how much are those puppies outside my window?

Dogs. That's something that's not frequently discussed in the tourist books ... Here in St. Croix, we have a lot of dogs. Small ones, big ones, friendly ones ... but more often than not ... not so friendly ones.

A lot of people have fenced yards here, and a minimum of at least four dogs ... sometimes much more. They frequently remind me of the movie UP, and the dogs from there.

Not Doug. Awn. Doug's so cute.

These Dogs:

They are mean and scary, and threateningly bark at you as you walk by a home. Dogs in St. Croix are a part of many people's built in security systems ... and so they are trained to not be so friendly to unknown 'guests'.

Dogs, as well as other animals though run pretty wild around the island. You name it, horses, donkeys, chickens, dogs many of them seem to have free reign wherever they are, and my neighborhood is no different. Through the shear purple curtain, over one of the windows in my room, I can see a large white horse silently grazing in the bush behind my house. His tail lazily swats flies and other insects as they disturb his peaceful existence in the cool of the shaded and wild bush, just feet from my room. There's the iguana that lives in the coconut tree right outside my window who likes to bask in the warmth of the filtered sun through large coconut tree palms. And there is the momma dog and her pups who walk around our house and neighborhood like a mother duck with a following of small and easily excitable ducklings, each one prancing and rolling in the grass while still following momma wherever she leads her pups.

Their youthful nature always seems to lead a stray puppy to our front door. It is curious, and humorous to me the reaction of the mother dog, seeing as how she lives in one of the houses next door. "Now little puppy, you can stay here if you like, I'm just over here, but be back before it gets too late."

So several of her puppies have come for individual visits to our home. They come, they'll lick our fingers, take naps on the couch with us, and let us feed them a little something ... and then when night comes ... they leave our house and return home to their momma.

Living in St. Croix can just be so great. :)

Above is one of our sweet, happy, and affectionate little visitors.  Ain't she cute?!

The BIG Cuda

I have had the most wonderful several days with my brother and sister-in-law, at first it was the strangest mental thing for me. My Cruzan experiences just seem so separated from my previous Arizona life in so many ways that it was strange for me to see so much "Arizona" in my Cruzan paradigm. But after a few minutes in the back of my brother's red jeep with him driving on the left, and my hair whipping around my head in the wind ... I got used to it. ;)

The first few days were more me showing them my life, 'my' island. Sandy Point (well, as close as we got to it), Turtles, Chicken Shack, my job, Frederiksted (of course), Christiansted, the rain forest, the farm, gongolos, Rainbow, Rhythms, etc. But today has been full of firsts for me, that I got to share with my family. A trip to Point Udall, sea kayaking (with my sister-in-law as my teacher), and of course ... our Buck Island excursion.

Below are a few pictures (not taken by me or the fam though)

We went on a motorized version of this catamaran from this boardwalk to get to Buck Island

Buck Island (with St. Croix in the background)

We sat on this beach today and enjoyed the sand

The snorkeling portion of the island, with a great barrier reef

I was snorkeling, enjoying the different beautiful fish I was seeing when all of a sudden
I saw this guy's cousin (okay so not this big ... but at least three feet long), the great barracuda!
I then looked up and realized that I was really far away from everyone else ... and quickly swam
back to where I could see people. I later learned however, that while scary ...
barracuda, believe it or not, don't usually go after 5'10" fish.

Big Beard himself ... holding one of my least favorite things to find in my house,
a Cruzan centipede

 All in all ... it has just been wonderful! My roommate had to deal with a teary roommate after their exit (maybe partially induced by the fact that we don't have running water or gas in our house right now ... surprise!) but I can't wait to see them again in the fall. :)

She's Mine

Working during the day has meant a lot of changes for me ... sleeping in my bed at night for one, and doing more of the actively 'mothering' stuff with the kiddos. I was nervous about the switch and hesitant because of some drama that the other girls encountered while they were working during the day, not wanting one more thing to have to worry about. But three days in, and while it's exhausting to be mothering 6 children (including an 11 month old and an 18 month old) in the daylight hours, it is the absolute best part of this job.

pretty much ... this is me.

The newest child to become a part of our little family has been growing close to me, and becoming attached. She is 18 months old, and we'll call her Pebbles, and she cries for me when she's tired or hungry, runs to me when she's scared, and I can get her giggling faster than anyone in the cottage (plus, I taught her how to fist bump ... so obviously ... we're tight). It is tempting when you work so closely with these children to believe somehow that they are your very own ... and that you know and love them in a very special and unique way ... and while this is partially true, it is too easy to forget something very important. These children are with me for all sorts of reasons, and no matter what brought them, they all have family who love them very much.

So in the evening hours after Pebbles has had her bottle and I am holding her to my chest, singing a lullaby, in a dark room while one solitary ceiling fan rhythmically beats in tune to her deepening breaths as she repositions her head on my shoulder, I have to remember that there is someone who wishes that Pebbles was falling asleep on their shoulder.

Today we took the three boys (who when they're all together always make me think of my three little nephews in the Northwest ... even though they aren't all that similar ... excluding the youngest of my boys and the middle child of the Northwest brood ...) and Pebbles for ice cream and to meet Santa. The day was going wonderfully and I was feeding Pebbles some ice cream, when a very young woman came up to us. She first waved to Pebbles and then eyeing both her and me took a moment to consider it before bending over and giving Pebbles a kiss on the top of her head. As she stood up, my work partner asked if she knew Pebbles, and she quietly shook her head and turned and walked away crying. I looked at my work partner for a moment before getting up and following her, asking if she would like to sit with us for a while. At first she said no, and I understood so I went back to our table, but she kept watching us and after only five minutes came back.

She seemed hesitant but after showering a smiling, giggling, and glowing Pebbles with kisses and hugs, pulled her up out of the seat and held her close. She cried as she held Pebbles to her, speaking to her in Spanish and using some of Pebbles' same expressions and mannerisms (the same expressions that felt so familiar to me) as she cooed to Pebbles, and Pebbles cooed back. After a few minutes she told us that she was Pebbles' big sister. She stayed with us as long as she could, holding and loving her sister tight. Before having to make a tearful exit as both she and Pebbles cried for one another.

As she walked away I thought about what it must have felt like for her, who has loved, and I imagine done a fair amount of mothering to Pebbles her whole life ... only to have a stranger ask, "Do you know her?" My heart broke for her and her sister.

So no matter how much I love these kiddos, someone else loved them first, and continues still, even if they're only allowed to love at a distance.

Move over Durian Fruit ... there's a New Funk in Town

The other day I was doing dishes at our kitchen sink while some egg fruit (never knew about it before I moved here, and I couldn't find a picture of it) and something that we, at the time, called 'the alien egg' were ripening in the window and I noticed a decidely distinct smell.

It smelled awful. I wondered if maybe one of my roommates had thrown up in the sink because it smelled so bad. I kept doing dishes and it just wouldn't go away. The smell continued to linger no matter how much I cleaned dishes as well as the sink ... the vomit smell just continued to fill our kitchen. It was a mystery to me ... was something in the pipes? What was going on?

the 'alien egg'

A roommate was called in to help me super sleuth it, and she figured it out. It was 'the alien egg', it was the thing that produced the smell that made us wrinkle our noses and toes curl. Now before then I had always believed that the worst smelling fruit in the entire world HAD to be Durian ... it smells like feet, how could anything be worse?

I've met it's match though. Vomit smell trumps foot smell ... hello Noni fruit. 

Sorry Durian ... you're just second fiddle to the Noni's fetid nature

So Much Time ... So Many Things ... bad spelling and not at all edited ...

It is ironic that precisely when I have the most to write about, I have the least amount of time time to write about it.

Here goes the Reader's Digest  Version (well, as short as I can make it) of the events of the last little while.

1. Robbed

My roommate and I came home after some training for our job, and were laughing about this or that as we walked to our individual rooms when I heard, "Oh that's funny, my fan fell over ..." and then I heard, "Molly I can't find my lap top." There was no urgency in her voice, just curiosity and surprise. But then as I walked to the living room, I realized that my laptop wasn't where I had left it either. With more urgency from the back room I hear, "Molly! My computer's gone!" And I yell back, "Mine is gone too, I can't find my laptop!" We meet each other by the front door horrified looks on our faces as the reality set in. We had been robbed.

In that same instant, I remembered that one of my roommates was supposed to be home. I ran upstairs, my heart beating quickly as I rushed up to her room,yelling her name, and fearing the worst as I opened the door.  No one was there. "She's not in her room!"  I screamed to Hayley downstairs. We called Judy, and told her what had happened, and she said that she had just barely seen our other roommate. Phew! We knew that she was safe. Then we ran downstairs and called the roommate who was the occupant of the third and final room in our home. After a search of her room we realized her things had been taken as well.

A few minutes later, the five of us, and Judy, are standing outside of our home ... each of the three victims (miss j, miss h, and me) fought back tears at least once or twice as we waited for the Virgin Islands police department to get to our house from down the street. We had no high hopes for seeing them in a timely manner, as it had taken my roommate three calls to 911 before she was even able to speak to anyone.

The crooks had walked away with: 3 laptops, a $400 watch a roommate had spent an entire year saving for to buy for her boyfriend, 2 video cameras, and just for a special 'we want to make this day really suck' a $12 fan from my roommate's room.

They hadn't taken  anything from upstairs because we realized that they had opened the door upstairs and had seen our roommate sleeping upstairs, and decided to high tail it out of there.

The cops came, and then a forensics specialist with no sense of humor ... and who refused to even chuckle at any of my clever -if I do say so myself- 'we got robbed' jokes.

The day though was finished by us deciding to go ahead and still enjoy the evening by keeping our initial plans, and going to the Brew Pub in Christiansted for some Halloween festiveness. So an hour later Snap, Crackle, and Pop, accompanied by a Ninja (complete with real machete, taped to make it safe though) and Oscar the Grouch left to go party it up. We were going to do a 5 person Halloween thing ... but ninja and Oscar the Grouch decided that they had no desire to be one of the Spice Girls ... so I ended up being a very happy Pop as I danced around and got plenty of sympathy for my long lost laptop from a lifeguard, a hospital patient, and Elmer from the Jetsons ... it ended up not being such a bad day afterall.

2. Gunshots

Hmmmm ... I'm not sure how much I want to say about this considering I have family who read this ... let's just say I was in F-sted with a roommate and a pirate (yes, a pirate ... please envision Captain Morgan ... what can I say I live in St. Croix) ... and things got a little tense with a mystery fourth person ... who let out their anger in the form of two gun shots fired into the air after we turned the corner away from him.

3. Flat tire in the rainforest, no spare, and it was raining 

One of my most favorite places in St. Croix is VISFI ... it's a bit of a rough way there though, but well worth it once you're walking around the grounds. They have a cool tree house, a community center, and showers that were built facing the rainforest so that you can take your shower amongst the trees (pretty cool if you ask me).  On our way out though I reversed over some bamboo and I heard a pop, and what sounded like rushing air. I knew something was wrong, and when I exclaimed my concern, both of my roomates said 'Don't worry about it, it's just sounds of the rainforest' it was raining but they were talking bologna to make me feel better.

Anyways we didn't get too far before we got stuck in the mud and when I got out to push, I noticed that not only was it raining, and muddy on the road, but indeed, what I had heard was not just 'a sound of the rainforest'. A bit of an inspection later, and we realized that we didn't have a spare ... and we and the truck were now stuck in the rainforest with no way back. Like sad little kids we walked back to the farm in the mud and the rain, feeling rather pathetic. We realized that we had made it farther into the rainforest than any of us had first thought, but finally reached back to the community center with muddy feet and drenched clothes. The owner took pity on us, and an hour or so later he took us in his monster truck out of the rainforest and all the way back to our house. One roommate rode in the cab with the farm owner and his columbian friend Ray, while I road in the bed accompanied by another roommate, a large truck tire, tools, and a cooler full of Corona. It had been stressful, but it was nice to feel the uncharacteristically cool air rush against my cheek and look at the darkening sky around me all the way back to my house.

4. Flaky Hippies

There is a Hippy friend of mine. Who I love (sometimes) ... but who has destroyed any romantic notion that I have ever had about hippies. He was supposed to help me house sit, and was therefore the most logical person to call about helping me with the truck. I called him that night and left an message, then I called him the morning to ask him if he could help me out, "sure, just give me a couple hours and I'll be there." So I stayed home from church waiting for him and a couple hours turned to a few, and then more, and then he texts me and postpones until the following day.

So Monday, again I wait all day and at 4 pm (which in St. Croix is really the end of the day because it's pitch black by 6 pm) he calls and says that he won't be able to do it that day but will help me out the next. So Tuesday comes along and I realize the game we are playing, and I call a tow service to try and get them to help me get the truck out of the rainforest (remember, there is no spare) but the tow truck driver says he won't be able to help me out because of the condition of the road ... it's been raining, so I don't blame him.

I call my hippy friend again, and this time he lectures me about having left it in the rainforest because he says the truck battery and etc. have most likely been taken away by rainforest pirates (who are apparently waiting and hiding carefully in the trees, for such oppurtunities). This of course, making me worry more than I already was ... and I was stressing pretty heavily at this point ... seeing as how it is not my truck.  He then follows this up with a story about how one time when he and his friends got a flat tire, and they had no tire and no money, and he and friends were stuck in the rainforest and they just got out and 'played the guitar for like six hours, and then it got fixed.'

Apparently this was supposed to be some guide for me as to what I was supposed to have done in the situation I had found myself in on Saturday night ... with no real answer as to how everything magically got fixed ... perhaps the guitar had magic powers? or perhaps the whole 'flat tire' thing was a drug trip, that faded after six hours of playing guitar in the rainforest and so everyone could just drive away?

After that, I gave up on my hippy friend. I no longer like hippies.

5. The flood (and little Tsunami)

It had been raining hard all morning long. So hard in fact that it was hard to hear other people talking in the cottages the sound of it on the roof was so loud. We were amazed as we watched little streams and puddles form around the property ... we were awed as the morning progressed, and so did the amount of water and the streams turned to rivers, and the puddles into ponds. At this point we began speculating whether or not the children would be sent home from school early. Our eyes got big as we then saw the rivers turn into raging ones, and the ponds into lakes. Water was everywhere, up to our ankles, up to our knees.

I wasn't working but had just dropped by the cottages when the rain began ... but neither cottage parent was at work on the girls side ... so I decided to stay and help. We split up four Americorps members between two vans, the Social Worker assistant and I were going to drive across the island to pick up a girl who was going to school far away, and the other two were going to pick up the little kids closer in. We were driving to the highway, but as we drove the water that we were driving through was getting higher and higher, both of us lifting our feet  as the water got deeper ... somehow believing this would help.  Then all of sudden the van began to lurch forward, sputtered and fell silent in the middle of the water. I took off my shoes, rolled up my jeans, sang out a peppy, 'Don't worry, I'll push us." and opened the van door.

Now the van that we were in was pretty high off of the ground, and so I was surprised to see the water lapping at the floor of the van, almost getting in when I opened the door, and was even more surprised as I landed in the water that it was to my knees and part way up my thigh as I waded through it. But I got behind the van and pushed against it. It was then that I realized pushing a van by yourself is hard enough ... but pushing a van through high water? That was REALLY difficult. Thankfully, thanks mostly to the height of the van, it didn't take  too much psuhing before we reached slightly higher ground, and the van sputtered to life again. I ran barefoot through the water to catch up with it and get in, waving my hands at little sedans trying to drive through that there was no way that they would make it.

We continued on to the highway ... where we began driving, but had to suddenly stop when we saw cars burried in water up to their windows. We wouldn't be able to pick up the girl from school. This much we knew. So a few calls later and some juggling,and we worked it out that the other two (who had been stuck in traffic on Centerline for half an hour) would pick up the girl on the other side of the island, and we would pick up the younger children. The engine still wasn't working at full capacity after having stalled and we  didn't want to take chances with the water. We picked up the first child, a thirteen year old, who was able to make it to us easily. Then we went and picked up a six year old boy and his nine year old sister from school. He smiled as I picked him up in my arms and pulled his sister along in my other hand through a little water to the van. Another child, who had brought a little pink umbrella to school that day, stood waiting for me in her wet auditorium, but was suprised to see me in the day light hours as she exclaimed, "Miss Molly?" quizically, but happily.  I swept her up in my arms, umbrella and all, and ran back to the van. Now, only one more child, and one more school to go to. Here though the water was deep and had a pretty strong current. I left my shoes and forged through barefoot again, not bothering to fold up my jeans, that were saturated all the up to my thigh with water. The women 'sucked their teeth' (a Cruzan thing) at the sight of me, barefoot asking for my three year old. Robbie* thought it was all good fun and tried to wiggle out of my arms though and play in the water as I carried him over through the current, almost falling a couple times ... in part the result of the excitement of the solid three year old in my arms.

Before the day was over I saw stranded stalled out vehicles, an SUV that had the back window kicked out being dragged out of the gut (a woman had been trapped in a water surge, and had to kick the back window out to escape), and came home to three inches of water in our own home. Not caused by the flood, but by our cistern overflowing in our house (so indirectly caused by the flood). (The three inches covered the entire bottom floor of our home ... that's A LOT of water.)

Now, keep in mind, the truck is stuck on a muddy/dirt road in the rainforest still ... I pretty much believed at that point that the truck has been washed away forever. [thankfully I was able to take care of everything the next day, and it was all okay ... phew!]

Unfortunately, in Frederiksted we also had a little tsunami that day that took a lot of beach road with it, as well as a local woman. It  was an unbelievable day in St. Croix.

6. Sprained Ankle

A result of the flood, of course, was a lot of overly saturated ground, and a couple of days later, I was walking on some grass ... that all of sudden didn't feel connected to the ground beneath it, and I had a pretty impressive slip in the mud. As I fell, I heard a snap and then a pop in my right ankle (this, not being a reunion, did not include crackle). I let out a loud expletive (it had been a rough little while, don't judge) believing that I had just broken my ankle. I looked to my right and a woman was stiffling a laugh as she watched from her SUV. I wiggled my ankle though and realized that I could move it, got up, and while it hurt a little I could stand on it. And so I walked to the taxi van area, took a taxi van home (having to sit on a plastic bag because my bum was completely saturated with mud ... and let me just add, it was my only pair of dry jeans after the flood). After getting some groceries and walking home, I decided that it wasn't that bad of a sprain until a roommated commented on the large egg shaped swell on the outside of my right ankle. Thanfully the ankle is still on the mend, and my right ankle is looking less and less like a kankle every day.

7. Parasites

Just recently I discovered that I have Blastocystis Hominis cysts ... a parasite currently ravaging my intestine. Not entirely sure though that this is completely bad ... as I have just recently lost 10 lbs. ;) Although, will, of course be taken care some time this week. But people are starting to call me the Queen of Bad Luck, seeing as how I have grown up in third world countries, and never had parasites ... but a few months in the VI and I am the only one of my roommates with parasites. C'et la vie, I s'pose.

Things haven't been altogether bad ... and I can at least be confidant that I am busy living life, with all of it's ups and downs. :)

A Purple Sky Morning

Today has just been one of those good days ... and it's still early, although maybe the definition of 'early' no longer really applies to the night owl that I am.

This morning while "dem older girls been bade'in" two of the younger ones were eating breakfast (bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast ... I am getting fast at making their breakfast every morning). As they ate and I washed dishes, one of the girls turned to me, "Miss Molly! Look Miss Molly, the sky is purple!" The doors were open and as we peered outside from the cottage, the sky was a very clear, but soft muted purple that seemed to dust a bit of magic on everything that it touched. I told the girls that purple skies are lucky ... that they are wishing skies (if any sky was, I would imagine it would be a purple one).

Believing me to be a credible source, they took this information very seriously, and began to list off different wishes, 'I wish for this ...' and 'I wish for that ...' Their long lists of wishes were both sweet, and simple, and a little heart breaking as they, of course, did not forget to wish to be reunited with their families. The four year old then called out, "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus, please come down for me and Sue*" the older girl dismissed any possibility of this immediately. But seeing as how this was a magic purple sky morning, she amused the four year old as they began to talk about what they might do, if Jesus really did come down through the purple clouds to our little cottage, simply because the two of them had wanted him to.

Mornings like these really remind me why I love so much what I do. To be so privileged as to be able to spend just a little bit of time with children who are so good (even if they're misbehaving), brave, and ultimately just plain wonderful is such a blessing. Heaven bless sweet little children, and the magic of a purple sky.

The Shawshank Redemption had it right.

As of 8:30 am, after I got off this morning, I became a FREE woman ... and I spent it checking out Sandy Point. To anyone coming to St. Croix to visit ... I AM taking you to this beach.

After some breakfast eating, service related chit chatting, and a well needed nap, me and two of my roommates headed off to Sandy Point. Today was the first time any of us had been to the beach because it's been closed. The laying of sea turtle eggs, and hell bent nature conservists have kept everyone away, and  it was closed for several months, but it just reopened a week ago ... but only for limited hours. It's only a thirty second drive from our house to the entrance of the Sandy Point Wildlife Refuge, but it's another twenty minute drive on rough, sometimes deep water covered road to get to the tip of the point. But after some exciting bouncing in the back of a pick, up we parked did an additional little hike to the water, which required us to bend in half to crawl under some prickly bush, we reached the beach.
Heaven is what Josh called it. And I have to agree. Sandy Point is what Heaven looks like.

The water is a brilliant turquoise and there is beach as far as the eye can see in either direction. The water isn't the typical 'clear to the bottom' ocean we're used to (at Rainbow beach even if you're in 12 feet deep water you can still see the sand on the ocean floor below you). The water at Sandy Point looks wild in comparison as it breaks clear onto the surf while remaining a chalky turquoise past the break, giving the water an edge of mystery in addition to it's beauty ... being able to see nothing below you, only the turquoise blue.

The sand itself is coarse and loose (it must still be relatively new, for sand anyways) and walking in it feels a little like walking in warm brown sugar, as your feet quickly sink under the weight of, sometimes to mid calf. All along the grassy shore, there are stakes everywhere indicating where little turtle eggs are 'cooking' and waiting to hatch. If I was a mama turtle, the first ocean I would want my babies to see would be Sandy Point ... no wonder St. Croix is the turtle capital of the world.

The water was cool and refreshing, and it was hard for us to leave, but they close the gate to the beach at 4 pm ... and we had no desire to be stuck at Sandy Point ... no matter how much we were enjoying it.

(I later learned that they do a drive around the area to make sure people don't get stuck before they close the gate .. good to know).

I will definitely go back the first chance that I get. Oh, and for those who do not know (I didn't) the last scene in The Shawshank Redemption was filmed on Sandy Point, so perhaps Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman agree, Heaven. It's Heaven.




Sandy Point ... these pictures were taken by me today



But these don't really do it justice ...

(hey Paulette, perhaps a link to a fav. movie will entice you to come?) ;)

Where Everbody Knows Your Name, and They're Always Glad You Came ...

I have been living in the Virgin Islands for about a month now. This alone is a little crazy to me, part of me feels like I have been living here forever, and another part of me feels like a whole month can't have possibly passed by already!

With things speeding by so quickly, I have found a place to sit, relax, and let the world spin by just a little slower. For weeks now whenever we would tell people that we lived in Frederiksted they would mention our relatively close (only close if you have a car) proximity to Rainbow Beach with stars in their eyes and a faraway gaze that seemed to suggest years of happy memories there. This lead all of us Americorps peeps to get really excited to go to the beach and see what all of the fuss was about.

The first time that I saw the beach itself, I didn't quite understand the allure. It's a regular beach ... we live on an island ... we have a lot of those ...

But, Rainbow beach has very few rocks and is soft sand the whole way out, and there is, of course, the Rainbow Beach bar. Wet and sandy you can walk barefoot to the bar that overlooks the ocean and enjoy a sandwich, hamburger, or a caribbean quesadilla, and wash it all down with a mango or pina coloda. The bar tenders are jovial and nice, but I haven't spent that much time in bars over the age of 16, so it took me a second to understand when a small woman in the center of the bar asked if I wanted to keep my tab open, and if I did I would have to give her my debit card.

This same woman when I asked, "What would you suggest for a virgin drink?" replied, "I wouldn't". But she said it with a wink and was quick to make me a SUPER tasty drink.

It's funny, there aren't very many non drinkers here in St. Croix ... and when I say not many ... I mean pretty much none, and the drinking age here is only 18 ... so I am never carded, and people know that that's not why I am not drinking ... and drinking and driving, unfortunately, is a rather common and not entirely illegal acticivty here in St. Croix (there is no 'open container' law here), so people thinking I'm the DD is out too. Weirdly, sometimes when people learn that I don't drink they give me the cold shoulder ... (apparently it's hard to trust a non-drinker in St. Croix ... ;) ) but as people get to know me more ... the fact that my pina colada is virgin matters less and less. In fact, people are beginning to kind of like it, and think it's 'cute', the other day, I did shots with a bunch of my friends at the bar, everyone was having 'mexican sluts' (tequila and pickle juice) and I helped myself to a virgin mexican slut  (everyone was quick to point out the oxymoron)... meaning all I had was the pickle juice (frankly, it was pretty tasty ;) ).

The people who frequent the bar and beach at Rainbow seem to fill every stereotype. First , you have the hippies. There is one, who is a friend of mine, with long scraggly blonde hair, who doesn't own a pair of shoes, and goes to Rainbow every weekend and brings with him his guitar, his beach towel, and some weed, and hunkers down with other like minded hippies and turtle enthuists down for the turtle season and chill and offer any passerby a puff on their pipe or a swig of spiced Cruzan Rum.

You have your 40+ men who hang out at the bar, having come to St. Croix as young men, and who have never seemed to be able to pull themselves away from the beach, the ocean, and their bar stool. Their skin is dark and leathery from thousands of days out on the water, they always have a smile on their face and a Presidente in their hand, and are happy to offer advice and stories about the good 'ole days on St. Croix.

You have the tourists, who with cameras in hand snap pictures of everything. 'This is a picture of our drink, this is the coaster, this is the bar tender, this is a girl we met at the bar, this is a picture of the sand, this a picture of  ...' their cameras and their pink and red faces always seem to give them away, but right now during hurricane season they only sparsely dot the beach.

Then, of course, you have the younger fun seekers and people who suffer from general wander lust, such as myself. This a patchwork collection of college graduates, high school drop outs, and people who are still a little unsure of where life might take them. They work as tour guides (one friend sails people to and from Buck Island), servers in restaurants, or whatever other jobs they can find that pays rent, gas, and car payment, while still allowing for a little left over to get drinks at Rainbow.

The atmosphere is great. Often there is live music playing and people are kind and eager to make friends with the people that they meet, and everyone seems to look out for everyone else. The other day when I was at Rainbow before work (a benefit of not being a drinker) I was enjoying the sun set with everyone else ... but unfortunately the sun was hitting me right in the eye. A guy (with really cute curly hair ... I love me some curly hair) said, 'You need sunglasses!' and before I could say anything he walked behind me, and opened a door next to the stage area at the bar (which I latered learned is his studio apartment ... which is right on the beach ... that's pretty cool if you ask me), when he returned he offered me a choice of several different sunglasses, even a pair of pink ones. I looked at him inquisitively (because of the pink sun glasses) and he explained that he works at the bar and when the cruise ship passengers come they always seem to leave all sorts of things, and he has buckets of sun glasses, flip flops, and towels. So I now have someone's forgotten sunglasses in my room (thanks to whoever left them, I got several compliments! ;) ).

a picture of the bar at Rainbow beach ... LOVE it!!!

And for now, I get to enjoy my free time in a place where more and more people know my name, but either way, they're always glad I came.

The Lovely Little Dears ...

First things first, I apologize that it has been so long since I have updated the blog, things have been rather topsy turvey as of late (but all in a good way).

I work with the girls, and I currently am working the night shift, this means that my life right now is a bit of a cake walk. The children are frequently asleep by the time I get to work at 8:30 (even both of our teenagers), and all I do is keep an ear out for the baby and try desperately hard to stay awake. The first evening I brought in 'That Thing You Do' to watch at work. Several people who were on shift that night had never heard of it, and people would stop by momentarily to take a look at the movie, and ask me questions about why I liked it. I had a moment where I was instantly reminded of that website, you know the one called 'Stuff White People Like' (http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/).

Apparently, 'That Thing You Do' definitely qualifies.

The next night we started watching Tyler Perry plays, and I am quickly becoming an addict, (and DOWN with those who are quick to point out that almost every storyline is the same and holds the same message, and frequently even has the same characters ... DOWN WITH YOU ;) ).

From Tyler Perry's 'The Marriage Counselor'

The work is so sweet though. I have a group of amazing little girls who are so easy to love, it's almost ridiculous. One of my first nights, the little six year old in our bunch came to me and asked if I could sing to her until she fell asleep. As I sat on her twin bed singing "Look at Teddy" and "Tomorrow We'll Go to the Fair" I just felt full. There is something so incredibly satisfying about helping little ones to fall asleep. Their bodies, originally rigid with fighting sleep seem to melt as I sing, and coo, and stroke their backs, until slowly each muscle gently releases and the next thing I know, they are little puddles of sweetness fast asleep on their beds.

The baby sometimes will wake up in the night and because she shares a room with a 13 year old and a 6 year old, I try my best to snatch her before she wakes them up on a school night.  When she wakes up 1 or 2 am, I pick her up out of her crib and put her on my hip as I grab a saucepan to boil some water. While we wait for the water to boil, and then for the water to cool in the freezer to drinkable temperatures, I give her kisses, rock her back and forth, and give her zerberts on her bare little belly (she's still never quite sure how much she enjoys those zerberts ;) ). She'll giggle and clap her hands (hand clapping gives this little baby girl A LOT of satisfaction in life) and her sweet little gray eyes just sparkle.

We have three older girls who are just little gems. The are sweet and kind and eager to be our friends. They like to gossip, watch movies about teenagers in the states, and play with each other's hair.

The children here LOVE my hair. Frequently they ask to touch or comb it or style it. In fact the very first time I met the children I was given a lovely hair style that I was asked to wear all day by a six year old girl, and two five year old boy hair styling assistants.

Mornings are full and begin at 5:30 am (I feel bad that we wake them so early), but we have to in order to fit in baths, breakfast, getting dressed and doing hair all before we leave to drop them all off at school. All of the children, excluding one, go to school in uniforms. The girls go in skirts, and dresses, wearing frilly socks and shiny patent leather shoes. I don't know how comfy they are in their uniforms, but I think that they are absolutely darling as you take them to school and you see them disappear in a sea of white collared shirts and gray and plaid dresses, while the boys wear white collared shirts and khaki pants to school. They are all just sweet and affectionate ... and I miss them on my days off. I have no idea what I'm going to do at the end of the year.

baby centipedes, an unfortunate allergy to bug repellent, and cops

Before I get started, I have to share some news! I have GIRLS!!!!!! (so I'm super excited, even though I was just a little bummed at first, because I had fallen so very much in love with the boys) and I work the night shift first ... which I think will be good for my naturally nocturnal nature. :)

So last night we discovered a couple interesting things ... since poor Megan has gotten here (a week ago) we have found at least one centipede every day and a couple days ago I killed a microscopic centipede in my room, and then Josh and Hayley killed one in their room ... and we think it's official ... there's some kind of centipede love shack in our house producing little centipede babies. We all decided to pitch in for Terminex, and now we're each going to be paying $9.00 a month to get rid of the little buggers! Which I am excited about!! No more having to fall asleep with my flashlight in my hand, just to check for sounds and etc. of moving centipedes, no more having to always wear shoes just so I have a weapon at my disposal at all times, no more having to douse my bedroom floor with Clorox water (I've done it so often that my room smells a little like an indoor pool sometimes, and I'm sure that my bedroom floor is clean enough to perform surgery on), and no more feeling a centipede crawl across my foot while I'm getting some water at the fridge ...

Also, we're all infested with some kind of little bug ... which may or may not be biting us while we sleep. Everyone else sprays themselves with bug repellent before they go to sleep ... I have an unfortunate and previously unknown allergy to regular skin repellent (my whole body gets hot and I get a deep red skin rash at the site where I use it). But either way I figure terminex will also help that ... as well as the purchase of a natural bug repellent.

Now onto the more exciting news. So you have to remember, it is dark here in St. Croix at 7 pm everyday and none of us are used to it quite yet. So it will only be 8 or 9 but it feels much later to all of us, and we all seem to wind down and go to bed around 9:45-10:00 (we're very exciting people, if you can't tell). Anywho, it was 9:40, and Josh and Hayley had already gone to their room, and I was sitting in the front room with Megan and Jerisa and we were chatting about this or that when Jerisa noticed a cop car pull up in front of our house. I went to the door to check and because it was idling for a little while in front of the house I decided that it must be Judy's son (who's a cop) because he had said that he would drive by on his shifts in Frederiksted just to check on us.

So, like an idiot, I walk out and begin waving at the cops in the car. They either didn't see me, or they chose to ignore me, and I heard one of them say, "They said that he's supposed to be running through here." And I saw a cop get out and walk closer to the "bush" (which is the jungle area by our house).  Immediately it clicked that this wasn't a social visit. I closed the door behind me and decided it would be best to also lock it. I told Megan and Jerisa what I had heard, and we watched as the cop car turned into the lot of the vacant house across from ours, turned off it's lights and waited trying to be unseen. This was more excitement than we'd seen in a while, so I went to Josh and Hayley's room and asked if they wanted to see someone getting arrested, they jumped out of bed with a resounding YES, and we turned off our house lights and watched the scene unfold through our windows.  Another cop car came and there where several cops waiting at the edge of the bush trying to hide and not be seen until someone popped through it. A few of the cops were holding their guns pointing them in the direction of a small path that runs through the bush.

We all reminded each other that if this turned into a gun fight to hit the deck, as we continued to peer through the windows, some eating ice cream, and me eating my dinner as we watched. *Here, I have to interject, the week before we moved into the house there was a murder a few feet from us in the bush where a man was stabbed and then set on fire, and there has been a huge man hunt for the perpetrator ever since, so we don't know but we all assume at this point that that's who they're trying to catch*

The cops continued to stand and wait, guns cocked and ready. At this point, my roommate says, "I thought that when I moved to the Caribbean I would miss the show COPS, but now I just watch it live outside my window!" Then after a few minutes they shined a big light into the bush ... waited a little while longer and then got back in their cars. As they were leaving, Jerisa heard one of the guys say, "I really want to catch that guy."

So that was our entertainment for the night ... living in the Caribbean is NEVER boring, I can say that much! ;)

Earl

Typhoon. Check.
Monsoon. Check.
Hurricaine? Check.

Earl is here, and it's been WINDY and dark and rainy all day today. First we were going to be spending the night at work, then they said we weren't coming in at all, and now ... we don't start until Wednesday (we all feel a little like crying, we just want to get to work ...) but the hurricaine rages on around us (it's not too bad though).

Here is a picture from a beach that's about a 1.5-2 miles from my bedroom (and where i spent my ENTIRE Friday).

So this Dorsche Beach here in Frederiksted (today), and no worries, I
didn't take this photo ... I feel REALLY bad for the ownner of that
sail boat though .....

A Ropes Course, Health Insurance, and an Oath

Ah. Americorps.

So it seems that getting BACK to WORK has been a cure for all that ails me.  I hadn't known what to do with myself and this week has been wonderful cure for that! It has been full of lectures, activities, and free lunch!

Meeting everyone (all the other Americorps members) was a bit of a trip ... and it really cemented the fact that I am where I belong, here in Frederiksted *serving* (we have to pay a quarter, or 'quart' as they say here, every time we say 'work' instead of 'serve').  There was a time when I thought I might be living in St. Thomas ... and I am grateful that I am here in St. Croix instead ... it's a much better fit. It's been funny to me, all of the other workers are locals, and all of them were really curious about wanting to know why the three of us chose to be here instead of back in the States where we have malls, great shopping, and other things to do. (the grass is always greener I suppose).

It's amazing to me how quickly I fell in love with my coworkers. It is just such a wonderful group of women, we have one male volunteer and he's happy to be the only man around  ... during one 'trust' exercise he had to fall with his eyes closed and let a circle of women support him and move him around ... he kept saying that it was like 'falling into heaven' ... what a cheeky guy, right? but we love him!

The first day was rather boring ... but we had lasagna for lunch, and my roommates and I were so full from lunch ... none of us needed dinner that night. The second day was great and included a ropes course, that was located at the Youth Rehab Center on the island and as we were participating in team building exercises we kept seeing vans with bars on the windows passing us, and it was a high security facility where everything was constantly being taped and you had to give your name in order to get in or out ... so a bit of a sketchy place, but beautiful, and well equipped with a ropes course. One woman, Tashima, just took me under her wing and was always the first to yell a 'you can do it!' and support me, and she kept telling me, "You dun need be 'fraid of dees crazy island people." Tashima is my hero! She looks like she's my age, but she's a mother to three children, the oldest in 16! Several of the women I work with are mothers already, even a few of the ones who will be working at my site (we work 60 hours a week) I can't even imagine having to juggle working at our site and being a mother at home, especially since six months out of the year, we'll be working night shifts!

By day three I know everyone's names and I am friends with everybody in the group (unfortunately, we don't all work together and usually we'll only see one another at monthly service meetings). Day four (today) is when we really got down to business, we filled out paperwork (LOTS of it), we got our shirts and caps, said the Americorps oath, signed contracts with LSS, and I bought airvac insurance in case something happens and I need to be air lifted to Puerto Rico or Miami for better medical care.

A man now lives here, PHEW! and I immediately feel better about bogey men and creepy crawlies, I feel like if anything awful happens, he's at least here to take care of it (or at least make me feel like he would take care of it). Can I just say, I am SO grateful for good men in the world!

Tomorrow I become an official resident of the Virgin Islands and get my VI driver's license (fingers crossed as to how well I do driving on the left, especially since I am going to be picking up and dropping off kids), another roomie moves in (this is getting to be a full house, and I LOVE it!), and there is some big festival going on tomorrow night in town ... F-Sted totally rocks, so the FIVE of us are going to hike down there and enjoy the festivities and the beach. 

Next week begins my site specific training ... lots of fingers crossed about that!

Home is Where the Organ Music Is

I dashed out of the house this morning with a hope and a prayer that I might be able to find church. I had some sketchy directions that I finagled through persistent google searches and a rough idea of where it might be. So now like a pro I trudged my way to Centerline and waited for a taxi van. As I stood waiting, I learned more about honking here in St. Croix. In the States we honk (not always, but usually) to express feelings of frustration and anger at someones driving behavior ... but a honk here is always some form of friendly conversation between vehicles, it's the way people say thanks for letting them in the lane, or even hello ... and of course ... 'I t'ink you're hot!' (my roommates and I are rather familiar with this honk).

The morning was dewy, soppy and wet, taxi vans were few and far between, and I began to get nervous about catching one going my direction.  But as I waited I enjoyed watching the St. Croix bike team whiz by me in groups of varying sizes, and sympathized with the exhausted looking stragglers trailing far behind, their bikes wobbling a little as they biked up the small hill to where I was standing. 

Finally, after some time, I spotted a taxi van going my direction, and I flagged it down. To my surprise and joy, the driver of said taxi van was Samuel! He had been my taxi van driver the other day, and we chatted as we listened to his album again and he told me about his glory days of touring the States and the UK with his Reggae band.  He was full of stories, and was happy to share them.  As we were driving a woman ran across the street in front of us, "Oi, I know dat woman!" he said in his deep characteristically Caribbean baritone. He started shaking his head and looking in the rear view mirror, eyes wide. "Dat woman dere, she suppose' to be dead! They said she got shot! Dey told me she was dead!" My eyes were wide in response ... not sure of any other reaction to give to that other than a weak laugh and a comment about how I was sure she was happy she wasn't dead.

Samuel laughed a deep body shaking laugh and said that that happens a lot on the island. "Someone will tell you that som' body is dead, dat dey got shot or somet'ing, and then a few months later you'll see them on the island. It happen ALL de time on de island. One time a politician got on de radio and started spreading rumors that his opponent died, and de other guy came on the radio yellin' tellin' him to stop de rumors that he was dead!" Samuel apparently is politically involved here in St. Croix, and his music is used to help endorse the current Governor (Governor John P. de Jongh) who is rather unpopular, but Samuel is happy to help him with his campaign saying that he has done more than any other Governor in the last twenty years.

Thankfully, Samuel knew where the church was, and after about 40 minutes (the drive was pretty fast because there was hardly any traffic this morning) he stopped at an odd little intersection where there were four roads merging and splitting into different directions at the same time, and told me to take the first road on the right and walk down a ways, and said that it should be on my left. There wasn't a sidewalk on this road, and I found myself having to sometimes leap into the jungle, while wearing my church skirt, to escape passersby who usually would give me room to walk on the very edge of the road, but who periodically felt the need to see a 'States girl' fling herself into the lush forest growth. As I walked along this road, first I passed the Islamic Society Building (I think that was the name), then I passed the B'nai Or Synagogue, and then finally the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

There was only one car in the small parking lot, so I knew that at least I wasn't late to church. As I approached the white building I could hear the ever sweet melody of organ music on a Sunday morning. I felt like crying. I was home. I don't remember what specific hymn was being played but it even tasted sweet to me as it rolled out of the church in soft billowy tufts. Nothing feels more familiar and wonderful to me than church music.  I sat on the chairs lined up outside of the church, and changed my shoes for more Sunday appropriate ones (I wasn't sure how much walking I would be doing and came prepared), and stepped over a line of millipedes (much friendlier than those gross centipedes) in the church. Elder Babcock (who was the first line of defense in getting rid of said millipedes) was the very first to great me,  he shook my hand and seemed impressed to hear that I had found my own way to church as he pulled me farther into the building to meet his wife, Sister Babcock who was playing a keyboard on the 'Organ' setting.

We sat and spoke for a while as we waited for church to start (I was about an hour early). An elderly sister from New York drove up in her small pick up truck, Branch President Hosier and his wife (locals from St. Croix) were next and brought with them another newbie to the branch (an almost 19 year old guy from Oklahoma studying a semester at UVI). As other members came, I shook the hands of the men, and was welcomed with big hugs and kisses from the women, and I felt very welcome indeed. Today we had two primary children (twin girls who are about 9), and one young man named Karim who is about 15 and the older brother of the twins, and maybe a little less than 20 other people who are mostly 50 or older. (Today I saw at least two mormon men who have dreads ... I can now die a happy woman). The two newest members of the branch, the 'Okie' and the 'Zonie', were sent to 'youth sunday school' today with Karim (which I found a little amusing, but I can relate to being the only youth, and wanted to support Karim).

After church, the elderly sister from New York (or was it New Jersey?) who lives somewhere on my side of the island gave me a ride home, driving the back way and never accelerating above 25 miles an hour. She has been on the island longer than I've been on the planet, and she was able to dish out all sorts of gossip and advice about life on the island, and is full of stories and experience herself. From her I learned that the Arab community on the island own most of the grocery stores (and she is a HUGE fan of the Arab community here), she told me about the lack of racial tension here on the island, and even some friendly information about the branch members.

Once I was back at my house, I enjoyed my Sunday like I have enjoyed it elsewhere, with good conversation amongst roommates, a good long nap, and a plate of pasta for lunch/dinner. Although I enjoyed the uniquely Caribbean aspects of my Sunday too, which included trying to feed and make friends with a sad looking stray puppy, asking Jamal and his little brother their ages (neighbors) and hearing them say "I am making 20"/"I am making 13", meaning they are 19 and 12 (Jamal, the 19 year old tried to say he was older, he was wanting to look more adult to us girls,but his precocious 12 year old brother put an end to that saying, "oh com' on he's 19!"). And hearing and watching three boys riding bareback gallop past my window on their way through the bush.

Although no real Caribbean experience seems complete without a centipede slaughter ... that left one roommate calm cool and collected while she killed it (the first time ... and then AGAIN the second time as half of the originally seven inch long centipede began to crawl away from it's squished remains) and another screaming and doing the heeby jeeby 'that's gross' dance. I will let you all guess which one I was ... (certainly NOT the first) ;)

Apparently fire ants can kill a centipede
Do you think fire ants would make good pets?

Real Crucians Are From Frederiksted

So today was pretty much wonderful. We went to Christiansted (we're going again tomorrow, and then I'm going on my own on Sunday ... everyone should cross their fingers that I find it). In Frederiksted ... I find that I am an anomaly ... just like when I lived in Asia, people stare at me as I walk by and seem surprised to see me.  I stand out. A lot. But I don't mind that, I enjoy our sleepy little town, that doesn't have very many people. Already I know the owner of Polly's at the Pier and the kind owners of the grocery store we like to go to, who I learned today are originally from Jerusalem (and whose son was in Nogales just last week ... what a small world!), many of my neighbors (I met the mom of the teenage boys who cat call ... haha, jokes on them! ;) ), a taxi driver who waves when he sees me, and Mr. Frank down at the Frederiksted Hotel. I like the small atmosphere and the fact that my diet consists of lots of plantains, cassava, and salt fish here :)

Christiansted is the tourist town hot spot. I may look misplaced in Frederiksted, but in Christiansted I fit in with the crowd as I walk camera in hand, sun tan lotion on my face, and a swim suit in my purse, I look like most people there. It's a very different experience in Christiansted, and things are A LOT busier.

It's amazing though how everywhere we go, the second we tell someone that we live here, we hear things like, "oh, well we charge x amount for tourists, but since you live here, don't worry about paying for x thing." It's amazing, we've only lived here a week and people are so welcoming and eager to give us advice, verbally welcome us to the island, and give us their number if we should ever need help.  People are so kind. But it was impressive, whenever we said that we were living in Frederiksted there seemed to be a kind of reverence for us ... one woman said that Christiansted was the 'tourist' side, it's where most of the transplants live, and Frederiksted is the Crucian side of the island, this makes me very proud. (I'm feelin' mo' like a real cruzan on dis side of de island mon!)

So today was great, I think going to Christiansted and learning to master the taxi vans was good for my soul.
(the taxi vans alone are a fun experience, it's $2.50 one way, no matter where you go on the island, as long as the taxi van is going where you want to go. Today as we were traveling back to Frederiksted we were enjoying the reggae music when all of a sudden our taxi van driver, Samuel, mentioned that he was the one singing in the particular song we were listening to ... local music is a big deal here ... and a few minutes after that, we were listening to a reggae country song ... talk about fusion music .... she left me, wrecked my car, and took my dog ..., mon)

Tomorrow we're welcoming in a cruise ship here in Frederiksted and I am way excited for it.  Apparently the sleepy and sometimes barren streets of Frederiksted fill with vendors selling everything from soup to nuts, or should I say rum to t-shirts ... and moko jumbies roam the streets. So I'm definitely looking forward to that!

This is the boardwalk in Christiansted, the old circular buidling in the back
today is a fun little bar (there is no shortage of bars here on the island) ;)

We enjoyed fun fruity libations here at Angry Nates, and met some rather interesting people who were
once transplants but have been here long enough to be locals. 

Honeymoon Over?

Monday morning we left our hotel room, and we went to WAPA (Water and Power Authority) near Sunny Isles which is in mid-island. We signed our names and waited to be called into customer service to try and get the power turned on in our home to make it livable. Unfortunately, we didn't have all of the information that we needed on hand because we didn't know we needed it (i.e. the name of the previous occupant, and etc.) thanks to the combined miracle of IPhones and a kind WAPA employee (apparently this is incredibly rare) we were able to get everything set up. Unfortunately ... this employee was the same who informed us that our power would not be turned on for three to five business days. So no more hotel ... and no power in our home.

There was hope though because everyone (who didn't work at WAPA) swore up and down that we would have power by the end of that day (because they know someone, who knows someone, who knows someone who owes them a favor). Late Monday afternoon lazily rolled around though as the other two girls and I sat in sweat saturated clothes when we came to the reality that we weren't getting power that day, and were going to have to stay the night in the house. Another round of encouragement and assurances that a WAPA member would be by the next morning came from those around us, most emphatically from our 70 something "Cruza-rican" property manager.

Apparently, others have been frustrated with WAPA too.
Poor WAPA, always gettin' a bad rap ...

Thankfully we still had running water ... or at least we thought we did until I noticed that we were getting less and less water flow from the faucet.  The day before, we had been told that we have a cistern in our house, and that we need to check the water level frequently to make sure that we don't burn out the pump when it gets too low. To do this, you have to go to our living room, beside our kitchen counter, and unscrew a metal cap that protrudes from the tile, and looks awfully misplaced.  The cap reveals a dark metal hole that is then used to insert a long wooden stick (maybe 10 feet), the water level on the stick reveals the water level in the cistern.  It's like checking the oil in a car, only its the house.  So one of my roommates checked the water level, and it was fine. Unfortunately, this wasn't exactly good news. This meant that the water was being pumped to the house with an electric powered pump ... and this meant that we didn't have running water either.

So there we stood, with sweat rolling down our faces our arms and our legs. Once bright eyed Americorps volunteers, too hot to even move an inch (moving caused even more sweating). But, help arrived in a red jeep as Judy got out of her car and suggested getting the top off of our cistern so that we would at least have access to the water to take showers and flush toilets. This is easier said than done, as the 'lid' to the cistern is a block of concrete and tile. Thankfully we were able to enlist the help of some neighbors, two teenage boys (one of whom was shooting birds with a Bebe gun for no real reason) and an old 'Cruza-rican' with a prison tattoo who didn't say a single word any of us could understand. With their help, the lighting of prayer candles to hope they didn't crack the tile, and a crow bar, up came the lid!

So now we have no electricity, no running water, and a big hole in our living room filled with water. But we were still happy to call it an adventure! Judy left, and it was dark by 7 pm. We sat at our dining room table though and played BS (bullsh*t to those not in the know) by candlelight and ate our dinner. My dinner consisted of local bread and Jamaican cheese. For those interested in what Jamaican cheese may taste like, imagine the love child of American slice cheese and Velveeta cheese ... an unfortunate purchase from our local Arabian grocer (who already knows us, and waves when we come in). But it was a marvelous night ... it ended early in reality, but felt so late because it had been dark for quite a while.

My room faces the front of the house and as I began to drift off to sleep I heard a tap at a door. I froze. We didn't know anyone yet, not really, and it was around 10 pm.  I grabbed a roommate and finally braved the front door, and found no one there. Heart pounding, in a new area where stare, honk and yell lewd comments as we walk around town ... I laid awake becoming more and more aware of my windows ... and their lack of proper window treatments.

A little while later as things began to settle down I heard crunching on the rocks outside, and I saw a man walk right in front of my window, and then a women walk in front, turn, and walk again trying to look inside ... right where I was laying on my bed drenched in sweat and momentarily frozen with fear. I got up and grabbed the bat (a gift left by a former occupant) and walked towards the door (bat in hand), another roommate joined me having seen the people through my window from her room (our doors were open). But when we opened the door, it was Judy checking on us, having driven all the way from the other side of the island, just to make sure that we were okay, and her son, who is a cop (and really good looking).  They thought we might be asleep, and didn't want to wake us, just check on us, and her son was 'checking the perimiter' around our house and gave the 'all clear'.

I went back to bed, hearing every little crunch, and staring at my window expecting another face to appear any moment. After an hour, I had had enough. I grabbed my flashlight, and I grabbed my pillow (wet with sweat) ran upstairs to the master bedroom and locked the dead bolt to the room (I have no idea why the master bedroom has a dead bolt). I finally fell asleep ... but an hour or two later woke up to start as I heard a bang. then a thud, then one of my roommates yell, "Where's MOLLY?!" Feet rushing up the stairs trying to open the door, and then feet rushing back down again. I went to the door worried that my worst fears had been realized and that we were being attacked by some dangerous Cruzan. I croaked out my roommates name from the top of the stairs, asking if things were all right, in a little bit she appeared at the top of the stairs at the master bedroom with pillow in hand.

"I was sleeping and I felt something on me, and when I looked at it, it was a centipede, so I threw it and now I can't find it, and I can't sleep in my room." For those of you thinking that's pretty wussy, just keep in mind, the centipedes here are long and fat and gross and bite. And apparently their bite hurts so much that even locals are afraid of them (which I feel, certainly validates our fears). So the two of us tried to sleep upstairs hot, sweaty, and terrified of bogeymen and creepy crawlies. It wasn't that great of a night. We awoke, having saturated the towels we were sleeping on (the three of us drank about three gallons of water in one night ... and none of us peed once).

while I have seen them this big here on the island,
hers wasn't quite this big ... but still ... gross.

The next morning we slept in ... no longer afraid of crazed Cruzans running into our house, and surviving perhaps on some unconscious belief that creepy crawlies go to bed during the day. We awoke though, excited at the highly anticipated arrival of WAPA to turn on our electricity. And we waited, and waited, and waited. Our property manager came to our house and honked the horn of her car to get us to come out.

She yelled something none of us could understand. And we stared blankly back at her as we tried to work it out. She got frustrated, and our spunky 70 something Cruza-rican property manager began yelling at us and shaking her arms, saying something about 'current' (we now know that the common words for electricity are "lights"/"current" I hope I get the hang of the dialect sooner rather than later). Finally, after a moment or two we realized that she was asking if our electricity had been turned on. We told her no, and she left ready to go murder someone with WAPA. (We LOVE our property manager, she is all heart and all spunk and fiestiness, she always seems to be looking out for us).

At one point during the day I was getting something from my room (we tried to limit activity ... it produced even more excessive sweat) and I saw a car pull up with a WAPA sticker. I started screaming, and one of my roommates heard the car too, and we opened the door just as we saw the WAPA car turn and begin to drive away. My roommate ran out and chased after the car waving her hands ... but to no avail. Words I don't think can adequately describe the depth of our crushed hopes in that moment as we returned to our house, sweat rags in hand as we continued to wipe our foreheads, like windshield wipers for a car during a monsoon storm.

The day progressed slowly and the only respite was lunch at Polly's at the Pier where we were allowed to charge cell phones and laptops for free (tourists are charged five dollars an hour, to be given the 'resident' discount made us proud), all while gorging on their incredibly AMAZING salads, and freely enjoying the wi-fi and ice water. This lovely stint however was followed by a 40 minute hike back home, in the sun, in the humidity, with horn honks and cat calls constantly following us, one of my poor roommates in particular (just as an aside, I have learned, that that is just part of island life, the men like to 'appreciate' beauty and tell you that they appreciate it, and while annoying, is also harmless).

Finally though, a miracle, Tuesday evening around 6:30, our power was turned on (finally that friend of a friend of a friend pulled through).  The man laughed as I told him how thankful we were for him coming out after work (to do something that took about five seconds, 3-5 business days on a small island, with a small population, really WAPA?)

So finally here I am, still a little afraid of the bogeymen and creepy crawlies (but increasingly not), on my lap top enjoying the high life under a ceiling fan (we don't have AC or swamp coolers, just the fans) and the ability to take my shower not from the bucket with a only a flashlight to illuminate the experience.

Lessons learned: knowing people, helps gets things done here on the island. Polly's at the Pier is INCREDIBLE. And the reason why people move so slow on islands is because it is SO DANG HOT. The more you move the more you sweat, the more you sweat the more likely you are to murder someone in a fit of brain fever. Also, spend a few days in a hot house, and it cures any need for AC, today we were in a taxi and then a store that had AC, and all three of us found ourselves shivering.

Oh, this place is GREAT!

Here At Last! ;)

I am finally here ... and I am currently writing from a hotel in Frederiksted (which was an unexpected surprise, but a happy one nonetheless)! I left from Arizona and went to Miami, from Miami to San Juan ... and then after a thirty minute flight from San Juan I landed in St. Croix.  So far ... other than needing to adjust to driving on the left I haven't seen much of St. Croix because it is so dark ... (apparently in St. Croix it is dark at 7 and in the winter it is dark at 5, who knew?!)

But apparently I am right on the water here at the hotel, so I am looking forward to seeing St. Croix in the light tomorrow :) The only slightly disappointing surprise is that they lost my luggage with all of my clothes in it (the one with shoes however remains safe ... and mostly intact), but it isn't too bad ... it just adds flavor to my first experiences here.

Also, tonight, in the hotel, I had my first Cruzan wildlife encounter ... as Judy was leaving us she said, 'hey girls, come look, a crab!' We ran out, and I imagined in my head a little hermit crab that had snuck into the hotel ... what we actually saw looked more like a crab that might be tasty for dinner.  It was HUGE, and as we approached it, it ran sideways underneath a Coke machine. I thought I might be shooing roaches, spiders, centipedes, maybe even iguanas, but the large crabs are a bit of a surprise! Judy said that the crabs come out when it rains, and people will catch them, clean them (because apparently they eat gross stuff) and then boil them. So that's cool, I've never had a pest that I had an interest in eating before .... but this pest can probably fight back better than a roach ...

Anywho, I am going to head to bed soon ... I can't wait to see what St. Croix looks like in the morning! ;)

This is what the crab looked like ... looks like it could carry away a small child ... and taste great with butter! ;)

the night before

So ... tomorrow morning (eight hours from now) I will be up in the air and well on my way, beginning a journey that's a little longer than 3,000 miles.

It has been an interesting few months since graduation. I was offered a job a little less than two weeks ago, and now I find myself on my way to the Virgin Islands. I have never been to this part of the world and the job, I know, will be demanding, but I'm hopeful that I'll be able to sort things out, enjoy my time there, and really do some good.

I leave my home, the expansive and wildly beautiful desert, raging swirls of black and blue monsoons, the smell of the red Arizona earth when it rains, prickly pear jelly, thunder storms, and especially my family, "my" little ones, and my friends. But I suppose part of growing up is making yourself experience those things that are new and different, those things that excite and terrify at the same time. I will miss Arizona and all of the wonderful things and people that are in it (including a very special Washington state branch of people).

Virgin Islands, here I come! ;)