Cyan blue waters and light blue skies washed over the Bahamas. I peered out at the morning resort, saturated in the brightest blues I can imagine.
“There are two types of travelers,” my friend once said. “People who want to do everything, and people who want to do nothing.”
In most cases, I’m of the latter camp, which makes me a big fan of beaches. For several days, we rested on the beachside beds of the Bahamas, sipping limitless pina coladas. I sorely missed reading, so I devoured any magazines I could get my hands on.
On the last few days, we ventured to the shops and markets, then took the ferry to another island. We passed by Paradise Island and Atlantis, and made our way to an underground aquarium-casino area. Children and families ran around, as did gamblers, vacation-goers, workers.
Back at the beach, they offered sea bikes. I hopped on one, and paddle-boated several times. For some reason, I couldn’t stand up straight on the board, so I lied flat on my back, soaking up the sun. The Bahamas—at least the tourist spaces—were beautiful and relaxing.