My boyfriend, John, wrote this report, however, since I broke his internet connection he is unable to post. I am doing this for him on my computer. It's rather long, so I shall post in 4 parts.

RETURN TO PARADISE

ISLAND TIME
“St. Thomas at last“...as the plane touches down. “Taxi this thing quickly to the gate and let me get off of this plane.” I had endured a year to the day of New York, another school year for the kids, juggling work and single parenting, one long, cold, miserable winter, work, bills, car problems, computer problems, house problems, and the day before we left a large tree fell in the backyard during a thunderstorm. All I wanted was to feel that magnificently warm, crystal clear, turquoise blue, Caribbean Sea around my body once again.

“Please remain seated until the plane has come to a complete stop and the captain has turned off the 'fasten your seatbelt' sign.” Oh God, please fast forward this part...I can’t stand any more waiting.

During the month of July I became extremely obnoxious at work informing anyone who would listen about how many days I had left before returning to Paradise. Those poor co-workers had listened for months to my stories of my first trip to St. Thomas and now they were greeted daily by how many more days I had left before my return vacation. In truth, I started my verbal countdown for friends and family at the 20 day mark although everyone insists that I started in February.

A week prior to leaving, Gerie came up with the brilliant idea of putting a post-it on my work-badge with the days remaining posted. She even found and bought post-its in the shape and colorful patterns of Hawaiian shirts so that I could be even more obnoxious about it. So, in the closing week, I wore a Hawaiian shirt to work each day with a Hawaiian shirt shaped post-it taped to my badge. 5...4...3...2...1. Everyone hated me.

Gerie had been planning for this trip since the day we came back last year. She does such an excellent job of preparing, it allows me to take it all for granted. Thanks Gerie. She even bought a replacement for Big Blue, the large duffel bag that held all the snorkel and beach stuff and smelled from cat christening. Last year everyone who came in contact with us and Big Blue thought we were smuggling dead fish through the airports. I’m sure that when the garbage men picked up Big Blue from the curb and threw it into their truck, they sniffed at the air and thought, “Is that fish?”

So, with Big Blue 2 packed with snorkels and masks, a downed tree in my backyard, and everyone at work glad that I was gone, we were now finally taxiing into the terminal gate at Paradise. Gerie, my 14 year old son Dominick, my 13 year old daughter Lara and I de-planed and walked to the terminal in search of our baggage. Yep. This year we brought my kids. I couldn’t wait to see their reaction to St. Thomas.

Just like last year, Gerie went to the Avis counter for the rental car while Dominick, Lara, and I grabbed the luggage and Big Blue 2 and waited. And waited...and waited...and waited. I remembered how anxiously I waited for Gerie to get the car last year and how poorly I reacted to the waiting. This year I realized that Island Time has everyone in an altered state of space-time continuum with the exception of those who just got off the airplane. I knew there was a happy ending coming very soon. Dominick and Lara, still on New York time, were very antsy and bored with waiting.

“How much longer?” Dominick would ask.

“Soon.” I would answer, smiling at how ineffective that response was to me last year when Gerie had given it to me.

“What’s taking so long.” Lara would ask.

“It’s Island Time guys. These people who live here live in a more relaxed, slower paced world. Trust me, you will appreciate Island Time in a few short hours.”

They waited impatiently just as I had last year and the car finally came. Gerie had, through one of her Frequent Flyer air-mile scams, received a coupon for an Avis upgrade.

“I wonder what kind of car we’ll get with the upgrade?” Gerie would ask while she was planning the trip and I was not.

“I don’t care!” was my usual response.

“You don’t care about any of the details that I’m handling.”

“All I care about is immersing myself into that deliciously warm water. If they run out of cars and we have to travel by donkey to the resort...it wouldn’t matter to me one tiny bit once I was in the water.”

We were scheduled to receive a Chevy Cavalier which would have been an okay rental but with the upgrade coupon, and Gerie shmoozing the Avis lady, we drove out of the airport in a Chevy Malibu. I drove, at my request, loving the left-side driving of St. Thomas. It ’s fun and part of the Island experience.

“Oh my God, this car is so big...and wide!” Gerie remarked watching cars pass in the opposite direction on her side. “You may have to do all the driving. I don’t think I could handle a car this big on these roads on the wrong side of the road.”

“Let me get this straight” I asked. “You get a coupon for an upgrade and use it to get a bigger car and then can’t drive the car because it’s too big?”

“It’s a bit scary!” She answered.
“Then why get the upgrade?” I asked.

“I had a coupon.” She replied in the same way women respond to why they bought something on sale...(“It was on say-ale!!!”).

“Okay, I’ll do the driving but I have to warn you that this situation is definitely going in my trip report. I can’t account for how you’ll come across.

So, I did the driving while in St. Thomas for 2 weeks. In all fairness, a few days later, Gerie did suggest that she drive to one of our destinations. I told her that she couldn’t drive now...it would ruin this part of my trip report.

We left the airport and drove directly to “Delly Deck” in Havensight for lunch. I waited a year to once again taste the Western Omelet that last year I reported as the best Western Omelet in the world. I was a bit apprehensive wondering if it would be the same palate-stimulating experience. I hoped that they didn’t fire the cook or were under new management or had taken it off the menu. When it came and I put the first forkful into my mouth I was pleasantly assured that indeed this was the world’s best place for Western Omelets. Dominick had a cheeseburger that he proclaimed was the best cheeseburger that he ever had. Kudos to the chef!

While eating lunch at “Delly Deck” it started raining outside. Actually it poured. Torrential rain that only happens in the tropics. By the time we were through eating and visiting Gerie’s favorite dress shop next door it was dry, sunny and bright.

We finally reached Bluebeard’s Beach Club Resort around 2 pm and were happily surprised that we could check in an hour early. We unpacked the trunk of the overly wide Malibu and put all our luggage in the room. We found our bathing suits and all changed. By 2:15 we were in the deliciously warm Caribbean Sea at Limetree Beach.

The transformation was immediate. All cares and worries were washed away. We were swimming in the same water that Sir Frances Drake, Blackbeard, Bluebeard, and the Dread Pirate Roberts swam; or was that last one from the “Princess Bride?” If a tree fell in my backyard in New York and I was swimming in the Caribbean would it make the slightest difference to me. It was hard to think...it was time to feel.

“This place is so cool!” Lara shouted as she came up for air.

Indeed it is. I love Island Time.

THE TERRACE

The following morning before the sun came up I woke up, got out of bed, made a pot of coffee, and went out to the terrace. After the warm Caribbean water, the beach, the food, and the Western Omelet at “Delly Deck” the terrace is my favorite morning pastime. The view from the terrace is parallel to the beach and I can see the entire beach with the exception of the part blocked by a Palm tree 20 feet away. The water is on the right and the hills of Frenchman’s Bay are on the left with beautiful tropical style homes peppering the landscape.

There on the terrace with my legs up on the patio table and my chair slightly tilted back I would drink my coffee and watch the sun come up. To my right I could see the top of a mock orchid tree with its fresh, pink, delicate flowers that bloomed every morning. The flowers attracted small, black, hummingbirds that not only hovered but actually landed on the tree limbs and sucked the nectar from the flowers. Bananaquits, another small black and yellow bird, would also have their breakfast in that tree along with an occasional Iguana that would carefully walk out onto a thin branch and eat a mock orchid. My morning was complete when a large, brown pelican would fly from overhead our building and swoop down to inches over the water. He (or she) would glide over the water and then, without a wing-flap, climb to avoid the rocky hill on the far side of the water. Beautiful birds in flight, Pelicans.

Lara’s favorite bird was the Magnificent Frigate. The Frigate is a white and black gull with dramatic angular wings that soars higher than most of the island’s birds. As a matter of fact, Gerie noted that she has never seen one up close. It wasn’t the shape or color or altitude that impressed Lara...it was the name.

“What kind of bird is that?” She asked after spotting one.

“That’s a Frigate.” We told her.

“A Friggit?” She giggled.

“Not a Friggit, a Frigate.”

“I really like those Friggit birds.” With a big smile on her face.

“Look! More Friggit birds.” More giggles.

Lara got to see a lot of Friggit birds and would point each one out shouting the word "Friggit" each time.

After a few, long, island time hours of drinking coffee and watching the morning come alive from the terrace we would plan our day. Whatever we planned, each morning started out slathering ourselves with sunblock and going for a morning dip in the Caribbean. Oh that magic feeling the deliciously warm water gives me.