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Post #26: The Moonraker

If you fly to the Caribbean, and you taxi to the southern coast of Barbados, to a clutch of jungle and tall grass called Green Garden Bay, which rests its ass on the beaches of the Silver Sands, nestled along the shore where kites fly in the morning and sentences run on for days, you will find the Moonraker Beach Hotel.

Well, I say hotel, but is that what the Moonraker is, really? Imagine a two-story motel you can't drive up to, painted in bright Caribbean primary colors, and all the doors open to the world. This is a spot for surfers and kite-surfers and foilers to enjoy a spare living space between bouts of fighting the wind and sea. Formerly, it was a hotel, that is true. But to save on a cleaning staff and a receptionist, the owner of the property decided to make these rooms into "apartments." He did what he could with what was left after selling anything that could fetch value. A propane tank to power the stove. Mattresses with sheets for you to sleep and square tiled rooms for you to shower. Left-over furniture from the hotel's glory days of the early 90s fill the rooms. Who would need a television in a spot such as this? It's beach all day, rum shack and live music all night - you here to shit, shower, and sleep, brudda. 

The property is managed by a Londoner named Steve. He resides on site with his girlfriend. The property itself is spectacular. There is a nice expanse of lawn in front of all of the rooms, and the rooms are painted with vibrant greens and pinks and yellows. Palm trees dot the lawn, and shade the pool, and line the path to the rum shack known as Surfers Bay Beach Bar that sits on the edge of the property, looking out at the water.  The bar is shuttered now - so much of the island is. Roo and I arrive as a lockdown has just begun. Grocery stores are closed on weekends. A curfew is in place from 7pm to 6am. All other business are shut, including banks. 

Covid kills money, too.

As I pull up to the Moonraker's gate, nearly nauseous from the drive, and the stress, and the lack of food and sleep, I see Roo panting happily in the back of a truck. My transport came through! Roo looks unharmed. He is overjoyed to see me, and bounds out of the truck and into my legs. We make our way through the gate and to our suite for the week. This is where we are to quarantine. I am being tracked with a bracelet, which is tied to an app on my phone. I am to stay here for 5 days before taking my second Covid test. If the results of that second test are negative, then I am free to leave quarantine and begin my year on the island.

But until then...
The Moonraker it is.

I unpack my bags and "put things away," because I am mimicking any habit that will make me feel comfortable. I strip out of sweaty clothes. I play music through a portable speaker and I shave my head and I step into the square, tiled room and let water splash over me and I dry myself off and I put on clean clothes and I step out on to the patio and I extend my arms into the sunshine and for the first time in thirty hours, I exhale.

Hard part's over.
We've arrived.

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