Finally, adventure day was here!  Never mind that the movie crew had worked until 6:30 am that morning...Jason was only to be in town for two more days, so we were going to take full advantage of the weekend!

First stop, Paradise Cove, the best snorkeling spot on the west side of Grand Bahama Island!  The proprietor not only gave us a full briefing on where to swim around the reef and what coral to look for, but he helped me make a lizard catcher, and even helped me catch a new friend!  The most exciting moment out in the reef was looking down to see a 14 foot spotted eagle ray gliding beneath us through the glimmering depths (photos to follow when the underwater camera film gets developed!)  

After snorkeling we were off  to the other side of the island.  Lucayan National Park was our destination, where there was rumored to be caves that were partially underwater and splendid beaches.  We found the park, the caves, the beaches, and a absolutely fantastic mangrove swamp crawling (literally!) with tiny lizards and crabs off all shapes and sizes!  We followed the paths until the sun began it's final retreat, never coming across another soul!  The whole grand adventure we had all to ourselves!  Finally the carnivorous insects chased us out of the park as they came out of hiding.  We drove back to Port Lucaya a little sunburned, soaked in sweat, rather bitten up, and completely contented!

Up Up and Away...

The only thing better than floating above a tropical island, is enjoying the view with the love of your life sitting by your side.  The hardest thing about our tandem parasail flight was the acute regret I felt at not bringing the camera up!  But the most entertaining moment for spectators was my less-than-graceful landing...turns out I wasn't ready to use my land-legs again just yet!

How the Other Half Lives...

The first Sunday we had off, Rockets and I decided to go galavanting.  We drove west, hoping to see what the island was like beyond the cheery tourist traps of Port Lucaya (where our hotel is located) and the sleepy township of Smith's Point where we are doing most of our filming.  We found a part of Grand Bahama island still trying to recover from the hurricanes that devastated the area a few years ago--hurricanes that rained down waste on communities already ravaged by extreme poverty.  Many of these houses were under 6 feet of water when the hurricane hit.  Some people rebuilt while some tried to carry on best they could with what was left, and some people just left it behind and sought out the continuation of life elsewhere.  The ride back home (to our hotel with daily maid service and the high end jewelry shops located just beyond our doors) was passed with thoughts of gratitude for the relative luxury of life as we know it.  I remember being a small child of 7 or 8 and complaining about not having some new toy or another.  Rather than lecture me about appreciating what we had and realizing how blessed we actually were, my dad just drove me through the shanty part of town.  Even at that age, the object lesson was not lost on me.  Driving out to the west end  of Grand Bahama Island, I found myself among the tenement streets of Georgia once again, and I thanked God for my own set of worries and challenges that all of a sudden seemed so trivial.

Water Mages

The first day we filmed at the dolphin pens was nothing short of magical.  After all the Dolphin Encounter sessions are finished for the day, the dolphins at UNEXSO (where we are filming) are all put together into a large main pen in the center of the facility.  We were filming a scene in one of the small bordering pens, and the crew was staged on the narrow docks that separate the small pens from the main large one.  While filming at UNEXSO we are under strict guidelines in regards to interaction with the dolphins.  They are off limits (no touching, calling, etc.) when not in the presence of a trainer.  We are actually supposed to ignore them altogether.  Apparently the dolphins had other ideas.  For the entire afternoon they would swim over to our group, popping up their heads to look at the strange scraggle of film gypsies, chattering and whistling and casting their spell over every single one of us.  

The Return of Lizard Girl

It was probably a strange site.  Even a little confusing, perhaps.  The tall blond woman in black glittered flip-flops, pink lip gloss, and a black crocheted beanie, walking slowly and deliberately around the hotel grounds, eyes cast downward, holding a small open ziplock baggie.  Most of them evaded her, the quick and clever lizards with tails that curled up smartly at the end.  They were very fast and very smart, having learned at some point in their lizard-life that bushes and foliage represent safety and the perpetuation of their freedom.  But there was one very very small one that wasn't quite fast enough, and now he is a pet.  Quite possibly the smallest lizard in the world, his name is Buckwheat (pet-sibling now to Spanky the Dog and and Alfalfa the Snake.)  He is really great, and although he is easily lost due to his diminutive size, he is making a fine roommate.

Day of the Dolphin

Some Dreams are a long time in coming.  This one was approximately 34 years.  My first memory in life is a startlingly clear recollection of feeding a dolphin at the petting pool in Marineland.  I informed my mom that "he liked me" since he was smiling at me, and thus began a life-long love affair with dolphins-a deep fascination that would persist in my mind and heart independent of the ebb and flow of other interests and obsessions.  The dream was to work with these elegant, soulful creatures, to swim with them and study them and become a part of their world.  They have always been a part of mine.  

Yesterday I touched my dream.  I swam with a dolphin.  It's difficult to describe an experience that transcends the meaning of every word you know.  I had the remarkable fortune of a thunderstorm rolling by just in time to ward off all the hopeful participants of the swim (they would all reschedule for the next day) except myself and another member of the crew.  A 15 minute ferry ride in the rain was trade for having a sleek, graceful, beautiful bottlenosed dolphin all to ourselves.

The odd thing is how very natural it all felt.  Swimming and diving next to this 400 pound creature was not at all frightening or intimidating.  Time seemed to stop when Taino (my new friend) and I would spontaneously dive under the water together, and she always timed her ascent so that she broke the surface of the water just as I did.  Like synchronized swimmers, swimming the pas de deux of the dolphin and the dreamer.  Even when we accidentally crashed into each other underwater, I was entirely as ease.  Her delightful chatter and banter echoed through the water like a staccato symphony.  Every thought, worry, and concern about anything and everything dropped away from me, and I felt completely bathed in a glowing sort of peace as I swam through the warms waters of the Caribbean with the most wondrous and splendid of beings.

The only word that comes close to describing my time with Taino is Sublime.  It's not at all sufficient, but it will have to do.  I wouldn't necessarily say that swimming with Taino has suddenly made me a different person, but it has certainly made me feel differently.  Having such a deep and dear dream realized is no small thing, and my gratitude for this experience is profound.  It was magnificent.  And it was worth the wait.

The Great Conch Caper Continues...

Stewed conch, conch fritters, grilled conch, conch soup, conch salad....there are many ways to prepare and eat conch, and Rocketts and I are on a mission to try every single one of them.  We are addicted to conch fritters, and the conch salad from Daddy Brown's Conch Stand is beyond divine!  Fresh is almost an understatement of absurd proportions; they take conch shells harvested from the sea floor just that morning, and only after you've placed your order for a conch salad do they extract the white meat from the shell by banging on it and pulling it out with their hands.  Leon-our chonchmaster that day-then took the entire piece of conch meat, diced it up, and mixed it with chopped onion, green pepper, tomato, fresh orange and lime juice, and a little bit of the secret hot "spice."  The result: a ceviche-style salad that makes you wonder how you ever survived without it!  We also have crack'd conch (deep fried conch) under our belts--served along side shark strips, a surprisingly DELICIOUS dish that tastes, oddly enough, a little like chicken.  And to round out the count, today I had a cozy conch stew.  They say that people come to the Bahamas just to eat the conch.  At this point, I would have to count myself a believer!  I wonder if the Daddy Brown's is still open...

Another Hard Day at the Office...

On Friday we still had not received our shipment of supplies from the States, so we couldn't "move into" the house that is serving in-lieu of a hair and makeup trailer.  We had a 7:30 am meeting (it was already 85 degrees!) with the director and producer to discuss specific looks for the various characters and other matters pertaining to the script, and then Rocketts and I did what any hardworking, over-achieving, self-respecting, dedicated hair and makeup department would do; we hit the beach!  I don't think I have ever walked on softer sand, or waded in warmer waters.  and I know for certain I've never seen that particular shade of azure blue anywhere else on the planet!  As relaxing as it was (I had very nearly forgotten what that word meant!),  our departmental meeting at the edge of the waves was actually legitimate; there was a new version of the script that must be read and broken down (photographic proof included!), and filming logistics to be discussed.  It's hard to say whether we were working hard or hardly working, but two hours and two wicked sunburns later (Rockett's stomach is now purple, and my legs are an awkward shade of crimson) we finished the script and felt mentally prepared for the work ahead of us.  It's hard work, but I guess someone's got to do it!

The Sweet Sound of Freedom

This Thursday was the 35th anniversary of Bahamian Independence, and the festivities spilled over into the weekend.  From the door of my hotel room I had perfect view of the glorious fireworks commemorating that day so precious to this people I am now living among.   I was only partial surprised by the tears that filled my eyes as my heart swelled with each new volley of light, color,  and sound.  Not even a week prior I stood in my own backyard, in my own country, watching a mirror image of these fireworks explode into the sky over my own corner of our Land of the Free.  Now, a stranger in this island country, I found myself not completely a mere spectator of this joyous and sacred celebration.  When the sound of Freedom rings, it rings into every heart.  When a flag flies under free skies, all of humanity is blessed for it.  Congratulations, my Bahamian brothers and sisters, on 35 years of blessed Freedom.  May your flag always fly free and proud.

Nice Work if You Can Get It...

After about 12 hours of getting on planes, getting off planes, getting on and off other planes, sleeping on planes, not sleeping at all on planes, sleeping (and not sleeping!) in various airports, we finally arrived.  The beautiful Grand Bahama Island was waiting on the other side of brightly painted customs and immigration counters.

With passports stamped and three suitcases full of makeup to negotiate (another 6 crates of makeup, hair supplies, and periphery had been shipped the day before from my home in Salt Lake City) we set off to find our driver who would take us to our rooms at the Port Lucaya Resort. Vacation?  Trust that there is a sheepish grin as I admit this is work (pause for a collective eye-roll, I know.)  A three week shoot for an independent film called "Way of the Dolphin," shot on location here in the wild and gorgeous Bahamas.

I try to not think too much of coming days when we will film at the dolphin research center...my heart runs the real danger of actually exploding into a million little fragments of joy in anticipation.  Who knew that my life-long dreams of working with dolphins (remember the day it all started, Mom--feeding that dolphin at Marineland thirtyfour-ish years ago?) would be realized in such an unexpectedly wonderful way.  And rumor is, they are actually paying us to do this job...

Not the girls to miss out on highlights of local culture and tradition, Rockets (no-not her real name, yes-everyone calls her that) and I out tonight for the weekly Fish Fry over at Smith's Point.  This happens every Wednesday night and is known the world over for the great food (featuring Conch-the meat of conch shells-cooked in a myriad of different ways), lively music, and relaxing atmosphere.

A short cab ride from our hotel with a jolly local drier named Ruben Nathaniel Grant ("I love all people, whether I know them or not, because God tells me I should," he says as we drive) and there we were at the famous Fish Fry.  And yes, we did eat conch.  Conch fritters and grilled conch (which ended up being more like a conch stew), alongside some fried plantains and the best potato salad I've had in a while.  I'm glad my mama taught me to try new things even if they look terrifying, because although the grilled conch looked sorta wrong, it was really really quite yummy.

Tomorrow I'm gonna find myself a conch salad for lunch.