Seriously?  Am I still going on and on about St. Croix?  Yes.  Apparently I am.  But this is the last one.  I promise.  And it’s filled with some drama, some sentiment, some pretty pics, and some philosophy- as well as the usual descriptions of our adventures…

 

 

 

 

December 26-30

The day after Christmas, we took advantage of our free rental car from the marina (stay 3 days, get a free car rental!) We looked forward to seeing the sugar plantation and the Cruzan rum distillery, but both were closed. Apparently, the day after Christmas is Boxing Day. I had seen this holiday printed in my little Hallmark pocket calendars back in the 1980’s, but thought it was some vague British thing that no one actually celebrated. FYI: Crucians do.  FYI: Crucian is the term for “people from St. Croix”.  Even Frederiksted, the other large city on the island, was a ghost town.  Home Depot, however, was open.  It was strangely comforting to see something so familiar.  We searched for watermaker parts, of course.

After driving across the island all morning (not as easy as it might sound), we found a cute restaurant in Frederiksted to have lunch. Bryson noticed the piano in the corner and asked the waitress if he could play. He sat right down and started playing his old standards: The Entertainer and The Maple Leaf Rag. It was great to hear him play again and all the customers clapped and went over to visit him.

On the way back to the marina, we had more success. We drove through the rainforest, which was beautiful, cool, and smelled so rich and earthy.  On the densely forested roads, we noticed hundreds of vines hanging down onto the street. I made Chris stop the car so we could all do our best Tarzan impersonation. It was just as fun as it looks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We followed some vague directions given by a friendly stranger in Frederiksted and finally found the Ridge to Reef Sustainable Farm (http://www.visfi.org/) . The farm was quite interesting. I can think of several people at home who would love to visit and maybe even spend some time volunteering here. It is a sustainable farm with a small staff of volunteers. They grow fruits and vegetables and raise goats among other agricultural ventures. Everything is organic.

The building was made by an architect who used local woods, very few nails, and an open floorplan.  They have “farm stays”, where one can stay and volunteer for a short period of time.  While we were there, there was a group of Danish 20-somethings doing a silent retreat, so everywhere we walked, we found blond-haired Danish hippie types sitting in lotus in deep meditation.  I seriously don’t know how they weren’t getting bitten by bugs.  Oh, yes I do.  I was there and taking all the hits for everyone within a three-mile radius…

On the way back, we stopped at the Post Office. Again. My dad and Kathy had sent us a special package and it was supposed to arrive on December 23rd. We had heard that you could have mail sent to “General Delivery, St. Croix, USVI” and that you could just go to the local post office to pick it up. Yes. I am that gullible. A package, sent right before Christmas, to a Caribbean island. Apparently, this is my first time around the block, because I actually believed it could happen.

Herodotus used to throw around the saying, “Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night, stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” I can tell you one thing for sure. He never met a postal worker from St. Croix. A gentle breeze seven miles away would stay these couriers from even answering the question, “Has my package arrived?” I know, because I walked, taxied, and drove to the Post Office numerous times and asked that very question, to no avail. It was probably in the back the whole time, but they weren’t about to ACTUALLY go look for it.

You can count your lucky stars right now, because the situation was such an ordeal that I considered writing a whole post just about St. Croix Mail-Gate. But in the end, I decided that the woman Post Office employee who nearly drove me to tears (and then made me fighting mad) should get my compassion, rather than my wrath.  And maybe she was there to teach ME a lesson or two…

In nearly six months at sea, this was the first time I felt an inkling of my old “northeast” reaction tendencies. The irritation and upset seemed vaguely familiar until I realized that I sometimes felt that way back in New Jersey. Some of the things that used to bug me were rude drivers, curt salespeople, a disturbing story on the news (if I accidentally saw/read it), the fellow student at my yoga studio who talks loudly/wears perfume and jingly bracelets/keeps her ringer on in class, and the mom at school who refuses to acknowledge my presence even though I’ve smiled and said hello to her for 6 years now….See? I’m already feeling my blood boil.  Oh, and one more thing: the people who set up their chairs for the Ridgewood 4th of July parade TWO WEEKS EARLY and lock them to the light posts.  In fact, forget all the other stuff.  The parade chairs are really the only things that annoy me.

I have been working for a few years to allow things like this to slide off my back more easily.  Some people find it easy to let go of minor irritations and others simply never get annoyed.  I, however, am really sensitive and had (ok, have) a pretty rigid idea of what encompasses “wrong” (like setting up your chairs 2 weeks before a parade). For the last six months, it has been eye-opening to realize that much of what irritated me back at home is not present in other parts of the country/world. You wouldn’t catch a Dominican stranger walking by you on the street without a courteous “Good Morning!”  You wouldn’t see a Mainer cutting off another car or turning without signaling.  And parades in the Caribbean are NOT for “sitting down”!

So my opportunities for irritation have decreased, but so has my propensity for it. I am in a different place in my life now. I am relaxed and not in a rush to get things done, which was part of the problem (this website is proof!  I’m 6 weeks behind and keep choosing to Live and Explore and Play rather than “catch up” on writing) . I used to be more easily annoyed at anything that slowed me down, decreased my efficiency, or added to my already full plate. In the Caribbean, that attitude doesn’t work. It’s not about efficiency (shhh, don’t tell my hero, Frederick Taylor!). It’s about Living. And sometimes Living doesn’t include a whole lot of forward progress. Sometimes Living is about liming with some new friends while sitting in the shade at the beach. (Liming=relaxing and doing nothing)

I am also getting very used to things that don’t make sense: stores that don’t open when they say they will; plans that are changed without warning or explanation; trips that take ten times longer than expected; grocery stores that don’t have the food you need; and pathetic, bedraggled beaches you went out of your way to visit because the guidebook described them as “exquisite”, but in fact, could not possibly be mistaken for “exquisite”.

But down here (and in Maine, as if you aren’t completely tired of me yammering on and on about my new favorite state) you find other things that don’t make sense: strangers who feel like forever friends in a matter of days; quaint little bakeries that just pop up when you turn the corner on a questionable-looking street; mountaintop views that sparkle and dazzle and blow your mind even more than the one you saw yesterday; and the magical feeling in the air when the Green Flash is about to evade me yet again… So I continue to grow and learn and open my heart to the wonderful things this world has to offer.  And I continue to hope that people will eventually realize that it’s JUST A PARADE.  Just kidding.  I hope that I will just relax already and let people do whatever floats their boat.

Eventually, our package from the states arrived. It was like getting a package from home at summer camp! The kids drooled over the jars of peanut butter ($12 a jar down here!), Chris started finding hiding spots for his circus peanuts (bright orange peanut-shaped candy. His fave.), and I popped in my second favorite Christmas movie: Bad Santa. Thanks Dad!!! Between runs to the Post Office, Chris again got the watermaker running, the kids and I spent hours at the gorgeous pool (after a few days, I got up to 30 laps), and we cleaned the inside of the boat.

 

I took the kids to Point Udall, the easternmost point of the United States, which was beautiful.  There was a nice monument there to mark the spot.

The kids were breaking in their new gifts and we played several rounds of Clue, which I loved as a child. The kids played with the kids from Sea Schelle several more times, running back and forth between the boats, meeting up at the pool, and running wild.

 

 

On the night we had the car, I decided to drive to Plaza Extra, the big supermarket in the center of the island. It was a long drive and the sun was setting, which meant coming home in the dark. They drive on the left side of the road in St. Croix, and the route to the store was kind of convoluted. I went anyway. Apparently I will do anything for the chance of possibly buying real milk (most stores down here only have UHT milk, like Parmalat. Um. No. I don’t think so.)

So off I went. I managed to get there by only stopping for directions once and possibly taking a right turn without looking in the proper direction. The store was great (at least I thought so until several weeks later when I discovered bugs in 3 of the items I purchased.  Raise your hand if this lifestyle would not work for you just for that reason alone!).

As I exited the store in the dark, I was happy I had gotten the parking space right in front of the store entrance. I opened the trunk and was loading the groceries when I heard someone approaching from behind me. I turned and there was a man with a cane in front of me who looked a bit disheveled and not just a little unstable. He kept coming closer and was saying, “Listen, listen, you gotta take me to Christiansted! I need a ride to Christiansted. My foot hurts real bad. I’m hurt. I got no money. I need you to take me!” I looked him in the eye and said very strongly, “I see that you are in pain and I am sad to see that. But I am a woman and I am alone and I WILL NOT TAKE YOU TO Christiansted. It is not safe for me, as I am sure you understand.”

He started crying and telling me that he is a good man, a good father, and that he has a license from Massachusetts (you know, because there aren’t ANY dangerous people in Massachusetts). He showed me the license and went on to tell me the whole saga of his ex-girlfriend’s kids who he adopted, etc, etc. I nodded and told him again that he would not get a ride from me. I gave him five dollars and suggested that he take a taxi. Just then, another man started striding quickly over to us. I hoped he was coming to help me out. He was waving to me and saying hi, but when he got closer, he said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I mistook you for a woman named Jane, who is a doctor here on the island.” He asked if everything was ok and I took the opportunity to say that I was just leaving. I hurriedly threw the rest of my packages in the trunk and jumped in the car. I took off as quickly as I could and could hear the first man yelling, “Thank you, thank you! God Bless You!” I decided that this was enough nighttime supermarket drama for one lifetime and vowed to myself not to go shopping at night alone again.

Before we left St. Croix, Chris and I took the kids to Green Cay (Cay is pronounced Key down here), a tiny island not far from the mainland. We took the dinghy there and spent some time looking for shells, swimming, exploring, and walking along the wild beach. Someone had built an interesting structure out of driftwood, shells, seaweed, and ropes that had washed ashore. I sat underneath it for a long time and meditated while staring at the wide open sea in front of me.  It made me a little sad to think that this scene would not always be a part of my everyday existence.

That night, we had our friends Erica and Matthew over for drinks while the kids played up on deck in the dark. It had been so much fun to share stories with this lovely family and we wished that they, too, were headed south so that they could meet up with us again. Being long time liveaboards, they are more used to goodbyes than we are, but I think both families wished we had more time to play with and enjoy each other.

On December 30th, as we closed in on six months out to sea, we prepared to leave the dock and head out for our passage to Guadeloupe.  Oops!  It’s Sunday and we didn’t check out of the country yet!  I frantically made some phone calls and miraculously found a customs agent who was willing to meet me in a nearby town to clear us out.  The only problem was getting to her.  I wandered around the parking lot and asked the Park Ranger to take me, but he had to stay at the marina.  I considered borrowing Erica and Matthew’s bike to get there, but when I asked a man on a boat for directions, he told me it was too far and too dangerous.  The roads are narrow and there are no shoulders.  The roads just drop off into drainage ditches on either side.  He asked me why I had to get to Gallows Bay and then told me to just take his car.  He was leaving momentarily for a boat trip, so he asked me to just leave the keys in the cup holder when I got back.  Really?  Here’s another one of those unexpected things that don’t make sense.  I am a complete stranger, about to leave the country, and this man is offering to lend me his car, when he won’t even be back for weeks to see if I returned it or not.  This gesture of goodwill and trust made a deep impact upon me.  To this day, I am so grateful to Morgan from Matadora, not just for lending me his car, but for reminding me of the generosity and trust that is available within all of us. (I told you this was a deep and philosophical one!)

The Virgin Islands had been even better than we had hoped. We were off to the southern part of the Leeward Islands next and we suspected that even more adventure lay before us.  But first Chris had to dye my hair…