Ok, it’s nigh time!
So far so good, I’m not too spooked. The sun went down about a half hour ago. I’m sitting out on the porch, three citronella candles burning to help stave off the mosquitos, and the radio is on to help stave off serial killers that could be lurking behind any one of these large tropical plants that surround the property. On the radio is some French speaking station playing French songs with an American tune here and there, Billy Idol, “Eyes Without a Face”....Sonny and Cher, “The Beat Goes On”....you know, completely random. I left to go to the beach this afternoon and to the grocery store. The maid was here and I felt silly sitting around in the sun whilst she was buzzing around cleaning the mansion. She speaks only French and I speak only English so we couldn’t communicate. She tried to ask me something and I was at a total loss....so we just smiled at each other and to break the awkward moment I offered her a diet coke from the fridge, since I was getting one for myself. She declined. I’m so lame, speaking only the one language. I can’t even speak Spanish with Jonathan, never mind French with the maid. I would love to learn another language, but I always think it’s one of those things you have to do when your young and your brain is still receptive. Learning a language is right up there with learning how to play the piano, another thing I wish I could do, but that’s probably for another lifetime. I’ll have to make a note-to-self to learn those two things early the next time around. There’s something about the piano - it seems as though I should be able to just sit at one and play whatever I’d like, no problem, without lessons, like a natural. The layout of the piano as a whole, makes sense to me...I have this fantasy that I really could just play the piano instantly, but I can’t. If I were six again and tried, I bet I could be one of those musical geniuses. But alas, I’m not.
I’ve already been the butt of two anti-American jokes while being here on the French island, and one direct insult for being American. None of these came from people I know or are have anything to do with the residency that I’m doing here. I was in a conversation with some people the first night I was here and this German guy told this joke, he says, “What do you call a person that speaks three languages?” and everyone replies, “trilingual”. Then he says, “what do you call someone that speaks two languages?” and everyone replies, “bilingual” and then he says, “What do you call someone who speaks one language”, and he points to me and says, “American”. And everyone laughed. Har, har, har I thought. Not a big deal, but still, no one likes being the butt of a joke. The other incident, the direct insult came last night when I was eating dinner with some folks and we were chatting about traveling as most everyone I’ve met here is not from the US. One woman was from Belgium and I asked her if she had ever been to the US and she said, “No”. I asked her if she was interested in going and she said, “No, because it’s full of Americans”. Ok, I’m sensitive, and I didn’t take it personal, but I thought, what an unfortunate way to look at things. I know America is a pretty shitty place on the world political stage, but heck, I hate Bush more than the next person. Anyway, it’s just weird to say that to someone when they are actually from the US.....if she said it behind my back to other Europeans, fine, I totally understand.
Anyway, back to this afternoon: after the awkward Diet Coke moment with the maid (I wish I knew her name, I don’t like referring to her as the maid) I drove down by the airport, to a beach I haven’t been yet. The tiny airplanes that take off literally fly right over this beach, the runway is not long at all and it ends on the sand, and they take flight just before the water, its fun to watch...see here:
I walked along the beach and then got in where there were a few other people swimming. I only went in about 3 feet deep, of course. After that I drove to the grocery store and got a few things. The europeans love their yogurt, there are so many different kinds and flavors. I bought some the other day that came in a little glass jar and has a cap, it’s perfect to mix paint in, so I bought two more today. I really wanted to buy some sort of skin cream to sooth the mosquito bites all over my ankles and feet, but since all the packaging is in French, I couldn’t tell what was what. At one point I picked up something that looked most like it could be skin cream, or hand cream and I was going over to the counter to ask someone who worked there if it was indeed skin lotion, and right before I got to the counter I noticed that it read, “douche”. Now since I don’t speak French, douche could mean skin-cream, or it could mean what I think it is. Anyway, I didn’t want to take the risk of being embarrassed so I put it back. I’ll look again tomorrow.
I walked along a different beach around sunset and there was a shallow area where I saw little fish. Here’s a small movie:
And here is a view from the porch of the sun setting tonight:
This is a graveyard by the beach. I guess the bodies are buried above ground in these boxes. Somehow, plastic flowers actually look good when they are on every grave:
I’ve been avoiding dousing myself with “OFF” mosquito spray because it’s like spraying yourself with tons of chemicals, but I think I have to face the music and start spraying. The Citronella candles only do so much. St. Barths is known for celebrities and all I know is that if I were Mariah Carey or someone that needed to look great for a living, especially the legs, I would avoid this island all together because the mosquito bites alone could make for an embarrassing string of photos in US Weekly.
I’m ending the evening with the greatness that is,”Sarah” by Fleetwood Mac that managed to find it’s way onto my French radio station. The quality is not great, but turn up your volume so you can hear this small movie, and have a good night:
