Fresh Eyes

Sometimes having guests make you see things with new eyes. I've lived in Saint Maarten for 2 1/2 months and have become very comfortable with everything here. From the sea creatures above to the barrel cacti, everything is a cause of comment for them, and perhaps that's as it should be.


A dessicated version of barrel cactus....


The pricky kind of cactus--trust me, I stepped on it.



Snails! Not something you would find in New York, at least not without garlic and butter.



Blogging will be rather spotty for a while. The guests are here and Friday I'm off to New York. Hopefully I'll have some great exhibitions and artwork to write about soon!

HighTension- Danger

I love having guests,like the three I am expecting this afternoon, and I go about the usual routine of getting things set up for them, fresh towels, tidy surfaces, food in the fridge. But then, of course- this being the Caribbean,the water pump stopped working. So after not being able to reach one plumber, we finally had a second plumber come by yesterday.The problem was simple, and he said he would come back in the morning with the right part. He called right on time this morning, to say he couldn't come. I can hardly fault the guy: he was driving his pregnant wife to the hospital.

All the same, it's hard to tell your boyfriend's parents that the toilet doesn't flush. Then the power went out, which means the internet went out. No water, power, or internet makes for a primitive welcome, no matter how many candles you have. Now the power is back. Hopefully the original plumber, if he can be found, will come back, while the power is on, to fix it before the visitors arrive! Isn't there a song called "Trouble in Paradise"? It should be my theme song.

Imitation of Picasso

The end of my neighbor's wall was puzzling me. The edged bit seemed quasi-human. I couldn't figure out quite what it reminded me off, then I thought it rather had the same sense as this view from Picasso's villa in Antibes.


Now I think it was something else I was trying to remember-- a white face formed rather like PacMan, facing left?-- but I can't put my finger on the title or artist of this imagined painting. Of course, if you look hard enough, you can see anything in a bit of wall. The island is having its effect on me; perhaps the glaring sun is creating mirages.

Do you know what I'm thinking of, or has this anthropomorphic bit of wall played tricks on my imagination?


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Back from Paradise

Little did we guess upon seeing this steep hunk of rock sticking out of the ocean that we were entering paradise. Saba was paradise. The scuba diving was fantastic, as we expected, but we didn't know this tiny, beachless former volcano would be the most magical place we had ever been.



The people, all 1,400 living there, are friendly and helpful. The pace of life is beyond slow. Life is simple. There are no beaches, there are no bugs, and there are few tourists. The top of the island is rain forest, at about 3,000 feet above sea level, and is the highest point in the Netherlands. We did some hiking, but we didn't make it all 1,064 steps to the top--we left that for next time.

It was a great break, and I came back full of focus and creative juice. So it's back to the novel for me.

Island Time and Farm Animals

I can't think of any predictions or expectations, ambitions or dreams for the upcoming year. I feel numbed from reading the innumerable, estimable 2010 articles. Partly it's being on this island and feeling removed from the world, and even from time. I got to the boardwalk in Phillipsburg on New Year's Eve just in time to see the fireworks at midnight. My friends and I got drinks and walked over to the beach. We waited. Someone had 4 minutes until midnight, the other two had 2 minutes. 2 minutes went by and nothing happened. Then another 2 went by and nothing happened. Nobody around us seemed concerned, and nobody was counting down. Then a rocket went spiraling up in the air. "Happy New Year!" I cried, figuring somebody had to call it. "Happy New Year" my friends said. Here even 2010 is on island time.


For New Year's day, we had a big, fortifying breakfast and went to the beach. The weather was idyllic and I had some supremely Caribbean-themed light reading. Walking back to the car at the end of the day, we saw a baby donkey. It was just standing there, nibbling grass then walking down into the sand. While the island boasts more farm animals than I ever saw growing up in Georgia, a donkey roaming the beach was a whole new thing! We started to take photos when it's perturbed owner appeared. He called to it and tried to grab its harness, but the donkey gaily trotted away through families of prone French tourists. All the beach-goers were startled, and the owner walked fast to herd (eventually) the donkey into the parking lot and away from the beach. It was very funny and very strange. It's hard to think seriously about life when you're laughing at donkeys.


So I'm on island time, distracted and amused by a new place, and, to top it off, hot. It's very difficult to think when you are hot. While watching the long fireworks show, I felt that I really didn't care about doing too much--that I was quite happy with things just as they are. I'm like a fat cat being scratched and purring. It's a little ridiculous, and it certainly won't last, but I am utterly relaxed. In fact, I might just take a mid-morning cat nap.