Island Notes. Last Lime on the Island


I did the obligatory rounds—Bon Di Gro, Warehouse Bonaire, Van den Tweil, the Bonaire Food Group—all to no avail.  I even went to Zhung Kong and Lucky Supermarket, Chinese outposts that often carry fresh produce.  No luck.  I was in search of limes.  In the last two days, my poolside sundowner was missing the citrus.  Sure, I had the requisite Mount Gay Eclipse Rum, sparkling water and ice.  But there was no lime, no heart, no soul, no zing to my fling.

The fact was I could not find a lime anywhere on the island.  Even last night at the Breeze n’ Bites Restaurant bar, the waitress just shook her head when a customer asked for a slice of green to go with his Corona.  “The problems are in Venezuela,” said the woman.  “They aren’t shipping fruit anymore-no bananas, no mangos, and of course, no limes.  Things are really bad.”

Bad?  You’re damn right, bad!  What will happen to mojito night at Eddie’s?  How about the rim-side trim for margaritas at La Cantina?  Anyone dreaming of making a key lime pie?  Forget about it. Thoughts of scurvy darkened my thoughts.  This was an island crisis.  There was trouble in paradise.

Back home on the hill, I sat defeated.  I had exhausted all the possibilities of finding a lime.  But wait!  I had not check my lime tree in a month.  I sprang out of the hammock and ran below to the banana grove.  Hanging low on a bottom branch, there it was—a dark green whopper, the largest fruit that my little tree has yet produced.  I plucked off the cue ball-sized sphere and immediately the air filled with a citrus scent, an amorous aroma, a tropical treat.

I could not believe my good fortune.  I quickly looked around to ensure that no one had seen my discovery.  All clear.  I scampered up the stairs to find the Mount Gay.  I was one lucky guy, proud owner of the last lime on the island.  Squeeze time.