Mayaguana

​When I imagined living on the boat I thought of hopping from island to island. I didn’t realize how much went into owning and living on a boat at the time. I always imagined the island would be small, a little run down but in the process of renovating, and a small community where everyone knew everyone. So far, the truth has been different from what I imagined. I love the boat and travelling, but no island has matched my design. Until Mayaguana.
I only spent one day on the island after we spent a day in passage from Georgetown, but I fell in love. When we first pulled up to the slab of concrete that served as a dock, I didn’t think much of it. All I could see from my viewpoint was a row of palm trees painted with various colors on their trunks. Red, white, green, and blue. Under the trees were a few picnic tables that I doubt anyone used.
We dropped off our trash at a little hut designed for waste and restrooms. There was a small path (maybe a car’s width wide) that we walked on to reach the tiny town.
The town was everything I ever dreamed. We had multiple people wave hello to us as we walked past buildings. On the side of a few buildings were paintings of the most vibrant colors. On the local government building there was a flamingo painted on the wall.
We spent little time exploring because there was little to see besides a few stores, a bar, and houses. My mom felt guilty dropping our trash without using one of their services, so we found our way to a little BCT hut (maybe one of the few air-conditioned places we could go and found an older woman who would help us find a store.
Another dream came true when she walked us a block from the BCT building and yelled someone’s name. A woman answered and opened a little store-about the size of our living room- for us. With a population of only 300 people, everyone knew everyone. Mayaguana had officially become my dream turned reality.
After that day, I regretted not going back to the town. We left a few days later for a two-day passage to Turks and Cacaos. 

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