Turtle Walk
After my last two articles, my husband Coby reminded me that I can tell happy stories. So here is one of those. And it comes with Sea Turtles!
My smoke-show husband and I have been married for just over 10 years. Marriage is all the things that people say it is, but if you refuse to compromise and die on every hill in every argument, you’ll eventually break their spirit and marriage becomes much easier. Just ask Coby.
My wonderful life-partner does my editing for these articles and after back-to-back snarkiness and what could be described by some as negativity (albeit the fun kind), he gently reminded me that we have fun stories to tell that are just pure sunshine.
One day after our wedding, we took off on our honeymoon, flying economy and spending the next 33 hours either in a plane or an airport. Days later, drunk on jetlag, we landed in the Seychelles, a small island nation just off the coast of Arica in the Indian Ocean. Apparently Coby and I wanted to get as far as way from North American as possible without coming back around the other side of the globe. In economy. God help us.
This was when I was still pretending to be humble and easy-going. Coby and I did things like coupon clipping and shopping around the best deal. We also loved to take public transit when traveling. And all jokes aside, I still like to do this. There is no quicker way to get to know a foreign place than taking its public transportation. Highly recommend.
After settling in at our hotel, we found out that the closest grocery store was a few miles down the road, near Beau Vallon Beach. We turned down the concierge’s offer to call us a car, got some change and waited for No. 17 bus to come bustling by. If I remember correctly, they would have charged us around $20 for the car, but the bus was about $0.20 USD. Lindsey today sitting in this chair and typing this article would pay the 10x surcharge. Lindsey newly married and still in her youthful 20’s, hopped her happy ass onto the bus. It was forest green with gray trim and was probably manufactured in the 1950’s. The driver looked truly confused when we got on board, as if two tourists had never done such a thing.
The bus was slow but we weren’t going far. All we needed was some vodka, pineapple juice and beer. Drinks at the hotel were much too expensive. Why order a $18 pina colada when you could get cheap vodka at the market and get drunk in the comfort of your honeymoon suite?!
After getting provisions, we made our way back out to the bus stop and sat down on the bench which was so close to the road, it felt like our knees would be side-swiped at any moment. We’d been there just a few minutes when a cute little blue car pulled up. The car had a decal on it that I couldn’t quite read it, but it matched the quilted insignia on the driver’s blue polo shirt. Very official. She rolled down the window and stuck her head out. She had black curls held back with sunglasses and a warm smile.
“Hi! Where are you headed?”
“Hi! We’re on our way back to Hilton Northolme,” I responded.
“I’m driving right by there if you want a ride,” Vanessa responded.
We didn’t hesitate. As we jumped in the car, she told us her name was Vanessa. Nothing about Vanessa said “stranger danger.” Plus, I had Coby. Nobody would hurt Coby. He’s much too cute. Coby got in the front seat and I sat in the back with the booze.
“I’m Lindsey and this is Coby.”
“Nice to meet you! Where are you from? Just here visiting I take it,” she asked.
“Yes! On our honeymoon. We’re from Washington State, in America,” Coby responded.
“We don’t get very many American visitors with it being so far away! How long did it take you to get here?”
We chatted like this back and forth the rest of the ride. Vanessa gave us the name of a knowledgeable driver who ended up giving us a tour of the main island, Mahe, and explained that she worked for the Marine Conservation Society Seychelles (MCSS), in their turtle division.
“What are you guys doing on Wednesday?” she asked as we pulled into the hotel circle drive.
“Nothing, we’re wide open,” Coby answered.
“Well if you’d like, you could come with me on my weekly turtle walk.”
“We’d love to! What’s a turtle walk?”
“I’ll explain when I pick you up. 9AM this coming Wednesday.”
That Wednesday was one of the best and most unique days of my entire life. Vanessa picked us up as promised and handed us each a clip board. We were now officially volunteers for MCSS and would be helping her check on known turtle nesting and mating sites, reporting whether there was any “turtle sign”.
Being handed a clipboard, Coby immediately launched into a comedy routine. He put on his best Ace Ventura face and spent the rest of the day with the clipboard clutched to his chest, as if keeping his results secret, and pretending to mark up the papers attached thereto. Saying things like “ahhhh” before fake scribbling, and “oooohhhhh” before licking the end of the pen, and looking inquisitively at what he was definitely not writing. It was hilarious and quickly ingratiated Vanessa to us both. Which happens a lot. People easily fall in love with Coby and I am assumed to be great because he chose to live with me. I’ve been riding Coby’s coattails since 2011.
We ate tiny bananas at a roadside garden/market and had lunch in the service area of a hotel that was so exclusive it basically didn’t exist on the map. The hotel had a contract with MCSS and fed the three us while we met and chatted with hotel staff. It felt special and exclusive, like we got to see a side of the Seychelles that no one else got to see.
We also got to see the side of a woman’s butt cheek as she and her male companion had sex on a public beach. Vanessa yelled at them. Very scandalous.
But by far, and Coby and I agree on this, the highlight of the entire day was getting to go to a private beach, owned by the Saudis who had been buying a lot of Seychellean real estate. A major worry to the local and native populations. And technically, beaches are supposed to be public by law. But money talks. We parked the little blue car in a dirt lot surrounded by banana leaves. It was a banana field really. They were planted in neat little rows.
Vanessa led us down a narrow path and onto the cutest little beach we’d ever seen. There was basically no surf and little waves lapped at the little beach. And there, we got to record turtle sign. Vanessa pointed out a nest and a few markings in the sand. It looked like we’d just missed mamma turtle as she was undoubtedly preparing for an impending birth.
Throughout the day, we got to see over a dozen beaches, most of them off the beaten path. These weren’t tourist beaches. They weren’t on the list of “what to see on Mahe” and some were visited only by the mysterious Saudi owners and members of MCSS. And us. Just two hapless American tourists.
Maybe it’s a good reminder that if you never step outside the black, hotel-provided town car, if you never decide to take the bus, you might miss out on the spontaneity of life. The unexpected turtle walk wouldn’t have happened had we been typical tourists, afraid to share a seat with the locals.
The cookie cutter trip isn’t for me. But neither is the cookie cutter life, so I guess that tracks. I don’t want to check off a TripAdvisor list of activities, and I rage against the fact that I’m supposed to work until I’m in my 60’s, save all my money, and then retire to somewhere sunny before dying with my life savings collecting dust in some financial advisor’s portfolio. There just has to be another way to go about this. There has to be a bus I can take to a life not tethered to capitalistic expectations of behavior (I’m picturing the bus in Harry Potter). I just need to find the bus and get on board (“Take it away, Ern!”).
Remember, stay difficult and always question authority.
Yes, definitely fun, original, and snarky. Butt cheek with beach and turtles. At the end, great message…take the bus!
I liked your husband’s advice, but also admit to liking the snarky stuff. My favorite line from this is: ‘This was when I was still pretending to be humble and easy-going.’