Statia: the Final Days (part 1)

I don’t even know where to begin. For starters, my names post really took off this year. Look at my traffic over the past few days:


So exciting! We left Statia on Wednesday for three days of travel and I was without internet access for the entire duration. It was driving me absolutely crazy not knowing what was happening on my blog.

But I’m getting ahead of myself! My final week on Statia was jam-packed with stuff, what with a day-trip to St Maarten, in-laws in town, Jon’s graduation and birthday, going away parties, and trying to fit in as much snorkel/beach time before packing up and leaving our little island forever. If you sense upcoming photo overload, you are correct!

My parent’s cruise ship pulling in to port. I flew over, rented a car, and drove across St Maarten to pick them up all by my onesie. Then somehow I was appointed chauffer despite the fact that I hadn’t driven in two years, let alone on tiny, windy, foreign, conjested streets. Sort of terrifying, but no one died. Oh! On my flight over there, I saw a WHALE from my airplane window!! So, so, so, so, so, so, so cool.

They cruised with their friends Rodger and Nicole. This was my first time meeting Nicole, but Rodger is pretty much family. He and my dad are bffs to the point that my grandma calls Rodger my dad’s boyfriend which, obviously, never ceases to be funny. Especially when neither of them objects. (sidenote – I was explaining to Rodger that by law I couldn’t work on Statia and therefore was bored most of the time, and he replied, “Then no wonder your blog is so Bloggity Blog.” Biggest shock of my life! Rodger reads, or at least once looked at, my blog!)

We headed to Orient Beach for a day in the sun and surf. Aside from getting turned around a few times on my way back to the airport, it was a perfect day. (That’s not excluding the many 80-year-old men on the beach in thongs, and I don’t mean flip flops.)

In the top five best pizzas of my entire life.

When I left St Maarten, it was in-law time!

Walking up the Slave Path with my nose in the historical walking tour guide book like a super-nerd. Speaking of both of those things! The guide book explains that the “Bay Path, sometimes mistakenly referred to as the Slave Path…blah blah blah”. But the ENGRAVED SIGN at the bottom says “Slave Path”! That could have SOMETHING to do with why people call it that! This is an outrage.

Three killy-killy kestrels on the Catholic church.

Jon and his dad at Fort Oranje.

There’s a story behind this picture. One day Lianna and I were walking to the beach along this path when suddenly THE WALL CRUMBLED BENEATH MY FEET. My massive bulk ruined a several-hundred-year-old walkway. It was an avalanche of sorts that resulted in my left leg being nearly crushed by several stones. For MONTHS afterward Pearl would bring up my injury – “Rocks fell on Jessie’s leg, but she’s okay.” I still have a scar. Anyway, so that’s a picture of the damage I caused. My lasting mark on Statia.

Speaking of lasting marks on Statia...

Double awesome. I'm thinking about selling it on eBay.

And, oh gosh. I can clearly see this is not all going to fit into one post. To be continued...

Mrs. Timber

I’ve been looking forward to the day when I could finally dedicate an entire blog post to our landlady. Here’s the little blip I wrote about her after our first meeting, back in September of 2009:

“I need to mention our sweet landlady Mrs. Timber, the oldest woman on the island (and I’m not convinced she’s not the oldest in the world). Within the first hour of our visit, she may or may not have told us that her late husband was an impotent alcoholic and that she had to find another man to bless her womb. I could be wrong, though; she requires three interpreters and even then you’ll only understand a quarter of what she’s saying. Such a thick Caribbean accent, plus, she’s old. A devout Seventh Day Adventist, she tried over and over to convert us, or, rather, she frequently gestured toward her Bible while speaking with conviction. Whatever she’d just taken a bite of before we showed up stayed in her mouth for the duration of our conversation, except for the pieces that ended up on us. Such a dear, though. I love her and we’re going to be friends.”

It turned out that was overly optimistic of me – as our association continued, some not-entirely-pleasant feelings arose. She dragged her feet on every issue, which was an annoyance when the TV died and an absolute crisis when our water compressor went the same way. And even when things DID get taken care of, it was obvious that she was asking the handyman to make things operate at the absolute minimum, presumably because she wouldn’t live long enough to see the benefits of good workmanship and quality materials. Then I realized, could I really blame her for that? She’s NINETY-THREE for crying out loud. She’s pretty much dead.

Once we figured out that we could just bypass her completely by either contacting the handyman directly or making Jon do the work, landlady-tenant relations improved drastically. We didn’t bother her with too many problems, and she only bothered us once, when she dropped by to sit on our couch. Actually, she came by twice to sit on our couch, but only because she forgot that she had already done it the week before. Like I said, very nearly dead.

It’s obvious she adores Jon (case in point – bequeathing him her blue bead collection), so on our very last rent-day I asked her if I could take a photo of the two of them together. Motioning to her nearly-bald head, she responded that she first needed to put on her hat. While she was inside readying herself for the picture, she apparently had an epiphany and withheld the potential photo until we promised to go to church with her the following Saturday morning. She was standing there in her awesome “hat” looking so pleased with her brilliant idea…what else could we do but agree?

(After I snapped it, she asked to review the results to make sure it was a good one. Also, can you believe her wrinkle-free skin? Her neck is smoother than MINE)

And that’s how Jon and I were roped into three and a half hours of Seventh Day Adventist church on the morning of Saturday, April 9th. On the way there he wondered if we would be welcomed with the Primary “Hello” song, only the word “Hello” being replaced by “Okay” – a common greeting here on the island. He sang the whole thing like that. I laughed like an idiot.

But we weren’t. Instead, Mrs. Timber welcomed us by squeezing our hands and giving me a kiss on the cheek. It was sweet, and I tried not to notice that her squeezing hand was holding a used handkerchief. The service, aside from being too long and me stressing over time (we had a pool party at 1 that I never dreamed would conflict with 9:00 church), was great. Visiting other churches always reminds me of how much LDS church services would benefit from an extra heaping tablespoon of joyfulness. Despite the length, I was glad we went, if only to make an old lady beside herself with jubilation.

So that’s Mrs. Timber. And OH YEAH! You should have seen the excitement on my face when I found out what her last name was! You can guarantee that Jon and I typically refer to her as “Shiver me Timbers”. My landlady in the Caribbean was named Mrs. Timber! In the Caribbean! Shiver me Timbers! In the Caribbean!

Okay so maybe I’m the only one that thinks it’s awesome.

NAMES 2010!

On Wednesday, I met my parents on St Maarten. It was fantastic, but that’s not what we’re here to talk about, is it? I only bring it up now because my mom hand-delivered me this year’s baby names newspaper insert! On an island in the Caribbean that they cruised to, that’s next to the one I live on! My life is weird.

To those who are new to the blog, there’s a town called Rexburg, Idaho. I used to live there, and my parents still do. Rexburgites give their children the most horrible names (it’s a Utah/Idaho thing, as many of you already know). Each year at the end of March, the newspaper prints an insert showing off all the children that were born the previous year in the Madison Memorial Hospital, or at least the ones whose parents love them enough to pay the thirty dollars for the ad, and I look forward to it more than is probably healthy. This is my fourth year of posting the best of the worst to my blog for your entertainment. (See previous installments here, here, and here).

Let’s kick things off with the ever-popular Mix-N-Match category. Put a variety of first syllable options in one jar (the more Y’s the better!), and second syllable options in another jar, then pick two, stick them together, and name your kid that. Come on….everyone else is doing it:

Taivry
Zayden
Tamsyn (See comments)
Brailee
Emree
Tinley
Brenly
Treyton
Draidyn
Taysom
Maely
Breklyn
Tayzlee
And SEVEN Brinley/Brinlee/Brynlee/BrynLees

Next, the Sound-it-Outs. Phonetic spelling at its worst:

Autum
Trinidy
Kenadi
Jesee (shudder)
Cassydi
Addee
Dakoda
Madysin
Paityn (there were two of these, with this same spelling, ON THE SAME PAGE. How is that even possible?)
Rhyley

Invasion of the K's:
Kaibree
Kinzlee
Kysen
Kaislyn
Kaycen
Kynlee
Khloe (THERE WERE THREEEEE! One was 'Khloe Jazzlene')
Kasen
Kaelee
Kaydence
Kaydee
Kyler

Kooper (two!)

He's going to be a cowboy whether he wants to or not:
Blake Stetson

Possible misspelling of a branch of the military:
Amry

Possible tribute to an alma mater:
Devry

His mom's a 'Bachelor' fan:
Kipton

the "What the EFF???'s"
Qwayde
Klair
Blyss
Naveyah
Ledger
Vestal
Chyloh (I honestly stared at this for five seconds before realizing it’s supposed to be like Shiloh…I think?)
Treygon (2!)
Ridge
Payzlee
Lyrik
Riggin
Kham K (??)

Aaaaand the Worst Name of All:
Deizel. DEIZEL. A type of gasoline, misspelled in more than one way, only one of which I believe was intentional.

Discussion:

Point 1: I felt that there were less – key word LESS - totally wacko names this year (anyone remember poor little Crymson Rayne? Or Triton Duke?), or maybe I’m just becoming desensitized. But it seemed to me like some of those sorts of names were replaced by more K names, more Braxtens, more Eastons, more Oakleys, and more Rykers. I didn’t include these in my lists because they are names that have been in previous installments that I’ve already discussed and have come to expect. There was, however, a RyKer. Didn’t expect that.

Point 2: A note on that Naveyah. The AWFUL name “Nevaeh” (‘heaven’ spelled backward) has been gaining popularity for the past few years, and to take an already made-up name then misspell it seems like a sin.

Point 3: While perusing this year’s announcements (particularly when I ran across TWO Treygons, a name that cropped up two years ago), I made the realization that there MUST be expecting parents in Rexburg sorting through these names for a very different reason – IDEAS (or ‘idizz’, as they would say it). Which just doesn’t seem right. If you’re going to give your kid a made-up name, you can’t just use someone ELSE’S made-up name!! That’s like DOUBLE cheating!

kxthbai

Lucky you!

I found an extra hour tonight to catch up on my photos. Otherwise, let's be honest, they probably wouldn't have been posted until I'm in Idaho.

Also: Edible! Fit for human consumption!

Impaled, armless man ahead: Proceed with extreme caution

Baby tropicbird in the cliff at Crook's Castle. Aww.

Baby dove. Not as cute as the baby tropicbird.

Going-away pool party! Tackiest/awesomest apartment complex ever. Don't miss the terrible plaster replica of David's head. I leaned against a pillar and got whitewash all over my swimsuit.

Things that are happening

Jon's parents arrive tomorrow morning (they'll be here six days).

My parent's cruise pulls in to port at St Maarten on Wednesday. I'm flying there to spend the day with them.

Jon's graduation dinner (and ceremony? I suppose?) is on Thursday. His last day of classes was last week and I forgot to be all nostalgic about it.

Jon's birthday is on Saturday.

We leave the country on the 20th.

Therefore, blogging might be sporadic, or nonexistent, for a while. But there will be lots to catch up on!

kthxbai

tick tock

It's still sinking in that in 10 days, we'll be leaving Statia. I haven't quite sorted my feelings out yet. Obviously, it's a completely different idea to be leaving for good as opposed to our typical jaunts home between semesters. Then, that time home was always a novelty - precious few days to get all those things in that we'd been deprived of the months before. Now I'm reveling in the idea of returning to normalcy.

That being said, there are things about living here that I'm sure I'm going to miss. And a few things I know I will never miss. The following is by no means an exhaustive list summarizing my thoughts over the past few days as I've been preparing for departure.

Things I'll miss:

• Saying hello to locals and them replying "okay"
• Caribbean sunsets
• Snorkel dates with Jon
• Our small, close-knit church group
• The walking lifestyle
• My tan
• Looking for blue beads
• Watching Pearl grow up; laughing obnoxiously loud whenever she asks me if she can have a bite of whatever I'm eating
• Sneakily writing 'penis' on all of Lianna's unguarded grocery lists

Things I won't miss:

• Hand-sized spiders
• Taking 2-3 showers daily due to sweat output
• No hot water in my kitchen
• Guano raining down on me from inside the ceiling while I sleep
• Spiders hiding in my clothespins
• Having a use for clothespins

Things I'm looking forward to:

• Penny
• Summer trips
• Clothes I bought at Christmas (with tags still on!)
• A gym membership
• My crockpot
• A DVR
• Being employed
• A queen-sized bed
• Going organic
• Bookstores
• Watching movies in theaters
• Walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night with no fear of stepping on a gecko in the hallway
• Knowing where my poo goes when I flush it

I predict a bidding war.

Wherein I answer all your burning questions

Now that our time on Statia is nearly over (18 more days!) I’ve been fielding more and more questions regarding our future. Makes sense, I guess, considering I haven’t exactly aired things out on my blog (mostly because the bigger details are still very much uncertain). But the basic outline is in place, and here it is:

While on the island Jon completed (is completing) his first portion of medical school, known as Basic Sciences. This was mostly classroom stuff, with a little bit of hospital work sprinkled in here and there. (SIDENOTE – his first chance ever to see patients was pelvic exam day for the local brothels.) The next phase of his schooling is his Clinical rotations, where he spends several weeks in each branch of medicine. Those go on for two years, BUT! He can’t even begin arranging them until he passes the United Stated Medical Licensing Exam (USMLE) Step 1.

In order to prepare for the exam, he’s attending a May review course in Galveston, Texas. I won’t be joining him, because these are probably the most important few weeks of his entire life and I don’t want to be in his hair. Nor does he want me in his hair. So I’ll be spending May in Utah and Idaho, with MAYBE a weekend roadtrip out to Gardnerville, NV thrown in for good measure, but only if my friend Christa ever replies to my email about it.

Our Jeep is still in Tucson, being stored by a friend of ours. After Jon completes his review course, he’s flying to Arizona to pick it up, and I may or may not be joining him. Cross your fingers for me, because I really really want to go.

We loved our time living in Arizona and as a result, Phoenix and Tucson are in our top three places of where we’d like to end up for his Clinical rotations. But at the same time, we’ll go wherever the best opportunity is. Which is exciting, because it could be ANYWHERE. You’d think one of us would have a strong opinion about where we want to live, but neither of us really does, and I like it better that way.

But I’m getting ahead of myself, because as I said, we can’t even begin setting up his rotations until this exam is over. If all goes according to plan, he’ll take it sometime in June, find out he passed shortly thereafter, and be starting his rotations in the fall.

Which means that this summer is our last chance for a vacation for a while, and we’re 90% sure we’re going to fly up to Alaska for a week once the exam is out of the way. I lived there for two years when I was a kid but have only been back once, for my brother’s wedding. Jon has never been, and the only thing preventing us from buying flights this afternoon is the uncertainty of his test. He’s not sure when, exactly, he’ll be taking it – it all depends on his review course. So that makes things a little stickier. But I’m sure we’ll sort it all out.

That’s as far as I know at this exact moment in time. Summer in Utah, Idaho, Canada, (and Texas for Jon), maybe Nevada, maybe Arizona, maybe Alaska, then a big move in the fall to who knows where. Nice and clear.

Two days ago I got stung by something in the ocean. Today my arm looks like this:

Photo Miscellany

Sunset at Fort Oranje

Pearl at Fort Oranje

Church! This is where we meet. Don't miss the peeing boy statue in back. And I still can't believe how many chairs there are. For our entire first year here it was only us and two other adults. Now we have enough members (and priesthood presence) that we recently were formed into a "group" (not quite a branch).

The member's house where we meet is attached to this beautiful property. This is the view we see during Sacrament meeting and Sunday School. It's kind of distracting.

Coral-covered rock. Sort of creeps me out if I look at it for too long (taken underwater).

Jon and our friend Eric, walking along Crook's Castle.

Sunset at Crook's

Prettiest cow ever!

Tiniest cow ever! Umbilical cord and all.

Hazel's! Love their new sign, and their delicious local organic vine-ripened tomatoes. For $2 a pound. I'd go every day if it weren't for the six-mile trek involved. (the drink is an 'Old Jamaican' brand ginger beer. If you've never had ginger beer, you haven't lived)

Jon, at the school beach party. He caused quite the commotion when he undressed and walked to the water. One fellow student approached him in venerated wonder and said, "I want to be just like you when I grow up".

Sunset at the beach party. I will miss these for sure.

The blog is now up to date! For now!

BEST HOUR OF MY WEEK

I URGE YOU to watch the PBS program "Ferrets: The Pursuit of Excellence."  CHECK YOUR LOCAL LISTINGS IMMEDIATELY. Basically, there's a such thing as ferret shows, and the people that own show ferrets are ten kinds of crazy. Of course, the program passes no judgment toward the ferret owners. There is no behind-the-scenes footage of cameramen biting their fists to keep from laughing. No horror music plays when the owners are revealing tiny urns and wall-covering shrines (though there was an awesome trumpet fanfare thrown in just before the Best in Show winner was announced). No. Just pure facts, take them how you may.

And I loved every second. Grinned the entire time, just happy to be spending my Saturday night listening to all eight verses of Barb's original song "Ferret, oh Ferret," each punctuated by the chorus

Ferret, oh Ferret, gatherer of stuff,

Ferret, my Ferret, when will you have enough?

But my favorite moment of the entire program was, obviously, the scene at the Buckeye Bash ferret show. Cut to an image of one of our owners with a gory wound on her nose. She admits, "I should have known to not hold a strange ferret up to my face--" [camera pans to her blood-spattered vest] "--I had no idea noses could bleed this much."

You are so very welcome.

This and that

Photo catch-up! You should have been expecting this.

View of St Kitts from Whitewall. I bummed a ride from Lianna's parents when they were in town. Such a pretty view, but way too far to walk.

Sailboat, Whitewall

Crazy green puffer fish! I think! Blow it up to see the horns above his eyes.

Awesome guy in a Speedo diving down to peer under the ruins.

Path to the Honen Dalim synagogue historical site.

An ancient "mikveh" - part of a bathing ritual for Jewish women. This is the only complete mikveh ever unearthed in the New World, or so my historical walking tour guidebook tells me.

The twelve windows on the bottom represent the twelve tribes of Israel.

Some form of tiny egg. Gecko?

The old property adjacent to the synagogue is bordered by this high wall with embedded broken glass bottles. Statia in the 1700s was not a very safe place.

Macaw! It nearly took my head off on it's way to that rooftop.

Creepy stalker photo! My friend Rebecca wrangling her kids after a day at the beach. Taken from Fort Oranje.

...More soon.