Breeze Out

We are getting used to island life. Despite a busy day on conference calls for hours (I love skype calling), I did so with a view of the island hills and the waves. Today we opened all the windows and the back door and something magical happened - MORE breeze flowed through and we suddenly "got it". 

We see all the doors and windows open all day long and into the night - such an immense trust exists among islanders in the area of St. Barts where we are staying. We are nestled among a large family which has been on the island for generations - long before it became a "place to be".  The nephews, brothers, sisters, and father of our 'host' family are all steps away from the front door.

Everyday there is a new discovery.  Today the kids found a starfish with dad, Carter navigated the roadmap to explore new beaches, and we enjoyed our creative dinner served up with a light breeze and a fading sunset surrounding us. 

In the evenings I stand in the doorway. I hear the waves roll onto shore, watch the water glisten among an outline of small fishing boats, and notice the beacon of boat lights which flash periodically in the distance. Breathe in. Breathe out. Close eyes. Goodnight islanders. I already miss it and I'm not even gone.

Hello Ocean Friend

Despite a rough seas arrival, we arrived in what would be our Corossol, St. Barts (St. Barth) home and my work base every morning for the next three weeks. We settled in, scouted out, and established our new routines within the day. No toilet paper in the toilet-check. Flying bugs belong here-check. Island breeze and heat by day, AC by night-check. Upon arrival, we had a visitor in Carter's room, the size of my hand. We were almost sad to see him go and in our haste to return him from where he came, we only have a mediocre photo to tell the tale.

This morning I awoke early and began to organize how I would work. Since office and adult sleeping space is upstairs, its the perfect arrangement to go unnoticed in the early hours. 

In St. Barts, the roads can be steep, mostly narrow, and often lined with stone walls enabling you to hug a corner - round we go.  Sometimes there's a cliff to your left or right - best not to let it bother you. There are many beaches to discover and everywhere the water gorgeous. I'm armed with  no less than seven varieties of sunscreen. In the main towns, the yachts are evident, perhaps visitors for a day or week.  From the house, the view downstairs is every bit Caribbean and local flavor. I wonder how easy it is to balance a laptop on a hammock. I might try that tomorrow.  

Paris Par Jour

The thread of thought from my (not so) recent trip to Paris has arrived. Sorry for the delay. Its on par with my journey to get there. I'll not keep it brief.  I connected through JFK and missed the flight due to delays.  Option 1 - stay overnight and lose a precious day a Paris. Option 2 - run to another terminal to take the soon to leave BA flight through London, but arrive same day as expected. Option 2 please!  It was a miles ticket afterall - can't be choosy.

Tired but happy, I arrived at the hotel for a needed nap. My dear friend, whom I was also meeting this trip in a couple days, would be coming from CA to celebrate her 40th bday. She and I had discovered Paris (you don't visit for the first time, you discover it truely) many years ago in college. And though I'd spent much time in Paris in between, it was only fitting we return to celebrate there. Don't let the sickening start fool you. On the bus from the airport to Denfert I noticed a building being torn down. I thought about whomever had built it, worked on it, crafted all the pieces in their place and now it was no longer. A fleeting moment of reflection in route to memorable things.

The week was purposeful and then not so. I had a list of 'must do's' for the relocation planning and that was as far as my planning went. The rest was fair game and flowed with ease at the whims of whatever 'really want to see' things my friend was eager to do. For my 'must do' part of the trip, I visited a couple schools and a few apartments. When I turned the corner at the end of Rue Pierre Semard where it meets the square, it was indeed a magical moment; as if all the sounds I heard on the street had been orchestrated to stop for a few seconds while I stood there. I walked around the corner at Square Montholon and leaned against the side of the building to acknowledge the moment and the clarity of decision. Yes, this would be our home here. Someone pinch me. The apartment was perfect.

With that behind me and feeling such relief, we easily filled the remaining days with memories to keep us for another 20 years. We ate macarons (despite the hype), we observed, we pet the cat that casually entered the restaurant, and we tried so many restaurants I lost count (including the restaurant that isn't a restaurant - awkward). We attended the Quatre Saisons concert (Vivaldi's Four Seasons) live in the Sainte Chapelle (a tradition Paris holds every year), had lunch in the Musee D'Orsay cafe, relished in its lavishly painted walls and feeling slightly royal. We walked until my feet nearly disjoined themselves from my ankles.

We shopped, ritualistically and sometimes without intent, as if we had no other place to be that day or evening; as if shopping in Paris was so casually normal. We visited exhibits and new places she nor I had been before. She did fabulous research. I did get food ick, which stole away one precious evening of conversation with two polite French brothers who were keen to know what we thought of the French and wanted to practice their English. But, at least we laughed all night about how the dessert my friend ordered looked like chocolate boobs. It has since been deemed the "impolite dessert" for our archives.

My return trip was surreal - 815 km/hr in route to NC, holding the realization of what we were about to embark on. I sat motionless in my seat, still unable to make out the words of the American Airlines captain announcement under my headphones.