The Bridge that Separates – Potter’s Cay Market (Fish Fry) Side (Part II)

Bridge with Potter's Cay (the Fish Fry) underneath

The day after our excursion to Atlantis, the Captain and I had more mundane tasks to accomplish, such as buying charts for the southern part of the Bahamas and acquiring some good fishing lures (you can read about what happened to our last one here) for helping to cut down on the cost of food.  So, by foot this time, we headed out into the big, scary city of Nassau in the direction of the marine store instead of toward the downtown hubbub of merry people from the cruise ships.  I honestly think that if some of the people we have talked to would have had a day in Nassau like the one we were in for, they would be slower to leave and quicker to compliment this town.

Our walk to the marine store was fun and cheerful, punctuated by the friendly Bahamian custom of offering a “good afternoon” and a smile to everyone you pass on the sidewalk.  Now, not everyone does it and it seems that many people will not do it until either Rob (he’s a fast learner) or I do it first, then the look on the person’s face changes into a smile and the greeting comes with a gentle, surprised happiness.  However, as we have seen people greet everyone upon entering the bus with a generalized “good evening”, we know that it is customary to offer a greeting.

We stopped into one marine store which did not have what we were looking for, but where the sales clerk was very helpful in letting us know where we needed to go for our shopping needs.  We picked up our charts from a dive shop and lures from the marine store across the way, both of which had sales clerks who were friendly and informative.  So far, we were still having a problem understanding the fear and frustration so many cruisers have with Nassau; sure, it’s expensive, but didn’t we all know that coming into an island country that does not have the ability to grow, produce, or manufacture anything themselves?

Between shops, we stopped into a restaurant/bar we had heard of from an engineer on a 110-foot powerboat, a boat whose owners use it personally a few weeks out of the year by flying into the Bahamas and having this man and the rest of the crew bring it here for them.  We just wanted to know what he considered a “good, local place” and thought that we might get a beer and our afternoon snack there if we found it appealing.  I’m not sure if it was the closed in, air-conditioned building that allowed no sunlight in or the $5 Happy Hour drink “special” they had, but neither of us was all that excited to return to this particular place when the shopping was finished.

Instead, I wanted to check out the open-air stalls/bars that are nestled on either side of the bridge which connects mainland Nassau with Paradise Island on the other side, the island where Atlantis is situated.  There, we walked through brightly painted wooden structures, each no bigger than the living room we had in our last house and most even smaller.  Stalls lined each side of the road and I wanted to see them all before we settled down for a cold beer and our first taste of conch salad; picking the appropriate place will – after all – make or break the experience.  However, making that decision was difficult as the stalls all claimed to have the best conch salad, there were stools ready to be sat on in order to face the bartender and receive cold Kalik beer, and there are no prices listed anywhere to give an idea of who may have the best price.

After walking past the 15 or so stalls on one side of the road, we crossed the street, looking at the fresh fruits and vegetables that were being sold by older-looking ladies on the median of the road located under the bridge carrying taxis and vans from Paradise Island.  From there, we saw one stall across the road that stood out from the others due to its high volume of customers; we walked passed, the Captain again asking which one I wanted to go to and me thinking I had made up my mind but wanting to see that I was right.  Once I had established that, yes, the pale blue stall with four picnic tables and benches outside and more bar stools inside – almost all of which were taken while other stalls had between two and five people each – was the place to be, the Captain and I headed inside to order our first conch salad.

The beers were almost-frosty cold, the music was a mix of Jamaican and Bahamian, the conch salad was the most delightful thing I have put in my mouth here in the Bahamas, and the company was tremendously welcoming.  I asked the man sitting next to me in a button-down shirt and suit pants who was drinking Guinness on ice why this was the most popular stall out of them all; he replied that the beer was always cold, the food was excellent, and the prices were the best around.  “The trifecta, you could say!” he said with a huge smile as his drinking buddy, a lady in just-getting-off-white-collar-work clothes herself, ordered another rum and fruit juice.  The conch salad Rob and I shared was: fresh conch; cucumber, tomato, and raw white onion all diced very small; the juice of one lemon and one orange to “cook” the conch ceviche-style; and a hint of goat pepper (which the Captain thinks are habenero peppers) because we are wimps and asked them to take it easy.  It was AMAZING and well worth the $10 we spent on a heaping bowl for the two of us!

It was getting to be about 5:00ish in the evening by this point and the crowd outside on the picnic tables was getting bigger, a group of people mostly in their 20s - some dressed to impress, others dressed to have a couple of drinks.  Rob and I were finishing our second beers and the conch salad when a man who was sitting outside walked up to the bar and ordered himself a drink; once he paid, the bartender put two more beers in front of Rob and I, then gestured to the guy as he was about to turn and head back to sit in the crowd of people.  Rob was closer to him and was very quick to thank the man, a tall, thin man dressed in a white tank top and blue jeans with long, curled hair.  He immediately smiled and asked if we were enjoying his country; after giving a hearty affirmative answer, that we loved the Bahamas, the man offered another smile, offered his name when we introduced ourselves, then returned to the table where he listened to by the entire crowd when he spoke.  Throughout the next hour or so, the Captain and I bought one more beer each, but were given two shots of Hennessy by this man and one of his friends, making for a bit more intoxication than we had intended for…  Oh darn!

Once his female drinking companion had gone, the man sitting next to us was more than happy to talk with us about the Bahamas and boats, having a 33-foot powerboat himself.  He told us, though, that for his two 250 horsepower motors, drinks, and food for the day, a day excursion could cost him $500… needless to say, he doesn’t go out that often.  If that’s the alternative to what we are doing, give me a sail and homemade wine any day!  He jokingly told us that, if we needed money, there was always ways people with boats could “easily” make $100,000; he agreed with my priority of freedom over money.

Me being goofy in the only pic from the day

After such good food (we split a plate of fried chicken, too) and plenty of free-flowing drinks, the Captain and I decided it was time to work our way back to the boat.  We stopped to take the only pictures of the day on the way back, laughing at each other and chuckling over memories that were less than two hours old.  We thought about the anxiety Rob had felt with so many people around us at Atlantis the night before and my frustration at the lack of interactions happening between those same people.  We talked about the warnings we were given coming to Nassau and even the one we received from the pair of jaded sailors who were cutting their dream short and heading back to the States that told us to turn tail and run if we saw more than a couple of people walking toward us at a time. 

There are people who have spent their careers – their entire lives – searching for the fabled Lost City of Atlantis.  There are people willing to spend (a lot) of money to walk around in the fantasy of this fabled city, pretending to be gods and – unfortunately – acting the part toward every person they come across, tingling with the excitement of crossing the bridge into this “immortal” land.  The Sailors Wornell, though, like this side of the bridge, the side where the mortals play, drink, and eat flavorful food that doesn’t need an expensive price tag to let us know it’s good.  On this side of the bridge, we felt warm and welcomed instead of feeling anxious and out-of-place; on this side of the bridge, we were just other humans looking for a good – and real - life.