In the Caribbean, "You Okay, baby?" means, "Hello. How are you today?"
In the few fleeting moments before our departure for Colombia, I would like to jot down a few bright memories from Antigua. Hopefully, I can elaborate later.
1. When I heard some interesting music blasting from a bar in St. John's, I asked the bartender what it was. She walked me outside and said several things I didn't understand. Then we walked down an alley to a big gray building where she seemed to think I could find music. It was closed. She told me to come back tomorrow. I had to work the next few days, but I returned to St. John's to shop at the market this morning. I debated going back to the bar. It was apparent when I had gone the last time that they didn't see many white girls. They especially didn't see any white girls who wanted to buy the music they blasted out of 4 foot square speakers. I had to go back. She was there, and had made me a mix CD of her favorite songs. She didn't think I'd come back, but she understood when I told her I had to work. We're pretty much best friends now.
2. On the bus ride back, (sidenote: buses in Antigua are about as big as a large van, but fill with about 40 people and are sometimes driven by people who look like Ali G) I learned about street names. The bus had emptied as we neared the yacht club and the driver struck up a conversation. "What's your name?" "ASHLEY!" I shouted above the lawnmower-like engine. "What's yours?"
"Robert," he told me. Then he asked what my street name was. "What's that?" I asked.
"It's what they call you on the street."
I wasn't sure if this man thought I was a prostitute; a prostitute wearing a baggy long-sleeved UV-protectant shirt.
"I don't have one," I said. "What's yours?"
"Blood," he said.
"Do you make up your own street name, or does somebody give you one?" I asked.
"NO! You can't make up your own," he said.
"How did you get to be called Blood?"
"Once I was hit by a car. The other guy everyone called Blood wasn't around anymore, so they called me Blood."
When I was leaving the cab, I asked Blood to give me a street name.
"Ok, your name is Second Time. Because you've ridden the bus twice." The bus, like the bar, isn't used to people without street names.
3. Another quick note -- Running in Antigua was amazing: the hills, the flowers in yards, the expanses of space, beach and water. On my way back yesterday, tired from the hills and afternoon sun, I finally caught sight of masts poking up over the countryside. "Ahh, home," I thought.
