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July/August 2006 Features
Two Worlds-Luxury and poverty in paradise
by Susan Owens
For two months, I was one of the guests aboard a 55-foot luxury yacht, together with my husband, who served as first mate to Hal, the captain-owner of the Que Linda. Our voyage took us from Fort Lauderdale through the heart of the West Indies to Roatan, one of the Bay Islands off the coast of Honduras. I am very happy to report that we encountered no pirates!
What’s not to like about waking up every morning to see sparkling clear water in every shade of blue on the Sherwin Williams paint charts? Or tiny little Bahamian islands, some with only one palm tree, surrounded by soft, white-sand beaches? Picture cruising past Jamaica’s lush green mountains—dotted with small plantations—that descend down to the Caribbean Sea. Imagine drinking freshly squeezed tropical fruit juices and eating fresh conch and key lime pie for breakfast!
Each country or group of islands that we visited had its own appeal, and as the trip progressed, I noticed that my husband was taking pictures of the natural beauty surrounding us: water, waves, more water, more waves, sunsets, sunrises and boats. I found myself drawn to the architecture, and took pictures of houses and other buildings. I wondered about the lives of the people in the humble dwellings that we saw outside of the resorts and marinas and other tourist playgrounds.
The first group of islands we experienced included the Bahamas, the Exumas and Berry Islands, the most sparsely inhabited places we visited. Other than Nassau’s cruise ship harbor, the gargantuan Harborside Resort of Atlantis that offers many hedonistic pleasures, and the marinas catering to the sport fishermen, mostly small primitive settlements dot the islands. Some are fishing villages. One was home to the Morton’s Salt Production site, the employer of 95 percent of the population of Mathew Town in Greater Inagua, a third-world village on the edge of paradise. In striking contrast to the beauty of the environment, housing in the Bahamas offers few amenities; there is a lack of basic services for the people who live there. The houses’ cheerful paint colors—pastel pinks, sunny yellows, deep coral and every shade of blue—help to make up for what they lack in creature comforts.
In Jamaica, a country rich in natural resources, with abundant fresh fruit and vegetables and waters teaming with lobsters, conch and fish, poverty is rampant. Juxtaposed against the natural beauty of the tropical island and the exclusive enclaves catering to international tourists are squatter settlements and crowded slums. Shantytown villages line the rutted roads outside of the urban areas. Poverty is evident in the dilapidated lean-tos that are pieced together with sheets of rusting tin. The prevailing color in these forlorn villages is gray—no grass, just dirt worn down by poor people, dogs and goats milling around in the decaying environment. All of this is set against sweeping views of the sparkling Caribbean Sea and the beautiful Blue Mountains of Jamaica.
Most of the Caribbean countries lie in path of hurricanes. The Cayman Islands were still recovering from Hurricane Ivan, which is now a part of their history, just as the destruction wrought by Katrina is forever etched in our memories. Signs of recovery on these small beachy islands are the many homes and buildings sporting colorful new roofs.
The topography of Cayman is familiar to anyone who has been to Florida—and if you’ve been to Florida, you don’t need to go to the Cayman Islands! I can’t see the attraction, especially when Perdido Key, Destin and Fort Walton are so much closer to us in Louisiana and their sand and water just as beautiful. While I was there, I read in the local newspaper that the age-old island holiday tradition of homeowners hauling in a load of fresh white sand, raking it smooth and adorning their yards with conch shells had been put on hold. All of the available sand was being conserved to rebuild the beaches that were lost to Ivan.
Our final destination aboard the Que Linda was Barefoot Cay (pronounced “key”), a tiny tasteful resort on Roatan in the Bay Islands of Honduras. This stylish little resort and marina with luxury bungalows, a swimming pool and a covered deck meandering out into the bay and overlooking the Caribbean Sea is totally secure. Located just a few minutes away from an international airport with weekly direct flights from Houston—and soon New Orleans—Barefoot Cay is located between the primitive communities of French Harbour and Brick Bay. We toured the island the insider’s way: some of us in the back of the pick-up truck and others in the cab. Call Milesse and John Kennedy, the owners, and they will pick you up at the airport and transport you to the little piece of heaven that they call home.
The entire trip was a learning experience. One lesson had nothing to do with the places we visited. For two months, my husband and I lived in a luxury yacht stateroom that was just about the size of our walk-in closet at home, including all of the clothes. And the head (bathroom) was even smaller. As a result, I learned how small a space I can really live in. As long as it is beautiful.
