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For two running Sundays, Sid and Manuela (Paradise) got on the VHF and invited all of the cruisers on the moorings to bring some drinks and join the fun in a noodle float behind Paradise. When guests arrived they found a length of line stretched from Paradise toward a mooring closer to shore; the line served as a parking lot for the visiting dinghies. Additional long lines were strung back behind Paradise; these lines were for grasping by the guests who fluttered in the current aboard noodles and kiddy floats. Virtually all the guests struggled to hold above the waves some sort of drink vessel in one hand while desperately attempting to use the other hand to grasp the trailing line that prevented an early departure from the flotilla. Doesn't sound like fun? Actually, everyone seemed to think it was a blast, including the crew of Tusen Takk II.
Of course, a drink vessel would soon be emptied. How to get back to the dinghy and up into the dinghy to get a refill? No problem. Sid and Manuela had a special float designed to solve just such a problem. A lifesaver ring affair with a tubular ice chest in the middle, and pockets mounted on the side for storing additional containers of pre-mixed rum punch. And an additional container of pre-mixed rum punch hanging down to the water on a line from the stern of Paradise. These folks know how to party.
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And then on the third Sunday, Manuela got together with Roxanne (Bamboo) and put together a beach party/potluck on the beach of Klein Bonaire.
I took along all of my camera equipment, and spent more than an hour on a fruitless walk into the interior in the hopes of getting some bird shots. Klein is very flat and very low; the entire surface seems to be pitted sandstone with little or no soil. Scrubby bushes and occasional small trees push their way up through fissures and cracks in the rocks. I did find the ruins of a large stone building, however. Hard to see why anyone would have ever wanted to live on the island.
When I returned to the group I found in progress an enthusiastic game of Charades. When that concluded, Roxanne and Manuela laid out a line of beer bottles that had been half-filled with water. A dozen yards away a parallel line was scratched in the sand. Male participants were solicited/urged/cajoled into lining up behind the bottles, and then the ladies tied a string around each man's waist. To each string another string was attached so that the second string hung down between the man's legs. On the other end of the second string was a feminine hygiene product. Yes. A tampon. The rules of the contest were simple. At the signal, each man, without using his hands, would crouch over the bottle and attempt to anoint "his" tampon into the water inside the bottle. If he waited long enough, the tampon would swell enough that it would not pull back out of the bottle and the man could stand erect and walk the bottle to the line in the sand. First man across without using his hands would get a nice prize. The winner was an Aussie who was the companion of "Ms. Kitty" of Hog Island, Grenada, fame. The dead last loser was Bill (Bamboo), who was the recipient of many jokes too crude to repeat here.
The beach has a nice public grill, and most folks took advantage of the charcoal fire to cook some form of meat to add to the ample supply of appetizers, main dishes and desserts.
After eating there was a game of Trivia just as the sun was going down. With the sun leaving, the mosquitoes arrived, and with the mosquitoes arriving, the guests left. In a hurry. But we think that everyone had a great time. Thanks to Manuela and Roxanne for making it happen.