If
you stay
I'll make you a day
Like no day has been
Or will be again.
We'll sail on the sun,
We'll ride on the rain,
And talk to the trees,
And worship the wind.
"Ne Me Quitte Pas" (1959) by Jacques Brel
"Be amusing: never tell unkind stories; above all, never tell long ones."
Benjamin Disraeli
The Final Tally
80lbs. sugar
8 books
1) The Other Rembrandt
2) The Adventures of Kavelier and Clay
3) Missing Joseph
4) The Mosquito Coast
5) Compass, Water and Stone
6( Where Serpents Sleep
7) Before the Poison
8) Mountains Beyond Mountains
1513 miles
16 bottles of wine
60gals. drinking water
1,000,000,0009 no-see-ums
17 mosquito bites
1 unknown toxic experience
1 Christmas Bush
8 rainy days
68 teabags
1 wasp sting
500,000 ants
1 broken 4 wheel drive cable
62 crabs
1 pity party
5 hikes
541 vines
Countless Bananaquits and Bees
7 friends
and 1 plane ticket home
Everyone on St John has a story . The islands history and culture is passed on in stories. Every day I was given the gift of a story of my own to tell. I hope you had as much fun hearing them as I did living them.
´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•` ¤ Thank You & Goodbye!
Leaving from STJ is a step by step process as we begin our transformation into the surreal re-entry that is the modern world. The world that's been going on without us for two months. You have to think of it as a game, and you're advancing along the board. There is nothing you can do to speed it along or anticipate obstacles. The best way to do it is to simply stay focused and relaxed. One step at a time.
Step one: The ferry. We were lucky, there was one at the dock and it left on time. We've had some missed planes and anxious moments.This wasn't one of those days.
On the Ferry Roanoke Leaving STJ Behind
Squall over St Thomas
We Hit It
Step two: getting to the airport and returning the car. I wasn't doing a good job practicing my Zen. Budget car rental wanted the car back empty because we'd paid for a full tank. Well, it was empty, the little gas light had come on yesterday. We kept reassessing "Is it on the E yet?". George kept saying we have plenty of gas. What's this "Plenty" mean? We passed up two gas stations but we made it to the airport. I don't like the gas game.
St Thomas has traffic lights, divided highways, wider roads, cars and you can get your speed up to 40mph. This is more traumatic than you think. If I'd told you this was a picture of Cuba you'd believe me.
The Imposing Danish Fort Christian, 1666
I always regret not having taken a day to visit STT. It has many qualities, history, restaurants, charm. I always forget that when the only experience I have is KMart.
George Gets a Beer at the Airport
We bade a hasty goodbye to our loyal Meep Jeep, it's a wonder he survived. There was a long line at Budget but we could just toss the keys because of the pre-paid gas. That was worth the heart attack of possibly running out of gas, missing the plane and being stranded somewhere.
There was an even longer line to go through security. They like to bunch planes, and 3 or 4 arrive or depart at the same time. It looks like a scene from an evacuation. We decided to sit in the baggage claim area bar.
She Has Got To Be Kidding
Step three: the serpentine line for Customs and Immigration - be sure to fill out your form before you reach the desk. Of course there are no forms and there are no pens. I could have rented my Bic. (I bought a wooden frog and didn't declare the artifacts hidden in my knitting).
Almost there - you can skip step four, the checked bag screening, because you, as a wizened traveler, have only a carry on, right? So to the "Carry On Bags Only" line.
Step five: Passport and boarding pass check. Through the confused TSA people with their new full body scan cabinets. Don't ask. Zen. Remember, Zen.
That's it, you're through. Well done! Four steps to evacuation.
Eventually, once you go through the above steps, you will wind up in Quarantine. It's not really a quarantine, I just call it that, because you are so isolated from the world as you wait. You're home free. Your plane might even leave on time. It's a good sign if you see it parked outside.
Quarantine is a huge room of molded plastic chairs and teasing picture windows. It's pathetic. There's a tiny "restaurant" with a bar and shrink wrapped food, menu boards listing offerings that don't exist. There's a typical gift shop with magazines, candy and STT t-shirts and souvenirs. Lately they opened a duty free liquor store, a jewelry kiosk and a Pandora make-your-own-bead-bracelet shop. The air is stale, if the AC is on you will freeze, if it's off you will suffocate. This is where people sit, still in shorts and flip flops, with peeling noses, with negative-raccoon faces, sorrowfully watching the next bunch of vacationers arrive. You were out there once.
Quarantine
I'm convinced Quarantine is the islands' way of re-acclimating you to reality. You don't even get a hint of how nice you've had it. Vacation time is over, Homie. It's air conditioning and multitudes of humanity from now on.
What gets me is the sparrows. There are always sparrows who have somehow gotten in and can't get out. These sparrows multiply. One day there will be a flock of them. As far as I can tell they're eating crumbs, sipping spilled soda and water. I try not to look. It's too sad. I don't think anyone feels bad about these birds, just me. Why don't they get them out?
George and I weren't sitting together on the plane and there was no option to switch around. I was with a Jiggler. He kept bouncing his legs, getting up, wrapping his earphone cord into a neat figure 8. He chewed one fingernail until I thought he'd start in on the finger. Shudder. I crossed my arms over my chest, plugged in my MP3 and zoned out. Next thing I knew we were approaching Atlantic City and the coast of NJ. All in all it was a smooth day. Game over and we won.
There are so many good familiar things about being back but also some meaninglessness. A book is still by the bed where I left it, though I can't remember the plot. I have stuff on my desk, but I don't know what it's for. Packages arrived, things I ordered on line in STJ - what was I thinking? Where did the night vision goggles come from? Fridge is empty and very clean - did I do that? Water comes pouring out of the faucet like it was limitless - that shower felt magnificent. I can't wait for rain! The air is cool and brisk.
And daffodils! It's Spring and just lovely. It makes me ask just what IS paradise?
As Dorothy says, "there's no place like home."
Many thanks to MEGAN for picking us up at the airport and planting the flowers.
STJ has it's own mini piton, sitting by the road above Hawksnest Bay and the Oppenheimer community center. It's Easter Rock.
The island story is: every year, the night before Easter, this huge egg shaped boulder makes its way in the darkness down the steep hillside to the sea. When it gets to the shore, it takes a drink, then returns to its perch before the morning sun rises over Peace Hill. And waaaay before the first people drive by it and notice it's missing. It's true, I swear!
If you doubt it then explain why even after the driest droughts and the driest nights, Easter Rock is still wet early Easter morning. Huh?
I believe it.
There is no other rock like this on STJ. Scientists think it's part of the Caribbean tectonic plate which millions of Easters ago met the oncoming North American plate. Bang. Easter Rock. This happened on island time - sloooowly. And yes, I do know there was no Easter millions of years go.
Happy Easter, Rock!
Anyway, island time has left me today, time is flying. There isn't much to do before we go. I watered the plants, we checked the sprinkler system, George did the laundry, I cleaned. Soon we'll cover the furniture with sheets, pack whatever we're taking back with us, print out our tickets and charge up our electronic toys (my cell will have a purpose other than as a clock!).
Our atty. came by to go over the property encroachment case. One hour, $250. Don't you love it how other people do inconsiderate things that are clearly in the wrong and wind up costing YOU aggravation and money? George says sometimes dealing with people here is like being in Bosnia. I don't think he means Bosnia, I think he means Botswana or Mogadishu.
Shipwreck held a "There Is No Blues Fest This Year Fest" today. By the time we got there for dinner we thought it would be over but in the way of island surprizes, it was going full steam. And what a show it was! Everyone was having such a good time, lots of familiar faces, many wasted on beer and rum. The band "Locals on the 8's" were very good. They actually played music from this decade! Man, how these drunks can cut loose. They didn't get the memo that Woodstock is over. Too bad I didn't get a video of the guy trying to breakdance on the concrete.
George took this one with his cell phone. Let it load. There's a cameo appearance by none other than Sloan at the end (annoyed at his cell). What a happy ending for us, music and dancing.
Leaving here is bittersweet - I'm happy to be going home, so looking forward to a life that's completely me; one of family, limitlessness and convenience. That said, parting from friends, the wonderful garden, the simple life, the creatures that have been a part of my world here - is sad. Where will "my" bees get water? Will "my" crabs be ok? "My" birds will come for their sugar and there will be none.
Things change, because we want them to or not. All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves. Things come and go from our lives more often than they remain. The feelings fade away, it's self eroding to dwell, you have to move on.
Grasp the moment while you can and be happy, be grateful. If you don't, doesn't it devalue the time you did have?
Easter Rock gets itself to the beach and back whether we are here or not. The birds, the crabs, the bees will have benefited from the small part I shared in their lives but will all move on without regrets or sadness. It's a good lesson to learn.
Peace Hill
Well, now
If little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you
Little by little
If suddenly you forget me
Do not look for me
For I shall already have forgotten you
If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my life
And you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots
Remember
That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms
And my roots will set off to seek another land.
Today is Good Friday and due to an old law it is illegal to sell or serve alcohol between the hours of 9AM and 4PM. Just in time for Happy Hour, the celebratory breaking of the fast. This law doesn't apply to retail stores so if your skin is itching and you're seeing flying monkeys, get thee to Starfish Market, buy a bottle and drink it in the parking lot.
There's
been a feeling of unrest the last few days. I got chewed out by a woman who
accused me of not saying "Excuse me" in the grocery store. I was
nearly pushed off the road one too many times. Can't put my finger on any one thing, more a vibe, bad juju, many small events that can push your tolerance button and make you say "what's with everybody?" George just came back from town
getting the water jugs filled, he looked pale. Very pale. Something about a truck, a hill and a rope.
Holidays are big here. Important. Remember Valentine's Day? Religion
is taken very seriously. Easter is big. It's a 4 day festival. That said, so is partying, and tonight is once again
the full moon. The Pink Moon! Easter and the Moon. What do you do when they fall on the same weekend? Kind of like the planets colliding.
All this
island fervor and astronomical energy is imbuing me with the spirit. I want to join in. Particularly with only a day left, it’s a good time to contemplate the beautiful world I'm in, nature, humanity,
the joys of life. I know of no other place as law-bending as this. They have their own way of doing things; laws and common sense are merely suggestions.
By the way, it was unlawful of me to take this picture from the VI Police Website.
Police Discover Newborn in Purse
During Traffic Stop
Police made a routine traffic
stop that turned out to be anything but routine. The bizarre situation occurred
at about 9:15 a.m. Tuesday April 3 near the basketball court. A patrol officer
stopped a white Ford Ranger due to a cracked windshield. While requesting the
drivers’ license and registration, the officer heard a baby cry. Not seeing a
baby in the car, the officer asked the driver, “Miss, where is the baby?” The
driver unzipped a black purse that was on the front passenger seat next to her
and revealed a newborn baby girl.
Woman Attacked with Pots and
Pans; Another with a Shotgun
A 26-year-old female victim told police that neighbors entered into
her apartment without her permission and assaulted her with pots and pans from
her kitchen.
Also on Sunday at about 6:30 a.m.
police were dispatched to a residence to investigate an Assault. The
44-year-old female victim told police that her common law husband threatened
her with a shotgun after he saw certain text messages on her cell phone (WTF? Sorry, couldn't resist.)
Man Arrested for Robbery with a
Wooden Gun
Police arrested 20-year-old E.
Guadalupe and charged him with First Degree Robbery after he was positively
identified as the person who pointed a wooden handgun at a victim and robbed
him of a cellular phone. Police said Guadalupe approached an 18-year-old male
and pointed what appeared to be a wooden hand gun at him. Guadalupe told the
victim, “give me something” and the victim told him he had nothing to give.
Guadalupe then took the victims’ cell phone and walked away.
Tuesday, March 27,
1:00PM An Estate Bethany resident p/r
that someone is tearing down her property with a backhoe. Police assistance.
Thursday March 29,
3:35PM An Estate Adrian resident p/r that someone damaged his chicken coop and
set them loose, after which they fought and killed each other [sic].
Destruction of personal property.
Speaking
of Sunday, I just found out something new – taxi drivers wear their turquoise
shirts on weekdays and white ones on Sunday.
It's nutty out there. I'm relieved to see these cops keeping a watchful eye, I feel better already.
I'll be spending Easter in the A/C on a plane. Meanwhile I think
I’ll sit on the porch and wait till the dust settles. First I have to go pick up some cold Cab Sav. After 4PM of course.
My last hike of the season, it's Ranger Don's call, and he wants to scramble. We'll go from the beach at Brown Bay to Waterlemon via the rocky coastline and cliff edges. It's referred to as a scramble because you are climbing over the shore rocks and cliffs rather than hiking. There is no trail, you take what comes. It's exciting, a challenge and no matter what, you just keep going. You don't have much choice anyway, you can bail and take your chances bushwhacking inland, or swim. It's also the only way to see certain rarely seen inaccessible environments.
The hardies were George, me, Friend Steve, Ranger Don, Tom and Su. Our starting point was the Brown Bay trailhead (S). We walked to Brown Bay and braved the now almost completely vine covered and wasp domain of the ruins to see the newly discovered (by Don) and long searched for burial yard. I was really looking forward to this. I'd been looking for these graves for years, I never knew how close I'd been. A really nice cemetery too, neatly laid out with the remains of a wall and gate posts. There were supposed to be 13 graves - great number, huh? We counted about 9. One table tomb had triangles carved in the sides, another had the outline of a person's profile, possibly a quartz cameo silhouette that had been stolen.
Triangle Decoration
Then the scramble begins. I left the familiarity of the Brown Bay beach and followed the coast line. This was all new to me, both the sceambling and the area. I couldn't wait. Our route would take us from Brown Bay to Threadneedle Point, around Leinster Point to touristy Waterlemon with it's sailboats and snorkelers. Then we would return by the Johnny Horn trail. Unfortunately I'd forgotten my gloves, not necessary but helpful for grabbing volcanic rock.
Take a Load Off
Lunch
Su and Tortola in the Background
This bee hive was a pleasant surprize. Nice set of combs, dudes!
Beehive
Though we were on the shore the entire time, it wasn't as breezy and cool as you'd think. It's been so hot, polluted with ash, steam and dust with no wind, there was little relief. Luckily the sun wasn't out. The sun would have made it an entirely different trip. There is no shade and the rocks give off heat like standing next to an iron. But it was incredibly beautiful and interesting. There were some dicey places, you did have to focus in spots, but it wasn't strenuous.
George Finds a Quiet Spot
Tom is always repairing his shoes with duct tape.
There was much to see in the way of trash and I think a lot of our time was spent checking out junk. Too much stuff gets thrown off boats and into the water winding up on land. I didn't like thinking of all the man made stuff that fouls the ocean. There were mostly plastic bottles - water, soda, motor oil, funnels. There were shoes, a book in Swedish (?), a few scrub brushes, nylon rope, floats, a cooler, and a lot of single shoes. Some of these things were new. Don and Steve were finding treasures. Su found a disposable camera in a waterproof case.
Brand New Fender!
Lotsa Stuff Like This
Getting giddy from all the cool finds. This one started reminiscences of the Magic Mirror on Romper Room. Romper Bomper Tell me do....Guess you had to be there.
Threadneedle seems to have been a regular landing place for illegals. Steve and I wandered back into the area behind the shore and found shirts, shoes, bags, sweaters. They were well covered in leaves and dirt and it was obvious they'd been there a long time. The govt has cracked down on illegals being dropped off on STJ shores, picking up people who appear lost, Asians and patrolling the beaches. A story goes that some illegals got on the bus. The driver called ahead to the police who were waiting to meet them when the bus pulled into the police station. It's been a long time since I've seen the piles of clothing left in the bush and wandering people who always say they're "on a picnic". I do feel very bad for them.
Waterlemon was just as packed with people as I knew it would be. It really takes away from the serenity of a natural place when there are too many people jammed on top of each other. STJ beaches are getting over crowded. We had to step around and over them to get past.
The Guard House on the Johnny Horn
I had vowed to never take the Johnny Horn trail again. Ever. It's by far the worst trail on the island. The start of it from Waterlemon has some interest with the guard barracks, the ruined estate house and it's 360deg views, and the hidden Murphy grave. After the intersection of the Brown Bay trail, it becomes a worn, boring series of tribulations in the heat and steep skree. It's so steep, your toes are almost touching your knees. And that's just up. Then you have to go down, toes against your shoes ready to go sliding. Never again.
But we made it to the top, where a friend of Don's lives. We took a
break to admire the garden and the view. A cute little one room house.
View From the Small House
Hanging Heliconia
Huge Blooming Orchid
So onward.....the final leg of the trek. It took us 5 ½ hours, but we're back down to Coral Bay. There we stopped at Skinny's for a post hike reward.
The perfect end. And Don said he didn't want to hike anymore because it was all "been there, done that"! Pshaw!
