December
20, 2000
Coxen Hole
Wanderings
We
awoke this morning to find the weather torrential. Sometime
in the night the rain had started and by this morning it
was blowing sideways and the channel separating our key
and the dock had turned into a raging river. Morning dives
were canceled and two afternoon dives were planned for the
south side of the island which is supposedly sheltered from
the storm. After yesterday's experience I wasn't quite yet
ready to go back in the water in anything less than optimum
conditions. David was, as usual, raring to go, so he left
on the bus to go over to the dive sites.
At lunch we met up with three Australians whom we had met
on the boat yesterday. They invited me to join them for
a trip into "town", Coxen Hole. Because I was
the only one with any Spanish language skills I was nominated
to negotiate with the cabdriver. We took a taxi from the
main road in front of the resort and it cost us about a
dollar each. The cabdriver already had one passenger in
the front who moved to the back. Two of us squeezed into
the front seat and the other two squeezed into the back
with the woman. The car was tiny and the windshield was
cracked.
The first goal was to find internet access and the taxi
dropped us at the "Que Tal? Cafe" which supposedly
has good breakfast and lunch (we did not eat) and 2 computers
with internet access. Internet access is incredibly expensive
and slow here as the server is on the mainland and a long
distance phone call away. Six minutes to check hotmail (and
get disconnected before I could send anything) cost me 20L.
From there we walked through the town down to the water
where we could see a giant cruise ship docked in the harbor.
We went into the town's largest grocery store where we purchased
snacks and drinks to help offset the exorbitant rates of
the resort.
After the foray into the store, we continued walking along
the main street in the direction of what we thought to be
the main road back to the resort. Suddenly, we found ourselves
in the 'burbs of Coxen Hole and quickly running out of pavement.
The homes here are all up on stilts and painted vibrant
colors, much like one imagines of the Caribbean. Fortunately
we could see the airport close by and knew the road had
to be somewhere. With the local residents eying us with
interest we kept walking until we found the road. A
cab finally stopped and again I put my limited language
skills to use. He wanted 100 L ($6.60) to take us back to
the resort and we waved him on. Another cab drove up and
when I asked him how much, he too said 100L, but then again,
we could hear that he had just been on a CB radio with the
previous driver. I countered with 15 L each, he accepted,
and off we went; with another cracked windshield and blasting
American country music the entire way back.
Part
10:
Moka Pie?
