This Paradise by Andrena LeBlanc

“How did you come here?”

At first I was silent. I simply looked out and stared at the ocean behind us and the years it took me to find it. I answered in a low and smooth voice, “Decades of travel.”

The fellow traveller nodded as I turned around to face my fellows. I shook my head and continued, “I’ve walked the coastlines of a hundred seas; blistered my feet on a thousand rocks. I searched and searched; finally, I found this paradise.”

I turned to a lady who was silent as I spoke—she was focused on one of those new gadgets brought from my old world. I asked curiously, “And you? What journey brought you here?”

She widened her eyes a little and smiled: “Uhhhh… I just booked on expedia.ca,” she leaned over and showed me the pictures on the machine, “so many beach vacation providers are there, so it’s really easy.”

Curious, I asked: “How long did that take you?”

She shrugged. “About two seconds.”

As she went back to her machine, I gasped and gulped down the rest of my drink. Two seconds? Two seconds?! With the new gadgets it took her two seconds to find what took me decades? I stood up and headed towards my hut on the rocks after paying for my drink.

As I began the journey to my hut, I muttered through tight lips: “So much has changed from back home in the twenty years I have been away. They bring their new gadgets with them to my paradise, and cheapen it by staring at the screen instead of the waves. Now they cheapen the decades by completing journeys in 2s through those devices!”

I do not need such devices to live my life here.  I can find my own way, gather and hunt my own food, and make my own clothing. Whatever I cannot do for myself, my partner provides.

My home is a one story house I discovered when I arrived here. It is made of stone with a wooden roof. The stones have long turned grey with the passage of time. On the inside is my wood and fire stove that I use to cook and prepare food. Then there is a small working room where I build things with my hands. The final room is one my partner and I modernized in order to set up a shop.

In the shop, we both sell to the locals and the millions of travellers who come here from across the seas. He collects beach glass and various shells, and turns them into jewelry. I make wood carvings of the various places I have been in the 20 years of travel.  I remember a time when few travelled here, and my wooden creations were more a means to tell my tale, as opposed to making ends meet. Not anymore.

I sit in my hut and run my fingers along one of the wooden planks. It feels good to caress such work of nature, and imagine what it could be. Yesterday I carved wood into a replica of a bird. The day before that I made a shore similar to one of the shores I walked back in the land of Hawaii.

I picked up a tool and started to cut. I could overhear a conversation: “What can I help you with, miss?”

“Yes,” I heard a voice reply back. It sounded female. The voice continued, “I am looking for a man who came by this way. He had tanned white skin, a long brown beard, and blue eyes.”

“I believe you are speaking of my partner. But he is busy and should not be disturbed now.”

I remember her voice—she was able to find this place in seconds. She’s looking for me? Did her fancy gadget help find me too? I wonder how long it took her? I do not like such fancy gadgets—they cause people to stare at moving pictures instead of the world around them. And of all the boats I have been on, the ones that use the newer technologies end up getting shipwrecked somehow.

I begin to cut the wood. The traveller speaking with my fellow has inspired me. I am carving a ship who was wrecked because the captain focused on “radar” instead of what was in front of him. While I carved,  I heard rustling as someone walked into my room.

A female voice spoke: “I do not mean to intrude but I wanted to make sure you are alright. You left the bar rather abruptly after we talked briefly.”

I shrugged and continued my work. The wood was beginning to take the shape of a fishing boat. My partner came in: “Here is not the place to look at my husband’s treasures, miss. Please come with me back to the storefront.”

I glanced up to see the traveller examining my creations. My shoulders relax and I look back to my evolving fishing boat. The traveller speaks again, “I’m Sheila from Toronto… Did you do all these yourself?”

“I am Jan. While my partner is correct regarding your presence here, I will allow it for now. I did make all the carvings.”

Sheila knitted her eyebrows. “I thought he just called you his husband?”

“He is my life partner, business partner, and drinking partner. Husband is easier to say.”

Sheila looked to my partner and smiled. “His name is Marís,” I clarified for our guest, “and he gathers many treasures that we in turn sell to your people.”

She focuses on me and my creation. “I just wanted to say I didn’t mean to scare you off with my tablet. I was actually curious about how you travelled and travelled to get here.”

“If you wish to know about my travels, examine our creations. All of our journeys are recorded in them. I will say I descended south in order to discover what warmth is. Over the course of my journey I met many people, and did many tasks. It was not until I came across this paradise that I knew it was time to stop travelling.”

Marís walked up and embraced me from behind. His warmth helped drive me to finish the boat faster and move onto another. He stated, I have a new piece of wood in my hand. Where should I send it? I decide to just carve and see what it turns into.

Marís commented, “You travellers never have much time anymore. The only consolation is you’re the first person to watch Jan work.”

“All I need is you, love,” I commented as I snuggled into Marís’ neck as I carved, “However, the journey was worth it. Sheila, you should not cheapen getting to the island by remembering what you left behind and getting back so quickly.”

“Are you saying I should have quit my job, and traveled 100 seas until I found this island?” Sheila looked at us both incredulously.

“I had many things to learn prior to making it to paradise that I needed in order to survive. Tell me, would you be able to stay here if you wanted to?”

“No!” Sheila’s voice raised a little when she said this. “Back home I can go to where I want to be, and accomplish what I set out to in an efficient manner.”

“I see. And what do you learn along those journeys?”

“The 401 is not better than the GO Train. At least on the weekdays when I want to travel to or from downtown. I also learn who is in my way, and who needs to be let go at work.”

I smirked while I carved. “Interesting how your journeys can take you to self-oriented thoughts— You think about yourself in terms of how others are in your way. I guess proof Toronto is different from ports I have been to, like Halifax.”

“Dear,” my partner said in my ear, “what is it you are making?”

Sheila looked to where my partner was and examined my creation. “Oh hey, you’re making my tablet! How long did that take you?”

I blinked. “Perhaps a minute or two.”

“Was it the journey in carving or the finished result that meant the most?”

“I suppose the result.”

“Glad I’m not the only self-orientated one.”

Marís spoke to us both: “Why can’t you people shut up? We all have our reasons, and none of them explain why there is no rum.  I need my daily glass of rum!”