The Conadio (or the Donadio condo) always welcomes us in the traditional way of showcasing something that’s either not working or not right. In the past this has been — broken AC in 95 degree weather, lack of WiFi or electricity, hurricane checkpoints, and now swarms of midges flying around on the balcony. After fighting through the broken blinds to access the balcony itself, Nicole and I ran out with cans of Raid and sprayed with wild abandon until thousands of winged demons lay dead or dying on the tiled balcony floor.
With that sorted out, we could start to relax a bit. Everything else seemed to be working and most trees that were uprooted during our last visit were either cut down to stumps or replanted. As part of the condo fees or HOA or some other kind of membership thing, there were some meal credits that we could use at the clubhouse for food. We went around sunset to enjoy a nice meal with the company of a thousand mosquitoes. We didn’t necessarily sense their presence while we dined, but we would discover the aftermath some hours later. What’s with the bitey bugs lately? I can’t seem to shake them. I thought I had finally stopped itching a bit for ONE DAY and then this happens. Cursed bloodsuckers of the night, but also day!
The following day, we were informed that as part of the HOA, condo fees, or whatever, we could also do a round of golf on the local Isla del Sol course. Disregarding the fact that neither Nicole or I have ever actually golfed in our lives, we thought this was a grand idea. The price was right anyway. At 4:10pm we showed up in our mandated attire. I borrowed an oversized polo shirt, which I was required to tuck in. We both donned visors from time to time to complete the ensemble. We were given a score card along with cart and clubs and were sent on our way. I guess they let anybody on a golf course these days.
I am not sure if I felt like more of an imposter on St Barths amongst the absurdly rich or driving around on a golf course on Isla del Sol pretending like I belonged. Nicole did most of the actual golfing. I think for her first time ever, she did more than respectable. Many were par 5s and she got one in 4! That’s what they call “birdie,” I’ve been told. But I saw some birdies of my own (see photo below). I tried my hand at a couple holes, but after losing two balls, I let Nicole handle most of the actual golf. We didn’t play all the holes, but the ones we did, we played into the hole. A high percentage of the elder people we had observed earlier would hit onto the green and then just pick up their ball and call it good enough. I had to look this practice up. It’s a little known rule called “white privilege.” I kid, but also no. According to the internet, lots of people will get it close-ish to the hole, and then add a stroke to their score as if to imply they would have 100% made the next putt. Supposedly this is to speed up play, but we all know that’s bollocks. I’ve played enough mini-golf in my day to know that no putt is 100% no matter how close to the hole you are. So anyway, everyone else is cheating.
I enjoyed driving the cart around. I mean, it wasn’t my first time driving one. I drove one in Belize and another on Catalina one time — as they were the primary means of transport. I even stepped onto a golf course in the past when I had to run a cross-country meet on one in high school. A golf course is sometimes pretty, but does seem like an incredible waste of space especially in a city. Like if they got rid of golf courses in Los Angeles, everyone’s rent would probably drop by $1000 overnight. Anyway, it all seemed a bit silly to me — mostly the outfit. I was a bit uncomfortable in my oversized polo tucked into my shorts. Like why is there even a golf outfit? We finished our first round of golf just before a massive storm hit.
When it finally subsided a bit, we walked to the Delgado Memorial bridge that connects Isla del Sol to St Petersburg and Pass-a-grille beach. I had sources that indicated that they illuminate the underside of the bridge at night, which creates an almost cathedral-like effect. It did not disappoint. The following days were spent in or around Isla del Sol. We went to Pass-a-Grille beach across the bridge for a spell. We sat on the beach, which I should add is not nearly as nice as some others we have seen recently, but it is still a beach. Why, pray tell, is the water green? I don’t remember it being like this in the past. It must be part of its transition to becoming the Gulf of America. There are also countless reminders of the hurricane(s) that came through here last year. Many homes either have ongoing construction or in some cases demolitions. Even the Publix has been out of commission with an optimistic “Coming soon!” sign.
We continued to have our “free” meals at the clubhouse. We thought about playing some tennis on the Isla’s courts, but were informed that this too had a dress code not dissimilar from golf’s. I was flabbergasted. Forced to wear the least athletic and most uncomfortable attire to play tennis in 95 degree heat and humidity seemed really dumb. We canceled our reservation. Both of us are respectable tennis players, but evidently it’s more important to look the part than actually have any skill. Don’t they know who we are?
On our last day, we leisurely walked around the beach and Isla del Sol before packing everything up and heading back to Los Angeles for the first time in weeks. It will be my 9th flight and Nicole’s 11th in about two weeks. It will be good to get back to our beach after all these other beaches. Very tedious stuff. It will likely be some time before our next voyage as we now pivot into the holiday season. But for now, we are like this pelican — taking flight with our next destination unknown. Until next time.
passports & pepto bismol 