 |
©Mary Montague Sikes
|
Years ago,
we researched the island of Guadeloupe in the Caribbean. Each year, we sought
out new destinations because we enjoyed winter trips to the islands. It was
wonderful to get away from the cold and sometimes snowy weather of the Virginia
tidewater area.
Since both
of us love to play tennis, for our first week there, we chose a resort with
several tennis courts. For our second week, we selected a quiet, scenic spot
with the possibility of good photography opportunities for my Tropical
Fantasies painting series and for my travel writing articles. Even before we
started to unpack, my husband was invited to make a fourth in a tennis doubles
match. He grabbed his racquet and headed off, happy for the quick opportunity
to play.
Not long
afterwards, I heard a commotion and discovered that Olen had injured his knee
with a quick stop after chasing down a forehand drive. Although the other
players urged him to just “walk it off”, he was medical-savvy enough to realize
the severity of his injury. A visit to the nurse’s station yielded two aspirin
and a pair of crutches.
Later, when
he hobbled onto the beach, a tall blond man noticed him and came to look at his
injury. He told my husband he had a bucket tear and not to straighten his knee
until an orthopedic surgeon back home saw him. We learned later that the man
was head of orthopedic surgery at Yale University—a fortunate encounter. For two
weeks, he limped along as we explored the island.
That was
Strike One.
Several
years later, we decided to give Guadeloupe another try. Things seemed to be
going well, as we investigated both wings of the lush green French island. We
attended a Carnival event. We rented a cab and took a far-reaching tour of the
more remote villages.
All seemed
to be going well. We loved the beautiful modest timeshare resort we traded
into. Our unit overlooked a scenic little yacht basin that gave us a lovely
view at sunset. A faulty electric dryer was the worst glitch we experienced the
first few days we were there.
Then,
something unexpected happened. At 3 a.m., I was suddenly awakened. A man was in
our room.
“Why are you
here now, Marcus,” I called out, thinking fuzzily this was the promised dryer repairman.
The tall
dark man grabbed my belly pack and a watch left lying on the dresser. Because
there was no safe in our room, our passports, husband’s money, traveler’s
checks, and my money were all stored inside.
I screamed
for my husband to wake up, and he jumped out of bed, chasing the fleeing thief
who dropped the watch but clung to the belly pack. I was screaming for help, but
people later told me, they thought we were a couple having a fight.
Olen raced after
the escaping robber and followed him to the resort entrance where he halted the
chase. Because he was running nude and didn’t want to encounter the Guadeloupe
police in that situation, Olen stopped and returned to the unit. We both
dressed and hurried outside, looking for someone on duty at our resort. To our
surprise and disappointment, we found nothing was open and no one, not even one
guard, was there. We rushed on to the resort across the road with an open lobby
where we had trouble communicating in French. We did make our situation known but
did not get any sympathy. In fact, the officials did not appear surprised.
This was a
time before we had cell phone service available in the islands, so with no
money we could not even make a call out for help. We had done all we could by
reporting the loss. However, we decided to check out the roadway where the
bandit vanished.
We walked
along, investigating the grounds on either side of us. As light began to appear
in the sky, we saw a man walking a dog. When we explained our situation, he
showed us a red pocketbook. It was my little ID carrier. All the money and
credit cards were gone, but my driver’s license was there. I was thankful to
have it. Still no passports. What would we do?
We kept
walking and looking until we decided to go back to our resort and wait for the
office to open. When it did, we went inside. No sympathy once again and no
help. We had no idea what to do next.
Then, all of
a sudden, the entrance door opened and a French businessman from Paris entered.
He was looking for us. He found our passports in his yard and discovered that
someone from our resort had reported the robbery. He was considerate enough to
find us and to give us a ride to look some more. Along the way, we found an
empty belly pack. When we returned home, I created a pastel painting for the
kind Frenchman and mailed it to Paris.
I will always
believe the Guadeloupe cab driver set us up for the robbery and that the resort
workers and the police knew what had happened. We were fortunate to have the
kindness of other strangers on our side.
That trip
was Strike Two.
We don’t
plan to visit Guadeloupe again. Who knows how devastating Strike Three might be?
Visit my website: https://montisikes.com