Letters Home from England, Summer 2006
Hey All,
Just thought I’d let you all know what’s happening in my little world… a moveable feast of sorts. This is my second week in England already. The time is flying. I’m grateful to be here… my stopover in St. Thomas for two days was full of missteps. One of two bags was lost. American Airlines said it was sitting in the St. Thomas airport, but they insisted it wasn’t. My guess? It was. I was only there for two days, but I didn’t receive it until just before leaving for England. Then there was the wireless internet connection at the hotel … or rather there wasn’t a wireless internet connection. My online homework was getting later and later. Finally the woman at the front desk of the hotel responded to my many inquiries about it by saying, “Well, you aren’t the only one. A lot of people are having trouble with it.” At that point I asked to use the hotel office computer, which she begrudgingly allowed me to use for 15 minutes at a time in case anyone else needed it. No one did. There seem to be a lot of “rules” in St. Thomas. The pat answer is, “No we cannot do that. It’s against the rules.” I can see that’s something I’ll have to take on next year.
Anyway, Butt’s Hill, Chobham in Surrey is a magnificent home - fifteen acres of grounds and garden. The pool is a comfortable 85 degrees. The air is a comfortable 85 degrees. I’m happy… but you should hear the locals! Frankly, it sounds a lot like San Franciscans complaining about the weather when the sun shines and it’s over 70. I do understand you’re going through a heat wave, however. Same here. We arrived on the hottest day in July in England for over 100 years. I’m sorry, did I hear someone say Global Warming? Mrs. Edwards, the housekeeper says she doesn’t go in for that rubbish. And the cook says she doesn’t believe in stars and all that, but anyone who does will tell you it’s just part of a 40 year cycle. Madame’s private maid avoids all this chatter. What does it matter? Madame is too hot. We must find a cool spot for her in the shade and serve meals outdoors. So far, all meals but one have been served outdoors by the pool. It’s been great.
My arrangement with the chauffeur didn’t work out too well. Between my tutoring and his watering and other chores around the grounds, we just didn’t seem to make the schedules work, so I was given a rental car. It’s great to have the freedom to just get up and go. The car is a little Nissan Micra. Too bad they don’t have them in the states - lot’s of pep, and about half the size of my little Sentra. I took to driving on the left right away and spent last Sunday in Bath, which is about two and a half hours drive from here. I love the M4 Motorway. It’s clearly marked with open countryside all around. What a great little town… beautiful cathedral, stone shops, Victoria Gardens, and a feeling of being in Europe . Italians were everywhere. The Roman baths were eerie and touristy at the same time. Even there the tour ended in a gift shop.
See you soon...
Colleen
Just thought I’d let you all know what’s happening in my little world… a moveable feast of sorts. This is my second week in England already. The time is flying. I’m grateful to be here… my stopover in St. Thomas for two days was full of missteps. One of two bags was lost. American Airlines said it was sitting in the St. Thomas airport, but they insisted it wasn’t. My guess? It was. I was only there for two days, but I didn’t receive it until just before leaving for England. Then there was the wireless internet connection at the hotel … or rather there wasn’t a wireless internet connection. My online homework was getting later and later. Finally the woman at the front desk of the hotel responded to my many inquiries about it by saying, “Well, you aren’t the only one. A lot of people are having trouble with it.” At that point I asked to use the hotel office computer, which she begrudgingly allowed me to use for 15 minutes at a time in case anyone else needed it. No one did. There seem to be a lot of “rules” in St. Thomas. The pat answer is, “No we cannot do that. It’s against the rules.” I can see that’s something I’ll have to take on next year.
Anyway, Butt’s Hill, Chobham in Surrey is a magnificent home - fifteen acres of grounds and garden. The pool is a comfortable 85 degrees. The air is a comfortable 85 degrees. I’m happy… but you should hear the locals! Frankly, it sounds a lot like San Franciscans complaining about the weather when the sun shines and it’s over 70. I do understand you’re going through a heat wave, however. Same here. We arrived on the hottest day in July in England for over 100 years. I’m sorry, did I hear someone say Global Warming? Mrs. Edwards, the housekeeper says she doesn’t go in for that rubbish. And the cook says she doesn’t believe in stars and all that, but anyone who does will tell you it’s just part of a 40 year cycle. Madame’s private maid avoids all this chatter. What does it matter? Madame is too hot. We must find a cool spot for her in the shade and serve meals outdoors. So far, all meals but one have been served outdoors by the pool. It’s been great.
My arrangement with the chauffeur didn’t work out too well. Between my tutoring and his watering and other chores around the grounds, we just didn’t seem to make the schedules work, so I was given a rental car. It’s great to have the freedom to just get up and go. The car is a little Nissan Micra. Too bad they don’t have them in the states - lot’s of pep, and about half the size of my little Sentra. I took to driving on the left right away and spent last Sunday in Bath, which is about two and a half hours drive from here. I love the M4 Motorway. It’s clearly marked with open countryside all around. What a great little town… beautiful cathedral, stone shops, Victoria Gardens, and a feeling of being in Europe . Italians were everywhere. The Roman baths were eerie and touristy at the same time. Even there the tour ended in a gift shop.
See you soon...
Colleen
STILL IN ENGLAND
Hello Everyone,
Still in England… but my thoughts are starting to turn to St. Thomas. The weather here turned cool today. It’s pleasant enough, but I’m missing the warmth. Last Friday, Monica and I took the boys on a motor boat through the locks on the Thames. (Well, we went through one lock and back again with a pit stop at a small amusement park. The boats are big enough to fit around 10 people comfortably, so we had plenty of room to jump from one side to the other to gawk at Windsor Castle, Eton and other sights along the way. Monica has taken the motorboat/lock training, so we managed our way through the locks just fine. I manned the lines while she steered. Toward the end I was holding a screaming, squirming baby Alexandra and trying to toss lines to the dockman, while Monica was trying to bring the boat in straight… Alexandra discovered the wheel and was grabbing it and pushing the levers up and down. She was definitely not happy about being taken from that “toy” while Monica attempted to bring the boat in safely. We all got back home to Butt’s Hill happy, hot, and exhausted and went for a swim. That was refreshing.
London last weekend was wonderful. It’s so accessible. If only San Francisco had an Underground system like this one! Then I wouldn’t mind going into the city. It’s so sensible not to have to try to find a parking place. I loved the ease of it …. Early Saturday morning I parked the car at the Virginia Water station and took the train to Waterloo Station in London. Then I walked 100 yards or so over to the Jubilee Line of the Underground and went as far as the Swiss Cottage stop. It’s just past St. John’s Wood. (Doesn’t it sound like I know where I’m going?) I had a room at the Swiss Cottage Hotel. It was perfect in every way. A half-minute walk from the Underground, sweet little room and it had its own bathroom. Not all the rooms did. Thank god for the internet! I’d like to go back again this weekend.
I met Sean’s mum, Pat O’Shea, and his brother, Michael at my hotel. They live fairly close by. On Saturday afternoon we went to the Wallace museum. I’d never really seen artwork placed in a Salon setting before… smallish rooms, each a different color with furniture, ceramics and paintings all placed carefully according to their style and color. Pat has done a lot of research for her MA in art there, so she was the perfect tour guide. (Has anyone noticed that the mothers are leaving the nest now to go back to school? When I was leaving, Chelsea said she felt like she had Empty Nest Syndrome.) Afterwards, Michael went with me on my double-decker bus tour while Pat worked at the Handel Museum. I liked being high enough to see all the gargoyles and fine details on the buildings. Call me a tourist, but I really wanted to get an overview of the city from the top of one of those buses. Later we had dinner al fresco at a little Italian restaurant, Paradiso, on one of the mews (it’s an alley). The weather was beautiful; clear and toasty-warm.
Sunday, we took one river cruiser to London Tower, just for the water view and the ride and then another to Greenwich (home of 0 degrees longitude) for a pub-food lunch. I had shepherd’s pie with gravy. In fact, we all had something with gravy and mushy peas. And what a great little town. Lots of small shops and a covered street fair with stands full of crafts and art. It was just like one of our summer street fairs. I half expected to see Jane there with her paintings. Then we went to Canary Wharf for sweet crepes and coffee. The area was ultra modern and reminded me a bit of Embarcadero One or Two. We sat next to the water at Café Rouge. Michael and Pat couldn’t have been nicer or more accommodating to me. They even took the tube with me back to the train station when I had to leave… and it’s a good thing. With Pat’s help, I bought the right ticket and just made the train back to Virginia Water.
Virginia Water is also the location of The Internet Shop where I am able to do my homework (for that online M.Ed. in literacy) and email friends. I’ve taken pictures of a few people and places and will include them in this mailing. This shop has been my home away from home away from home…
I feel as though I have several new maps forming in my head: Local driving maps, long distance maps and now the railroad and underground maps. My world is expanding. I’m a bit homesick for Sabrina and Chelsea, but I’m going to assume they’re fine unless I hear otherwise. (Hint, hint… email your mother, girls…) I wish they could have come with me. This is an incredible learning experience. Well, at least now I have places in mind where I could take them one day.
I’ve yet to make plans for this weekend, but will be on my own again… with a car and a map. If you’re in the vicinity… watch out. I’m on the road and on the left. Speaking of left, so far no one has discussed politics with me. That may change tomorrow when I drop by the Four Horseshoes pub with Peter, the 82 year old gent who helps run the internet shop. He lived in Russia for many years. I’ll tell you all about it when we’ve had our chat. He refers to the states as “The Land of Big Brother.”
I’ll write again from St. Thomas when I’m settled in,
Colleen
Still in England… but my thoughts are starting to turn to St. Thomas. The weather here turned cool today. It’s pleasant enough, but I’m missing the warmth. Last Friday, Monica and I took the boys on a motor boat through the locks on the Thames. (Well, we went through one lock and back again with a pit stop at a small amusement park. The boats are big enough to fit around 10 people comfortably, so we had plenty of room to jump from one side to the other to gawk at Windsor Castle, Eton and other sights along the way. Monica has taken the motorboat/lock training, so we managed our way through the locks just fine. I manned the lines while she steered. Toward the end I was holding a screaming, squirming baby Alexandra and trying to toss lines to the dockman, while Monica was trying to bring the boat in straight… Alexandra discovered the wheel and was grabbing it and pushing the levers up and down. She was definitely not happy about being taken from that “toy” while Monica attempted to bring the boat in safely. We all got back home to Butt’s Hill happy, hot, and exhausted and went for a swim. That was refreshing.
London last weekend was wonderful. It’s so accessible. If only San Francisco had an Underground system like this one! Then I wouldn’t mind going into the city. It’s so sensible not to have to try to find a parking place. I loved the ease of it …. Early Saturday morning I parked the car at the Virginia Water station and took the train to Waterloo Station in London. Then I walked 100 yards or so over to the Jubilee Line of the Underground and went as far as the Swiss Cottage stop. It’s just past St. John’s Wood. (Doesn’t it sound like I know where I’m going?) I had a room at the Swiss Cottage Hotel. It was perfect in every way. A half-minute walk from the Underground, sweet little room and it had its own bathroom. Not all the rooms did. Thank god for the internet! I’d like to go back again this weekend.
I met Sean’s mum, Pat O’Shea, and his brother, Michael at my hotel. They live fairly close by. On Saturday afternoon we went to the Wallace museum. I’d never really seen artwork placed in a Salon setting before… smallish rooms, each a different color with furniture, ceramics and paintings all placed carefully according to their style and color. Pat has done a lot of research for her MA in art there, so she was the perfect tour guide. (Has anyone noticed that the mothers are leaving the nest now to go back to school? When I was leaving, Chelsea said she felt like she had Empty Nest Syndrome.) Afterwards, Michael went with me on my double-decker bus tour while Pat worked at the Handel Museum. I liked being high enough to see all the gargoyles and fine details on the buildings. Call me a tourist, but I really wanted to get an overview of the city from the top of one of those buses. Later we had dinner al fresco at a little Italian restaurant, Paradiso, on one of the mews (it’s an alley). The weather was beautiful; clear and toasty-warm.
Sunday, we took one river cruiser to London Tower, just for the water view and the ride and then another to Greenwich (home of 0 degrees longitude) for a pub-food lunch. I had shepherd’s pie with gravy. In fact, we all had something with gravy and mushy peas. And what a great little town. Lots of small shops and a covered street fair with stands full of crafts and art. It was just like one of our summer street fairs. I half expected to see Jane there with her paintings. Then we went to Canary Wharf for sweet crepes and coffee. The area was ultra modern and reminded me a bit of Embarcadero One or Two. We sat next to the water at Café Rouge. Michael and Pat couldn’t have been nicer or more accommodating to me. They even took the tube with me back to the train station when I had to leave… and it’s a good thing. With Pat’s help, I bought the right ticket and just made the train back to Virginia Water.
Virginia Water is also the location of The Internet Shop where I am able to do my homework (for that online M.Ed. in literacy) and email friends. I’ve taken pictures of a few people and places and will include them in this mailing. This shop has been my home away from home away from home…
I feel as though I have several new maps forming in my head: Local driving maps, long distance maps and now the railroad and underground maps. My world is expanding. I’m a bit homesick for Sabrina and Chelsea, but I’m going to assume they’re fine unless I hear otherwise. (Hint, hint… email your mother, girls…) I wish they could have come with me. This is an incredible learning experience. Well, at least now I have places in mind where I could take them one day.
I’ve yet to make plans for this weekend, but will be on my own again… with a car and a map. If you’re in the vicinity… watch out. I’m on the road and on the left. Speaking of left, so far no one has discussed politics with me. That may change tomorrow when I drop by the Four Horseshoes pub with Peter, the 82 year old gent who helps run the internet shop. He lived in Russia for many years. I’ll tell you all about it when we’ve had our chat. He refers to the states as “The Land of Big Brother.”
I’ll write again from St. Thomas when I’m settled in,
Colleen
Goodbye to England
Well, Everyone…
It’s time to say goodbye to England, already. What a FAB summer! This was my last little jaunt to London while here. On Friday night Pat and I went out to dinner and then stopped in at a pub. I had my first Pimms. It was okay. (But nothing to write home about?) I won’t order it again. Here's one of the things I love about London: Every neighborhood has its own commercial district lined with wide, strolling sidewalks, restaurant patios and shops spilling out of doors. There are a few Gaps and Nine West stores, but mainly the shops are small and independent. Every pub has an outdoor area, either in front or out back and there are several pubs to each block. People are milling about wherever you look. They pop on and off the buses speaking every imaginable language. The clothes range from smart suits and dresses to old-style punk (still sporting those colorful mohawks) to glittering saris. This is one of the most colorful places on the planet.
On Saturday, I got to see what was left of the William Blake prints at the Tate Britain. Most of the collection is visiting the University of South Carolina right now, (go figure) but I saw a bit. Then Michael and I took the Tate to Tate River Cruise over to the Tate Modern. That was great! I especially liked watching and listening to a video sampling exhibit. It flashed about 6 or 7 simultaneous old movie clips and a few old rock videos in a loosely - synchronized row. They were all woven together by instrument type, the same spoken word, the same prop, dance or expression. …artfully, I might add. The Screaming sequence was fun. There was also a video about the painted buildings of Tirana, Albania. You never saw such a bombed out, god-awful, blighted place… but all of a sudden people began painting their drab post-communist, concrete apartment buildings. The colors are brilliant and startling and somewhat uncoordinated. The mayor talks about how people there now discuss the colors of their buildings, who is using what color, and how it is affecting them. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to move there, but the color has a Mondrian effect; mostly squares, but not always. There were some brightly swirled buildings and a few more classically painted ones, too… only in colors like cornflower blue walls with school bus yellow trim. It was fascinating. Pat joined us at My Bar for a drink and then we had dinner at an all-day Dim Sum restaurant. Nice.
Sunday was a relaxing boat trip on the Regent Canal We slowly wound up our way up past the Regent Garden , St. John’s Wood and the backside of the Royal Zoo into Camden Town . It was PACKED FULL OF PEOPLE. Man, what a crowd! There were lots of walk-away food shops, lots of open-air shops for clothes, candles and other bric-a-brac and young people of every size and color. The 60’s are back. We ate at what appeared to be the only sit down restaurant; Cuban food and the slowest service outside of St. Thomas. (Remember that, Sabrina?) Then we went to Chelsea ’s favorite store: Cyberdog. It was achingly loud techno music, hot and sticky. The floor was thumping. The clothes were fun to look at… Okay, you know it’s not my cup of tea. But I will include a special blacklight picture of me (yes, Chelsea, to prove I was really there) holding a shirt with fur spikes. I know, I know, you think there couldn’t be such a thing, but I’m holding it: Proof-positive.
London is signing off and the St. Thomas adventure is about to begin. We leave here on Thursday and start with my first meeting on Friday. I have imagined what it will be like, but of course, that is all wrong. It won’t be real until it happens. For now, I’m in England, back in Surrey and enjoying the warm summer days. The weather has been phenomenal… Really! It hasn’t been this warm and dry - EVER, from what I can make out. It is a phenomenon. So I’ll enjoy it until the next Ice Age is brought on by this global warming.
Let me know how you’re all doing. I miss my little family, my friends and I miss California, too. We have so much sitting on our doorstep. Go sightseeing at home and tell me all about it!
Take care,
Colleen
41 Cowpet Leeward
St. Thomas , VI 00802
It’s time to say goodbye to England, already. What a FAB summer! This was my last little jaunt to London while here. On Friday night Pat and I went out to dinner and then stopped in at a pub. I had my first Pimms. It was okay. (But nothing to write home about?) I won’t order it again. Here's one of the things I love about London: Every neighborhood has its own commercial district lined with wide, strolling sidewalks, restaurant patios and shops spilling out of doors. There are a few Gaps and Nine West stores, but mainly the shops are small and independent. Every pub has an outdoor area, either in front or out back and there are several pubs to each block. People are milling about wherever you look. They pop on and off the buses speaking every imaginable language. The clothes range from smart suits and dresses to old-style punk (still sporting those colorful mohawks) to glittering saris. This is one of the most colorful places on the planet.
On Saturday, I got to see what was left of the William Blake prints at the Tate Britain. Most of the collection is visiting the University of South Carolina right now, (go figure) but I saw a bit. Then Michael and I took the Tate to Tate River Cruise over to the Tate Modern. That was great! I especially liked watching and listening to a video sampling exhibit. It flashed about 6 or 7 simultaneous old movie clips and a few old rock videos in a loosely - synchronized row. They were all woven together by instrument type, the same spoken word, the same prop, dance or expression. …artfully, I might add. The Screaming sequence was fun. There was also a video about the painted buildings of Tirana, Albania. You never saw such a bombed out, god-awful, blighted place… but all of a sudden people began painting their drab post-communist, concrete apartment buildings. The colors are brilliant and startling and somewhat uncoordinated. The mayor talks about how people there now discuss the colors of their buildings, who is using what color, and how it is affecting them. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to move there, but the color has a Mondrian effect; mostly squares, but not always. There were some brightly swirled buildings and a few more classically painted ones, too… only in colors like cornflower blue walls with school bus yellow trim. It was fascinating. Pat joined us at My Bar for a drink and then we had dinner at an all-day Dim Sum restaurant. Nice.
Sunday was a relaxing boat trip on the Regent Canal We slowly wound up our way up past the Regent Garden , St. John’s Wood and the backside of the Royal Zoo into Camden Town . It was PACKED FULL OF PEOPLE. Man, what a crowd! There were lots of walk-away food shops, lots of open-air shops for clothes, candles and other bric-a-brac and young people of every size and color. The 60’s are back. We ate at what appeared to be the only sit down restaurant; Cuban food and the slowest service outside of St. Thomas. (Remember that, Sabrina?) Then we went to Chelsea ’s favorite store: Cyberdog. It was achingly loud techno music, hot and sticky. The floor was thumping. The clothes were fun to look at… Okay, you know it’s not my cup of tea. But I will include a special blacklight picture of me (yes, Chelsea, to prove I was really there) holding a shirt with fur spikes. I know, I know, you think there couldn’t be such a thing, but I’m holding it: Proof-positive.
London is signing off and the St. Thomas adventure is about to begin. We leave here on Thursday and start with my first meeting on Friday. I have imagined what it will be like, but of course, that is all wrong. It won’t be real until it happens. For now, I’m in England, back in Surrey and enjoying the warm summer days. The weather has been phenomenal… Really! It hasn’t been this warm and dry - EVER, from what I can make out. It is a phenomenon. So I’ll enjoy it until the next Ice Age is brought on by this global warming.
Let me know how you’re all doing. I miss my little family, my friends and I miss California, too. We have so much sitting on our doorstep. Go sightseeing at home and tell me all about it!
Take care,
Colleen
41 Cowpet Leeward
St. Thomas , VI 00802
with love, from St. thomas
AUGUST 2006 - JUNE 2008
Hot Rain
Hello Friends,
Hot rain! What an experience. Today was hot and muggy and then it suddenly turned into a torrential monsoon. Wow! I’ve never seen anything like it! The air remained warm (not hot), while massive sheets of heavy, heavy water poured down and washed my car. Frankly, I’d just been wondering how I’d get it clean. There’s no Touchless Car Wash here. Torrents of water and then: Boom! A Big, Fat Sun. A cloud floated overhead, dropped a flood and then it moved on. Other billowy black clouds seem to be coming this way, interspersed with deep blue.. Now I understand the phrase “pray for rain.” It’s so refreshing, but still within a happy temperature range… One drawback of sorts: you can’t be too pretentious about your looks… hair frizzes or gets flattened and clothes get wet… very wet. The rain comes on and leaves too suddenly for any preparations to make sense. There’s something exhilarating about it all.
My condo is great, by the way: two bedrooms, two baths and just little old me. There are plantation style fans in every room, including the bathrooms… just in case I decide to turn off the air conditioning. So far, I have every night. My place faces the ocean and I like to sit out on the balcony in the evening and watch the view. God, it doesn’t do the word “beautiful” justice. With the windows open all night I can hear the surf below. I can also hear the piano player in the resort bar next door. It’s kind of nice in a “making do with what we’ve got” sort of way. He isn’t a good singer and only plays passably, but it provides a tropical/provincial atmosphere that I’m getting into. One has to accept life a few notches below human perfection, while living in what otherwise appears to be paradise.
Take, for instance, the bureaucracy that seems to be the endemic sickness here. Nothing can be done without three copies of three different forms. When I went to open a checking account it took two hours! The receptionist didn’t say hello or how can I help you. She continued to look down at the papers on her desk, firmly shook her head no and told me, “I’m sorry you can’t open an account without two forms of ID and a social security card.” She expected me to go away. I said, “I have it right here” and she jerked her head up at me and practically shouted, “YOU DO?!!” It just so happened I had just returned from England, had my passport in my purse and always keep my social security card tucked behind my driver’s license (even though I’ve been told you should never do this for identity theft protection.. for the moment I’m glad I didn’t listen). The woman nearly fell over. She looked indignant, but after making me wait… seemingly for her own satisfaction, she led me to Miss George, the sales representative (sales?). After that, it took three people, two different kinds of official stamps, three forms, three copies of those forms, and copies of those copies to get checks. She took the time to file everything away before handing me my checks. Thank god I didn’t opt for the combination checking/savings account. That could have taken days! All the while the form signing was going on Miss George was complaining about how hard she works and how incompetent everyone else is who works in the bank. Oh my. I was sympathetic enough to keep her moving, but didn’t really want to piss off the others who might be giving me my money in the future. It’s a delicate balance. Later on in the day I had to show up at the phone company in person to fill out the paperwork for service. That won’t actually happen until next Tuesday when someone comes out to the house to check the phone jacks. And soon I’ll have to face the DMV here. That sounds like the stuff of nightmares. I believe this may all have something to do with job security. More later…
Okay, I really do like it here, in spite of my kvetching, but have I mentioned mosquitoes? They like it here, too. They’re tiny and very fast. I’m used to big, fat, lolloping mosquitoes… too clumsy to get away. You can squash ‘em before they draw blood. These little guys are like sports cars. They zip in and out before you even know they were there. I’m covered in bites. All the teachers here swear by Skin So Soft by Avon. Time to meet my local representative, I guess. They also say the rain washes the mosquitoes away. That makes the downpours even more attractive. In addition, I’m investing heavily in citronella candles.
I went on a boat ride around the islands yesterday. We stopped at Joost Van Dyke and the deserted, northern end of Tortola. Both are British islands, so we had to go through customs on either end. No bureaucracy there. Zip in. Show your passport. Zip out. How can I describe the water? Turquoise… like the stone… on the way out and navy blue in the evening on the way back; true navy, with a turquoise wake behind the boat. The beaches were deserted, warm and had just enough surf to make it fun. Luckily I’m a strong swimmer, since we had to swim into shore about 30 feet and the boys (ages 5 and 8) were afraid. My lifeguard skills from 30 years ago came in handy. I tucked one under my arm, swam him in and went back for the other. Just like riding a bicycle… it all came back to me. What an incredible day… exhaustingly wonderful.
Today I’m burnt around the edges: do you remember tan lines? Well, they’re back. Hopefully, my burn will turn to tan. I’ve invested in a bottle of aloe vera with lidocaine.
And that’s that. All’s well here. Let me know how you’re doing. I’m about to start fall semester in my M.Ed. classes and the kids start school here on August 21st. I’m going hiking on St. John island on Saturday… it’s all National Park land. Gotta have fun before things get busy again.
Oh, one more interesting little note: When I was waiting in the phone company waiting room something unusual happened: Every once in a while, someone would enter the waiting room, stop, and say, “Good morning, People.” And I swear to god, every person in that room (except me) chimed in “Good morning.” It happened again and again. And just as often when they left they’d face the room and say “good morning” again! And damned if everyone didn’t answer all together again! It sounded like a catholic schoolroom when the nuns came in. Now mind you, I sat in that waiting room for over an hour (did I mention bureaucracy?) and it didn’t happen with everyone, but when it did… it was just as if it had been rehearsed. Is this religious training, school training, rasta, or what? It can’t just come from nowhere. I need to find out more about this. I’ve also noticed a lot of conversations end with “God willing.” Hmmmmmm…
So I’ll stop here, face you all and say “Good evening, People.”
All love,
Colleen
Hot rain! What an experience. Today was hot and muggy and then it suddenly turned into a torrential monsoon. Wow! I’ve never seen anything like it! The air remained warm (not hot), while massive sheets of heavy, heavy water poured down and washed my car. Frankly, I’d just been wondering how I’d get it clean. There’s no Touchless Car Wash here. Torrents of water and then: Boom! A Big, Fat Sun. A cloud floated overhead, dropped a flood and then it moved on. Other billowy black clouds seem to be coming this way, interspersed with deep blue.. Now I understand the phrase “pray for rain.” It’s so refreshing, but still within a happy temperature range… One drawback of sorts: you can’t be too pretentious about your looks… hair frizzes or gets flattened and clothes get wet… very wet. The rain comes on and leaves too suddenly for any preparations to make sense. There’s something exhilarating about it all.
My condo is great, by the way: two bedrooms, two baths and just little old me. There are plantation style fans in every room, including the bathrooms… just in case I decide to turn off the air conditioning. So far, I have every night. My place faces the ocean and I like to sit out on the balcony in the evening and watch the view. God, it doesn’t do the word “beautiful” justice. With the windows open all night I can hear the surf below. I can also hear the piano player in the resort bar next door. It’s kind of nice in a “making do with what we’ve got” sort of way. He isn’t a good singer and only plays passably, but it provides a tropical/provincial atmosphere that I’m getting into. One has to accept life a few notches below human perfection, while living in what otherwise appears to be paradise.
Take, for instance, the bureaucracy that seems to be the endemic sickness here. Nothing can be done without three copies of three different forms. When I went to open a checking account it took two hours! The receptionist didn’t say hello or how can I help you. She continued to look down at the papers on her desk, firmly shook her head no and told me, “I’m sorry you can’t open an account without two forms of ID and a social security card.” She expected me to go away. I said, “I have it right here” and she jerked her head up at me and practically shouted, “YOU DO?!!” It just so happened I had just returned from England, had my passport in my purse and always keep my social security card tucked behind my driver’s license (even though I’ve been told you should never do this for identity theft protection.. for the moment I’m glad I didn’t listen). The woman nearly fell over. She looked indignant, but after making me wait… seemingly for her own satisfaction, she led me to Miss George, the sales representative (sales?). After that, it took three people, two different kinds of official stamps, three forms, three copies of those forms, and copies of those copies to get checks. She took the time to file everything away before handing me my checks. Thank god I didn’t opt for the combination checking/savings account. That could have taken days! All the while the form signing was going on Miss George was complaining about how hard she works and how incompetent everyone else is who works in the bank. Oh my. I was sympathetic enough to keep her moving, but didn’t really want to piss off the others who might be giving me my money in the future. It’s a delicate balance. Later on in the day I had to show up at the phone company in person to fill out the paperwork for service. That won’t actually happen until next Tuesday when someone comes out to the house to check the phone jacks. And soon I’ll have to face the DMV here. That sounds like the stuff of nightmares. I believe this may all have something to do with job security. More later…
Okay, I really do like it here, in spite of my kvetching, but have I mentioned mosquitoes? They like it here, too. They’re tiny and very fast. I’m used to big, fat, lolloping mosquitoes… too clumsy to get away. You can squash ‘em before they draw blood. These little guys are like sports cars. They zip in and out before you even know they were there. I’m covered in bites. All the teachers here swear by Skin So Soft by Avon. Time to meet my local representative, I guess. They also say the rain washes the mosquitoes away. That makes the downpours even more attractive. In addition, I’m investing heavily in citronella candles.
I went on a boat ride around the islands yesterday. We stopped at Joost Van Dyke and the deserted, northern end of Tortola. Both are British islands, so we had to go through customs on either end. No bureaucracy there. Zip in. Show your passport. Zip out. How can I describe the water? Turquoise… like the stone… on the way out and navy blue in the evening on the way back; true navy, with a turquoise wake behind the boat. The beaches were deserted, warm and had just enough surf to make it fun. Luckily I’m a strong swimmer, since we had to swim into shore about 30 feet and the boys (ages 5 and 8) were afraid. My lifeguard skills from 30 years ago came in handy. I tucked one under my arm, swam him in and went back for the other. Just like riding a bicycle… it all came back to me. What an incredible day… exhaustingly wonderful.
Today I’m burnt around the edges: do you remember tan lines? Well, they’re back. Hopefully, my burn will turn to tan. I’ve invested in a bottle of aloe vera with lidocaine.
And that’s that. All’s well here. Let me know how you’re doing. I’m about to start fall semester in my M.Ed. classes and the kids start school here on August 21st. I’m going hiking on St. John island on Saturday… it’s all National Park land. Gotta have fun before things get busy again.
Oh, one more interesting little note: When I was waiting in the phone company waiting room something unusual happened: Every once in a while, someone would enter the waiting room, stop, and say, “Good morning, People.” And I swear to god, every person in that room (except me) chimed in “Good morning.” It happened again and again. And just as often when they left they’d face the room and say “good morning” again! And damned if everyone didn’t answer all together again! It sounded like a catholic schoolroom when the nuns came in. Now mind you, I sat in that waiting room for over an hour (did I mention bureaucracy?) and it didn’t happen with everyone, but when it did… it was just as if it had been rehearsed. Is this religious training, school training, rasta, or what? It can’t just come from nowhere. I need to find out more about this. I’ve also noticed a lot of conversations end with “God willing.” Hmmmmmm…
So I’ll stop here, face you all and say “Good evening, People.”
All love,
Colleen
meeting new friends
Hello My Old Friends,
Meeting new friends. One of the more difficult aspects of moving away is leaving behind friends and family. One of the more enjoyable aspects of moving to a new home is making new friends. It isn’t easy to put yourself out there all the time. In fact, it can be quite uncomfortable, but the rewards are great. I was lucky enough to have Gary Wingert for a friend in California. He, in turn, has made abiding friendships that lasted no matter where he and his friends have gone. One of his good friends from Colorado, Marvin, wound up taking on a managerial position with an online vacation rental firm. Marvin has put me in touch with Susie Baker, his St. Thomas office manager… and now I’m in business! Susie’s warm, open attitude and myriad connections on the islands have opened the doors for me into delightfully relaxed and completely comfortable friendships. Nearly everyone on the islands knows everyone else…. So it looks like I’ll be running into new friends wherever I go. Susie seems to know how to lead a group and she’s bringing me into the fold for fun, good food (she’s an incredible cook), and lots of new adventures. We’re making plans to take the ferry over to Tortola for a weekend soon… while the off-season rates are still in effect. Man, if this is off-season, I’m looking forward to the on-season. The weather is beautiful and the scenery is better. The intermittent rain showers don’t bother me at all. In fact, they’re part of the charm.
Health seems to come naturally here, too. All my friends in the teacher-business know how colds start to spread with the onset of a new school year. I haven’t noticed one sneeze, runny nose or cough yet. In fact, my habitual cough has disappeared. The warm, moist air seems to be a natural remedy for what ails you. The biggest health complaint (and I really don’t mean this to sound like I’m living in Partyville) is hangovers. It seems the heat and alcohol can dehydrate your body to the point of headaches. Bottled water is everywhere. (Not all the tap water on the island is potable.) Rather than being a constant party, I’ve noticed St. Thomas seems to shut down rather early. Maybe I’m just going to the wrong gatherings and maybe it’s just that I always shut down early, but I noticed that even the weekend music at the resort next door is done by 10 or 11 pm… and it’s rather subdued at that point, anyway. The fun seems to come from water sports and other healthy pursuits during the daylight hours. Not too many fat people around here, unless you count the people who come off the cruise ships. From what I understand, that’s a moveable feast.
And speaking of cruise ships… have you ever seen one of these giant ships??? No, not the wimpy little boats that come into San Francisco. I mean the behemoths that look like stacks of 5 New York sky scrapers tipped on their sides. These sea monsters’ smoke stacks are eye level with me as I drive round the mountain curve above Charlotte Amalie. They really creep me out! I can’t explain why they seem so scary, but they are. By the time I drive down into the town, I have the shivers. They’re just too big. There is room for 8 of these ships at a time in St. Thomas. I have seen three in a row and it’s a breath-taking sight. So too, is the number of people who fill the nearby shops and streets. Crowds of people seem to wander aimlessly across the streets, which in St. Thomas is taking your life in your hands. Local drivers may do everything else slowly, but they drive very fast and pedestrians do not seem to have the right of way here the way they do in California... Passing over double yellow lines is an accepted driving practice. So too, is stopping in the middle of the road “just for a little while” to pick up a passenger or talk to a friend or who knows what other reason…. But the cars behind are supposed to stop, too, and wait. It happens all the time, so I suppose one can get used to stopping for tourists, as well. It’s a fast and slow existence. I wonder how often they go through brakes.
Pickup trucks are unofficial taxis here. Men and boys (no females) will hang a limp arm out and casually point in the direction of the road and trucks will stop (yes, in the middle of the road) and pick them up. The men jump in and out over the sides and stand in the back of the trucks, hanging onto the cab roof or those frame-like structures built into the back. It isn’t unusual to see 10 or more men and boys standing in the back of a pick-up. Last Saturday was Election Day here. SUV’s and trucks were plastered with posters and loud speakers were playing music and shouting slogans. Some of the trucks were filled with young men standing in the back, shouting and singing. It was a bit intimidating because it looked vaguely rebellious or militaristic. I’m not sure which. Maybe both. There were plenty of signs waving at the polling places, too. St. Tomeans take Election Day very seriously. Everyone was reading the special edition of the St. Thomas Source on Sunday to see who won. Some exorbitantly large number of Senators are elected to represent the USVI. It might be 8 or even more. As a US Territory, we can’t vote in the presidential elections. It’s all local.
Well, enough for now. I’ve talked about politics. Next time… religion. It’s everywhere!
Peace and love,
Colleen
Meeting new friends. One of the more difficult aspects of moving away is leaving behind friends and family. One of the more enjoyable aspects of moving to a new home is making new friends. It isn’t easy to put yourself out there all the time. In fact, it can be quite uncomfortable, but the rewards are great. I was lucky enough to have Gary Wingert for a friend in California. He, in turn, has made abiding friendships that lasted no matter where he and his friends have gone. One of his good friends from Colorado, Marvin, wound up taking on a managerial position with an online vacation rental firm. Marvin has put me in touch with Susie Baker, his St. Thomas office manager… and now I’m in business! Susie’s warm, open attitude and myriad connections on the islands have opened the doors for me into delightfully relaxed and completely comfortable friendships. Nearly everyone on the islands knows everyone else…. So it looks like I’ll be running into new friends wherever I go. Susie seems to know how to lead a group and she’s bringing me into the fold for fun, good food (she’s an incredible cook), and lots of new adventures. We’re making plans to take the ferry over to Tortola for a weekend soon… while the off-season rates are still in effect. Man, if this is off-season, I’m looking forward to the on-season. The weather is beautiful and the scenery is better. The intermittent rain showers don’t bother me at all. In fact, they’re part of the charm.
Health seems to come naturally here, too. All my friends in the teacher-business know how colds start to spread with the onset of a new school year. I haven’t noticed one sneeze, runny nose or cough yet. In fact, my habitual cough has disappeared. The warm, moist air seems to be a natural remedy for what ails you. The biggest health complaint (and I really don’t mean this to sound like I’m living in Partyville) is hangovers. It seems the heat and alcohol can dehydrate your body to the point of headaches. Bottled water is everywhere. (Not all the tap water on the island is potable.) Rather than being a constant party, I’ve noticed St. Thomas seems to shut down rather early. Maybe I’m just going to the wrong gatherings and maybe it’s just that I always shut down early, but I noticed that even the weekend music at the resort next door is done by 10 or 11 pm… and it’s rather subdued at that point, anyway. The fun seems to come from water sports and other healthy pursuits during the daylight hours. Not too many fat people around here, unless you count the people who come off the cruise ships. From what I understand, that’s a moveable feast.
And speaking of cruise ships… have you ever seen one of these giant ships??? No, not the wimpy little boats that come into San Francisco. I mean the behemoths that look like stacks of 5 New York sky scrapers tipped on their sides. These sea monsters’ smoke stacks are eye level with me as I drive round the mountain curve above Charlotte Amalie. They really creep me out! I can’t explain why they seem so scary, but they are. By the time I drive down into the town, I have the shivers. They’re just too big. There is room for 8 of these ships at a time in St. Thomas. I have seen three in a row and it’s a breath-taking sight. So too, is the number of people who fill the nearby shops and streets. Crowds of people seem to wander aimlessly across the streets, which in St. Thomas is taking your life in your hands. Local drivers may do everything else slowly, but they drive very fast and pedestrians do not seem to have the right of way here the way they do in California... Passing over double yellow lines is an accepted driving practice. So too, is stopping in the middle of the road “just for a little while” to pick up a passenger or talk to a friend or who knows what other reason…. But the cars behind are supposed to stop, too, and wait. It happens all the time, so I suppose one can get used to stopping for tourists, as well. It’s a fast and slow existence. I wonder how often they go through brakes.
Pickup trucks are unofficial taxis here. Men and boys (no females) will hang a limp arm out and casually point in the direction of the road and trucks will stop (yes, in the middle of the road) and pick them up. The men jump in and out over the sides and stand in the back of the trucks, hanging onto the cab roof or those frame-like structures built into the back. It isn’t unusual to see 10 or more men and boys standing in the back of a pick-up. Last Saturday was Election Day here. SUV’s and trucks were plastered with posters and loud speakers were playing music and shouting slogans. Some of the trucks were filled with young men standing in the back, shouting and singing. It was a bit intimidating because it looked vaguely rebellious or militaristic. I’m not sure which. Maybe both. There were plenty of signs waving at the polling places, too. St. Tomeans take Election Day very seriously. Everyone was reading the special edition of the St. Thomas Source on Sunday to see who won. Some exorbitantly large number of Senators are elected to represent the USVI. It might be 8 or even more. As a US Territory, we can’t vote in the presidential elections. It’s all local.
Well, enough for now. I’ve talked about politics. Next time… religion. It’s everywhere!
Peace and love,
Colleen
the swatter
Hello again from St. Thomas, my Friends,
Today’s news: The Swatter. This is my new best friend. We go everywhere together. This little device looks like a small badminton racquet… or a children’s tennis racquet. I have two. One runs on batteries and the other is re-chargeable. You swing them around while sitting outside and they ZAP the bugs with an electric charge. You see the spark, hear the crackle and you know the mosquito or “no-see-um” is dead. It turns out mosquitoes are not the only villain around here. “No-see-ums” are little flies that run true to their name. They are so tiny as to be invisible, but their bite is about as close to a mosquito bite as one can get. I’m determined to eliminate these insects from my life. Sure, I preached non-violence most of my life, but this is different. This is defensive.
Last weekend I went to Maho Bay with my friend, Rosemary. She’s gone now, but was working here as a nanny for a month. Maho is a double-scooped bay located on St. John - two attached, pristine beaches; the perfect place for a non-structured, non-tourist get away. We stayed in rustic tent-cabins. At first we were going to have to pay $75/night for this little privilege, but since I’m a local now, we got the $37 rate. I’ve also been told to let shop keepers and the owners of other attractions (like kayak outlets) know that I’m local. We get discounts!
The Antilles School is a wonderful place to work. I’m in the midst of working out my schedule. Looks like it’ll be two hours a day working with the first graders, two to three hours a day with my private student and a few other individual 4th and 5th graders throughout the week. The kids are VERY polite. And the teachers are an interesting mix of recent and long-time residents. Everyone has a story… All I have to do is ask, “What brought you to St. Thomas?” and I have a fascinating conversation. I don’t think anyone was born here, except for the teenagers and 20-Somethings. The funny thing is, they all have plans to leave. The kids want more opportunities in terms of school, social activities and shopping.
The local public schools all have brightly colored uniforms and for good reason. There are no choices for shopping here. The uniforms are beautiful… so far I’ve seen orange/brown, pink/maroon and blue/aqua combinations. The girls wear plaid skirts and the fad seems to be ruffled matching pony-tail holders around their white ankle socks. The uniforms are all available in a special display at the only department store on the island - K-Mart. Really! I bought food, running shoes, shampoo, laundry detergent, my non-electric phone (for power outages) and snorkel equipment there. If you don’t want to pay resort-boutique prices for clothes of any kind, you also go to K-Mart. The adults and private school kids all go shopping “stateside” for their clothes. K-Mart is located in the dead-center of the island at the Tutu Mall, which is actually just … K-Mart! An Office Depot is nearby and the phone company is located upstairs from that, but it’s detached from K-Mart by a huge parking lot. It has to be big because on any given afternoon between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m., nearly every resident of St. Thomas is there simultaneously. (I don’t think anyone would be silly enough to go out in the sun during those hours.) The place is packed!
By the way, speaking of the phone company, my phone saga ended today. After two trips to the office, three days at home from work waiting for someone to show up (they came by on the fourth day when I wasn’t home and didn’t need to be.) I was finally told, “We have hooked up your line to the demarcation box on your building. Now you have to hire an engineer to run a cable from the box to your condo.” After almost 4 weeks since my first visit to the phone company, but this morning the engineer came to my door. He hooked up a little machine to the phone jack. It beeped and I have a dial tone! That little visit will cost a minimum of $75 just for him to walk in, but at least I’m connected to the outside world. My land-line number is: 340-715-9999. There’s no voicemail, but I’ll get an answering machine soon. Hey, maybe tomorrow during the hot sun … at K-Mart.
All Love,
Colleen
Today’s news: The Swatter. This is my new best friend. We go everywhere together. This little device looks like a small badminton racquet… or a children’s tennis racquet. I have two. One runs on batteries and the other is re-chargeable. You swing them around while sitting outside and they ZAP the bugs with an electric charge. You see the spark, hear the crackle and you know the mosquito or “no-see-um” is dead. It turns out mosquitoes are not the only villain around here. “No-see-ums” are little flies that run true to their name. They are so tiny as to be invisible, but their bite is about as close to a mosquito bite as one can get. I’m determined to eliminate these insects from my life. Sure, I preached non-violence most of my life, but this is different. This is defensive.
Last weekend I went to Maho Bay with my friend, Rosemary. She’s gone now, but was working here as a nanny for a month. Maho is a double-scooped bay located on St. John - two attached, pristine beaches; the perfect place for a non-structured, non-tourist get away. We stayed in rustic tent-cabins. At first we were going to have to pay $75/night for this little privilege, but since I’m a local now, we got the $37 rate. I’ve also been told to let shop keepers and the owners of other attractions (like kayak outlets) know that I’m local. We get discounts!
The Antilles School is a wonderful place to work. I’m in the midst of working out my schedule. Looks like it’ll be two hours a day working with the first graders, two to three hours a day with my private student and a few other individual 4th and 5th graders throughout the week. The kids are VERY polite. And the teachers are an interesting mix of recent and long-time residents. Everyone has a story… All I have to do is ask, “What brought you to St. Thomas?” and I have a fascinating conversation. I don’t think anyone was born here, except for the teenagers and 20-Somethings. The funny thing is, they all have plans to leave. The kids want more opportunities in terms of school, social activities and shopping.
The local public schools all have brightly colored uniforms and for good reason. There are no choices for shopping here. The uniforms are beautiful… so far I’ve seen orange/brown, pink/maroon and blue/aqua combinations. The girls wear plaid skirts and the fad seems to be ruffled matching pony-tail holders around their white ankle socks. The uniforms are all available in a special display at the only department store on the island - K-Mart. Really! I bought food, running shoes, shampoo, laundry detergent, my non-electric phone (for power outages) and snorkel equipment there. If you don’t want to pay resort-boutique prices for clothes of any kind, you also go to K-Mart. The adults and private school kids all go shopping “stateside” for their clothes. K-Mart is located in the dead-center of the island at the Tutu Mall, which is actually just … K-Mart! An Office Depot is nearby and the phone company is located upstairs from that, but it’s detached from K-Mart by a huge parking lot. It has to be big because on any given afternoon between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m., nearly every resident of St. Thomas is there simultaneously. (I don’t think anyone would be silly enough to go out in the sun during those hours.) The place is packed!
By the way, speaking of the phone company, my phone saga ended today. After two trips to the office, three days at home from work waiting for someone to show up (they came by on the fourth day when I wasn’t home and didn’t need to be.) I was finally told, “We have hooked up your line to the demarcation box on your building. Now you have to hire an engineer to run a cable from the box to your condo.” After almost 4 weeks since my first visit to the phone company, but this morning the engineer came to my door. He hooked up a little machine to the phone jack. It beeped and I have a dial tone! That little visit will cost a minimum of $75 just for him to walk in, but at least I’m connected to the outside world. My land-line number is: 340-715-9999. There’s no voicemail, but I’ll get an answering machine soon. Hey, maybe tomorrow during the hot sun … at K-Mart.
All Love,
Colleen
SAME PLACE, NEW ADDRESS
I’m cold. I took the ferry over to St. John and went on a tour today, got all sweaty and sunburnt and came home to my condo where the A/C was set to 80 degrees. It feels freezing in here. Man, is my internal thermometer messed up. I have on sweat pants, a thermal top and my bones are finally warming up. Odd.
My big news is that I received some mail today. It seems the address I was given here is wrong. I told most of you it was 41 Cowpet Leeward, St. Thomas. UPS delivered my Amazon.com books here before I even arrived. NO PROBLEM. But my mailbox got lonely. Finally, a neighbor told me we have a street address. That may not seem like interesting news to you, but there are NO STREET NAMES on St. Thomas. In fact, there are no street numbers. Most people have PO Boxes for their mail. Houses are identified by color, location, etc. When you ask for or give directions, it is by landmark. “You know the old Esso station? Turn left there and keep going over the hill till you get to the trees.” That’s how I find my school. To get to a party at Magen’s beach I was told, “Go to the Federal Building in town, turn right and then stay left past the dairy, go around the curve and turn right at the T in the road, then keep going till you get there.” WHAT?? Houses are identified by businesses according to directions. The phone company didn’t ask for my address. The woman said, “Give me directions to your house.” I told her “You head toward Red Hook, then you go up the hill heading east and turn right into the last driveway before the Elysian Hotel. I’m number 41.” She wrote this down as my address. Her only question was, “Is that upstairs or downstairs?” I’m assuming this installer is going to have to miss my driveway and turn around at the Elysian to find me. Okay, now imagine my surprise when I find out my condo has a street name. It doesn’t even have a street! It has a parking lot. My mail was not arriving because I wasn’t using this non-existing street address. Anyway, here’s my official address if you’d like to send me a SF Bay Area post card:
Colleen Dolan
Cowpet Bay West
6100 Leeward Way #41
St. Thomas, VI 00802
Go figure.
Here are some pictures from St. John. I’m going to be spending many weekends on this island. It is about 80% national park and has a more natural feel than St. Thomas. The ferry takes about 20 minutes from Red Hook (near my house) to Cruz Bay. By the way, I made the mistake of calling Red Hook a town and was told Charlotte Amalie is called Town. Everything else is “in the country.” Red Hook is a collection of shops and quite a few restaurants and it’s the place to catch a ferry to St. John. It’s the location of Marina Market, one of the better food markets and the Chelsea drug store. But it’s simply a place, NOT a town.
More later….
Colleen
My big news is that I received some mail today. It seems the address I was given here is wrong. I told most of you it was 41 Cowpet Leeward, St. Thomas. UPS delivered my Amazon.com books here before I even arrived. NO PROBLEM. But my mailbox got lonely. Finally, a neighbor told me we have a street address. That may not seem like interesting news to you, but there are NO STREET NAMES on St. Thomas. In fact, there are no street numbers. Most people have PO Boxes for their mail. Houses are identified by color, location, etc. When you ask for or give directions, it is by landmark. “You know the old Esso station? Turn left there and keep going over the hill till you get to the trees.” That’s how I find my school. To get to a party at Magen’s beach I was told, “Go to the Federal Building in town, turn right and then stay left past the dairy, go around the curve and turn right at the T in the road, then keep going till you get there.” WHAT?? Houses are identified by businesses according to directions. The phone company didn’t ask for my address. The woman said, “Give me directions to your house.” I told her “You head toward Red Hook, then you go up the hill heading east and turn right into the last driveway before the Elysian Hotel. I’m number 41.” She wrote this down as my address. Her only question was, “Is that upstairs or downstairs?” I’m assuming this installer is going to have to miss my driveway and turn around at the Elysian to find me. Okay, now imagine my surprise when I find out my condo has a street name. It doesn’t even have a street! It has a parking lot. My mail was not arriving because I wasn’t using this non-existing street address. Anyway, here’s my official address if you’d like to send me a SF Bay Area post card:
Colleen Dolan
Cowpet Bay West
6100 Leeward Way #41
St. Thomas, VI 00802
Go figure.
Here are some pictures from St. John. I’m going to be spending many weekends on this island. It is about 80% national park and has a more natural feel than St. Thomas. The ferry takes about 20 minutes from Red Hook (near my house) to Cruz Bay. By the way, I made the mistake of calling Red Hook a town and was told Charlotte Amalie is called Town. Everything else is “in the country.” Red Hook is a collection of shops and quite a few restaurants and it’s the place to catch a ferry to St. John. It’s the location of Marina Market, one of the better food markets and the Chelsea drug store. But it’s simply a place, NOT a town.
More later….
Colleen
how long have i been here?
How long have I been here? Five months now... and still completely turned around. I don't know one compass point from another. I drive to work or to Charlotte Amalie (the big city) and have to tell myself, "I'm driving west, towards California. Now I'm driving south towards Brazil... but it's no use. In my mind the map is a mirror image of where I think I am. My balcony faces south and east. I am looking out toward Africa. Even as I look out onto the Atlantic Ocean with the sun setting BEHIND me, I think I’m facing west. Deep down in my bones, as I drive around the southern lip of the island, it feels like I am heading north. It's all backwards and disorienting. Where am I? The water is in the wrong place!!! Help!!! Who turned the map around???
Ah well, I get to where I need to be just like the locals now... looking for landmarks. I found Wendy's, the Bridge to Nowhere, Red Hook and the Dairy. This is a small island and Nicholas' teacher told me, "If you keep the water to your right, you can always just drive around the island and find yourself back home. And damned if it isn't true. North, south, east west... all imaginary places on paper. I can drive in circles to get home. How lucky is that?
So would you like to know what St. Thomas is really like? The perimeter is dotted with condos, lovely homes, marinas, and resorts, each unique in its own style and level of luxury ... from shabby, old world charm at some of the older hotels to clean elegance at the Ritz or the Mariott. The interior of the island isn't nearly as nice. Think: cinder blocks, re-bar, rusted chain link fences, dirt and potholes the size of Lake Erie. Groups of men hanging out under the trees at roadside catering trucks in the morning are still playing cards there in the afternoons. I try not to get lost in the interior. Gas is nearly $4.00 per gallon and it goes quicker than you might think because we run the air conditioning on our cars all the time. You have to. They are little tin boxes in the sun.
I’m starting to get into a routine: up at 5:30, pick up Nicholas at 6:30. Start work at 6:50, done by 3:00. I either go down to the beach for a swim or go to the fitness center at my school after work. That’s my day. At home I read my text books and do my online homework for my Master’s program in Literacy at U of Misery… (yes, that’s Missouri). Between this course and my Ed Therapy courses, I should have my doctorate by now! Sigh.
I'll write again soon,
Colleen
Ah well, I get to where I need to be just like the locals now... looking for landmarks. I found Wendy's, the Bridge to Nowhere, Red Hook and the Dairy. This is a small island and Nicholas' teacher told me, "If you keep the water to your right, you can always just drive around the island and find yourself back home. And damned if it isn't true. North, south, east west... all imaginary places on paper. I can drive in circles to get home. How lucky is that?
So would you like to know what St. Thomas is really like? The perimeter is dotted with condos, lovely homes, marinas, and resorts, each unique in its own style and level of luxury ... from shabby, old world charm at some of the older hotels to clean elegance at the Ritz or the Mariott. The interior of the island isn't nearly as nice. Think: cinder blocks, re-bar, rusted chain link fences, dirt and potholes the size of Lake Erie. Groups of men hanging out under the trees at roadside catering trucks in the morning are still playing cards there in the afternoons. I try not to get lost in the interior. Gas is nearly $4.00 per gallon and it goes quicker than you might think because we run the air conditioning on our cars all the time. You have to. They are little tin boxes in the sun.
I’m starting to get into a routine: up at 5:30, pick up Nicholas at 6:30. Start work at 6:50, done by 3:00. I either go down to the beach for a swim or go to the fitness center at my school after work. That’s my day. At home I read my text books and do my online homework for my Master’s program in Literacy at U of Misery… (yes, that’s Missouri). Between this course and my Ed Therapy courses, I should have my doctorate by now! Sigh.
I'll write again soon,
Colleen
SETTLING IN
Hello friends,
I have returned from my big trek to Buffalo, NY to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday...or what she liked to refer to as “My first birthday party ever.” My daughters flew in from San Francisco and we stayed together at my sister’s house. What a relief to see them healthy and happy. It’s been three months. That was the highlight of the trip for me, but not the only amazing reunion. This was the first time our entire family was together. So I guess you could call it our “First reunion ever.” The east coast grandkids and the west coast contingent hardly know each other. The last time we got together like this was for my brother’s wedding 18 years ago. He has three kids now. So there we all were… enjoying each other’s company and the warm, sunny Western New York weather. We went to Ellicottville, NY for the Fall Festival. It used to be the Oktoberfest, but they’re trying to downplay the drinking aspect of it … except, of course, for the prominent beer tent. We strolled down the streets, enjoying the fall colors and the street fair, which was much like the art and wine festivals we have throughout the summer up and down the west coast… except there was beer instead of wine. It was too warm for jackets. And on Sunday, my mother’s party could have been held outdoors, it was that beautiful. This weekend they expect two feet of snow! Yes, I remember why I left. Ahhhhhh…. It’s so good to be back in the land of endless summer.
And have I relaxed with a good book on the beach since returning? No, I’ve doubled up on the work for my masters, but for a very good reason. I want to get some papers done ahead of time. Next weekend I’m expecting my friend, Steve, to arrive. He is my first visitor and I’m really looking forward to it. This is my big chance to be a tourist on my own turf. Sure, I’ve gone to St. John on my own, got invited to a few incredibly fun barbeques, and have managed to swim at various beaches every weekend, but it’s different when you have a friend with you to help you explore new places. It’s easier somehow. Steve runs the wine program at three excellent restaurants in San Francisco and he needs a break from all that. So I’ve invited him down here where the wine and food selections are not as intense; not by a long shot. Most of the restaurant meals I’ve experienced here have been more about the view than the food. Luckily, this is a small island and it’s pretty hard for a restaurant not to have a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean or the Caribbean Sea. Dinner at friends’ houses is different and other rules apply. I’ve enjoyed great company, tried new recipes at Mary’s, and even helped in the kitchen with Susie. And the views have still been breathtaking. Who knows? I may shock my girls and cook for them while they’re here in December. Heck, I may even cook for Steve when he’s here!
Till then, I’m settling back on my balcony, sipping a glass of sauvignon blanc and listing to the piano player at the restaurant down below. The view is great!
All love,
Colleen
I have returned from my big trek to Buffalo, NY to celebrate my mother’s 80th birthday...or what she liked to refer to as “My first birthday party ever.” My daughters flew in from San Francisco and we stayed together at my sister’s house. What a relief to see them healthy and happy. It’s been three months. That was the highlight of the trip for me, but not the only amazing reunion. This was the first time our entire family was together. So I guess you could call it our “First reunion ever.” The east coast grandkids and the west coast contingent hardly know each other. The last time we got together like this was for my brother’s wedding 18 years ago. He has three kids now. So there we all were… enjoying each other’s company and the warm, sunny Western New York weather. We went to Ellicottville, NY for the Fall Festival. It used to be the Oktoberfest, but they’re trying to downplay the drinking aspect of it … except, of course, for the prominent beer tent. We strolled down the streets, enjoying the fall colors and the street fair, which was much like the art and wine festivals we have throughout the summer up and down the west coast… except there was beer instead of wine. It was too warm for jackets. And on Sunday, my mother’s party could have been held outdoors, it was that beautiful. This weekend they expect two feet of snow! Yes, I remember why I left. Ahhhhhh…. It’s so good to be back in the land of endless summer.
And have I relaxed with a good book on the beach since returning? No, I’ve doubled up on the work for my masters, but for a very good reason. I want to get some papers done ahead of time. Next weekend I’m expecting my friend, Steve, to arrive. He is my first visitor and I’m really looking forward to it. This is my big chance to be a tourist on my own turf. Sure, I’ve gone to St. John on my own, got invited to a few incredibly fun barbeques, and have managed to swim at various beaches every weekend, but it’s different when you have a friend with you to help you explore new places. It’s easier somehow. Steve runs the wine program at three excellent restaurants in San Francisco and he needs a break from all that. So I’ve invited him down here where the wine and food selections are not as intense; not by a long shot. Most of the restaurant meals I’ve experienced here have been more about the view than the food. Luckily, this is a small island and it’s pretty hard for a restaurant not to have a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean or the Caribbean Sea. Dinner at friends’ houses is different and other rules apply. I’ve enjoyed great company, tried new recipes at Mary’s, and even helped in the kitchen with Susie. And the views have still been breathtaking. Who knows? I may shock my girls and cook for them while they’re here in December. Heck, I may even cook for Steve when he’s here!
Till then, I’m settling back on my balcony, sipping a glass of sauvignon blanc and listing to the piano player at the restaurant down below. The view is great!
All love,
Colleen
Busy october
Well, October was a busy month. First, I went to Buffalo for the Columbus Day weekend. It was something of a family reunion with aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, old neighbors, friends, and lots and lots of cousins (I have 56 first cousins on my mother's side). We celebrated my mother's 80th birthday with a dinner party for 65 or so people at a restaurant in Williamsville, New York. All in all, the party went very well. If you've heard me talk about my mother at all, you know she was thrilled to be the center of so much attention. And, believe me, if the conversation veered off the birthday path for even a minute, she steered us right back on it. It was incredible seeing my girls again. The three of us stayed together at my sister's house. The weather was unseasonable warm; in the 60's and 70's during the day. (The following weekend brought 2 feet of snow and power outages).
Then, Steve came to visit me for almost two weeks. Is is me? Or has he become a parent? He had all kinds of news about my girls. It seems he has been shopping, taking the girls out to dinner and cleaning up my house when it gets too messy. He fusses over them and sees to it everything in the house is in good repair. He tells me how he worries about them sometimes and had trouble sleeping. Okay... that sounds like me. The only difference is... I now have Steve to take on the worry for me and I'm sleeping like a baby here in the tropics.
While he was here, Steve took up snorkeling. He said he has never been much of a water person; more of a mountains kind of guy, but he really loved snorkeling. It's pretty new for me too and I love seeing the coral and the giant versions of the tropical (!) fish you see in fish tanks. Every time we went out, we saw something new. We also went kayaking through the mangrove lagoons to Cas Cay, which I loved. It's been a while since I've been out on the water. Steve also took me out to try almost every good restaurant on St. Thomas and it was an adventure finding our way around. He adjusted to the left-hand driving pretty quickly, but neither of us has yet figured out how to navigate without street signs. Everyone gives directions with landmarks that I still don't know. But I now have my favorite places to eat: Indigo, Oceana and Off the Hook; in that order. And I can find my way there, too! We also went out to Vie's Snack Shack out on the east end of St. John and it was a relaxing, old-world sort of experience. Great home-cooked food served next to a country road by Vie in... you guessed it: an old shack. You sit at a picnic table under a tree or you can cross the street to visit her private beach (for $2.50) and find some of the best snorkeling on earth. I love this place. It's so real.
Okay, one bad thing happened: ECO HELL NIGHT. I suppose that was real, too. We spent Steve's second weekend on St. John and stayed in an eco-friendly studio on the far east end... pretty much the furthest eastern point of the US territories... even farther than Vie's Snack Shack. It was unbelievably beautiful. We drove over mountains (albeit low mountains) on bumpy, unmarked roads and traveled through jungle that was attempting to take over the road. Sometimes the growth turned the two narrow lanes into one. We decided not to stay in the tent-cabins at Maho Bay and opted for these luxury suites, instead. Well, if this is eco-luxury... I'm staying at the Westin next time. There was one wobbly, weak-willed ceiling fan in that dense jungle humidity. The air in the room was so thick you felt like you were choking. The tent-cabins would have been better, since the canvas walls breathe. And there were mosquitoes that invaded with such glee and in such huge numbers that it became warfare. Luckily, I brought my Swatter. Too bad I only brought one. Mosquitoes swarmed in through cracks around the screens and the supply of troops was never ending. Steve and I were slaying mosquitoes without even trying... just swept the Swatter around and listened to the constant satisfying, electric cracking sound of fried bugs. There was a huge deck overlooking the jungle and the Caribbean Sea, but there were too many bugs to use it. We couldn't go outside without getting swarmed. I wanted to go home, but we couldn't leave, since we brought my car over on the car ferry and the last ferry left at 6p.m. On a Saturday night, both hotels on the island would have been booked and even if they weren't, there is nothing scarier than pitch black, winding, over-grown, country roads on a strange island. There are no such things as street lights out there. In the end, perhaps those mosquitoes were scarier than Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. By morning, Steve and I were so covered with big, puffy bites that we had more itchy bumps than clear skin. We were both surprised we got any sleep at all. We checked out early and went snorkeling in Salt Pond Bay. It's amazing how everything was fine again after that. The salt water takes out the itch and you're pretty much left with just little red bumps. It's been a week and my legs are still covered with red, mosquito-bite scars. Steve's back was covered in welts, but then he got a sunburn that relieved him of all itching. If you ever decide to go to St. John and stay at the Concordia Estate Eco Studios... don't. Opt for a real hotel room. It'll be worth it.
Now that Steve is gone, I'll have to go back to exploring the island on my own. I'll miss his company. We heard about a Rasta farmer's market on the far west end of St. Thomas on Sunday mornings. I'm going to check it out... after going to Midas Muffler. A couple of the supporting straps on my muffler have come loose and I'm dragging over speed bumps. I called to ask if I needed to make an appointment for Saturday and the woman who answered said, "No, Darlin'. It's Saturday." Then silence... and more silence. I said, "I don't need an appointment on Saturday?" and she said, "No. It's Saturday, Darlin'. We're closed on Saturday." She spoke to me like I was a little child. How could I be so ignorant as to think Midas Muffler would be open on a Saturday? Well, it turns out I don't need an appointment on Sunday either... and they're open on Sundays. So hopefully, I will be there early enough to avoid a long wait and still get to the farmer's market before noon.
I may have my farmer's market after all. Let me know how life is where you are.
All love,
Colleen
Then, Steve came to visit me for almost two weeks. Is is me? Or has he become a parent? He had all kinds of news about my girls. It seems he has been shopping, taking the girls out to dinner and cleaning up my house when it gets too messy. He fusses over them and sees to it everything in the house is in good repair. He tells me how he worries about them sometimes and had trouble sleeping. Okay... that sounds like me. The only difference is... I now have Steve to take on the worry for me and I'm sleeping like a baby here in the tropics.
While he was here, Steve took up snorkeling. He said he has never been much of a water person; more of a mountains kind of guy, but he really loved snorkeling. It's pretty new for me too and I love seeing the coral and the giant versions of the tropical (!) fish you see in fish tanks. Every time we went out, we saw something new. We also went kayaking through the mangrove lagoons to Cas Cay, which I loved. It's been a while since I've been out on the water. Steve also took me out to try almost every good restaurant on St. Thomas and it was an adventure finding our way around. He adjusted to the left-hand driving pretty quickly, but neither of us has yet figured out how to navigate without street signs. Everyone gives directions with landmarks that I still don't know. But I now have my favorite places to eat: Indigo, Oceana and Off the Hook; in that order. And I can find my way there, too! We also went out to Vie's Snack Shack out on the east end of St. John and it was a relaxing, old-world sort of experience. Great home-cooked food served next to a country road by Vie in... you guessed it: an old shack. You sit at a picnic table under a tree or you can cross the street to visit her private beach (for $2.50) and find some of the best snorkeling on earth. I love this place. It's so real.
Okay, one bad thing happened: ECO HELL NIGHT. I suppose that was real, too. We spent Steve's second weekend on St. John and stayed in an eco-friendly studio on the far east end... pretty much the furthest eastern point of the US territories... even farther than Vie's Snack Shack. It was unbelievably beautiful. We drove over mountains (albeit low mountains) on bumpy, unmarked roads and traveled through jungle that was attempting to take over the road. Sometimes the growth turned the two narrow lanes into one. We decided not to stay in the tent-cabins at Maho Bay and opted for these luxury suites, instead. Well, if this is eco-luxury... I'm staying at the Westin next time. There was one wobbly, weak-willed ceiling fan in that dense jungle humidity. The air in the room was so thick you felt like you were choking. The tent-cabins would have been better, since the canvas walls breathe. And there were mosquitoes that invaded with such glee and in such huge numbers that it became warfare. Luckily, I brought my Swatter. Too bad I only brought one. Mosquitoes swarmed in through cracks around the screens and the supply of troops was never ending. Steve and I were slaying mosquitoes without even trying... just swept the Swatter around and listened to the constant satisfying, electric cracking sound of fried bugs. There was a huge deck overlooking the jungle and the Caribbean Sea, but there were too many bugs to use it. We couldn't go outside without getting swarmed. I wanted to go home, but we couldn't leave, since we brought my car over on the car ferry and the last ferry left at 6p.m. On a Saturday night, both hotels on the island would have been booked and even if they weren't, there is nothing scarier than pitch black, winding, over-grown, country roads on a strange island. There are no such things as street lights out there. In the end, perhaps those mosquitoes were scarier than Mr. Toad's Wild Ride. By morning, Steve and I were so covered with big, puffy bites that we had more itchy bumps than clear skin. We were both surprised we got any sleep at all. We checked out early and went snorkeling in Salt Pond Bay. It's amazing how everything was fine again after that. The salt water takes out the itch and you're pretty much left with just little red bumps. It's been a week and my legs are still covered with red, mosquito-bite scars. Steve's back was covered in welts, but then he got a sunburn that relieved him of all itching. If you ever decide to go to St. John and stay at the Concordia Estate Eco Studios... don't. Opt for a real hotel room. It'll be worth it.
Now that Steve is gone, I'll have to go back to exploring the island on my own. I'll miss his company. We heard about a Rasta farmer's market on the far west end of St. Thomas on Sunday mornings. I'm going to check it out... after going to Midas Muffler. A couple of the supporting straps on my muffler have come loose and I'm dragging over speed bumps. I called to ask if I needed to make an appointment for Saturday and the woman who answered said, "No, Darlin'. It's Saturday." Then silence... and more silence. I said, "I don't need an appointment on Saturday?" and she said, "No. It's Saturday, Darlin'. We're closed on Saturday." She spoke to me like I was a little child. How could I be so ignorant as to think Midas Muffler would be open on a Saturday? Well, it turns out I don't need an appointment on Sunday either... and they're open on Sundays. So hopefully, I will be there early enough to avoid a long wait and still get to the farmer's market before noon.
I may have my farmer's market after all. Let me know how life is where you are.
All love,
Colleen
on a miniature scale
Hello Friends,
On a miniature scale... yesterday was voting day on St. Thomas. This is my unsent November letter….
I've been thinking a lot about poverty and violence lately; about yin and yang, light and darkness. I live behind gates for a reason. The young men of St. Thomas are angry. The young women are subservient. This is a third world country with resorts. Rich white people blink their eyes in the sun and squint to block out the view of shacks and garbage. They comment on the quaint outdoor parties held each night by the roadside. It isn't quaint. It's too hot to stay indoors unless you have air conditioning. Let me tell you, one does not drive by those parties slowly, nor does one stop for gasoline at night. Yesterday was voting day. The St. Tomeans take this very seriously. Large SUV's and trucks plastered with politician's pictures and slogans drove around the island; speakers blaring with messages of hope and light. These trucks are packed with young men who are singing and shouting: "It will be a better day." "Our children our dying. Let us end this violence." "The Virgin Islands are the future." It is an education if we're willing to acknowledge the darkness. Messages of hope speak loudly to the realities of anger and resentment. The island seethes with churches, religious talk and revival meetings in the K-Mart parking lot. Half the radio stations are religious talk or music. The preachers talk about love and peace because the young men are not filled with love and peace. Rallies are aimed at young people.
The bulging, sunburned people who stream off the monstrous cruise ships are hideous. They come here to shop and eat. Local street artists who have white-tented stands in the park across from the ships try to coax them out of their money. The expensive shop and restaurant owners are mostly white. Condo and hotel managers are white. Local residents make up the "staff." The "continentals" (whites and Asians) are only 8% of the population, but we have the upper level jobs. Office and government jobs are all held by black women who dress up in dark suits or dresses, nylons, and heels. They have an "official" attitude of "things must be done by the rules." The rules seem to change from person to person. The whites dress more casually and have an "I'm really just on vacation; Parrot-head" attitude. Most came here to get away from the regimentation of daily life in the States or Europe. The local blacks thrive on regimentation. Hmmm. It's all part of a yin/yang, universal joke.
I have experienced disdain because of my color. A few weeks ago, a grocery store clerk walked away to take a break as I put my few items on the counter. I put on my smiley, cheerful Colleen voice and asked, "Are you open?" as I so often did in Safeway when a clerk looked at me blankly. The girl gave me the "suck." It's a physical sign of derision... a squeaky little sound that escapes the lips as the lower lip is sucked off the top teeth. It seems to be a less polite version of "kiss my ass." I had heard about it. Now I've seen it. After about 5 minutes of standing there and making a point of not looking at me, the girl returned to run my food over the scanner. I waited. There was no one behind me. No one in front. Surly isn't the half of it. This could be a Dominican Republic or Haiti if we don't acknowledge the unfathomable gulf between the casual wealth (my $50 worth of grocery items) and the angry poverty.
That’s politics from my own little corner of the globe...
Colleen
On a miniature scale... yesterday was voting day on St. Thomas. This is my unsent November letter….
I've been thinking a lot about poverty and violence lately; about yin and yang, light and darkness. I live behind gates for a reason. The young men of St. Thomas are angry. The young women are subservient. This is a third world country with resorts. Rich white people blink their eyes in the sun and squint to block out the view of shacks and garbage. They comment on the quaint outdoor parties held each night by the roadside. It isn't quaint. It's too hot to stay indoors unless you have air conditioning. Let me tell you, one does not drive by those parties slowly, nor does one stop for gasoline at night. Yesterday was voting day. The St. Tomeans take this very seriously. Large SUV's and trucks plastered with politician's pictures and slogans drove around the island; speakers blaring with messages of hope and light. These trucks are packed with young men who are singing and shouting: "It will be a better day." "Our children our dying. Let us end this violence." "The Virgin Islands are the future." It is an education if we're willing to acknowledge the darkness. Messages of hope speak loudly to the realities of anger and resentment. The island seethes with churches, religious talk and revival meetings in the K-Mart parking lot. Half the radio stations are religious talk or music. The preachers talk about love and peace because the young men are not filled with love and peace. Rallies are aimed at young people.
The bulging, sunburned people who stream off the monstrous cruise ships are hideous. They come here to shop and eat. Local street artists who have white-tented stands in the park across from the ships try to coax them out of their money. The expensive shop and restaurant owners are mostly white. Condo and hotel managers are white. Local residents make up the "staff." The "continentals" (whites and Asians) are only 8% of the population, but we have the upper level jobs. Office and government jobs are all held by black women who dress up in dark suits or dresses, nylons, and heels. They have an "official" attitude of "things must be done by the rules." The rules seem to change from person to person. The whites dress more casually and have an "I'm really just on vacation; Parrot-head" attitude. Most came here to get away from the regimentation of daily life in the States or Europe. The local blacks thrive on regimentation. Hmmm. It's all part of a yin/yang, universal joke.
I have experienced disdain because of my color. A few weeks ago, a grocery store clerk walked away to take a break as I put my few items on the counter. I put on my smiley, cheerful Colleen voice and asked, "Are you open?" as I so often did in Safeway when a clerk looked at me blankly. The girl gave me the "suck." It's a physical sign of derision... a squeaky little sound that escapes the lips as the lower lip is sucked off the top teeth. It seems to be a less polite version of "kiss my ass." I had heard about it. Now I've seen it. After about 5 minutes of standing there and making a point of not looking at me, the girl returned to run my food over the scanner. I waited. There was no one behind me. No one in front. Surly isn't the half of it. This could be a Dominican Republic or Haiti if we don't acknowledge the unfathomable gulf between the casual wealth (my $50 worth of grocery items) and the angry poverty.
That’s politics from my own little corner of the globe...
Colleen
ISLAND TIME
Hello friends,
Today I was feeling philosophical about being here and now. The morning started out beautifully... At 8:00 a.m., I "hiked" Magen's Beach... which is the longest beach on the island. Since there are no hiking trails here, I trudge through the water about waist-deep in one direction and then back again. It's a great workout and if you get too hot and sweaty, you can duck down to get wet and cool off. So my morning went well. I drank in this visual, sensual paradise until about 10:30 a.m. and came home muscle-tired, happy and ready to move on with my day.
In the SF Bay Area way of life, there would be a magnificent farmer's market on Saturday morning, but there isn't... there are no farms on the island. All produce is shipped in. But I was in "Marin" mode and went shopping for greens and flowers, and so on. Oh my. Someone has to tell me when the produce boats come in, because it isn't on Saturdays. The fruits and veggies are shriveling up and no flowers. All time is different here. I've heard the expression "island time" repeated in various situations, but I always thought it meant one does things slower here. Not so. It's beginning to dawn on me that there is a rhythm and schedule to life that has eluded me. I am trying to squeeze my Marin clock into small wedges of time that don't exist. There are huge gaps of time that I have stumbled upon... like my morning beach walk, but there are also clockwork mechanisms that dictate what one does and when. Again, today at dusk, I tried going out on my balcony to read. The light is filtered, the clouds are pink and yellow... the beauty is edible... but the bugs come out. Once again, my legs are covered in bites. Any islander would have told me to come inside. Heck, they've already done it on several occasions. But I stubbornly cling to my habits. Another mistake of timing, is that I've tried to start conversations with islanders about the business I wanted to discuss, when I'm supposed to ask after their husbands or children, talk about my children, ask about their weekend and comment on the weather first. Foolish, foolish woman. These are clumsy examples of my angular awkwardness here, but there is a current that runs underneath these simpleton's mistakes. I'm put in mind of Carlos Casteneda... remember him? Peyote buttons and all that? Or Aldous Huxley, William Blake and others who talked about the doors and veils of perception. There are alternative universes out there and I've stumbled upon a foreign one and it has to do with being out of sync. You don't have to travel far to find you're a stranger. The next step is to stop being a stranger; to step outside my own mindset and gracefully adjust my cadence. I don't yet know how or even what that means.
I think it's time to pour myself a glass of wine and sit outside. No need to read or study or do anything productive. It's completely dark now; it gets dark earlier at the equator... Although I'd read that fact, it never dawned on me it would actually happen. The bugs will be gone. This would be the perfect time for a cigarette if I smoked.
Good night, friends.
Colleen
Today I was feeling philosophical about being here and now. The morning started out beautifully... At 8:00 a.m., I "hiked" Magen's Beach... which is the longest beach on the island. Since there are no hiking trails here, I trudge through the water about waist-deep in one direction and then back again. It's a great workout and if you get too hot and sweaty, you can duck down to get wet and cool off. So my morning went well. I drank in this visual, sensual paradise until about 10:30 a.m. and came home muscle-tired, happy and ready to move on with my day.
In the SF Bay Area way of life, there would be a magnificent farmer's market on Saturday morning, but there isn't... there are no farms on the island. All produce is shipped in. But I was in "Marin" mode and went shopping for greens and flowers, and so on. Oh my. Someone has to tell me when the produce boats come in, because it isn't on Saturdays. The fruits and veggies are shriveling up and no flowers. All time is different here. I've heard the expression "island time" repeated in various situations, but I always thought it meant one does things slower here. Not so. It's beginning to dawn on me that there is a rhythm and schedule to life that has eluded me. I am trying to squeeze my Marin clock into small wedges of time that don't exist. There are huge gaps of time that I have stumbled upon... like my morning beach walk, but there are also clockwork mechanisms that dictate what one does and when. Again, today at dusk, I tried going out on my balcony to read. The light is filtered, the clouds are pink and yellow... the beauty is edible... but the bugs come out. Once again, my legs are covered in bites. Any islander would have told me to come inside. Heck, they've already done it on several occasions. But I stubbornly cling to my habits. Another mistake of timing, is that I've tried to start conversations with islanders about the business I wanted to discuss, when I'm supposed to ask after their husbands or children, talk about my children, ask about their weekend and comment on the weather first. Foolish, foolish woman. These are clumsy examples of my angular awkwardness here, but there is a current that runs underneath these simpleton's mistakes. I'm put in mind of Carlos Casteneda... remember him? Peyote buttons and all that? Or Aldous Huxley, William Blake and others who talked about the doors and veils of perception. There are alternative universes out there and I've stumbled upon a foreign one and it has to do with being out of sync. You don't have to travel far to find you're a stranger. The next step is to stop being a stranger; to step outside my own mindset and gracefully adjust my cadence. I don't yet know how or even what that means.
I think it's time to pour myself a glass of wine and sit outside. No need to read or study or do anything productive. It's completely dark now; it gets dark earlier at the equator... Although I'd read that fact, it never dawned on me it would actually happen. The bugs will be gone. This would be the perfect time for a cigarette if I smoked.
Good night, friends.
Colleen
christmas at home in san rafael, ca
Greetings from San Rafael,
It's the holidays and time is well spent with friends and family. I'm particularly lucky because I had my daughters with me in St. Thomas prior to Christmas and now am happily at home in San Rafael. I guess coming in on Christmas Eve threw my clock off a bit. Christmas came and went and it seems like a blur. Here I am with only one week of my vacation left and I'm in a daze. Where did the time go?
Just last Thursday night, after a long day of kayaking and snorkeling, Chelsea and I had dinner on my balcony in St. Thomas. The piano player at the Elysian Resort below me was doing his usual Sinatra/Elton John medley, but he was in direct competition with a children's choir singing carols in a conference room directly above him. Cacophony. The Christmas carols sounded completely out of place... chestnuts roasting on an open fire, sleigh bells ringing and dashing through the snow just seem silly.
There is no holiday rush or fuss or tension in St. Thomas. Unless you choose to go to Kmart, any shopping has to be done online and it has to be done 6 weeks early... so last-minute rushing around is unheard of. One teacher said her packages didn't come in on time, so she was wrapping pictures of her daughter's presents. It wasn't an emergency... it was typical. She just laughed and shrugged, "They'll get there when they get there."
Flying here plunged me into Christmas overnight, which is a nice way to do it. I had a quiet Christmas Eve dinner at Steve's parents' home... fresh cracked crab. Then the girls and I had a calm, cozy Christmas at home and a lovely impromptu Christmas dinner. Okay... time to bitch... they were supposed to go out with their dad, but he called and canceled at the last minute... couldn't get a dinner reservation. Mind you, he didn't start calling until Christmas afternoon. Oh, I'm so glad I had food in the house. It was a good day.
Today I was planning on going kayaking with my friend Susan, but after breathing in the frigid air, we opted to go have lunch at Sam's Anchor Bar in Tiburon instead. What a perfect day! I'm trying not to be a cold wimp, but I do miss the warmth of St. T. Really, the weather here has been beautiful.. lots of sun, lots of wind (which has a exciting feeling), and some rain, but not enough to dampen any plans. Anyway, it was interesting watching the seagulls at Sam's evolve from scavengers to offensive hunters. I remember when the seagulls used to wait until diners left the tables to pick off any extra bread or french fries. While Susan and I sat there, gulls attacked the tables on either side of us; flying off with freshly delivered pieces of fish and bread and buzzing one woman's head twice. Finally, one bird flew in and knocked over Susan's glass of beer. It was wild... a scene from The Birds.
Well, the adventure continues East and West. I'll be in town for a few more days. Catch me if you can... 415-847-4712. I'll be back in early March.
Be well.
Colleen
It's the holidays and time is well spent with friends and family. I'm particularly lucky because I had my daughters with me in St. Thomas prior to Christmas and now am happily at home in San Rafael. I guess coming in on Christmas Eve threw my clock off a bit. Christmas came and went and it seems like a blur. Here I am with only one week of my vacation left and I'm in a daze. Where did the time go?
Just last Thursday night, after a long day of kayaking and snorkeling, Chelsea and I had dinner on my balcony in St. Thomas. The piano player at the Elysian Resort below me was doing his usual Sinatra/Elton John medley, but he was in direct competition with a children's choir singing carols in a conference room directly above him. Cacophony. The Christmas carols sounded completely out of place... chestnuts roasting on an open fire, sleigh bells ringing and dashing through the snow just seem silly.
There is no holiday rush or fuss or tension in St. Thomas. Unless you choose to go to Kmart, any shopping has to be done online and it has to be done 6 weeks early... so last-minute rushing around is unheard of. One teacher said her packages didn't come in on time, so she was wrapping pictures of her daughter's presents. It wasn't an emergency... it was typical. She just laughed and shrugged, "They'll get there when they get there."
Flying here plunged me into Christmas overnight, which is a nice way to do it. I had a quiet Christmas Eve dinner at Steve's parents' home... fresh cracked crab. Then the girls and I had a calm, cozy Christmas at home and a lovely impromptu Christmas dinner. Okay... time to bitch... they were supposed to go out with their dad, but he called and canceled at the last minute... couldn't get a dinner reservation. Mind you, he didn't start calling until Christmas afternoon. Oh, I'm so glad I had food in the house. It was a good day.
Today I was planning on going kayaking with my friend Susan, but after breathing in the frigid air, we opted to go have lunch at Sam's Anchor Bar in Tiburon instead. What a perfect day! I'm trying not to be a cold wimp, but I do miss the warmth of St. T. Really, the weather here has been beautiful.. lots of sun, lots of wind (which has a exciting feeling), and some rain, but not enough to dampen any plans. Anyway, it was interesting watching the seagulls at Sam's evolve from scavengers to offensive hunters. I remember when the seagulls used to wait until diners left the tables to pick off any extra bread or french fries. While Susan and I sat there, gulls attacked the tables on either side of us; flying off with freshly delivered pieces of fish and bread and buzzing one woman's head twice. Finally, one bird flew in and knocked over Susan's glass of beer. It was wild... a scene from The Birds.
Well, the adventure continues East and West. I'll be in town for a few more days. Catch me if you can... 415-847-4712. I'll be back in early March.
Be well.
Colleen
Winter solstice - January (?) 22, 2008
Hello Friends,
It's 7:00 a.m. and finally the sun has risen over the eastern edge of this little island. Perhaps someone out there can explain the science of this to me: Winter Solstice. Isn't it written in stone, i.e. Stonehenge and other Neolithic structures? After December 21st, the days here got even shorter! Mornings got darker and darker until I was driving to work in total night at 6:30 a.m. Bats would swoop past me. When I first arrived on island, I would wear sunglasses while driving to work and birds would flutter about. The sky did not begin to lighten up again until last week... one month after the winter solstice. St. Thomas is located at Latitude 18, Longitude 62 (about 1200 miles southeast of Miami) and there is no daylight savings time here. So if someone can tell me why or how this occurred, please do. It was so odd.
Enough of science. The sun is up and it's time to go out into the day. Two weekends ago, Barbara Jackson was here for a visit. She is not a "beach person," so our itinerary veered off from the usual snorkeling and kayaking adventures. Instead we took a short historical walking tour of Blackbeard's castle and some older Danish colonial homes. Next time, I won't go for the guided tour. There is more to see and on our own, we could have done a bit more. For instance, the oldest synagogue in the western hemisphere is located here. It has stone walls and a sand floor. And Camille Pisarro's home is supposed to be interesting. Well, we had to do the guided tour to know what we were missing, but what we saw was interesting. We also took the car ferry over to St. John and toured around the island, taking in old sugar mill (rum distillery) ruins and acres of endless jungly national forest. The growth is so dense and on such steep hillsides that it's impossible to imagine it cultivated in sugar cane... and even harder to imagine what it would have been like to be a slave in the steamy, mosquito-infested conditions. Eighty percent of the population on these islands is African American because of that slavery. Anyway, Barbara has inspired me to learn a bit more about my surroundings. Thanks, Babs!
This weekend I'm back to snorkeling. The water temperature is much cooler than it was during the summer. It actually takes me a bit to get used to it (probably around 75-78 degrees), but it's worth it for the serenity of the underwater view. Snorkeling is a bit like meditation with a visual component. All you hear is your own breathing and the crackling of underwater life. I love it. SCUBA is a bit more intimidating and frankly, with the laid-back attitude here on island... it's a bit of a worry for me having someone else filling the tank and checking out the gear. Perhaps I worry too much. But laid-back is an art form here. There's even a name for it: limin'. One day I hope to find out what the origin of that word is. Sabrina and I thought it was "limmin" at first ... like "livin'." But then we found out the pronunciation has a long i sound. In any case, it means sitting around and doing nothing.
So for me a full weekend of snorkeling, writing, and limin' begins. I miss my daughters and friends. Wish you were here. Below is a picture of today's sunrise from my balcony.
Be well. All love,
Colleen
It's 7:00 a.m. and finally the sun has risen over the eastern edge of this little island. Perhaps someone out there can explain the science of this to me: Winter Solstice. Isn't it written in stone, i.e. Stonehenge and other Neolithic structures? After December 21st, the days here got even shorter! Mornings got darker and darker until I was driving to work in total night at 6:30 a.m. Bats would swoop past me. When I first arrived on island, I would wear sunglasses while driving to work and birds would flutter about. The sky did not begin to lighten up again until last week... one month after the winter solstice. St. Thomas is located at Latitude 18, Longitude 62 (about 1200 miles southeast of Miami) and there is no daylight savings time here. So if someone can tell me why or how this occurred, please do. It was so odd.
Enough of science. The sun is up and it's time to go out into the day. Two weekends ago, Barbara Jackson was here for a visit. She is not a "beach person," so our itinerary veered off from the usual snorkeling and kayaking adventures. Instead we took a short historical walking tour of Blackbeard's castle and some older Danish colonial homes. Next time, I won't go for the guided tour. There is more to see and on our own, we could have done a bit more. For instance, the oldest synagogue in the western hemisphere is located here. It has stone walls and a sand floor. And Camille Pisarro's home is supposed to be interesting. Well, we had to do the guided tour to know what we were missing, but what we saw was interesting. We also took the car ferry over to St. John and toured around the island, taking in old sugar mill (rum distillery) ruins and acres of endless jungly national forest. The growth is so dense and on such steep hillsides that it's impossible to imagine it cultivated in sugar cane... and even harder to imagine what it would have been like to be a slave in the steamy, mosquito-infested conditions. Eighty percent of the population on these islands is African American because of that slavery. Anyway, Barbara has inspired me to learn a bit more about my surroundings. Thanks, Babs!
This weekend I'm back to snorkeling. The water temperature is much cooler than it was during the summer. It actually takes me a bit to get used to it (probably around 75-78 degrees), but it's worth it for the serenity of the underwater view. Snorkeling is a bit like meditation with a visual component. All you hear is your own breathing and the crackling of underwater life. I love it. SCUBA is a bit more intimidating and frankly, with the laid-back attitude here on island... it's a bit of a worry for me having someone else filling the tank and checking out the gear. Perhaps I worry too much. But laid-back is an art form here. There's even a name for it: limin'. One day I hope to find out what the origin of that word is. Sabrina and I thought it was "limmin" at first ... like "livin'." But then we found out the pronunciation has a long i sound. In any case, it means sitting around and doing nothing.
So for me a full weekend of snorkeling, writing, and limin' begins. I miss my daughters and friends. Wish you were here. Below is a picture of today's sunrise from my balcony.
Be well. All love,
Colleen
TROPICAL STORMS
Hello Friends,
Tropical storms. Trees distorted by sweeping winds. Fierce, black sky howling all night. The power cuts out and returns with generators growling. Unrelenting, pounding rain. No sun. Today is the second dark day here in the tropics. No release. Yesterday Carlos died. He was married to my friend, Verian. Carlos would not suffer the indignity of having his home burglarized twice. That is the pattern on this island. A first robbery gives the thieves a list from which to work. After enough time has passed for the unfortunate homeowners to have purchased replacement TV’s, computers and jewelry, the home is robbed again. This time the haul is guaranteed to be worth more money and the location of each item is known. Carlos called Verian at school to tell her their home was robbed again and then, like Charles Bronson, he jumped into his car and chased down the criminals. He caught up with them, swerved his car into theirs, and he was shot. Nine days later he died. Reality does not match the sweet justice of Charles Bronson movies.
One of the thieves was caught and released from jail with $2100 on a $21,000 bond for possessing stolen goods and not having a valid Virgin Islands driver’s license. This man drove the car loaded with Carlos and Verian’s possessions. As Carlos lay in the hospital in critical condition, a local judge let the criminal go. Witnesses saw the driver of the getaway vehicle get out of his car and shoot Carlos. A tourist from Alaska got the whole thing on video. Yet this driver still claims innocence and he is released. That’s local island justice. The judge must have believed the murderer’s story that he unknowingly picked up a hitchhiker who just happened to be carrying a bag containing a flat screen TV, a computer and other valuable items. It is widely believed on island that this man will never show up in court, especially now that the charge is homicide. He will get on a boat and disappear. This is the downside of living on a tiny, tropical island. Criminals have friends and family in law enforcement and the courts. Corruption is inevitable. The next time you see a Charles Bronson movie on TV, my friends, don’t believe it. And don’t try this at home. Guns trump foolish bravado. The storms continue. Thunder has set off the car alarms again. I’m homesick.
All Love,
Colleen
Tropical storms. Trees distorted by sweeping winds. Fierce, black sky howling all night. The power cuts out and returns with generators growling. Unrelenting, pounding rain. No sun. Today is the second dark day here in the tropics. No release. Yesterday Carlos died. He was married to my friend, Verian. Carlos would not suffer the indignity of having his home burglarized twice. That is the pattern on this island. A first robbery gives the thieves a list from which to work. After enough time has passed for the unfortunate homeowners to have purchased replacement TV’s, computers and jewelry, the home is robbed again. This time the haul is guaranteed to be worth more money and the location of each item is known. Carlos called Verian at school to tell her their home was robbed again and then, like Charles Bronson, he jumped into his car and chased down the criminals. He caught up with them, swerved his car into theirs, and he was shot. Nine days later he died. Reality does not match the sweet justice of Charles Bronson movies.
One of the thieves was caught and released from jail with $2100 on a $21,000 bond for possessing stolen goods and not having a valid Virgin Islands driver’s license. This man drove the car loaded with Carlos and Verian’s possessions. As Carlos lay in the hospital in critical condition, a local judge let the criminal go. Witnesses saw the driver of the getaway vehicle get out of his car and shoot Carlos. A tourist from Alaska got the whole thing on video. Yet this driver still claims innocence and he is released. That’s local island justice. The judge must have believed the murderer’s story that he unknowingly picked up a hitchhiker who just happened to be carrying a bag containing a flat screen TV, a computer and other valuable items. It is widely believed on island that this man will never show up in court, especially now that the charge is homicide. He will get on a boat and disappear. This is the downside of living on a tiny, tropical island. Criminals have friends and family in law enforcement and the courts. Corruption is inevitable. The next time you see a Charles Bronson movie on TV, my friends, don’t believe it. And don’t try this at home. Guns trump foolish bravado. The storms continue. Thunder has set off the car alarms again. I’m homesick.
All Love,
Colleen
carnival
Hello Friends.
Life changes. We all change. We try to adjust to our surroundings as best we can no matter where we are or what the circumstance… most of the time. Sometimes we can’t. I don’t want to say life is a carnival. Carnival is a cultural event by and for West Indians. I, on the other hand, was invited to white night. I’m not kidding. It’s the first night of Carnival and that’s when all the “continentals” meaning all the white folk on St. Thomas, show up in “The Village,” the tightly packed collection of colorfully painted food stands and rides all set up in the large, central parking lot in Charlotte Amalie. One woman who is my age said, “White night’s the only night you can go and see someone you know.” I was astounded by the concept and even more astounded by the name. Where am I? What year is this? I didn’t go… couldn’t adjust my thinking around it. Perhaps I would have learned something. What I did see several days later, when Sabrina and her boyfriend, Dylan, came to visit, was a fair. It looked a lot like the little St. Anselm’s Fair back home. We saw some of the children’s parade. It lasted for several hours and was extremely loud. We marveled at the heavy costumes some of the children wore in the intense heat … all the while dancing enthusiastically down a hot asphalt street. We were hot just standing in a shady nearby park to watch them. The adult parade the next day lasted 9 hours. For true. We did not go to that. All those performers who worked so hard all year long to perfect costumes and dances, music and coordination… they all deserved to have enough time to show what they had created. Every group received due respect, which translated to about 15 minutes of being the stars of the show. All of the parades are televised continuously for those who can’t make it in person. At the end of the last day, we drove to a lookout over town and watched a beautiful fireworks display while sharing a pot luck dinner with a fellow teacher and some of her friends. I was amazed by the duration and quality of the fireworks. They outshone some of fireworks extravaganzas I’ve seen around the San Francisco bay area. While the fairgrounds seemed small to me, the event is huge here. Schools are closed for several days, so children may enjoy the fair and participate in the parades. Banks and government offices are closed. Many shops are closed. I was surprised to learn that cruise ships do not come in during Carnival Week. This is not a tourist event. This is private culmination of a year-long effort. I felt like an outsider. I was one.
A lot has gone on. After a month of visitors, it’s odd to be alone. Right after Mom and Adeline left, Steve arrived for ten days. It was great. We went snorkeling and out to dinner and toured St. John again, then headed over to Tortola in the British Virgin Islands… and then he was gone. One day later, Sabrina and her boyfriend, Dylan, flew in. They’re favorite restaurant was here on my balcony. I liked that. Hey, the view is gorgeous and the food was quite good, too. I had Sabrina to help me. She makes an artful salad that tastes delicious and she also made sweet potato fries, which I loved. We snorkeled at Trunk Bay, Magen’s Bay, and Secret Harbor and visited the fair and watched those fireworks… and then they were gone, too. It’s very quiet here. Time for reflection again. Today is Sabrina’s 20th birthday. Chelsea is 23. My girls are forging their way toward independence. I’ll be coming home to a very different way of life.
I guess the question is: when do we stop being outsiders? I keep looking in on my life like it’s a carnival and it isn’t. You have to do the work all year long to participate in the parade. Maybe it’s what we do to and from the carnival that counts.
Be well.
All love,
Colleen
Life changes. We all change. We try to adjust to our surroundings as best we can no matter where we are or what the circumstance… most of the time. Sometimes we can’t. I don’t want to say life is a carnival. Carnival is a cultural event by and for West Indians. I, on the other hand, was invited to white night. I’m not kidding. It’s the first night of Carnival and that’s when all the “continentals” meaning all the white folk on St. Thomas, show up in “The Village,” the tightly packed collection of colorfully painted food stands and rides all set up in the large, central parking lot in Charlotte Amalie. One woman who is my age said, “White night’s the only night you can go and see someone you know.” I was astounded by the concept and even more astounded by the name. Where am I? What year is this? I didn’t go… couldn’t adjust my thinking around it. Perhaps I would have learned something. What I did see several days later, when Sabrina and her boyfriend, Dylan, came to visit, was a fair. It looked a lot like the little St. Anselm’s Fair back home. We saw some of the children’s parade. It lasted for several hours and was extremely loud. We marveled at the heavy costumes some of the children wore in the intense heat … all the while dancing enthusiastically down a hot asphalt street. We were hot just standing in a shady nearby park to watch them. The adult parade the next day lasted 9 hours. For true. We did not go to that. All those performers who worked so hard all year long to perfect costumes and dances, music and coordination… they all deserved to have enough time to show what they had created. Every group received due respect, which translated to about 15 minutes of being the stars of the show. All of the parades are televised continuously for those who can’t make it in person. At the end of the last day, we drove to a lookout over town and watched a beautiful fireworks display while sharing a pot luck dinner with a fellow teacher and some of her friends. I was amazed by the duration and quality of the fireworks. They outshone some of fireworks extravaganzas I’ve seen around the San Francisco bay area. While the fairgrounds seemed small to me, the event is huge here. Schools are closed for several days, so children may enjoy the fair and participate in the parades. Banks and government offices are closed. Many shops are closed. I was surprised to learn that cruise ships do not come in during Carnival Week. This is not a tourist event. This is private culmination of a year-long effort. I felt like an outsider. I was one.
A lot has gone on. After a month of visitors, it’s odd to be alone. Right after Mom and Adeline left, Steve arrived for ten days. It was great. We went snorkeling and out to dinner and toured St. John again, then headed over to Tortola in the British Virgin Islands… and then he was gone. One day later, Sabrina and her boyfriend, Dylan, flew in. They’re favorite restaurant was here on my balcony. I liked that. Hey, the view is gorgeous and the food was quite good, too. I had Sabrina to help me. She makes an artful salad that tastes delicious and she also made sweet potato fries, which I loved. We snorkeled at Trunk Bay, Magen’s Bay, and Secret Harbor and visited the fair and watched those fireworks… and then they were gone, too. It’s very quiet here. Time for reflection again. Today is Sabrina’s 20th birthday. Chelsea is 23. My girls are forging their way toward independence. I’ll be coming home to a very different way of life.
I guess the question is: when do we stop being outsiders? I keep looking in on my life like it’s a carnival and it isn’t. You have to do the work all year long to participate in the parade. Maybe it’s what we do to and from the carnival that counts.
Be well.
All love,
Colleen
last call
Hello Everyone,
This will most likely be my last group email from St. Thomas. In a few days, Sabrina and Chelsea will be here for 2 weeks. After that, Steve is visiting for 10 days. My last day "on island" is June 30th. Then it's done. Naturally, I'm beginning to cling to these last moments in order to imprint them on my brain.
St. Thomas has been my retreat from the world. It has been my door to the world. How mind blowing is that?
WHAT I WILL MISS ABOUT ST. THOMAS:
Never-ending summer
Warm beaches
Walking into a bathwater-warm ocean
Snorkeling: giant sea turtles, coral and large "tropical fish" (just like in the pet stores, only bigger!)
Thuderstorms that light up a limitless sky
Rain that is too warm for a raincoat
Rain that hits like a slegehammer and lasts for 10 minutes, followed by lots of sunshine
Countless rainbows
Steam rising from the pavement after a rain
Reading down at Cowpet Beach (below my condo)
The constant, comforting sound of surf from my window
Dinner and a show at Jack's
Miss Anna's hot pepper sauce
Kallaloo soup
Taking the ferry over to St. John for dinner
Taking the car ferry over to St John and driving up to Vie's shack for fried garlic chicken, Johnny cakes, conch fritters, and snorkeling
Taking the water taxi over to Water Island for swimming and bbq on the beach
Going to Hull Bay with Susie for swimming and an "Arthur Burger" at the Hideaway
Finally finding the only real hiking trail on St Thomas at Magen’s Bay with Eike
Denise’s house – The Fortuna Mill
Leinster Bay trail and snorkeling
Lundqvist Beach (except for the shootings)
Music at Latitude 18 - the Irish fiddler was corny, but fun
Antilles School; Wendy, Michelle, Mary, Carol, Paul, Jean, Eike, Claudia, Maricelle…
Walking chest-deep in the water for exercise at Magen’s
Kayaking at Magen’s with Wendy
Dinner alone on my balcony every night
The stars
The weekend afternoon steel pan player at the Elysian Resort next door
The Sinatra wannabe crooner at the Elysian – for the bemused smile he brings me
Rasta farmers
Rasta folk, in general
Kids walking to and from school wearing colorful public school uniforms – beautiful!
Dressing up everyday; summer skirts and dresses, fancy earrings, strappy sandals…
Carol Anne’s haircuts – she “follows the bones of your head”
Buel’s massages at the Fitness Center
Free membership at the Fitness Center for teachers
Dinner out with Helen and Susie
Dinner and long talks at Susie’s house – she used to be a caterer
The BVI’s British Virgin Islands;
The Sugar Mill on Tortola, Soggy Dollar Bar at Jost van Dyke
Movies with Spanish subtitles
THINGS I WILL NOT MISS ABOUT ST. THOMAS:
Violent crime
Corruption in business and government
Lines, lines, lines… at the bank, the grocery store, the DMV, the insurance co., etc.
One-person-at-a-time-doors at Banco Popular to prevent armed robbery as you leave
Surly clerks at the grocery stores
Surly clerks at the DMV
Surly clerks at the full-serve gas stations (good luck finding self-serve)
Surly clerks at the bank
Surly clerks
Wait-staff at restaurants who don’t bring your change hoping for a 50% tip
Drivers who speed, tailgate, pass on double yellow lines and curves, and honk BEFORE the light turns green!
Drivers who stop in the middle of the road to chat up a friend
Drivers who stop in the middle of the road for NO APPARENT REASON
Traffic in Charlotte Amalie when the cruise ships are in
Potholes that eat tires and whole cars
Having the phone service regularly turn off for no reason (the bill is paid)
Having to pay a fee for having the phone turned back on
Paying for 2 wireless internet services, neither of which are dependable
Paying for a dial-up internet connection that goes out when the phone service goes down.
Regular power outages
No recycling
No garbage pickup
Low wages
High cost of everything – housing, food, health care, gasoline, furniture, you name it
Poverty
Kids walking to and from school in army uniforms
Programs in the public schools to encourage kids to enlist in the army
Corporal punishment in schools
The lack of museums, movie art houses, jazz, blues, etc.
Doing homework for my master’s program nearly every night
SO THIS IS IT, OVER AND OUT. GOODBYE ST. THOMAS!
I'll see you all back home.
Love,
Colleen
This will most likely be my last group email from St. Thomas. In a few days, Sabrina and Chelsea will be here for 2 weeks. After that, Steve is visiting for 10 days. My last day "on island" is June 30th. Then it's done. Naturally, I'm beginning to cling to these last moments in order to imprint them on my brain.
St. Thomas has been my retreat from the world. It has been my door to the world. How mind blowing is that?
WHAT I WILL MISS ABOUT ST. THOMAS:
Never-ending summer
Warm beaches
Walking into a bathwater-warm ocean
Snorkeling: giant sea turtles, coral and large "tropical fish" (just like in the pet stores, only bigger!)
Thuderstorms that light up a limitless sky
Rain that is too warm for a raincoat
Rain that hits like a slegehammer and lasts for 10 minutes, followed by lots of sunshine
Countless rainbows
Steam rising from the pavement after a rain
Reading down at Cowpet Beach (below my condo)
The constant, comforting sound of surf from my window
Dinner and a show at Jack's
Miss Anna's hot pepper sauce
Kallaloo soup
Taking the ferry over to St. John for dinner
Taking the car ferry over to St John and driving up to Vie's shack for fried garlic chicken, Johnny cakes, conch fritters, and snorkeling
Taking the water taxi over to Water Island for swimming and bbq on the beach
Going to Hull Bay with Susie for swimming and an "Arthur Burger" at the Hideaway
Finally finding the only real hiking trail on St Thomas at Magen’s Bay with Eike
Denise’s house – The Fortuna Mill
Leinster Bay trail and snorkeling
Lundqvist Beach (except for the shootings)
Music at Latitude 18 - the Irish fiddler was corny, but fun
Antilles School; Wendy, Michelle, Mary, Carol, Paul, Jean, Eike, Claudia, Maricelle…
Walking chest-deep in the water for exercise at Magen’s
Kayaking at Magen’s with Wendy
Dinner alone on my balcony every night
The stars
The weekend afternoon steel pan player at the Elysian Resort next door
The Sinatra wannabe crooner at the Elysian – for the bemused smile he brings me
Rasta farmers
Rasta folk, in general
Kids walking to and from school wearing colorful public school uniforms – beautiful!
Dressing up everyday; summer skirts and dresses, fancy earrings, strappy sandals…
Carol Anne’s haircuts – she “follows the bones of your head”
Buel’s massages at the Fitness Center
Free membership at the Fitness Center for teachers
Dinner out with Helen and Susie
Dinner and long talks at Susie’s house – she used to be a caterer
The BVI’s British Virgin Islands;
The Sugar Mill on Tortola, Soggy Dollar Bar at Jost van Dyke
Movies with Spanish subtitles
THINGS I WILL NOT MISS ABOUT ST. THOMAS:
Violent crime
Corruption in business and government
Lines, lines, lines… at the bank, the grocery store, the DMV, the insurance co., etc.
One-person-at-a-time-doors at Banco Popular to prevent armed robbery as you leave
Surly clerks at the grocery stores
Surly clerks at the DMV
Surly clerks at the full-serve gas stations (good luck finding self-serve)
Surly clerks at the bank
Surly clerks
Wait-staff at restaurants who don’t bring your change hoping for a 50% tip
Drivers who speed, tailgate, pass on double yellow lines and curves, and honk BEFORE the light turns green!
Drivers who stop in the middle of the road to chat up a friend
Drivers who stop in the middle of the road for NO APPARENT REASON
Traffic in Charlotte Amalie when the cruise ships are in
Potholes that eat tires and whole cars
Having the phone service regularly turn off for no reason (the bill is paid)
Having to pay a fee for having the phone turned back on
Paying for 2 wireless internet services, neither of which are dependable
Paying for a dial-up internet connection that goes out when the phone service goes down.
Regular power outages
No recycling
No garbage pickup
Low wages
High cost of everything – housing, food, health care, gasoline, furniture, you name it
Poverty
Kids walking to and from school in army uniforms
Programs in the public schools to encourage kids to enlist in the army
Corporal punishment in schools
The lack of museums, movie art houses, jazz, blues, etc.
Doing homework for my master’s program nearly every night
SO THIS IS IT, OVER AND OUT. GOODBYE ST. THOMAS!
I'll see you all back home.
Love,
Colleen
Copyright ©2015, Colleen Faith Dolan. All rights reserved.