sandy toes and island blood

Obviously I have not been keeping up with my blog like I should, but I return from my brief (month and a half long) hiatus refreshed with new stories and a new home to write from.  Since my last update on Mother's Day a few big things have happened:  first and foremost, Father's Day happened, just this Sunday, and while I'm not home in the lovely green mountains to cook my pops the kind of fabulous breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert that he deserved, I did send him a "card" of sorts and lots of love via the telephone.  In other news, I moved to the Caribbean just over a month ago and have been living on the US Virgin Island of St Thomas ever since.  I live in an apartment with the best harbor view I think I have ever seen in my entire life, and probably the best I will ever have the pleasure of living in front of.  I work at a beautiful little boutique hotel where I meet all kinds of interesting people.  I play on white sandy beaches and snorkel over coral reefs in 70 degree water.  Life's rough.

Each morning, as I drink my cup of tea out on the balcony, watch the iguanas climb to the tree tops to bask in the sunshine, and do a bit of yoga before it gets too sweaty to move, I reflect on everything that has brought me to where I am.  I've had a pretty crazy ride, and I'm just starting to truly appreciate the places my rather impulsive decisions have brought me to.

The island is fabulously beautiful, the views absolutely breath-taking, photo-ops abound.  I'm learning a lot about the inner workings of a small hotel, and we all know how I love to collect new skills.  My thousands of bug bites are just starting (knock on wood) to dwindle down to an acceptable level; I have been told that the bugs on the island love fresh meat and will bite and bite and bite new kids on the block. I definitely found that to be the case, but what is even more surprising is that they seem to be backing off a bit now.  It could be that the whole population is decreasing, but I can't help but wonder if its because I'm no longer "fresh meat."  Is there some change that happens after you've been here for awhile that makes them bite less?  Some islandy-ness that gets into your blood?  Do I have some St. Thomas in me now?

People keep saying to me the same thing they said in Tahoe - "I came here temporarily too, 20 years ago."  The thing about living in paradise is its pretty easy to get stuck, and that's okay as long as 20 years later living there is still making you happy.  Only time will tell how long I'm going to last in St. Thomas, but for now it's home.

Life's a Beach

Dusk on the Pool Deck

View from my Balcony