By
Judith Ashley
 |
| Judith Ashley |
Yes, I’ve been to Hell and it was Hot! Sweat poured off
me (well, since I’m female I ‘glowed’ profusely). I don’t do well in the heat
so my movements were slow – sluggish even. What had I been thinking?
My best friend from Ohio was
with me so I wasn’t alone. Before we went, we talked it over. This would be
fun, something to brag about. ‘We’ve been to Hell!” we’d say and people would
laugh or their mouths would open in astonishment or if we had the desired
effect - both.
You might be wondering what
kind of life I led to bring me to Hell. In my child protective service days,
there were many people who wished I was already there. More than once the words
“Go to hell” were hurled my way.
Wouldn’t you think that
someone whose job was to protect children would be told they were earning their
angel wings? I don’t remember ever hearing heaven, angels and my name in the
same sentence. However I do remember devil, hell and my name in the same
sentence.
I wasn’t sure how big Hell would
be – actually it was quite small, a few shops and a post office. Yep, you could
buy post cards and send them to family and friends with the postmark ‘Hell’.
By now you may have guessed
I’m not referring to the Biblical Hell but some other Hell. And if you are,
you’re correct.
My Ohio friend (whose name
is also Judith) and I took a trip in the 1980’s to the Cayman Islands. While
there we rented a car and drove to the other end of the island to the little
town of Hell. It was hot and I did glow profusely and moved at a snail’s pace but
within sight was the glimmering turquoise of the Caribbean Sea. We stopped at
the Turtle Farm and I took at least 100 pictures of turtles. When I look at
them now, I smile – what on earth was I doing? (It wasn’t a snail’s pace. I was
walking at a turtle’s pace!)
Judith and I laugh a lot
when we reminisce about my turtle fanaticism. And those memories take us to the
1990’s and a trip to Ireland where Judith spent hours talking to the sheep that
dotted the hillsides, wandered along the roads, and in one particularly
fortuitous place were lined up outside a phone booth, but I digress.
Back to Hell. As we returned
to our hotel, we stopped along the road and walked the few yards to the sea.
The sand and shallow water was thick with all types, shapes, and sizes of
shells. With a few dips in the ocean, my hands and pockets were full of them.
Once back at the hotel I had
another Hellish experience. I was in the bathroom when I noticed an insect I’d
never seen in the bath tub. I called to Judith, my calm, serene, poised,
genteel (well, you get the picture) friend. She took one look in the bathtub
“Oh, Hell!!!” she exclaimed as she took off her shoe and beat the poor insect
to death.
I’d never seen Judith upset,
never heard her swear, and never saw her kill anything (she just moved unwanted
insects outside). “What on earth?” I said an astonished look on my face.
“That was a cockroach!” She
said as she pulled suitcases out, opened them up and directed me to do the
same. With her guidance I learned how to protect my belongings so I didn’t take
any home with me!
It was time to leave. We’d
lived out of zippered suitcases for two days but still took everything out one
last time, shook them vigorously, before repacking. I had my stash of shell to
take home. So I tucked them throughout my clothing to protect them on the trip
home. 
And you might guess Customs
wanted to talk to me. My first (but not my last experience with Customs – but
that’s a story for another day. Everything was unpacked so they could
check each shell! In the end, they confiscated some seed pods I’d picked up but
they let me keep the shells.
Through this drama (and for
me trauma), Judith waited on the other side. She was easily cleared. Eventually
I did make it through and we did make it to our connecting flight in time. Of
course in the 1980’s digital cameras or phones with cameras were not the norm
so you are spared multiple pictures of the turtles. Just wish I had a picture
of Hell to show you!
© 2013 Judith Ashley
