Two in One

7 November 2011

“It’s been one of those days,” the hostess whispers as she spills ice and a plastic cup into my lap, “just throw it on the floor, that’s how we clean it.” As I sit on the plane to St. Thomas, I can’t help but feel very excited and even more nervous. I have no idea what to expect. Weighed down with a 48.7 lb backpack (just made the 50lb and under requirement), large day pack, violin and hula-hoop, this is first time I have lived solely off of what I can carry. I’m thinking that I may not have needed to pack my face paint, hula hoop or fuzzy bear hat, but I just have that gut feeling that I would regret it if I left them behind. Other than Elijah, an acquaintance/friend/ex co-worker, I know no one on the island. Although I am nervous about finding a job, house, and community, I know that everything always works out one way or another. I don’t really have any reason to leave Arcata other than the desire for adventure. I am leaving amazing friends, the most beautiful forests, oceans, rivers, and mountains, and the comfort of security behind.

The plane is full of vacationers, of the conversations I have overheard, many people are excited to lie on the beach and partake in the island’s abundance of rum. Every couple I scope out seems to be in honeymoon mode, rocking their new sparkling diamond rings and still madly in love. There has been no one on my adventure from SF to this point (1 hr away from Charlotte Amalie) that has intrigued me enough to interact. Even with my lack of interest, I have received a lot of attention—although I think my cornrow hairstyle and hula-hoops are the root of the looks and comments. My plan for the rest of the afternoon is to settle in at Miss J’s house, hope it’s not a scam.

9 November 2011

So here I am, the end of my third day in the islands. I am lying in bed at 8:40pm, completely wiped out. A recurring thought that frequents my mind these days is “What am I doing? Seriously, what am I doing?” For being job-less, friend-less, and soon to be homeless, I am surprisingly not too stressed. The past two nights I have been staying with Miss J, a 76-year-old New Zealander I found on craigslist a couple months ago. I’m really glad she wasn’t a scam, although my current living situation is the most unique to-date, in my experience.

With an active lifestyle, model body, and high cheekbones, I was shocked when Miss J admitted her true age to me. She preceded this information with a demonstration of 3 jitsu moves, of which I could only do 2. She has also entertained me with stories of glamour photography, her pet Cheetah of 5-years, sailing from Canada to Australia, and various romances. She has been very supportive and helpful.

I think that moving to the Virgin Islands is going to prove to be healthy for my mind, body, and spirit—even though cigarettes and booze are the ONLY things that are cheaper here than the States (cigarettes-$3, handle of Bombay Sapphire Gin-$15, health like Miss J-Priceless). I have no desire to drink, do drugs, party, or eat unhealthily. Since arriving here on Monday, I have quit smoking cigarettes cold turkey. And it has not been difficult at all (sorry Mom, although you probably already knew, since mom’s always do, you have Miss J to thank for that one). With the heat, I have no appetite, I must remind myself to eat, which has never been an issue. This is faring well for my pocket since groceries are so expensive.