Being on the Board

Here in Grenada, they have an organization that helps to plan events, share advice and generally make life a bit easier for the spouses, kids and other folks who tag along with the medical students, faculty and other folks associated with SGU. It's a great resource as you're trying to figure out what it is actually like to live in Grenada, what things to expect to find here, what to do with your time, etc. Since I had arrived in February, I had a bit of a hard time getting to know people. The SO events helped me meet people and get out to explore the island a bit, which was really nice. This is Maria helping with a health fair on the island, for example. When the end of the term rolled around and they started looking for people to be on the board, though, I figured I didn't have much chance in the election because I didn't really know that many people. So...I didn't run.

Lo and behold, though, I got a second chance! While we were home, I heard they were looking for additional board members to help with event planning. It seemed right up my alley, so I asked former board folks how much time commitment was involved and eventually figured it was a way I could make a difference for the families here in Grenada. We've got an enthusiastic group of people with lots of great event ideas, so it is exciting to think what we could accomplish this term. At the same time, there are some entertaining challenges to event planning in Grenada.

For example, any organization that plans events HAS to have someplace to store their stuff. Here, it's a little uncooled shed on the satellite campus. Back home that probably wouldn't be a problem, but apparently with the heat around here it is possible for soda to spontaneously explode. Thus ended a cooler in our storage shed and the sodas the last termers thought we might find useful. Luckily, the crayons in there must be made for the tropics because they are completely unmelted and worked great as entertainment for kids at the opening social. I was also in charge of supplying bubbles. I went to the store - no bubble solution, no bubble wands, no pipecleaners, no glycerin to strengthen bubbles - it was a bit more challenging than I envisioned. However, I did get some dish soap, bowls, zip tie wands and corn syrup from a neighbor and ta-da, bubbles for dozens of happy kids (and adults).

I have ideas for a couple more events, but I have to re-examine them in light of this experience from the opening social. I think they could work, but I'll need to plan carefully where we'll get everything. But how could you pass up the opportunity to celebrate International Talk Like a Pirate Day when we live in the Caribbean? Really!?

In other news, Penny is getting along nicely with her new teeth. She now has six poking out and she uses them adeptly to bite into cucumbers, cereal and any number of other items. Her favorite finger food so far is cheesy chicken macaroni with tomatoes and carrots. It's a little improvised, but she eats it and that's the key. She stood on her own the other day, but doesn't quite seem interested in walking just yet. It's tough keeping her entertained all day and often involves taking one or more field trips.

Also, please keep my mom in your prayers. She's in the hospital again, which is no fun in general. This cancer is tough on her physically and emotionally. It's no picnic for Amanda, either, so she could use a prayer or two as well.

Reminders of Camping

Our life here on the island is remarkably similar to home. However, there are a few elements that remind me a lot of camping. Now that the rainy season has gotten underway in earnest, there are LOTS of mosquitoes. They are there all the time, but there is a certain hour just at twilight when you are guaranteed to either walk away with twenty new red spots or wake up with them because the little stinkers followed you into the house. Remarkably, we did not return to Grenada to find that what little food remained in our cupboards had been carted away by ants. They have actually been keeping a very low profile, though the occasional scout is squicked on the countertop and left as a lesson to others foolish enough to follow. Perhaps there is so much food growing outside now that they don't have to bother with the artificially sweetened silliness that we seem to like eating.

Then there are the interesting dwellings around here. The lovely structures to the right sprouted while we were gone in July and look almost finished by Grenadian standards. They are of the quality of homes in Grenada (in any neighborhood where actual Grenadians live), but because of their proximity to school, we're thinking perhaps they might be destined to be some kind of produce stands or something. For all we know, though, they could be efficiency apartments. The funny thing is that the structures look almost identical to glen shelters - they are just missing the screened windows (to keep out bats) and shower curtain drapes to keep out everything else.

This beautiful little guy also reminds me of camp. I just love the color (totally didn't touch him in photo editing software). Once upon a time, back when I was a Junior Girl Scout, I think, we were camping maybe at Camp Mac-O-Chee when we had a cicada year. For those of you unfamiliar with a cicada year, it may help to know that a lot of people also call cicadas locusts because at times they appear in quantities of Biblical proportions. It's a misnomer, though, because locusts are actually specialized grasshoppers with jaws for eating everything in sight; cicadas have soda-straw mouths that are used to suck tree sap. In any case, we were camping at peak cicada year time - there were cicadas in the water troughs in various states of shedding skin, there were cicadas crunching under our feet as we walked, it was sunny and raining in the woods as the cicadas peed out the tree sap, the cicadas were buzzing so loud you had that after-concert-ringing sensation as you drove away from camp. People had heard that cicadas sting (they don't) and bite (they don't), so they were huddled in the lodges or hiding in their tents trying desperately to avoid the invasion. Me, I took a little extra care because I wasn't sure the rumors were false, but generally discovered the cicadas didn't attack and was able to travel throughout camp to some degree.

At one point on my way from the woods to the lodge, I found this beautiful, huge dragonfly sitting by a large puddle in the road. These guys are impossible to catch, but it's always fun to try, so I did. He didn't even try to go anywhere. I encouraged him to crawl onto my hand and walked for a bit with him. He was alive and didn't seem injured, so I couldn't quite figure out why he was so easy to catch. As we continued together, we got further into the clearing where the lodge was located. The steady droning of the cicadas became just a bit quieter and the dragonfly began to test his wings a bit. Eventually, he took off for parts unknown. To this day, I kinda figured the cicadas were giving him a headache and he just couldn't get his act together to fly away. Not particularly scientific, but seriously, it's easy to imagine how even the other insects are disturbed by the cacaphony. So finding this little guy today who was alive, but confused enough to let me catch him reminded me of camping long ago. I experienced another outbreak of 17-year-cicadas since then (not as spectacular in my view, but I didn't go camping in it). A reminder (especially when coupled with my birthday this weekend) that I'm getting up there in years.

Sadness

A friend of mine contacted me this weekend because she thought she was miscarrying. We've lent what support we could over the past few days and hope she and her husband were helped by what Dan and I said. Today, though, I found myself a little extra sad as I remembered my experience with our first little one and how it felt to lose him (we never found out sex, I just don't like to use "it"). I had trouble deciphering whether I felt sad because I was recalling our experience or whether I was sad at the joy that was stolen from our friends. I know when I got pregnant with Penny just a few short weeks after my miscarriage, I kept stopping myself from getting overjoyed because I was afraid I might lose another baby. I never allowed myself to get as overjoyed as I was when I discovered our first passenger. It pains me that someone else might have to go through that feeling of tentative, fearful joy.

I was really glad our friend reached out to us, though. I remember that one of the hardest parts was feeling SO alone and helpless. Sure, we were in England, far from family and friends. More importantly, I didn't know anyone who had gone through a miscarriage before (or so I thought). Shortly after the worst of the physical stuff, I called a family member who was a doctor for advice and got way more support than I expected since she had lost more than one little one. I was never so glad Dan forced me to make a phone call. When we had a chance to confirm our loss, I did not want to tell anyone. We hadn't told anyone we were pregnant, so way start with bad news? Again, Dan insisted and I am grateful to him. When we told our families the sad news, I found that miscarriage is fairly common, it is not my fault, and there were even more people I could have talked to. I found out I almost had an older sibling, among other revelations. Our family members were sad for us, but it felt better talking out our feelings. Over time, I felt ok enough with my grief to not keep the miscarriage a secret from people beyond family. Lots of women do keep it secret, so I wanted people to know I was a person willing to talk if they needed it. I am glad now again because maybe I have helped a friend somewhat with her fear and grief.

It's hard knowing what to say, though. It's such a deeply personal sadness, even when it is shared. I was talking to another friend today who had miscarried (sometimes a supporter needs support too) and we both agreed it took a while to heal emotionally. Penny came along quite soon after my miscarriage. It was tough getting excited at first, but as time passed and it looked like she'd hang around, her presence helped make the acute anguish go away. I still had a total panic attack at six or seven months when I didn't feel her squiggling for most of a day. I bottled it up and Dan AGAIN insisted we do something. When we finally got to the hospital and heard her heartbeat, she was fine and I was feeling better. At random moments I might think of our first little guy and get sad, but I have Penny to remind me that it doesn't happen every time and we have someone wonderful because we didn't get discouraged.

I am also incredibly grateful to have such a wonderful husband to go through all this with. In talking with other women about miscarriage, not everyone is as lucky as I am. Dan is an incredible emotional support for me: not because he's some kind of rock but because he knows and articulates what he's feeling, he reads my emotions really well and he knows when he needs to stop and take care of me. I don't like to deal with my emotions or show them in front of people, so these are really key skills. He refused to count the little guy out until I'd gone to see the doctor. He cried with me when we got to the point where we admitted we'd lost the baby and we had a prayer service for him. He knew something was not quite right with me that day when Penny didn't squiggle and turned around, came back in the house and asked me what was wrong, then insisted on going to the hospital instead of his study session. When he suggested that maybe I should be the one talking to our friend who miscarried, that seemed silly because he was the one who helped me get through it and I wouldn't deprive her of that support.

In any case, I feel blessed to have so many people there to support us then and now. And I am glad that our sad experience has equipped us to help our friends when they needed it.

Carriacou

Classes still haven't started so we still have a few more days of relaxation and exploration of our island home. Paired with this, some of our friends we made in Newcastle are visiting with their little girl. This combination seemed an excellent excuse to do some wider adventures. So at 7:30am, we caught a local bus to the Carenage (bay near St. George) to take a ferry to Carriacou. Grenada the country is made up of three main islands: Grenada, Carriacou and Petite Martinique. So far, we've pretty much stuck to Grenada. The bus was more timely than anticipated, so we had fun walking around the Carenage, gazing at the myriad wildlife just below the surface of the water. We spied an eel, black spotty crabs, sea urchins, tons of different fish, even a pair of squid.

The "fast" ferry is a 90-minute morning thrill ride along the western side of Grenada, a bit of open sea and then up to Carriacou. Here you can see us as the journey begins -- relatively calm seas because the island of Grenada is between us and the winds coming off the Atlantic. Richard and his daughter Evie (our visitors from Newcastle) are in the first picture, then Maria, Matt and Louise (Richard's wife). We had a great time watching the coastline from the viewing deck up top. We could see all the jagged, forested hillsides dotted with tiny plywood houses. It was a little tough keeping our footing, so I sat with Penny while everyone else took periodic trips to the rail. Dan spotted a flying fish or two and tried to capture them on film, but I can't quite spot them.

Then we got past Grenada and the fun really began. There were decent swells and the boat felt like it caught air quite a few times. There was that momentary weightlessness of a roller coaster just after the peak. It wasn't too too bad, but then there got to be some lateral moves as well. This part should have been short as we passed a series of smaller islands as well, so they should have shielded us from the big waves, but it still seemed pretty rough. We were doing well for a while, but the sea eventually got the best of us. Pale faces preceded some disgusting displays (which was probably unpleasant for the folks on the glass-enclosed floor below). One person even managed to puke right on the head of another person, though the recipient took it remarkably well. We were very happy to finally reach the shore, where a conveniently located beach served as a quick place to rinse various soiled garments.

After briefly hanging out on the beach to allow our stomachs to settle, gather some beautiful seashells, and purchase some dramamine, we headed to the interior on a driving tour with a local taxi driver. He took us to the local hospital - located at the top of a hill so they could circulate air through the hospital better (without use of air conditioning). So the local hospital had this spectacular view of Hillsborough, the island's capital, and the bay where we arrived.

We saw some old sugar mills (you can see one pictured on Dan's shirt), abandoned plantations, current schools, lots of reefs offshore and plenty of local sheep. You'll notice that local sheep look very different from sheep back home or in Newcastle.

The main attraction to Carriacou, which means "many reefs," is the snorkling and scuba diving, but also the more rustic nature of the island. With two folks under two years old in tow, we didn't plan on much underwater excitement. However, our 30 minutes on Paradise Beach were action packed as Richie captured a starfish the size of a dinner plate to show everyone. We also had a lovely view of Sandy Island (the low pale strip on the horizon here), which helps keep the water in the bay nice and calm. After everyone had a chance to enjoy the monster starfish and a refreshing dip, we returned the wildlife to the bay and piled into the taxi to return to the ferry.

Properly medicated, we headed back to Grenada. The sea was much calmer this time and we decided we'd try sitting in the glassed in deck in hopes of not moving quite so much. Penny had a blast crawling all over the luggage, ripping off the shipping labels on packages and jumping on Mommy's tummy. As you can imagine, none of these went over too well. As we approached St. George, I gathered her up and walked to the front of the boat. She had a blast and a half facing into the racing wind, sort of like that scene in Titanic. So despite the rough beginning, we had a great visit to Carriacou and we continue to have fun not having too full a schedule. It's hard to believe it will only be four more months until we get to head home!

The One that Got Away

Whew! After a 6am to 10pm series of flights and airport time (sadly, no spare seat for Penny again), we made it back to our little piece of Caribbean paradise. I haven't quite caught up on sleep yet, but I'm getting there. We got to say hello to some friends visiting from England on Saturday. We spent much of the afternoon snorkling at a place called Aquarium. It's the first time I've seen fish while snorkling and my first time snorkling here in Grenada. It was pretty darned cool. And really a great sign of my arm's recovery because I was able to breast stroke for a decent amount of time. Don't panic, I didn't have to go out too far to see spiffy wildlife, so the risk of drifting out to sea was minimal (it did cross my mind, though).

Then on Monday we went fishing with Brent and Celeste. Penny spotted good schools of prey while Daddy and Brent cast into the middle of them. Celeste was "forkling" - a new hybrid gamefishing strategy where she goes snorkling to find her intended target, then uses a short line to snare them. We came back empty handed, but still feasted on delicious meatball stew at the end of the day.

Now, that's not to say we didn't catch anything...Dan is our fishing rookie, so Brent instructed him how to cast. I started out with a pole and Brent watched Penny on the dock. When I started getting some nibbles, I called Dan over so he could feel what nibbles feel like. He took over my pole, detected the nibbles as I explained how nibbles differ from a solid bite and then what to do. An excellent student, he promptly had a bite and whipped that fishy out of the water. Brent was fast on the draw and began the hook extraction process while I took over watching Penny. Dan's prey was a slick stripy character (perhaps with a prison record) and after a brief struggle squirmed free of Brent's grasp. As he flopped wildly along the planks, Brent made grab after grab to recapture him, to no avail. Penny and I watched dumbfounded as the fish flopped its way toward us. Thanks to Brent's quick thinking, the fish was finally safely returned to the water. It's too bad, though, because not only was the fish pretty, Brent said it was one of the biggest snagged on their poles. Sadly, with all the excitement, I didn't get a chance to snap a pic of any of this process. I did get a picture of this fascinating crab with painted blue fingernails, though!