This dinghy about summed up my job training in St. Croix. Sit down, shut up and enjoy the ride. In order to assimilate to island life, concessions have to be made. This isn't the states. In preparation to move my family to St. Thomas, I spent three weeks training at the lab in St. Croix.  Crucian life is laid back and on an island, everything is conserved and nothing comes cheap. 

  I spent a Saturday wandering Christainsted and got to visit Fort Christianvern. The yellow fort overlooks the harbor. Feral chickens wander the grassy park outside. The fort was used as a prison and first line of defense against privateers. 

The prison area was eerie. I swore I had a dream a while ago about this space as soon as I entered it. The cool light and vaulted ceiling seemed familiar. The air in the cell was thick with salt and humidity. Beads of sweat formed on my skin as I pressed my back against the white walls to get some photographs. Slaves from the sugar plantations were often imprisoned here. 

Leaving the fort, I wandered the harbor looking for a pint of ale.  I had called the realtors on St. Thomas, but still hadn't heard back, so Saturday was a day for sightseeing. By Monday, the realtors called.

I traveled to St. Thomas via the seaplane to look at real estate. One house in particular looked attractive and was priced right, at least on the internet. I don't know what photographer they hired to do the photos for the internet, but that photographer was a master of trick photography. The place was a dump in real life. The only plus was getting to meet a sweet Amazon parrot. The owner of the house was in a hurry to sell. When we arrived, three happy, shaggy golden retrievers met us at the chain link gate. From the front, things didn't look so bad. The realtor seemed hesitant to show me this property. I understood why when we walked in the door and were greeted by an unusual cigarette and dog funk. The tile floor was dusty and piles of stuff climbed the walls. The boisterous owner greeted us with enthusiasm. Her straw blonde hair was in a loose ponytail and she was dressed in a white tank top with no brassiere and sweatpants. 

She exclaimed that she was very excited because she was eloping in a couple of weeks and moving. I congratulated her on her upcoming nuptials and asked where she was eloping to. With a big smile, she exclaimed, "Vegas!". She went on to describe how she was getting married in a strip club by a celebrity reverend. All her bridesmaids were to be dressed as strippers and the vows would be exchanged on the stage. The realtor pressed her lips tight in an effort to mask her disgust, but I continued to keep this conversation going. It was fine entertainment. The homeowner continued to describe how proud she was of the honeymoon arrangements she snagged, a cabana at Hooters in Las Vegas! It was right on the pool and she was enormously tickled to have gotten a deal on that. The parrot squealed with delight upon hearing the animation in her owner's voice.

The realtor steered me away from my fun and back to showing the property. She pulled one outside door and it fell off of it's hinges. Another door by the shower resisted opening as well and when she finally popped it open, the arm of a magenta faux fur robe swung around and swiped her in the mouth. She made a disgusted face and sputtered a couple of times to clear the hairs from her mouth. The realtor had had enough by then. From undies drying in the sun on the back deck, to the stripper wedding, to getting a mouthful of hot pink bathrobe, the show was over. We continued on to classier digs.  

Christiansted was mostly quiet. The cruise ships dock in Frederiksted to the west. At night, the town could be noisy and dangerous. I was offered drugs twice and had a good conversation with the harbor drug dealer but declined any offerings. I'll stick to the rum and ale, thank you.  

This trip cured me of my fear of airplanes. I enjoyed the flight on the seaplane. Seeing things from the air was finally fun and not terrifying. 

  While on St. Croix, I signed up to get diving certified. St. Croix is one of the only Caribbean islands that is sedimentary and not volcanic. So if you swim a few meters offshore, you'll find yourself over a thousand foot or more drop in sea depth. Over by Cane Bay is what they call "The Wall", a thousand or so foot drop-off. Swimming over to the edge of The Wall is an incredible experience. All that can be seen is a great expanse of dark blue beyond the edge of the reef, a great bottomless pit of ocean. Barracuda, six feet long, glide past, their ghostly silver blue eyes scanning, scanning, just past this edge. It was the singular most humbling experience of my trip to sit at that edge and watch fish larger than me, larger and capable of eating me, glide past. It didn't feel real. 

The benefit of working in the islands was coming home in late afternoon to a sky like this. A tiny rainbow graced the sky before sunset. The lab was nice and the people were lovely. I enjoyed getting to know them and learning new things. It also felt good knowing that we were helping to take care of the ocean and the drinking water. I learned all about how enterococci and fecal coliform end up in the water. 

Going home was hard. I had three weeks of no stress. No dishes, no cleaning. Watching the sun rise, I boarded a plane to Puerto Rico for the connecting flight to New York. When I met my husband at baggage claim in New York, I knew that my path was set. Before the cold weather sets in, I'll be living in St. Thomas and hitting the reset button on my life.