Romantic Saba

Again I woke to momentary confusion as my alarm sounded and I quickly realised, oh that's right, I slept at E's mansion and I somehow snagged her bed. Meanwhile... where was she??

I staggered out to the lounge room, a vague recollection that she'd promised me to take me home (and possibly to the marina) in time for my Saba ferry. And as much as it pained me (and her), I woke her up. "Hey........... I gotta go now........ you awake....???" I'm so mean.

And so it was we were half alive. Stopped off at my house to change clothes, grab my pre-prepared lunch and jump back in the car to the marina. Stopped at Cappuccino, the place that never closes, and got a coffee for E and a fresh juice for me. Oh, I sound healthy, but I just don't like coffee.

La was busy calling me when I was at the cafe, my phone in the car, and when I finally got back she was on her 3rd try, anxious that I wasn't coming anymore. Here I was thinking she wouldn't come! So we checked in and waited for the ferry. Had to present our passports even though it's another Netherlands territory (albeit a municipality), and my passport earnt another stamp. Keep 'em comin'!

On board, they told us we had a choice of drinks including beer so I thought, well why not keep a good thing going... and ordered a beer. So it was a little harder to finish than I thought, due to the pounding waves on the high speed ferry, and I did my best to finish it but just had to lie down and calm my head. Came so close to spewing but managed to hold myself together - wish I could say the same for La, poor girl was headfirst in a bag when I opened my eyes, trying to dab the surrounding area of any bits of vomit that sprayed out. Gross, but I do feel for her.

We landed at Saba, a formidable rock of an island with no beaches and actually an inactive volcano, although as I was to find out, incredibly sweet and romantic. A quick immigration check left another stamp on my passport and led us to a waiting taxi/minibus same as St Maarten, with a several-generations local that had a microphone set up so he could tell us about the island as we drove through.

It wasn't cheesy though, and quite a good idea, I was thankful at least he was driving us through as it was raining when we stepped off the boat and I for one had NOT anticipated wet weather gear when half-drunkenly packed my bag for the trip. It was insane, though, that the people in the taxi told me it was twice as rough getting to St Barths the day before. Are you friggin kidding?? Vomit town, population me.

The driver took us to all 4 villages of the island, as well as the airport which was basically an airstrip about 200m long, ending each side on a cliff edge. Yep, definitely one of the most dangerous airports in the world. Along with St Maarten (where I live) and St Barths (next door). At the end, near some walking trails, he dropped us off - "us" being La and I, plus a Swede and an American off the yachts in SXM staying for a few nights - quoting us the odd amount of $31. Hard to divide between 4, but we made it work. Sabans are weird.

We were meant to go hiking down to Windwardside, the most touristy village, but instead we thought to go down to The Bottom (literally the village at the bottom of the hill), so we could experience the beautiful, misty rainforest of the island without going too high and getting to muddy. I'm glad I bought my sneakers, though!

As it was, certain pains kept reminding me I was a woman, and the hike I guess turned out to be a good distraction. Then I thought food would work, so we found one of few places open on a Sunday in Saba, a cute little cafe, and ordered some lunch. Turned out to be quite sub-standard food but I ate it anyway, hungry all the same. Instead, I tried to focus on the quaint little cottages and romantic air of the island. In honesty, all I could think of was living here with A and somehow making a life for us, even just for a little while. Living amongst the trees, in a sweet little cottage...

Afterwards, we thought it best to stay downtown rather than try to climb the mega-steep hills back to Windwardside, and headed towards Well's Bay. We stopped a police car to ask for directions and upon hearing it was too far to get back by the ferry departure, we just opted for the pretty gazebo at the top of the hill. We sat and chatted for a short while, noting the lack of cars on The Road (it's so easy to walk in the middle of The Road - the name of the main road - here and forget there are cars as well), and then headed back to the ferry.

Halfway down the steep hill to the ferry a truck stopped to let us in, basically just stopping and waving us in before keeping on going. Mmm, what a lovely aroma of fish that afforded us. And yet another stain on my white top as I climbed down the big wheel. It was entertaining to see all the goats running around the island, too. I wonder if they know just how awesome their home is.

Back at Pelican Marina, I walked La to her bus stop and opted to walk home. Except that soon enuf one of the cabbies that often comes to Seaside to drop off tourists offered me a lift (had to beep a while to get my attention) and I was home before I knew it. Then it was off to Pineapple Pete's to get the internet. And stop by the tattoo artist I met the other day. Is it worth doing something? Do I have time? Moreso, do I have the money? These questions plagued me.

So I had a non-alcoholic cocktail (after the havoc that boat ride played me today), spoke to A who is getting increasingly excited about my arrival, and headed home. No St Barths tomorrow, unfortunately, as I had been called in to replace a sick workmate and now if I wanna go to the ultra-expensive island I do it solo. Great!!

The buffet from hell

So it seems that buffet was the cheapest option for a reason. Although, technically, I did get to taste it twice so that could be perceived as good value for money.

I felt nothing on the bus ride back to Montevideo, but as I chilled at R's pad - bless him for staying awake to let me in - the uneasiness in my stomach grew and grew. I made cup after cup of special herb tea with the dried marcella I bought back from Cabo Polonio, but nothing seemed to help. The discomfort continued to swell and so I stayed up, organising things on the internet.

Eventually, about 3:30am I took myself to bed...only to be woken a few hours later covered in a cold sweat, shivering my ass off in the bed that had been so warm and comfortable last time I stayed there. I had the overwhelming urge to vomit but I kept myself lying down, clutching my stomach and willing the urge to pass. It didn't.

What a hideous night/morning. That fucking buffet.

It took all my strength the next day to get up and organise my things to go back to Buenos Aires. I had to keep lying back down, drinking water, dashing to the bathroom for false alarms... que horible!! But somehow I got myself to a semi-normal state again and to the bus terminal, only to have to wait for almost 3 hours on the fucking plastic chairs for my bus to leave. Grr... internet times WRONG! Cunts.

But I got back to Buenos Aires... finally. A nice old Uruguian man befriended me on the bus ride to Colonia and then bought me coffee (hideous, I pretended to drink it and threw it out when he turned his back - what part of NO ME GUSTA CAFE did he not understand) and sweet croissants (those I ate), and sat next to me on the ferry ride across to BA. Gave me all his details and asked for my number, which was a bit weird, but I told him I didn't have one. No way I am getting into THAT kind of situation. Could hardly understand him anyway.

Got back to BA about 10 in the evening and proceeded to walk - WALK - with my horrendously heavy backpack "just 3 more blocks, just 3 more blocks" as everyone I asked kept telling me. Well, it WASN'T 3 more blocks. It was about 20. But by the time I realised this, I had walked the entire way and was back at my hostel. Once inside, I was told "the best price I can give you is 50 pesos per night". I'm sorry... price?? I don't DO price. Hmm, how about if I work the pizza party again on Thursday?? Ahh, the things I have to do to survive in this crazy world.