Week 96: A Secret
This is a secret post. On the surface it looks like it is saying one thing, but really it is saying something else completely. You will read this and think you know what it says, because when we understand the words, we think we understand the meaning, either that or the words make no sense. But these words make sense in that they are put together in a way that is grammatically correct and designed to convey a meaning. But that is not their true meaning, their true meaning is secret, because it is written in a secret language, a secret language that not only can't be written, but can’t even be spoken. Because the consequences would be truly terrible. That’s why it’s a secret.
So I can’t tell you what this post says, but what I can do is point you towards the code. Because like every secret language, this one also has a code. And if you want to know what is being said here, you will need the code.
I will tell you how to find the code, not because I want you to go find it or because I think that you will. I will tell you just so you know that there is indeed a code, and so that maybe one day, maybe years from now, maybe you will find yourself at the right time, and the right place, and then maybe you’ll be able to know what this post is about. Unless you already do.
So here’s where the code is: The code is under the sand in front of Foxy’s Tamarind Bar on Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Isles.
On New Year’s Day, on Great Harbour Bay, Foxy himself sits in front of his bar and plays a few songs on his Spanish guitar. Foxy plays most days, around sunset. Barefoot, because I don’t think he has ever worn shoes, he sits facing the sun as it sets over the far end of the bay, and plays for his friends and the few visitors who have made the trip to this distant Caribbean outpost.
However, on New Year’s Eve, known as Old Year's Night in the islands, hundreds of sailboats from around the world gather on Great Harbour Bay. They come for one of the greatest Old Year's Night parties on the globe. The bay fills with boats until you can almost cross the bay from one end to the other just by stepping from deck to deck. And the people sing and dance into the night until they pass out on the sands.
Later the next day, New Year’s Day, after most of the sailboats have left, Foxy once again sits on his chair to play, like he does most sunsets. But on New Year’s Day, instead of facing the sunset, he moves his chair to a different spot right on the shore, and plays his guitar facing the open waters of his lady in the blue dress, as he affectionately calls the sea beyond the bay.
Right next to where Foxy sets his chair, there is a palm tree. It is a very old palm tree. The fishermen at the bay, who know the story of each palm tree like they know the story of the beach, might be able to help you find this palm tree, but fishermen don’t easily share their secrets. I will tell you though that during the terrible hurricane of 1916, this palm tree bent until its crown touched the sand, but it didn’t break, and now still graces the shore of Great Harbour Bay.
When you find the palm tree, sit at its foot with your back against the trunk and, along with Foxy, face the open sea. If the tide is high the water should be licking right at your feet. I sat on this same spot at the end of one summer, and waited for the night to fall, and waited for the storm to reach the shore. And right as I thought the storm would blow me away, I jumped into the bay and let the water carry me away. And I lost consciousness. I woke up on the sand, at the other end of the bay, and covered in seaweed, I walked back to Foxy’s in the dark.
So sit at the foot of this palm tree, and look out at Great Harbour Bay, and listen to Foxy play his guitar, and look beyond the bay at that lady in her blue dress. Then, with your left hand, dig a little under the sand until you find the root base of the palm, and feel with your fingers among the mass of tangled roots, and there you will find the secret code of this secret post.
I can’t tell you anymore than this, but I do hope that one day you’ll get to sit, at the foot of that palm tree with your hand in the sand, looking over the ocean and listening to Foxy play guitar, at the edge of Great Harbour Bay in Jost Van Dyke on the British Virgin Isles.
So I can’t tell you what this post says, but what I can do is point you towards the code. Because like every secret language, this one also has a code. And if you want to know what is being said here, you will need the code.
I will tell you how to find the code, not because I want you to go find it or because I think that you will. I will tell you just so you know that there is indeed a code, and so that maybe one day, maybe years from now, maybe you will find yourself at the right time, and the right place, and then maybe you’ll be able to know what this post is about. Unless you already do.
So here’s where the code is: The code is under the sand in front of Foxy’s Tamarind Bar on Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Isles.
On New Year’s Day, on Great Harbour Bay, Foxy himself sits in front of his bar and plays a few songs on his Spanish guitar. Foxy plays most days, around sunset. Barefoot, because I don’t think he has ever worn shoes, he sits facing the sun as it sets over the far end of the bay, and plays for his friends and the few visitors who have made the trip to this distant Caribbean outpost.
However, on New Year’s Eve, known as Old Year's Night in the islands, hundreds of sailboats from around the world gather on Great Harbour Bay. They come for one of the greatest Old Year's Night parties on the globe. The bay fills with boats until you can almost cross the bay from one end to the other just by stepping from deck to deck. And the people sing and dance into the night until they pass out on the sands.
Later the next day, New Year’s Day, after most of the sailboats have left, Foxy once again sits on his chair to play, like he does most sunsets. But on New Year’s Day, instead of facing the sunset, he moves his chair to a different spot right on the shore, and plays his guitar facing the open waters of his lady in the blue dress, as he affectionately calls the sea beyond the bay.
Right next to where Foxy sets his chair, there is a palm tree. It is a very old palm tree. The fishermen at the bay, who know the story of each palm tree like they know the story of the beach, might be able to help you find this palm tree, but fishermen don’t easily share their secrets. I will tell you though that during the terrible hurricane of 1916, this palm tree bent until its crown touched the sand, but it didn’t break, and now still graces the shore of Great Harbour Bay.
When you find the palm tree, sit at its foot with your back against the trunk and, along with Foxy, face the open sea. If the tide is high the water should be licking right at your feet. I sat on this same spot at the end of one summer, and waited for the night to fall, and waited for the storm to reach the shore. And right as I thought the storm would blow me away, I jumped into the bay and let the water carry me away. And I lost consciousness. I woke up on the sand, at the other end of the bay, and covered in seaweed, I walked back to Foxy’s in the dark.
So sit at the foot of this palm tree, and look out at Great Harbour Bay, and listen to Foxy play his guitar, and look beyond the bay at that lady in her blue dress. Then, with your left hand, dig a little under the sand until you find the root base of the palm, and feel with your fingers among the mass of tangled roots, and there you will find the secret code of this secret post.
I can’t tell you anymore than this, but I do hope that one day you’ll get to sit, at the foot of that palm tree with your hand in the sand, looking over the ocean and listening to Foxy play guitar, at the edge of Great Harbour Bay in Jost Van Dyke on the British Virgin Isles.
Labels: Thursdays
10 Comments:
I may never know your secret but I sure want to visit Ivan's Stress-Free Bar.
From the Jost Van Dyke Wiki: "Ivan's Stress-Free Bar, more often than not unstaffed, it is common practice for patrons to walk behind the bar, mix their own drinks, and leave a discretionary sum of money in the jar as payment."
are you on vacation? damn you!
No Stacey, sadly (is there any other way to say this?) We are not on vacation. We are actually at the tail end of a month long move from an apartment, to a friends house for a couple of weeks, and now finally to a new-to-us-but-needing-lots-of-work house. so pretty much the exact opposite of vacation, more like having to work on top of having to work. we will be going on vacation in a couple of weeks to Topsail NC, though.
And W, Ivan's is cool, but it's no Foxy's.
it'll be fun to have a beer in it once you're there. and you can throw a little sand on the ground too.
congratulations on the house!
Oh we're in it. and we've had beer, and wine, and bourbon, etc in it. It's just a total mess. you know, crap in boxes all over the place, one bathroom still not finished, laundry room not finished, the woods outside are still totally wild (I put the trash over a yellowjacket nest by mistake... ouch), that kind of thing.
Ivan's is cool, but it's no Foxy's.
I don't doubt it for a minute Carlos but I have to say there's no place I'd rather be than right here right now mon frere. This is the best time of the year to be in Chi-town and the Sonny Rollins concert last night exemplified it - the whole town was out on the grass and he put on an excellent show (I guess folks realized they could catch hometown boy Obama's speech on the internet).
Now if you had posted this in February I would have been compelled to abandon my family; build a raft out of garbage; and float to Jost Van Dyke!
Glad to hear people are choosing music over politics in chicago... the music at the obama thing was dismal... I kept thinking they were going to play the Final Countdown and Obama was going to magially appear out of a giant box of corn flakes or something.
And don't worry, february will be here (and there) soon enough ;) take the Illinois to the Mississippi, then meet me in Key West and we'll join rafts to head down to the Caribe.
And what did the German lesbian say to her American lesbian friend who had just been dumped?
It's jost van dyke.
jar jar.
Did one of those yachties tell you that one?
Made that one up myself... ain't you proud of me?
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