Category Archives: Bahamas

Beach Essentials: How to Make the Most Out of Your Sandy Relaxation

When I lived the island life, I quickly developed a habit of grabbing the same beach necessities every time I headed to the water.

While the coast of Washington doesn’t see me snorkeling like I did in the Bahamas and Florida Keys, I still pack my beach sack with the same things, excluding snorkel gear.

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Here’s a list of beach essentials that I recommend you carry to make the most of your shoreline adventure:

 1. Travel games

I refuse to go to the beach without Bananagrams and a deck of cards. Even if I’m going solo. Sometimes it’s too windy for cards, so keep that in mind before playing Solitaire or Rummy. And sometimes sea gulls will swoop in and steal the letter tiles for Bananagrams, particularly the coveted vowels. Here’s proof.

 2. Water

It is of course important to stay hydrated while soaking up the sun, but I also never go anywhere without a water bottle. Drinking fountains are just too far away from my beach towel anyway.


 3. Headphones

I always bring music with me. If it’s a crowded beach, I am most likely going to be plugging in the tunes. If I’m traveling, I play music from my outdated iPod (read: songs from 2000–expect lots of High School Musical).

However, if the sound of nature overpowers the tourists, I forego the headphones. Puget Sound surprised me last summer with a delightfully vocal group of seals and sea lions!

 4. Blanket

In addition to the obvious beach towel, I usually bring along a comfy dedicated beach blanket. My blanket of choice has morphed between various styles over the years as they become soiled with seaweed and saltwater.


 5. Camera

The best moments in life can’t be relived in a photograph, but nature constantly has beauty to behold. When I lived in Long Island, Bahamas, I kicked myself every time I got to the sea turtle cove and the camera was either forgotten or uncharged. Now I make sure I’ve got a means of snapping a picture if the opportunity presents itself.

 6.Waterproof shoes

Many of my beach adventures turn into hikes along old coral beds, which can’t be done in flip flops. I had to retire my last pair of Scuba booties, but any sort of waterproof shoes will do. (We called them aqua shoes in Ohio, but I’ve been told that is not a universal term. WHAT DO PEOPLE CALL THEM!?) Keens are also great! I wore out my pair in Florida–they’re not made for saltwater.

tidal pool

7. Other games

In addition to handheld games, I like to be active with other games on the beach. (I loooooooooooove games.) Growing up spending the summers on Lake Erie, my sisters and I played a minimum of two board games a day. Game pieces actually got lost in the sand and were recovered in future years during sandcastle building, hole digging and people-burying.

In case you’re feeling a 90s throwback, the beach board games of my youth included:

  • Pizza Party
  • Mall Madness
  • Sorry!
  • Guess Who
  • Ready, Set, Spaghetti!
  • Hi-Ho-Cheerio
  • Clue
  • Scrabble
  • Memory
  • Chutes and Ladders
  • Candy Land

In my 20s (ohmygodImalmost30), I tend to bring a volleyball and cornhole to the beach if I can.

crashing wave

 8. Beach snacks

Snacks at the beach get their own term–“beach snacks”–because they tend to be bite-sized foods that we gravitate toward time and again when packing up for the sand. In my Ohio years, we always had Oreos at the beach. We’d freeze them and then let them melt in the sun. (Fun fact: Oreos are vegan.) Chips ‘n salsa was also a must and usually some fruit, veggie and cracker trays thrown in there. Frozen grapes are great!

Nowadays, I tend to bring fruit and trail mix as well as a sandwich. Check out my healthy, allergy-free recipes for some ideas! It is zero fun having to leave the beach because you’re hungry. Prepare ahead of time to prevent this!

 9. Book

Don’t ever go to the beach without a book. Just don’t do it.

Once, I made the mistake of bringing a book I’d read a few months before. I have regretted it every day since.

Kindles are great; just make sure they’re fully charged!

Sometimes, I also bring my animal identification books (birds, shells, etc.) because once a zoologist, always a zoologist.


 10. Beach cover-up

To protect my skin from the sun but avoid overheating, I have a nifty, flowy, breathable button-up I bring. I apologize that I don’t know what material it is made out of, because this fashion piece is dynamite. If someone could help me out, that’d be fantastic.

 11. Sunglasses

Make sure you have good UV sunglasses, and don’t trade fashion for protection. With good research, I promise you can have both. If you have giant white scleras like myself, take extra caution to protect those eyeballs or you’ll get UV damage like I did! 😦

 12. Notebook and pen

Not only does this come in handy for keeping score in card games, but it’s also a necessity if you’re a writer like myself. When that muse hits you, it starts spewing like a jar of marbles. Be prepared to snag those good ideas before they roll too far.

13. Jar for seashells

To be honest, I usually forget this one, but I am a sucker for beachcombing. I’m always collecting shells, seaglass and rocks on the beaches with which to make little seashell creatures. The beach finds end up going in my teeny backpack (which I much prefer to a tote bag) or in whatever container I have leftover from my lunch.


14. Miscellaneous

I’m limited in how many arms I have, and sometimes I get to the beach on my bike. But when I can carry more items, I’ve also brought or enjoyed the following:

  • Hammock (you’ll need trees for this one)
  • Chair
  • Metal detector (my friend had an underwater one and we found a whole penny!)

boat on beach

Note: This post was inspired by’s Florida Vacation Rentals. If you’re heading to Florida this spring or summer, be sure to visit some of my favorite coastal towns heading south:

  • Anna Maria Island
  • Sarasota
  • Boca Grande
  • Florida Keys (all of em!!!!)

What are your beach essentials? Florida and Bahamas friends, I want to hear from you especially! 🙂 

**Please do your part to protect the environment and avoid taking plastic bags to the beach. They blow away in an instant and are mistaken for jellyfish by sea turtles and other animals!**

All photos ©Stacey Venzel, Creative Commons license.


50 Things I’ve Learned Since 2015

My life has been a series of catapulting adventures and misadventures since I left the Florida Keys in February 2015. But I’ve never felt more alive.

Here is a non-exhaustive list of some things I learned in the past two years:

  1. Some people will be there for you; some will not. Always be the one who is, not the one who isn’t.
  2. Dogs cure everything.
  3. Date yourself at least once in this lifetime.
  4. Be real on social media.
  5. Being a member of a community is vital to your own humanity.
  6. Almond butter > peanut butter.
  7. Everyone has a voice, but some voices are stifled. Be a voice for those who want to be heard but aren’t.
  8. It’s okay to be emotional.
  9. Never stop asking questions; it’s how you learn.
  10. Second chances keep you from second guessing.
  11. Not everyone will “get” you. Embrace those who try, forget about those who don’t try.
  12. Laugh at yourself often, a minimum of once a day.
  13. Friendships are just as valuable as blood and boys.
  14. Stopping to smell the flowers is a legitimate excuse for being late.
  15. Modern luxuries numb perspective and gratitude.
  16. More often than not, strangers are beautiful humans trying to get by just like you.
  17. Individual independence is a state too few obtain in life. Seek it.
  18. Change precedes growth precedes fulfillment.
  19. The city can eat you alive, but it also teaches things you can’t learn anywhere else.
  20. Most opportunities you have to make for yourself.
  21. Never take an unhitched breath and a normal heart rate for granted.
  22. No dream is ever too big. Dream and then do and then repeat.
  23. Always flip head over heels for the little things in life.
  24. The harder you work for something, the better it tastes.
  25. Find the equilibrium between listener and advisor.
  26. Self-awareness is a necessary state of living.
  27. Forgiveness is an incredible gift. Give of it freely, and accept of it graciously.
  28. Know when and how to stand up for yourself.
  29. Failure is inevitable. Learn from it.
  30. If you sacrifice until your sacrifice is no longer a sacrifice, you’ll be an expert on compromise.
  31. Happiness is subjective.
  32. Success is subjective.
  33. Beauty is subjective.
  34. Hate begets hate begets hate.
  35. Be funny.
  36. Push yourself, but don’t be hard on yourself.
  37. Celebrate your accomplishments, even if others don’t understand them.
  38. Don’t forget the power of face-to-face conversations.
  39. Trust your gut.
  40. Be an expert problem solver.
  41. Never go anywhere without nail clippers. Hangnails are the devil.
  42. If you’re going to lose yourself in something, Nature is a good option.
  43. Balance the good with the bad and the old with the new.
  44. Believe in something. Be grounded and steadfast in that belief.
  45. Not having a car is one of the quickest ways to learn patience.
  46. You can be informed about lots of things but you don’t need to know about everything.
  47. Cooking over a fire is not the same as cooking over a stove.
  48. Fearing for your life is something you never really get over.
  49. Some people are toxic, and you have to let them go.
  50. Empathy can feel like a curse. See it as an incredible gift.

We only have one life to live. Let’s give it all we’ve got.

I’ll Be the Dandelion and You Can Call Me a Weed

“The difference between a flower and a weed is a judgment.” –Unknown

When I was little, maybe 6 or 7, I used to ask my mom why certain flowers are called weeds.

Plucking dandelions from the lawn, I’d comment, “Aren’t weeds supposed to be ugly? Dandelions are pretty.”

My mom explained to me that a flower is called a weed when it isn’t wanted.

“People don’t want dandelions in their yard, so they’re called weeds.”

When a wildflower pops up among meticulously placed perennials in the garden bed, it’s an invader, unwelcomely disturbing precision. It is the harbinger of mischief in a petaled sea of peace. For where one weed grows, many will follow.

I spent a fair amount of time in the garden growing up, though not always digging up dirt to plant seeds. Sometimes I was looking for four-leaf clovers so my sisters and I could iron them pressed together between two squares of wax paper, preserving luck for generations. Sometimes I was building homes for earthworms and “potato” bugs, arranging pebbles and leaves as sofas and tables for the creepy crawlers of the earth.

My childhood was nurtured by nature, for it has been in the dirt and the grass and the trees and the weeds that I have learned some of life’s greatest lessons.

A small patch of flowers stood out to me on one of the mounds in my mother’s garden. I fell in love with the burgundy flower heads, rimmed with crimson quickly fading into vibrant yellow.

“One of many types of painted daisies,” my mother said. “A weed to some people but not everyone.”

I have seen painted daisies in various colors across dozens of landscapes, but I never came across that color pattern again. Until two years ago when I traipsed through a garbage dump in the Bahamas.

Rummaging through rubbish heaps is a regular pastime on Long Island, Bahamas, where one man’s trash really does become another man’s treasure. On a particularly blistering day, I found myself hopscotching over upturned car doors and broken mirrors heading toward a patch of grass by the dirt road. Empty glass bottles were pinched in my grasp, teetering on the brink of disaster as I scurried to add them to my growing collection in the truck bed.

As my ankles straddled a sullied plank, I looked down at the ground to plan my last jump toward freedom. There at the base of my right foot was a painted daisy, growing tall and wild and proud, echoing the colors I remembered so clearly from two decades ago.

A weed, I thought, that by any other name would smell so sweet.

There among forgotten and discarded man-made possessions grew a tenacious little flower, its wiry spirit disparaging the rolling piles of waste. An invader claiming back the land where once fields of its kind–wildflowers, weeds–likely thrived.

A protester, dreamer, leader, fighter, nonconformist.

Steadfast, virtuous, invincible.

Like the dandelion.

A weed.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” –William Shakespeare

Calling for Hurricane Matthew Relief in Andros, Bahamas

Still wondering how you can donate to hurricane relief from so far away? Add to this Amazon wishlist for families in Andros, Bahamas that lost everything in Hurricane Matthew.

You can also make donations to help children and their families rebuild in Haiti. Click here for more information on reliable places to make monetary donations for Haiti hurricane relief.

Mother Nature is strong and beautiful, and She gives us perspective we didn’t know we needed. Please give of yourselves to help those in need.

If you know of any other reliables ways to donate to the Caribbean islands affected by Hurricane Matthew, please leave a comment below.

UPDATE 10/14/16:

You can also donate to The Bahamas Hurricane Restoration Fund.


How can we help Haiti from all the way over here?

You never really know the full value of life until you’re left with only the clothes on your back. Once you realize you’re breathing, you’re alive, you begin to rebuild. But how do you rebuild when you have nothing—no home, no possessions, no livelihood?

In “first world” countries, we toss around #firstworldproblems like it’s something to joke about, while the other half of the world is dealing with real #thirdworldproblems. And it’s nothing to joke about.

Hurricane Matthew is about to pummel the U.S. The U.S. has the infrastructure to rebuild. Haiti is still recovering from the earthquake 6 years ago. My Long Island, Bahamas forever-home is so lucky to have been spared the brunt of this storm because it is still recovering from the catastrophic effects of Hurricane Joaquin last year. These islands rely on community to rebuild, because too often their needs are overshadowed by the eclipse of #firstworldproblems.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. I am asking as someone who has lived and worked in third world countries. I am asking as someone who has survived a historic natural disaster. I am asking as someone who loves you and loves strangers and loves this great big world that sometimes seems so small. Please help.

What can you sacrifice this week? Morning lattes? Happy hour? Donate the money saved to one of these reliable non-profit organizations in Haiti that will need to rebuild:

Jacmel Children’s Center: an orphanage for 3-9 year olds

Art Creation Foundation for Children: a program for Haitian students—money will help rebuild their homes

AID International-Faith and Love Orphanage: an orphanage for 0-21 year olds

I tell you from experience, every little bit helps. We are one world. We are all we’ve got. Let’s let our Caribbean brothers and sisters lean on us. My prayers are with anyone in, preparing for, or recovering from this storm. Stay safe.

“Gordon” the Bahamian Dog Gets a Forever Home

If you were following my blog back in August, you probably remember Gordon, a Bahamian “potcake”–the local term for a dog. Gordon was an injured stray found on the southernmost beach of Long Island, an out island in the Bahamian archipelago.

Whatever happened to him? Gordon’s story has a very happy ending. To read the full article of how he landed a forever home, click here.

For those of you wanting to do some sleuthing into the initial rescue story, click here. And for anyone wanting to read about the fight to save his life at the hospital, click here.

So many stories about this tail-wagging pup, but all reminders about what happens when we make second chances happen.

Happy Monday. Here’s hoping this feel good story started your “case of the Mondays” out just right.

Featured image by Michelle Hope Rickman.

Fearing Man vs. Nature: A Lesson on the Refugee Crisis through Hurricane Joaquin

hurricane joaquin devastation

We write best about that which we know, that which we have felt and experienced.  Most people, if not everyone, have been caught up in fear in some way, shape or form. At the very least, they have had some fleeting encounter of it. But what do we know about fear that overwhelms you? What can we say about an emotion so raw it consumes your mind and your body?

I have shaken hands with Fear as it sat inquisitively next to me on a bus in Ecuador, as it reared its sword during family hardships, when it whispered in my ear on the streets of London. But more recently, I was involuntarily, inescapably tossed into the ring for a face-off with fear during Hurricane Joaquin.

Fear is caused by the unknown or by our projections of what could be. It rears its ugly, menacing head when we are lost physically and emotionally. Essentially, fear appears when we feel helpless.

As I sat tucked in a blanket on a couch in the Bahamas, listening to wind gusts of 200 mph knock on the windows and doors, shivering from damp clothes that could not dry amidst the raindrops seeping through the cracks of the ceiling and walls, hearing shingles pop off while I waited—so much waiting—for the roof to blow off, I experienced fear as I had never felt it before. Previously, my fearful moments had been brief, brought on by accidental happenings and mankind’s ability to inflict an unease upon others. This was my first unavoidable, unwelcome confrontation with fear caused by Mother Nature.

I would not wish it upon my worst enemy.

This was the kind of fear that makes your heart beat in your ears, the sound masked by the growling storm outside. This was a fear that stole precious sleep from every islander for two nights during the storm and weeks, months, after. This was a fear that spoke through the eyes when words became superfluous.

The fear on Long Island and the other southeastern out islands battered by Hurricane Joaquin was not covered in the media. These islands, these people, have largely been left to fend for themselves. These are families that fled their homes, that lost pets and businesses and everything but the clothes on their back. These are people leaning on each other as they pick up to start their lives anew. It is nothing short of miraculous that they survived a force so strong it destroyed their livelihood. Fear reads in their eyes as they stand on the doorsteps of their neighbors seeking refuge.

If this sounds at all familiar, it should. The wake of Hurricane Joaquin is similar in far too many ways to the Syrian refugee crisis today, to the Holocaust and Darfur of our past. Only the cause of the fear is different: man vs. nature.

I’ll bet you didn’t see that coming.

Imagine a society where we don’t help each other, where we turn the sick, the injured, the lost, the lonely, and the fearful away. Long Island, Bahamas would have crumbled in on its already crumbled self.

Think about the aftermath of a natural disaster, instances in which, when appearances not politics are involved, commonly, the US of A is all too willing to help. Imagine if Louisiana and New England had been abandoned following Hurricanes Katrina and Sandy. What if we had ignored the cries of Thailand following the deadliest tsunami in history? What if countries had not stood by us during 9/11 or with Paris following the recent attacks? What if, like the victims of Beirut, we were forgotten—no Facebook profile pictures changed to our country’s flag, no national monuments lit up with our prideful colors?  Victims of natural disaster face genocide by Mother Nature. Victims of war face genocide by man.

Today, more than any times past, we are turning our backs on our neighbors. We are actually toying with the idea of closing our doors to individuals based on their religion and the color of their skin. We are avoiding the throngs of cries for help because our brains are fed by one thing and one thing only: Fear.

We, a supposedly progressive, diverse, equalizing, opportunistic country are saying no. America was once powerful because it cared. When did this country stop caring?

There was a time I was proud to call myself a citizen of the United States. I cannot say the same today. Society is fueling a world of ignorance and xenophobic pandering, a planet of division not unity. What happened to strength in numbers and intelligence? Why are we succumbing to radicalists instead of statistics?

Fear is the common denominator here. Bahamians fled their homes in fear of Mother Nature. Syrians are fleeing there homeland—abandoning everything they know—because they fear rifle-wielding terrorists in their backyard. And the rest of the world is giving them the finger.

Wake up, America. Open your hearts, open your minds, open your homes, open your hands. Put yourself in someone else’s shoes for once. If America really is a country for, by and of the people, what are we going to let it stand for?