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! ;)