California Fever

palms

Today's San Francisco Chronicle had an interesting article about palm trees on the front page of the Home section.  I fell in love with palm trees long before we moved to the tropics.  Maybe it comes from being a native Californian, even though where I grew up we're known for old-growth redwoods, not palm trees.  But there's something so iconic about palm trees.  Hollywood.  The beach. 

In 1990, I found myself traveling solo to Grand Cayman.  It was while lying on a chaise under a couple of palm trees on Seven Mile Beach--Natalie Goldberg's Writing Down the Bones open face-down on my lap--that I looked up at the palm trees and that blue, blue Caribbean sky beyond them and wondered what it would be like to live on a Caribbean island...  Needless to say, palm trees are a touchstone for me. 

I've been thinking about starting a photoblog as a way to force myself to pick up my camera more often.  The article on palm trees got me off my duff to do it.  Now we'll see if I keep it updated.  :)

St. John

I never really arrived in New York after that.  I went back, of course, but it was by bus.  I never really landed.  ~Tara Bray Smith, West of Then

That's how I felt when we returned to St. Thomas after our 10-day trip to the West Coast in October of 2003.  We landed, of course (taking a bus there isn't an option!), but it was in body only.  My head and heart remained on the West Coast after that.  Like they even needed much help at that point.  I'd been ready to go at the two-year mark and for awhile, I was really angry at my boyfriend when he said we'd do just that but then changed his mind.  Then it became a tradition to sit down around the first of the year and decide if we wanted to stay another year.  But after our trip Stateside we were of a like mind--it wasn't a matter of if we'd go back, but when.

Only one factor might have swayed us to stay longer:  if we'd been able to move to St. John.  At the beginning of this year, we began talking about it seriously.  For years my boyfriend would tell me that he couldn't possibly live there--it was too small, not enough to do, not enough going on.  But I'd loved the island from the moment I set foot on it and could have easily lived there, but then I've lived in some pretty small places (one town had only 1,300 people).  But after five years on St. Thomas--and after spending more and more time on St. John playing gigs at restaurants and bars and resorts--he'd changed his mind.  We both felt done with St. Thomas, and we wondered sometimes if we were tired of the tropics or just tired of that island.  There were too many memories there (yes, even after only five years) and many of them were unpleasant.  But St. John feels entirely different than St. Thomas.

So early this year, boyfriend started asking some of his St. John pals about how we might go about finding a rental there, because they're hard to come by.  But time and again, the answer came back that it was really, really hard.  It's become an island for millionaires, even though there are plenty of locals and middle class folks residing there.  So a few weeks later when we learned suddenly that we'd have to vacate our condo, we took it as a sign.  It was time to head back.

But St. John?  Me no done wid ya yet, mon.

You know it's bad when your kidnappers ARE the law.

Just in case those of you who used to read my island blog thought I was making that crazy shit up...  I experienced some wacky stuff in the USVI, but this is the first time I've heard of them doing this.

The Truman Show

About halfway through our day yesterday, I heard the voice in my head say, “WHEN will you finally learn that everything happens for a reason.  EVERYTHING happens for a reason.”  And I told myself, again, that if I could remember that, then I wouldn’t throw myself into such a tizzy sometimes when ‘obstacles’ are thrown into my path.  Because it was a blessing that we had to ditch some of our luggage.  If that hadn't been the case, we never would have made one final trip to the post office...and would have never experienced our day yesterday in the way that it unfolded.

Yesterday was magical.  MAGICAL!  It was as if it had been scripted.  Boyfriend came up with the perfect analogy over dinner last night:  it was like “The Truman Show” (a film we love).  For anyone who hasn’t seen it, Jim Carrey plays Truman whose entire life has been televised.  He’s living in a manufactured environment and doesn’t even know it.  So everything that happens to him--every person who crosses his path--is carefully orchestrated.  But we meant the analogy in a good way. :)

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for us yesterday.  It was as if we were given two days’ worth of time to fill.  The few times we thought to check our watches, we’d marvel, “Gee, it’s only ______.” 
We snapped about 300 photos yesterday.  I wish I had a way to show a bunch of them to you, but I don’t.  Yes, there’s Flickr, but with this slow-ass dial-up, it takes FOREVER to even upload half a dozen.  (Oh yeah, and I have a plane to catch!)  So for now, the handful of photos in this post will have to suffice.  But we have a lot of photos to remember our last full day on St. Thomas.  It was a day we will always remember, even without the photos.

We rose early and got started right away on transferring clothes from our large suitcases into boxes (see previous post).  About 10:30 we called for a taxi, which showed up quickly.  We had the driver drop us at the little post office at the cruise ship dock.  There was no line and we breezed in and out.  Next stop was the bank for a transaction we’d forgotten to do the previous day.  Then we decided to have lunch at a Mexican restaurant that recently opened.  It’s owned by a guy who briefly ran the kitchen at the club where we both worked when we first lived here.  When we walked in, boyfriend ran into someone he knew and they chatted a bit.  I knew the guy looked familiar, but couldn’t remember when I’d seen him.  Boyfriend reminded me that he’d been the lighting guy for the run of Ain’t Misbehavin’ the boyfriend had done.  (Boyfriend was in the 4-piece band and did 24 shows.)  The guy came over to our table and exchanged email addresses with the boyfriend.  I asked him later what the guy’s name was, because I couldn’t remember.  When he told me, it suddenly dawned on me that he’s the morning guy on the local rock radio station.  I had no idea that the guy I’d been listening to on the way to work in the mornings was THAT guy!  Too funny.  He’s headed to Montana in a couple of months for a summer-long acting gig.  We told him we might be taking a road trip and if we do, Montana will be one of the states we’ll hit.  So depending on the timing, we might see him there.

Next we decided to head to the strip mall owned by my former employer to say goodbye to some people who work there.  En route, boyfriend spotted one of his golfing buddies sitting at the outdoor rum shack, so we walked over so boyfriend could tell him goodbye and so I could take a picture of the two of them.  The man is a well-known radio talk show host here and boyfriend told him he’d be listening on the net.  Trust me when I say that we learned a LOT about West Indian culture by listening to that show when we first arrived.  :)

Next stop was the bikini store which is owned by friends of ours.  He was one of the first people we met here.  He wasn’t there, but his wife was, as well as one of the very first people the boyfriend worked with at the club (she'd been a bartender there).  We saw our friends’ baby.  She’s already six months old and she’s beautiful.  She was asleep, so we didn’t get to interact with her, but I was so busy ooh’ing an aah’ing over her that it wasn’t until hours later that I realized I’d forgotten to take her picture.  The wife called her husband so we could tell him goodbye.

We left the bikini store to walk across the parking lot to the club to say goodbye to our old friend who tends bar there on weekday days.  She’s been there since the club opened--five years ago this month.  It was the first place the boyfriend and I both worked, and the whole reason we're responsible for being here in the first place.  But before we even got inside the club, we ran into a woman sitting at one of the tables in front of the club.  She and her husband are in the restaurant business and have owned a series of three in the time we’ve been here.  Boyfriend had occasionally provided music for them in their current venture.  So we had a chance to tell her goodbye.

Our old pal was working in the bar, and we also ran into a guy we‘ve known since our first days here.  We chatted with both of them, exchanged email addresses, took photos and got hugs.  By now we were starting to feel like, “Boy, we sure are running into a lot of people...” 

When we left the bar, we walked to the street and hailed a safari (open air) taxi for a lift to downtown.  We were the only passengers (since the driver had just dropped his fares at the cruise ship dock and was heading back to get more).  We snapped photos of the harbor on the way to town. 

Our first stop downtown was Jen’s Deli, to say goodbye to Jen.  If you’re ever in St. Thomas and want a great lunch, go to Jen’s.  It’s right across from the gazebo in Emancipation Garden.  She’s a wonderful cook and a nice lady.  She also does a good breakfast, but be prepared, lunchtime is super-busy.

Then we just started wandering.  Boyfriend handed the camera to me and told me to snap away.  After all, it was my work neighborhood for four years.  (My office is just a few short blocks away, so when I’d go for a walk at lunchtime, it was typically through the downtown streets.)  We wandered up and down alleys, because the alleys that run between Main Street and Veterans Drive (the waterfront) are some of my favorite spots downtown.

We went back to the kiosk where I bought my conch shell bracelet, because boyfriend decided he wanted a Caribbean hook bracelet after all.  (He bought one for me for our first Xmas here.  If you wear the open part of the hook facing up your arm, it means you’re unavailable.  Wear the hook facing down toward your hand and it means you’re looking!)   While we were there, I spotted a thin silver hook bracelet with a Larimar stone.  I liked it, so I bought it.

We continued our stroll and eventually made our way along the waterfront just past the Legislature building where we spotted a couple of benches.  We sat in the one that was shaded and took in the harbor view.  It was one of those, ‘Gee, this is a really nice spot and we never even knew these benches were here” moments.  And then suddenly, there it was…making its way through the slow-going late afternoon traffic…our old friend’s former vehicle…the black Jeep.  It was the first ride either of us had here.  Boyfriend went without a car until I arrived.  We bought a little used Mazda pickup about a week after I got here.  Our friend sold his Jeep a couple of years ago.  It looks worse for wear, five years later, but then these island roads will do that to a car.  Back then, it was all shiny.  It’s what the boyfriend pulled up in when he picked me up at the airport on a very warm June night five years ago.  And as we made our way that night through the streets of St. Thomas to our first residence, high in the hills, it all seemed so exotic and, well, tropical.  :)

It was the Jeep.  That was when it really started feeling like The Truman Show.  It was like, “Cue the Jeep.”  So of course we had to take a picture...and have a wonder-filled laugh over it.

We left the bench and made our way through traffic to a funky little market a block away to grab some water.  The market is right behind my former office and I’ve frequented it many, many times.  The owner said, “We (he and his wife) haven’t seen you in awhile.”  I told him that I no longer work in the neighborhood and about our move plans.  He said they’d miss me.  He was always very nice and kind towards me.

I asked the boyfriend if he’d ever been inside the church near my office.  He said he hadn’t, even though we’ve taken people there to have their picture taken in front of it.  It’s the church where I’d occasionally sit on my lunch breaks when I’d find myself in dire need of some stillness and silence during workdays that were pushing my buttons.  Amazingly (because it’s written up in all of the guidebooks), I almost never saw anyone else in there.  It’s the oldest church on St. Thomas.  So we sat there awhile and just took in its mellow open-air vibe.  It was lovely to be there in the late afternoon, with the sun streaming through the western windows.  We looked at the artifacts in the display case, and bought a few postcards (there’s a donation box).  And then the boyfriend stepped to the little stand where the guestbook resides in front of the door.  He wanted us to sign it.  And it was then that I saw that ours would be the last two names in the entire book.  How fitting, as we close the chapter on this phase of our lives.

We walked the couple of blocks to the taxi stand and found a nice lady taxi driver to drive us home.  Boyfriend snapped photos along the way as we climbed the steep, steep hill leaving town.  And the driver paused at a particularly scenic spot so we could snap one last photo of Magens Bay from above.  Instead of having her drive us to our door, we had her drop us on the road, at the entrance to our gate, so we could walk in, snapping photos along the way.  We were only home for a moment and then the boyfriend strapped on his golf bag and walked to the clubhouse to get a cart.

While he was gone, his former supervisor rang the doorbell.  He was here to pick up the items he’d bought.  So I began gathering them for him and boyfriend arrived a few moments later.  We said our goodbyes, I snapped a picture of the two of them and then we hopped in the cart and set out for the course so he could play one final round of golf at his beloved Mahogany Run (where we also live and where he just completed 4-½ years of employment).

I snapped a lot of pictures, even though he has a ton already of the course.  As the sun began to lower, we knew we were going to run out of time to complete 18 holes, so we hightailed it to a spot at a cove below the 13th green so we could snap a couple of shots of a place that was special to us.  During the massive renovation of the course a few years ago, the back half of the course was closed.  We used to walk to the cove with our chairs and just sit on its rocky beach and listen to the waves.  (It's where the boyfriend took H. fishing...and they accidentally hooked an octopus.)  Yesterday we grabbed a couple of items off the beach to tuck into our bags as mementos. 

Then it was off to the scenic 14th hole, the signature hole of the course.  Boyfriend decided he’d play it one more time.  It’s a par 3, but you have to drive across a cove.  He was really happy with his tee shot.  And as he stood over his putt, a gorgeous white yacht appeared in the background.  He sank the putt, pumped his fist (a birdie!) and we laughed and hugged at what a fitting final golf shot that would be for his golfing career at Mahogany Run.  It’s a tough hole and one that gave him fits when he first lived here.  I know this won’t mean anything to anyone who’s not a golfer, but if you are, then you’ll understand.  And the setting was just so perfect.  A gorgeous early evening...the blue, blue Atlantic...the island of Hans Lollick in the background...and a fabulous yacht sailing by just as he sunk the putt.  (The pictures are hard to see--it was dusk.)

We snapped a few more photos on our way back to the clubhouse.  And then we stopped in to see the General Manager who was still in her office.  We chatted with her for awhile.  She took us into the darkened pro shop and gave us some goodies.  I snapped a picture of the two of them and then we set off for the walk home.  The sun had just set…and so had the boyfriend’s time with Mahogany Run.

There’s a very nice restaurant in our little enclave.  Although we could have rustled up some food at home, I suggested we have dinner at the restaurant.  We didn’t have a reservation, but we figured they wouldn’t be that busy on a Wednesday night.  We didn’t even go home to change, just walked in wearing our shorts and carrying our backpack.  And although we hadn’t eaten there in years, boyfriend’s played music for private events there several times and we drive by it every time we enter and exit our guard gate.  It seemed fitting to have our last meal there.  The food was good, the service was excellent and the setting is lovely.  It’s an old plantation home.

After dinner, we linked arms and made our way through the inky darkness, over and down the hill to our little lane.  And as we climbed the hill, we looked up at the huge Big Dipper, as we have so very many times during our years here.  Some of my favorite moments here have been gazing up at the night sky.  We realized it would be the last time we would look up at the stars from the island of St. Thomas.  And we did it with the knowledge that we have no idea where this journey is leading us...only that we’re being guided.  We don’t know who or what is doing the guiding...but after our how our day unfolded yesterday, it's hard not to think that somehow our path is being laid out for us.  So wish us luck…here we go!

Mirror on Magens

We spent Easter the same way we spent Xmas and Thankgsiving...at Magens Bay Beach.  It was a gorgeous, hot, sunny Sunday.  And it was a bit sad to realize it would be our last Sunday at Magens.  It's been our ritual the last couple of years to spend Sundays at Magens.  We didn't make it every single Sunday (sometimes rainy weather or scheduled gigs got in the way), but we made it there most Sundays.

When we placed our breakfast order at the snack bar, we were waited on by one of the women who's waited on us many, many times. We told her about our move, and how it was our last Sunday there.  She wished us luck.  And later, when I went to get a slice of pizza (and the snack bar was packed and I was being waited on by another cashier), she walked over and said, "If I don't see you before Thursday, good luck to you" and shook my hand.  The ladies who work there like us because:  a) we're polite and b) we tip them!  :)

We sold our much-loved sand chairs to a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago.  (She had houseguests coming and wanted them for their use.)  We still own a couple of camp chairs, but they seem rather uncomfortable after the sand chairs.  We used the camp chairs last Tuesday when we spent the day at the beach, but yesterday morning the boyfriend said he refused to use the camp chair again--that it made his back hurt.  So we went to the beach fairly early so he could set up camp at one of the picnic tables.

We're used to parking our chairs in the shade, so at first I was a little irritated that I'd have to be out in the sun for hours and hours.  (And, yes, of course we were both covered in sunscreen.)  But then he reminded me that although it's sunny in California (or at least hopefully it will be soon!) that this would be our last chance to spend a whole day soaking up tropical sun...at least for awhile.  I thought, yeah, he's right!  Even so, I spent part of the time with my chair parked under a nearby seagrape tree.  It was sort of puny though--kind of a Charlie Brown seagrape tree--so it wasn't casting a lot of shade.  I also laid out my towel on the sand and took a couple of quick dozes.  We swam...I walked the beach...and we called family to wish them a Happy Easter.  (My 7-year-old niece still believes in the Easter Bunny.)  :)

All in all, it was a wonderfully relaxing last Sunday at Magens.  So long, Magens, see ya next time! 

bling

There were two things the boyfriend wanted to do before leaving here:  buy a nice watch and go sailing.  Both wishes are going to be fulfilled within a 24-hour time span. 

We overslept this morning given that we had early appointments, but we managed to be where we needed to be when we needed to be there.  By 10:00 I was in the chair at the salon, for one last cut and color with my hairstylist.  While I was getting my hair done, boyfriend strolled through the shops at the cruise ship dock (across the street from the salon) looking at watches.  There are many items that are good buys in the USVI--watches are one of those.  There's no sales tax here and this is a duty-free port.  He had a certain price range in mind, giving him a nice timepiece but not taking too big a chunk out of our nest egg.  He owned a Swiss Army watch when we moved here, but after awhile it finally died.  (He'd bought it in Switzerland and had it for years.)  After doing a lot of window shopping--and trying as much as possible to avoid the hard sell of the salespeople--he returned to a store we like (where we've bought two digital cameras) and found a salesman he liked.  He settled on a Swiss Army watch.  Nice, but not too flashy (he's not a flashy guy) and within our price range (plus a discount given to locals).

Then we grabbed a bite to eat and hit the bookstore.  I packed our road atlas with our books and they've already been shipped, so we were looking for another atlas (for road trip planning).  They were out of road atlases, so we bought this instead.  Then it was off to the Post Office to schlep in six more boxes for shipping and to file our forwarding notices. 

We spent the next couple of hours browsing through the downtown shopping district.  For my last birthday, my folks had sent me money with the instructions to buy myself something to remember St. Thomas.  The boyfriend had also given me some money.  I had tucked all of it away and every once in awhile I'd wonder what I should buy.   There's a LOT of jewelry for sale here, but I'm not a big wearer of fine jewelry so it's a waste of money for me to buy it.  I'm about as far from a bling-bling gal as one can get.  But I have been scoping out one particular little sterling silver kiosk downtown and this afternoon, with the boyfriend in tow, I went by there again and showed him what I was thinking about buying.  We looked at some conch shell bracelets.  They were sweet and nice, but then we spotted a much larger one inside the case and as soon as I tried it on, I knew I wanted it.  My mission was to find something to remind me of our years in the Caribbean, and this will definitely do that.  Before anyone goes blasting me about killing some poor conchs to get their shells, let me explain that conch is part of the island cuisine here and the literature that accompanied the bracelet said that they use only those shells which have already been harvested and used for food.  It was made by Caribbean Cowgirl (how appropriate...where are my red cowboy boots?)  It was more than I wanted to spend, but then he reminded me of all of the bonus money I earned and how I hadn't spent any of it on myself (adding it instead to our move fund).  So I bought it.  I like it...AND I deserve it.  :)

Then we walked a few doors down to The Steel Drum Store.  I'd only recently discovered it--boyfriend had never noticed it.  I told him I thought it was only appropriate that he buy a steel drum.  Can't be a drummer in the Caribbean for five years and not own a steel drum, right?  A calypso version of "Limbo Rock" was playing in the store when we walked in and boyfriend started playing along.  Then the drum-maker (and owner?) picked up a drum and started playing along, too.  Boyfriend started talking to him and commented on how great the drums sounded for their size.  He turned to me and said, "His tone (achieved with the drums) is killer!"  This is the one he picked out.  If you enlarge the photo, you might be able to see where the drum-maker autographed it for him (in silver ink on the yellow stripe.)  It sounds good!

So back to the sailing...  Tomorrow morning, boyfriend will board this boat for a day sail.  It appears in this film.  The boat is owned by a golfing buddy of his and when the boyfriend told him that he'd never been sailing and had always wanted to go while we were here, the guy offered to take him on a day sail for the cost of just a crew tip.  Lucky boyfriend!  The guy called yesterday to say that he has room on the boat tomorrow.  This is the weekend of the Rolex Regatta, a world-class sailing event, so hopefully he'll get lots of great pictures.  I, on the other hand, will be whiling away my day sitting next to my coworker at the storage place while we provide our own snarky commentary to CourtTV. 

Magens Bay

This is what our neighborhood beach looked like when we arrived at 8:15 this morning...

...and this is what it looked like four hours later.  There were six cruise
ships in today.

We had breakfast on the deck of the snack bar.  See those bright yellow things on the table?  Those are carry bags designed to hold bibles.  My mother sent them to us after she spotted them at Costco.  I'm sorry to report that we carry nothing as lofty as a bible in them.  She sent them because she thought they'd be perfect for the beach.  Mine gets packed with books and lip gloss and shades and pen and postcards and camera.  The boyfriend uses his to transport his CD player and CD's and the occasional book.  They're very handy.

We did feed the birds...

...but not the other critters.

After five hours at the beach (and yes, I know this is boring, but I'm fried at the moment) we high-tailed it to the post office with six boxes in tow.  Then we ducked into the food court for Chinese food (the post office we went to is at the mall).  We've packed another three boxes tonight, and also sorted through our finances (read: he made me balance my checkbook, which I hadn't done in about six months...but that's only because the idiots at the bank keep sending my statements to the wrong address so some were never received).  Now we're down to the nitty-gritty:  packing files, organizing our paperwork, calling the utility companies, closing our bank accounts, etc.  All the stuff I hate to do.  I wish I had something pithy or remotely humorous to add here...but truthfully, I just wanna take a shower and climb into bed and read.  :)

St. John

Yesterday the boyfriend played his last gig on St. John.  We boarded the 3:00 ferry on a gorgeously perfect day--sunny and very warm.  We took the forward most seats on the upper deck, on a bench that's to the right of the wheelhouse.  That gave us an unobstructed view and we tried to soak in all of the scenery on the ride over to Cruz Bay. 

Boyfriend has played many gigs on St. John over the years--in lots of different venues and settings, with lots of different people.  For the last several months, he's been a member of the band that plays the jazz jam session every Sunday from 4 to 7:30 pm at The Beach Bar.  It's situated right on the water 'downtown,' one block from the ferry terminal.  He loads his drums (he uses a small kit for this gig) on a luggage cart and wheels them down the street to the bar. 

This jazz jam session is led by a friend of ours who's a musician himself (he plays clarinet) and also a promoter.  He does a lot of music events on St. John.  This week, it's his biggest, the St. John Blues Festival.  So there were additional guests sitting in during the show, all in town from New York to play the Blues Festival. There was a singer and her keyboard player husband and a petite Italian woman with very long hair who plays the pocket trumpet.  Everyone kept asking if we'd be at the Blues Festival--if the boyfriend was playing or if we'd be going there to just hang out.  But he has gigs on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday (his last) nights this week, so we hadn't planned on it.  The festival is way out in Coral Bay, on the eastern end of St. John.  But he doesn't have a gig on Saturday night, and that will be the final show of the Festival.  We might just surprise everyone and show up.  :)

Yesterday the music was kickin', the place was packed and everyone was having a good time.  It was only at the end of the show, when our friend (the bandleader/promoter) announced that it was the boyfriend's last show that I grew a little teary.  Because in all honesty, that was the first moment when I felt it really sink in that we're actually leaving.  And it made me sad to think that we won't be able to hop onto a ferry and in 20 minutes be strolling around St. John.  And sad to have to tell some of these people goodbye.  So when our friend announced that it was the boyfriend's last gig because we're moving and then said, "Let's all stand and show him how much we love him."...well, then I got teary.  I spotted the his wife across the room and gave her a teary smile.  She asked me later if I felt sad about leaving.  I said that we're ready to go, but it's still going to be sad in some ways.  It's not so much that I'll miss the place (although it's pretty hard to beat in some ways), but I'll miss the life that the boyfriend and I had here together.  I know you've all heard me complain for years about not having a life--that pertains to me personally, i.e., work that I enjoy doing, girlfriends, etc.  But I'm talking about the home life we've had here, and the fact that we were able to build a nice little life for ourselves after coming here (sight unseen for me) with very little to our names.  One thing's for sure, we're very well-connected here.  If we ever decide to come back, all it will take is a few phone calls.

We'd been told beforehand that the bandleader and his wife wanted to take everyone out to dinner after the show.  We went to a fabulous Italian restaurant just a few doors down from the bar.  Boyfriend and I had never eaten there.  Things kicked off with a champagne toast.  Boyfriend and I don't drink, so we toasted with sparkling water, but we appreciated the gesture.  Red and white wine flowed all evening.  The bandleader and his wife ordered the antipasti and dessert courses for the table and everyone chose their entree.  And when I say they ordered for the table, I mean platter after platter of food arrived!  There must have been six platters alone of antipasti, in addition to pesto pizza and roasted garlic and another dish that didn't even get to our end of the table.  (There were 15 of us.)  And a variety of desserts that we savored with our cappuccinos.  The restaurant is also right on the water and we were sitting on an open-air deck on a very warm, windless night, directly under the bright moon.   It was truly lovely.  They gave boyfriend a wonderful charcoal sketch of him sitting behind his drum kit done by a local artist who's a regular at the Sunday gig.  He was very moved and touched by all of it.  There were some truly sad faces at that table.  He and his rare talent are very much loved by the music community here.  There was much joking along the lines of, "We wish you well and godspeed...and hope your stay there won't last long."  We'll see most of them for a gig here on Thursday and he'll be doing two days of recording with them right before we leave, but all without the bandleader since he'll be busy at his Blues Festival.  Next Sunday's gig at The Beach Bar will feature a band from the Blues Festival, hence the early farewell party.

We rode back to St. Thomas on the upper deck of the ferry.  It was very warm and hardly a breath of wind.  I never grow tired of those moments--looking up at the night sky as we make our way across Pillsbury Sound, making out the shapes of the nearby islands and cays.  Those ferry rides to and from St. John have been some of my favorite moments during our years here. So long, St. John.  But, just between you and me?  I have a feeling you haven't seen the last of us.

"That girl, she's MEAN!"

So I was working (ha!...very loosely defined, that) yesterday at the storage place.  C., the woman who staffs the office full-time (I'm supposed to be helping her out, but there's not that much for HER to do) said, "Why don't you go with me when I 'do locks?'  We'll put a sign on the door, jump in the golf cart and I'll show you around the place."  It's a sprawling compound, with storage units ranging from the tiniest to warehouse-sized ones. (It's owned by my former employer and his partner.)  'Doing locks' means putting an overlock on a unit that has a past due payment (so the renter can't get access to his or her possessions until payment is made) and removing the overlocks from units that have caught up on their payments. 

The resident managers of the facility have a side business that includes secretarial services, shipping and fax services, and mailbox rentals.  In fact, mailbox customers often comprise a lot of the walk-in traffic (and some of the unintentional entertainment...more on that below.) The managers are off-island for a month, which is why I'm helping out two days a week.  In addition to doing the locks, we had a package to deliver to one of the businesses that's housed there.  So we jumped into the cart and I was thrilled to be out in the very warm sunshine.  I'm not a big fan of A/C and the office is air-conditioned. 

Our first stop was the import business that received the package.  They do a wholesale business with (mostly) clothing items imported from Indonesia and a retail business with furniture imported from Bali.  We greeted the owner, handed her the package and began strolling through the space and ooh'ing and ahh'ing over items.  Then C. asked the owner, "Have you seen your rat today?"  Hmmm.  Suddenly I was ready to be back in the golf cart.

We zipped by the huge warehouse spaces and headed over to the far reaches of the property.  We passed an upscale furniture store that specializes in mahogany and teak pieces.  C. showed me the building where several tenants have offices.  We passed other buildings that include the office for a trucking company and one for a pest control company (I imagine they could generate a lot of business right there on site).  Then we came to a building that has a feng shui-type business in an end unit.  The female owner was sitting there among all of her bamboo plants with the doors on three sides of her unit rolled up.  I thought, "Gee, I could spend sunny days sitting in a space full of bamboo..."  We chatted her up for a couple of minutes and then headed back to the building where the office is located.  There were a handful of locks to do on that building, but we spotted a couple sitting in a car in front of the office awaiting our return, so we stopped to let them in.  C. rented a unit to them and then we got back into the golf cart to lead the tenants to their space on our way to finish the locks. 

We pulled up in front of a roll-up door that leads to some interior units.  C. jumped out to show the unit and I waited in the cart.  Then I saw it--the huge tarantula creepy-crawling around the ledge below the door.  C. calmy moved to one side, stepped on the release lever for the door and lifted it.  The couple in the car stepped gingerly over the threshold and entered behind her.  When they exited, C. took the tag on her key chain and gently tried to push the tarantula away.  It was then that I realized that I've become acclimated to the tropics--when rats and tarantulas are simply a fact of life.  There are tons of both here.  The golf course is crawling with tarantulas (boyfriend took this picture there last week) and regular readers of my previous blog will remember the infamous 'rat in the condo' incident.

I commented to C. later that as the boyfriend and I ponder possible little businesses we could start, that it hadn't occurred to me to include storage facilities in possible places to rent to house said business(es).  We're trying to keep ALL of our options open, so depending on the type of business, it could make sense to look at a place with a significantly lower rent than a traditional retail location.  She told me that she'd seen an article in one of the managers' storage magazines that that's all the rage now in California and Arizona--that businesses are using storage facilities to create mini industrial parks.  I'm not thinking 'industrial' in terms of a business, but we already have the golfsmith business and if we choose to expand it in California, it would certainly fall under that umbrella.

But back to the entertainment (so to speak) provided by the mailbox customers...  The office opens at 9:00.  At 9:30, there was a female customer standing at the counter regaling us with her tale of how she'd successfully convinced an online softare retailer to alter its website to allow V.I. customers to purchase online.  (You can't imagine how frustrating it is to complete purchase screens only to reach a point where the pull-down menu for 'state' doesn't include the VI.  That happens on a lot of sites.)   So we were listening to her story when in lurched a guy, maybe 40-ish, who immediately bent over, panting and trying to catch his breath.  The storage place is a bit tucked away, so most people headed there drive to it.  He must have walked.  He asked us for some water.  We told him that there are bottles of water in the fridge for sale for a dollar.  He wanted water that he didn't have to pay for, and when  C. explained that they're on well water there and that it's not potable, it pissed him off.  Then he walked down the aisle where the mailboxes are, and closest to where I was sitting, and said to me (in a slurred voice), "Happy St. Patrick's Day!"  He REEKED of booze, and it occurred to me that he might still be celebrating.  I said very business-like, "Can we help you?"  He said (slurring), "Did you have a nice St. Patrick's Day?"  "I didn't celebrate it."  "You didn't celebrate St. Patrick's Day?!  What, are you anti-Irish?!"  "Can we help you with something?"  "Where are you from?  I know you're not from here.  Just like me, you moved here from somewhere else.  I came from Michigan..." (and I was wishing right then that he was back there now) "...where did you come from?"  "The States."  "You're the most unsociable woman I've ever met."  "Thank you.  I'm glad to hold that title.  Can we help you?"  "I'd like to pay for my storage unit."  I told C. what his unit number is, since she was sitting in front of the computer, and she began processing his payment.  She told him that there was an overlock on his unit and asked if he wanted her to unlock it right then.  He said no and left.  I looked at C. and the other woman and said, "I know I was rude, but I can't tolerate obnoxious behavior from drunks in a business setting."  They said, "He was drunk?!"  "You guys didn't SMELL it?!"  They both said that he was standing nearest to me and that no, they hadn't smelled the booze.  Suddenly he stormed back in, looked at C. and said, "I changed my mind.  I want you to unlock my unit."  C. grabbed her keys and left to to do just that.  The other cusotmer looked at me after they'd left and said, "Okay, NOW I smell it." 

When C. returned, she laughed and said, "Yeah, he was pretty wasted.  He said, 'That girl, she's MEAN!'"  She said that when he shows up to pay next month and finds I'm not there, she's going to tell him that they fired me for being rude to him.  :)  All I could think was, "Girl?!"  Damn, he WAS drunk.

Yea / Nay

Things I'll miss about living on this island:

• The near constant "highs in the 80's - lows in the 70's" weather.  In peak summer months, the highs can reach the 90's, but the lows almost never drop below 70.  We had a couple of nights a month or so ago where the nighttime temps dropped all the way down to 72...and locals were ready to break out their parkas.
• Magens Bay Beach...Magens Bay Beach...Magens Bay Beach...or as locals call it, simply "Magens"
• Anything done at Magens...walking, swimming, eating, dozing, people-watching, reading, digging one's toes in the white sand
• The privacy of our residence...we're on a dead-end lane and at night it's super-dark and super-quiet...no neighbors in our immediate sightline...we leave our balcony doors open 24/7
• The relaxing view from our condo...I can see the blue, blue Atlantic and the top of a neighboring island
• The night sky
• The fact that this is still a place where one can reinvent oneself
• The low-key, casual, fairly stress-free lifestyle
• Constant bare feet and flip-flops
• Living in a place with a predominantly Black population

Things I won't miss:

• The absolute lack of customer service...odd, given that this is an economy dependent almost entirely on tourism
• The government corruption of staggering proportions
• West Indians' arrogance and prejudice toward African-Americans
• The horrific traffic clogging the narrow, windy, hilly, pothole-laden roads (many of which are concrete, not pavement)
• Ear-splitting calypso music being played in public places
• West Indian loud talkers (see previous item as a possible explanation as to why they do this)
• The sound of West Indians sucking their teeth in disgust...usually in response to a request for customer service
• A rampant lack of manners
• Littering
• The absence of recycling
• Hurricane season
• Living in a concrete structure