Inside the cottage, the floors are tiled, and there is an enormous stone chimney in the center of the room. In addition to the 3 sliding glass doors, there are two large windows, which we also left open. Half the cottage is taken up by a queen-sized four-poster bed with crisp, pale linens and a comfortable mattress. Lying in bed, we could look out the door and see the water, sunset, or moon-set. Mmmm, dreamy. The rest of the main room has a loveseat, some tables, a mini-fridge and coffee maker, and some storage for our luggage. Overhead, below the thatch, two ceiling fans whir. Behind the chimney is the door to the garden bath; it is under roof, and has a partial stone wall for modesty, but is open to the elements. The toilet is in a separate niche of its own, and the sink (accessorized with designer toiletries) and shower are in another. In theory, we could have had all manner of visitors here, but aside from the occasional "money bat" (a locally found moth, said to bring fortune to those on whose head it lands -- I should be in for some big bucks) we had no lizards or frogs inviting themselves in.
Given our style of travel and what delights us, I could not think of a more perfect place to stay.
Things Have Come a Looooong Way, Baby! Or Maybe Not ...
After our morning's travel and getting settled at FBV, the first order of business was getting something to eat. Our expectations of Bahamian food have been formed by past trips. We can count on conch and grouper, superlative Bahamian bread, and a ready supply of Kalik beer -- and believe me, we're looking forward to it! Nevertheless, Cat Island is more reminiscent of Eleuthera than the more accessible Abacos, so we also expect some challenges and limitations, both in stocking our cottage with munchies and with the types of food available for meals. After all, we'd spent a week on Eleuthera living on the requisite conch and grouper for dinners, but with lunches (which our resort did not serve) consisting of what we could find and recognize in the grocery store: Bahamian bread (man could live on that bread alone!), Underwood deviled ham spread, and cantaloupes.
Lunch at FBV was a la carte, so I went for conch chowder (accompanied by a toasted slice of nirvana) and Rick had a grouper sandwich. These choices were so satisfying that we ordered them almost every day we had lunch at FBV; after all, you just can't get a decent (or any, for that matter) bowl of conch chowder in Maryland. After lunch, Donna took us to the supermarket, where we stocked up on canned nuts, Pringles, a hunk of cheese, some pepperoni, a few sodas, and rum (Barbancourt for me; Ron Ricardo pineapple rum for Rick). Nothing in the store suggested that we'd be doing much better than we did nearly a decade-and-a-half ago on Eleuthera. When dinner time rolled around, we were pleasantly surprised.
In the winter season, dinner starts with cocktails at 6:30. This required us to "dress" for dinner: in our case, that meant taking off wet swimsuits, showering, and putting on dry shorts and shirts. Shoes are clearly optional; I went without. The bar is an honor bar, so guests grab a beer, or mix a drink, and write it down on their tab. As we got comfortable, and met our fellow guests and resort staff, fabulous conch fritters made the rounds as well. Our first day at FBV was also the first official day FBV is open this season (another couple arrived the day before, but since they are regulars with a couple dozen visits under their belt, they didn't really count); there are few guests -- just three couples -- so we all sat together at dinner, along with FBV denizens which included Donna, owners Pam and Tony Armbrister, and Pam's father Tom. With few guests early in the season, we shared our dinner table almost every night, and enjoyed it immensely. Those who might seek more privacy could have it as well, though we had so much privacy during the day that we welcomed the easy companionship and conversation of dinners and cocktails.
Dinner was served buffet style. The first evening's offering included grilled tenderloin (excellent quality, cooked to pink perfection), split Bahamian crawfish (lobster) tails, and assorted breads and vegetables. Dessert was chocolate cake and chocolate chip cookies, with decaf coffee. Each night, the main entrees included one seafood and one meat dish (one of which was Bahamian-style and one of which was continental in style), so most guests could find something to enjoy if they didn't sample everything like we did. Throughout the week, we enjoyed Bahamian chicken, grouper, curried shrimp, more lobster, lamb, and pork. While the presence and quality of the Bahamian-style foods was not a surprise, the quality of other meats (as well as the quality of available wine) was, but that's progress for you.
Breakfast was also served buffet style. Every day, the buffet included breads, breakfast meats, boiled eggs, cereal and fresh fruit (local papaya, pineapple). There was also a featured to-order item every day, such as omelets, French toast or pancakes.
There are not a whole lot of options for dining on Cat Island, and as we didn't venture very far during our trip, we ate most of our meals at FBV. This was not a hardship at all. For the day we spent on the beach at Fine Bay, the ladies in the kitchen at FBV prepared us a picnic lunch of BLTs on that heavenly bread, apples, and Kalik; we added Pringles for good measure. The combination of the picnic lunch, and Bahamian sand and sea, reminded us of similar (maybe even identical) feasts on other Out Island beaches. The day we had a rental car, we had lunch at the Hawk's Nest resort at the southern end of Cat Island. We were the only guests for lunch that day, as their entire complement of 4 guests had gone elsewhere. It took a knock on the kitchen door to scare up some lunch, but it was delicious grouper in a pretty setting, so no complaints.
That same evening, we planned to eat out at a local establishment in the settlement of New Bight called the Bluebird. As is the fashion in the Out Islands, we stopped by in the morning to make a reservation -- not because of the expected crowds, but to let the owners know they would have guests at all. We pre-ordered cracked conch, and when I tried to book a table for 7:00 p.m., they asked if I would consider an earlier arrival. I was more than happy to oblige, since we'd been falling asleep around 9 every night, and an early dinner fit right into that schedule. When we arrived at the appointed time, our hostesses were ready for us, and seated us at a modest table in the modest linoleum floored room. Delicious spicy beef-vegetable soup preceded nearly fork-tender conch. The only other guests were another threesome from FBV -- since no one was staying for dinner that night, FBV's kitchen had the night off.
It's All About the People
Aside from our appealing surroundings and the lovely beach which was our home base, what made Fernandez Bay Village so special was the people -- both our hosts and the other guests. Our arrival early in the season ensured that the resort was not busy, adding a layer of laid-back on top of already-laid-back.
The other guests we encountered were an eclectic crew, ranging from a couple who had been visiting FBV every year for 25 years (and owners of an enviable collection of glass fish floats, for which they'd scoured Cat Island's beaches over those same 25 years), to a couple from New England who left behind the businesses they owned and ran for two weeks, to a newly married pair from the Pacific Northwest making a repeat visit to FBV (the husband being an avid fisherman). The only common ingredient we seemed to share was our choice of island destination, but we never lacked for conversation at dinner or over drinks.
Owners Pam and Tony were always around. Every morning, while sipping coffee on our porch, we watched Tony make the arduous commute from his house down the beach to the resort. Naturally, we envied the heck out of him, but we've read Don't Stop the Carnival (and have an island hotelier in the family), and know better than to think it's all sun and sand and pina coladas for the owners of an island resort -- notwithstanding the fact that Tony is a descendant of an old Loyalist family which has a history in the Bahamas of more than two centuries. Besides Pam and Tony, other members of their family would pop in and out of the scene over the course of the week Pam's father Tom taking us for a dinghy ride, aunt Judy offering to take us to play dominoes at a local bar, son Shane coming home from school in the US for a weekend.
Leading the rest of the FBV crew was manager Donna, always bustling around and full of energy, making guests feel welcome. We could always tell when Donna arrived for her work day (her house was further down the beach, on the creek) when her dog Bennie bounded onto the beach. Donna's laugh was never far behind. Rocky, the troubadour of FBV, never got to perform for us (was it my volunteering to join him on Brown Eyed Girl that scared him off?), but kept us entertained at the bar with tales of his own travels. The kitchen ladies were ever-amused with us, as we found ourselves instinctively bussing our dishes at breakfast and lunch, since we felt so at home here.
Above all, our week was about personal attention, though it was never obtrusive or obsequious. It was more a matter of listening (or watching) us when we talked, and getting a sense of what we wanted or needed. When we expressed an interest in the gorgeous yacht anchored in the bay, the next day found Tom taking us over by dinghy for a visit and tour. When we wanted to explore an Atlantic beach, Donna not only took us over, but arranged for our picnic lunch. When Rick had a crick in his neck, or I was scratching madly from no-see-um bites, Donna and Pam were there with their favorite remedies.
