why should I be sorry?”
Modern life is an unrelenting assault of expectations.
Online reviews. Detailed websites. Travel guides. Question-and-answer forums. Google Earth. Social media groups. Plans and lists and notifications.
Last year, I started experiencing life with no expectations. I read books without studying reviews. Ate at restaurants because they fit my mood. Visited new cities and countries without looking up one detail or making a single plan. Allowed a few scattered days as blank slates for me to meander through and into.
We spend so much time consuming information about what others are doing/what they did/what they recommend. I don’t want anyone else to color my experiences before I have them.
Absolutely, this attitude makes travel easier.
2 Comments
A good bar is a blessing. In a good bar, you don’t need alcohol, a soda with lime is perfectly fine.
Nobody drinks that here. Ha.
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