tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61500421897198583742024-03-19T16:43:27.775-04:00Living DominicaNo, this is not the Dominican RepublicUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger98125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-67899352436744665172008-12-29T00:31:00.005-04:002008-12-30T21:33:01.723-04:00Greetings from Living Dominica in ExileI have heard from several readers, and I wanted to post a brief update. Mr. Wizard, Chester and I are all well and happy. We made the transition back to U.S. life and are busy like all folks here seem to be.<br /><br />I am working as a psychiatric nurse which I am enjoying immensely. Psychiatric staff are a funny group and I seem to have found a niche. I particularly like talking with psychotic patients. One night I was chatting with a nice fellow who hears voices, and I asked him what the voices were saying. He thought for a minute, then reported that the voices told him "she's a nice lady." Well, who could need higher praise than that?<br /><br />Mr. Wizard is involved in some spurious endeavour involving zero's and one's in various sequences and combinations. That is the best I can do to explain that magic.<br /><br />Chester is aging and sleeps a great deal, but he managed the trip back from Dominica to the US as if it were no problem.<br /><br />We had purchased a small condo when we returned to the US, and it has become cramped. I usually refer to our home as <em>The World's Smallest Condo</em>. We are now buying a house that is probably too big for our needs. But, I think we have always done things to the extreme, this is no different.<br /><br />I have to admit that sometimes a memory of the island comes wafting like a scent and I feel an ache for the beauty and all the other gifts of my island life. But that happens less often, and all and all, we are liking our post-Dominica life. Life is so much <em>easier</em> here.<br /><br />livingdominicainexile: Happy Holidays to all!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-42884858174891364712008-02-29T08:19:00.003-04:002010-02-10T20:31:18.556-04:00Farewell, Dominica...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-6a4UszW-kU2VqJAA4mZ-nru0MRR3Mviuj6XyAypR2Ig-sOt1Ihkjik7g7WqUvyGfX9leo7FFlWLLiEcKHqtGC6-shicbmfY1SE5fkfABmDHo5uUVmscONMDImYHQCW5dRgrDyJJ8YuI/s1600-h/img00009.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; FLOAT: left; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163104757619337938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP-6a4UszW-kU2VqJAA4mZ-nru0MRR3Mviuj6XyAypR2Ig-sOt1Ihkjik7g7WqUvyGfX9leo7FFlWLLiEcKHqtGC6-shicbmfY1SE5fkfABmDHo5uUVmscONMDImYHQCW5dRgrDyJJ8YuI/s400/img00009.jpg" /></a><br />There are really no secrets on Dominica, or for that matter, amongst those of us who love Dominica where ever we live. So, I will share publicly that I am returning for now to the frozen gray wasteland of my birth.<br /><br />There is no one reason for my decision, and it may not be permanent. But for right now, it is the easiest way for me to once again have my own home. You see, I have been longing to have my own home again for the two and a half years we have lived on Dominica. We have had difficulties here that few encounter, like a major landslide which rendered our land unbuildable. Anyway, we bought a tiny alternate plot and were poised to build when we did some reevaluation and decided to wait. Here is why:<br /><br /><ul><li>Our finances are diminished and we are reluctant to invest more money before the government pays us for the purchase of our land which they are excavating to keep the road open to Laudat. We have been assured by all in government that they will pay us, since they must have the whole property for the stabilization of the hillside. But they have yet to make an offer of payment for the land. Meanwhile we wait and watch ourselves getting older and sadder. Mr. Wizard is going to stay on the island a while to try to nudge some resolution along. Once our palm is crossed with silver, we will be better positioned to proceed with building.<br /></li><li>As you may recall, Dominica declined to give me a license to practice as a nurse here. I miss my profession of over 25 years, and I look forward to working a while longer. Already several US hospitals have written me about openings, which is gratifying.<br /></li><li>I am tired. Perhaps we both are. We know that building a house here will not be easy, and my ability to fight is depleted.<br /></li><li>Property is <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">so</span> damn cheap in the US, I can go back, buy a small house and have the immediate gratification of painting my own walls without having to go through the fight of building. Maybe eventually we will summer in the US and spend winters here. Who knows.<br /></li><li>I am concerned about some of the choices currently being made here. Nuff said. Clearly, it is for Dominicans to decide the future of this island jewel. </li></ul>I feel ambivalent about this decision. I love Dominica. I know I will crave the shades of green, the unique smell of this blooming island, the sight of the sea outside my door. And I love the friends we have here, who have been wonderful. But I am tired of the struggle all the way to my bones.<br /><br />I do look forward to seeing forsythia, dogwood, redbud, and that peculiar shade of pale newborn green you only see in springtime. Until then, picture me wrapped in an electric blanket set to high, only wandering as far as the next outlet...<br /><br />livingdominica: Thank you for your kindness and support, Gentle Readers.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-59941874619233305052008-02-28T12:45:00.006-04:002008-02-29T10:07:16.807-04:00My Friend Francis is gone<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNZS-FIQsfq26KG3B5N3HvcpehrmlmCPSk4bzVJI3pmprKfbPDyVijCPnd0jymnr6l0eX3CDzqdvSUSaT92h3LbspjyBMf34sNU-hdsCls4ArrungGDGQlNF7RN0KXbCZj_zYn2FLGMYe/s1600-h/ARP3W2JCAD16D8RCABFS4GDCAX9A8XRCABVC0JLCA0F0UHTCA0GQMIRCAUCTBJECAB4BWN3CAVV9BM3CAI5PGNMCAS5P10NCA28Z8CKCA0JT5D3CAKA61C4CAD7F70LCAHSHF6YCA4AEKIICARX51ZFCA1KCUQS.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172400310343773970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHNZS-FIQsfq26KG3B5N3HvcpehrmlmCPSk4bzVJI3pmprKfbPDyVijCPnd0jymnr6l0eX3CDzqdvSUSaT92h3LbspjyBMf34sNU-hdsCls4ArrungGDGQlNF7RN0KXbCZj_zYn2FLGMYe/s400/ARP3W2JCAD16D8RCABFS4GDCAX9A8XRCABVC0JLCA0F0UHTCA0GQMIRCAUCTBJECAB4BWN3CAVV9BM3CAI5PGNMCAS5P10NCA28Z8CKCA0JT5D3CAKA61C4CAD7F70LCAHSHF6YCA4AEKIICARX51ZFCA1KCUQS.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I heard yesterday from Kendra at Island Med Student blog that Francis died on Tuesday. I know many of you have followed Mr. Rasta's plight and have contributed to his care. I am so grateful to each of you who helped to ease the difficult life of this special man.<br /></div><br /><div>Francis touched my heart in a way few people have done. He was so reluctant to ask for help, so at peace with himself and accepting of the terrible challenges he faced. I learned so much from him in the short time I knew him. He was able to rise above his circumstances in a way I am not. I never knew him to whine and wallow (as I am prone to do).</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>He was a gift in my life. A living example of grace with a touch of Caribbean/Rastafari sweetness.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The last time I spoke with him, he told me he would always hold me in his heart. I spoke the same words to him. And I believe that we do still hold a special place in our hearts for one another. I will never forget him.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>His funeral is today at the Catholic Church in St. Joseph if you are on the island and wish to attend. </div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-5848913081137911422008-02-02T13:45:00.001-04:002008-05-14T13:40:45.930-04:00My life with humidityMold spore<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/R3fhjsMu1qI/AAAAAAAABSg/96AbRwrllhI/s1600-h/mold.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149832702197683874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/R3fhjsMu1qI/AAAAAAAABSg/96AbRwrllhI/s400/mold.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I thought St. Louis, our home town, was the most humid place on earth, but I had never before lived near rain forest. Up North, however, no matter how nasty the humidity is outside, the inside is always nicely climate controlled. (Of course one reason I wanted to move here was to get out of my climate controlled box.)<br /><br />Here is far different. Here I clean mold off my furniture. Did your mother teach you how to manage mold on your furniture? Mine did not. My leather shoes begin to grow fuzz. And today I took out a couple of pillows to find the cases covered in mildew. Ugh :(<br /><br />We have some friends who bag up their most precious things with silica gel. Mr. Wizard is thinking about having lights burn in the closets of Lilliput to lower humidity. (But only after we are off the Domlec .47 USD per kWh electric grid.) Many hours are spent around dinner tables swapping ideas about managing humidity, mold and mildew. I have had people tell me of opening their DVD or VCR players to find them full of mold. The tropics are tough on electronics.<br /><br />Who knows, maybe the next line of antibiotic is lurking within the the mold of someone's VCR on Dominica. Where, Oh, where might Jonas Salk be?<br /><br />Of course we all know what mold can do to people's health, and it is so prevalent here it is worrisome. Mr. Wizard is highly mold sensitive and has to take antihistamines before entering some buildings which trigger his allergies.<br /><br />Keeping house here is<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"> far</span> more work intensive than up North. Having open doors and windows are wonderful in keeping the psyche connected to nature, but it also means the house has all manner of things blow through. (I recently found a tiny frog on my kitchen counter who had to be repatriated to the great outdoors.) And because of the humidity everything needs to be hauled into the sun frequently for airing. Having household help is not a luxury here. It is <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">necessary</span> if you do not want everything you own to be destroyed by the tropics, and if you need to perform any other function in the world other than house drudge.<br /><br />So, today I am bleaching pillows, trying to catch up the masses of laundry, and muttering.<br /><br />livingdominica: who is afraid to take out her posh red leather jacket an see what the tropics have done to it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-74143862018735477362008-01-28T08:24:00.000-04:002008-01-28T09:15:17.515-04:00The Dominica EbookJanuary has been a record month for book sales at <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><a href="http://livingdominica.com">Living Dominica</a>.</span> It is gratifying when lots of people find their way to our web page and choose to purchase our book. I suppose when the weather up north is cold and miserable, the book is even more appealing. Thank you to all you book buyers!<br /><br />It is interesting to me the number of emails we get from people looking at a move to Dominica based on my eBook. We have even heard from people prepared to invest in property sight unseen! I always discourage this and tell them to come down, and get a feel for the island. I think that renting here for a while, allowing Dominica to seep into your pores before buying, is an excellent idea. You have to be comfortable with the differences to make a go of it here.<br /><br />For instance, one time I was encouraging our daughter to join us in living on Dominica. "But what do I do when it is 3AM and I am dying for a cheeseburger?" she replied. Suggesting that she consider making her own was not appealing. Clearly, she is not ready to live here even though she finds the island dazzling.<br /><br />If you are not ready to leave behind easy access to cheeseburgers, you are not ready for Dominica.<br /><br />Dominica is a land of such promise. The natural beauty is amazing, and the people are warm and welcoming. It is an easy place with which to fall in love. But it also will serve up its share of frustrations and difficulty. I recently heard the following from a person who owns a home here:<br /><blockquote style="font-style: italic;">"I've experienced some of the most beautiful as well as most horrifying times on this unique island which seems to be constantly calling for drama. I still love Dominica and consider her my home, although I am presently living on another Caribbean island. Whenever I visit, which is at least 3 - 4 times a year, and watch from the plane as Dominica's tall green body appears mystically through the clouds, I know I am coming home.<br /><br />Dominica can give you everything, but also take everything."</blockquote>I guess that says it all, doesn't it?<br /><br />livingdominica: you probably know that Dominica's indigenous name is Waitikubuli, meaning <span style="font-style: italic;">Tall is Her Body. </span><span>Isn't that lovely...</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-42484072412512226622008-01-25T09:50:00.000-04:002008-01-25T10:10:07.709-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/R5npo_gHqkI/AAAAAAAABXY/c4AbhfYFjGc/s1600-h/EARTHRISE.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/R5npo_gHqkI/AAAAAAAABXY/c4AbhfYFjGc/s400/EARTHRISE.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159411738579806786" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees." Revelations 7:3</span></span><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-26058674785176538242008-01-25T07:46:00.000-04:002010-02-07T10:18:53.877-04:00Mr. Wizard and the Wall Street JournalMr. Wizard had a chat with a writer for the Wall Street Journal. You can read the article <a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120215009626041505.html?mod=rss_PJ_Main">here</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-54549825375613205562008-01-25T06:35:00.001-04:002008-01-25T06:45:02.292-04:00Kendra does PMHBe sure to visit Kendra at <span style="font-weight: bold;">Island Med Student</span> as she writes about <a href="http://www.islandmedstudent.com/home/2008/01/24/life-at-princess-margaret-hospital/">Princess Margaret Hospital</a><br />and her clinical rotations.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-37603469891949032242008-01-24T04:48:00.002-04:002008-12-29T00:14:29.227-04:00Dominica can give you everything, but also take everything.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-67266536708292116652008-01-22T12:03:00.001-04:002008-03-14T08:05:19.617-04:00Dear ReadersI may in the near future start another book and incorporate some of the writing from this blog into that work. I have therefore removed some of my blog posts from the public domain.<br /><br />Here is my current working title: "How I Moved to the West Indies and Lived to Tell the Tale"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-71486539212984080992008-01-22T09:26:00.001-04:002008-05-14T13:02:28.702-04:00<span style="font-size:130%;">We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. --Joseph Campbell</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-9708664015313021872008-01-18T06:55:00.001-04:002008-02-28T12:43:04.741-04:00We visit a village health centerMr. Wizard and I visited a village health center with our friend <a href="http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/2007/09/adventure.html">Mr. Rasta</a>. He goes there every day, including weekends, to have his dressing changed, since his tumor is now too massive for him to manage on his own. (<a href="http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/2007/11/here-is-life-goes-on-washing-machine.html">Life Goes On</a> is facilitating transportation for his dressing changes, and continue to do laundry for him each week.) I got to meet some of his nurses, see the clinic, and watch them change his dressing.<br /><br />I was impressed.<br /><br />The clinic was spacious with a large waiting room with educational materials on the walls and a TV. The exam room was well equipped. Everything was neat and very clean. And the nurses did an excellent job changing the dressing. (I have to admit they did a better job than I do, as they are not as messy I am)<br /><br />I had the very pleasant task if delivering dressings to the clinic. Some kind readers of this blog, and nurses at the hospital where I worked, sent large boxes of dressing supplies for my friend. It was such a pleasure to get to give the nurses these supplies and Mr. R was very pleased also.<br /><br />I am, of course, very concerned about the continuing growth of Mr. R's tumor and the noticeable weight loss we are seeing. His appetite is falling off and he is becoming weaker.<br /><br />Mr. R. is Rastafari and has a deep love of all things of nature. We printed off the <a href="http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/2008/01/deeply-strange-impossibly-beautiful.html">Hubble pictures</a> of deep space for him and he marveled at discovering yet another source of nature's innate beauty, beyond the stars. These images spoke to his gentle soul the way they do to me, I think.<br /><br />livingdominica: Thank you to those of you who went to the expense and trouble of sending supplies down to Mr. Rasta.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-73178455308726796442008-01-17T10:22:00.000-04:002008-03-14T07:44:41.597-04:00Tennessee Williams and Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Ru5sD4NWUKI/AAAAAAAAA1k/p7zE6o3ZjRk/s1600-h/100_4231.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111141440995872930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Ru5sD4NWUKI/AAAAAAAAA1k/p7zE6o3ZjRk/s400/100_4231.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span class="body">"Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.</span> " --<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tennessee_Williams">Tennessee Williams</a><br /><br />I fell in love with the work of Tennessee Williams as a young adolescent, and this love affair never died. I love the passionate, seedy Southern life he portrays. Perhaps because my roots are in the seedy South. I love the way he crafts words and paints pictures, making magic with vowels and consonants. For years as a young woman I talked of going to New Orleans, or Key West (wherever he was living at the time) and filling his mailbox with roses. Isn't that a pretty idea?<br /><br />Unfortunately, this was all the hot air and posturing of youth. I never made it to that mailbox. I never bought those roses.<br /><br />Tennessee Williams was from my home town of St. Louis, Missouri. He loathed St Louis. He never said a good word about it. Just watch <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">The Glass Menagerie</span> and you'll see why. It was where he ran from. So of course when he died, his brother brought him there to bury him. Yep, the lawyer brother decided to plant him in exactly the last place on earth he would want to be.<br /><span class="body"></span><blockquote><span class="body">"The most dangerous word in any human tongue is the word for brother. It's inflammatory.</span>" --Tennessee Williams<br /></blockquote>This travesty <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">did</span> allow me to finally see my hero face to face. He was dead of course. But still, <span style="font-size:+0;">maybe</span> he was around somewhere nearby watching.<br /><br />One advantage of looking like I do is that I appear sweet and harmless. I went to the funeral home before the public events started, and charmed the funeral guy with my best harmless wiles. He let me sit alone with Tennessee, marveling at the overpainted face and mahogany monstrosity they placed him in.<br /><br />No, I did not buy him roses. He was dead, after all. Roses are meant for the living. And definitely not for brothers who bury you in the last place you want to be. Williams' body was interred in the <a title="Calvary Cemetery, St. Louis, Missouri" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Calvary_Cemetery%2C_St._Louis%2C_Missouri">Calvary Cemetery, St. Louis, Missouri</a>, despite his stated desire to be buried at sea at approximately the same place as the poet <a title="Hart Crane" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hart_Crane">Hart Crane</a>, whom he considered one of his most significant influences.<br /><br />livingdominica: if anyone on the island would like to do a production of <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Cat on a Hot Tin Roof</span>, I think I would be a perfect Big Mama. <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-33951323264024914522008-01-16T15:57:00.000-04:002010-02-10T20:42:05.211-04:00Curiouser and Curiouser<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/R2bYE8Mu1OI/AAAAAAAABNQ/qO1g3tLytn0/s1600-h/carambola-lg.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; FLOAT: left; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145037203707974882" border="0" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/R2bYE8Mu1OI/AAAAAAAABNQ/qO1g3tLytn0/s400/carambola-lg.jpg" /></a><br />Today I changed <a href="http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/2007/10/thoughts-on-suffering.html">Mr. Rasta's</a> dressing. (By the way, it sounds like he will soon be heading down to Barbados! Hooray!) Anyway, I bagged up the dirty dressing and took it to the hospital incinerator dumpster as directed by the hospital infection control nurse. Much to my surprise, there was a naked man in the dumpster.<br /><br />Not only a naked man, but a carambola eating naked man who had painted himself with mud. Sitting there, amidst the bags of hospital waste. Hmm.<br /><br />Did I mention he was <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">naked</span>, <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">painted in mud, and eating carambola </span>in the hospital dumpster? Oh, I guess I did.<br /><br /><blockquote>"Say there, friend, that is probably the worst place you could possible choose to sit and eat carambola." I remarked.<br /><br />"Yes, ma'am." he replied. (Nice manners, this loon)<br /><br />"You really should get out of there", I insisted, "There is all kinds of stuff in there which can hurt you!" I was a little sharper now.<br /><br />Even more meekly the waste bin's occupant replied, "Yes, ma'am".<br /><br />But he didn't move.</blockquote><br />So I was forced to hunt down security and get him in trouble. I suspect he will be indoors soon being scrubbed down by some nursing student doing her psychiatric rotation.<br /><br />livingdominica: life is just full of surprises. And some of them are naked, painted with mud, and eat carambola in a dumpster.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-17938141121738606022008-01-13T11:07:00.003-04:002008-12-29T00:15:27.326-04:00Burning tires in paradise<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VOOrb2QYpQmK4qsXx9ujKRNpuTT7ebqodWh4jxra-dsptGpcwMupNASVkHI65cwtzlnu53mg-DyRhS2a8ewQ2FfOMIDPQ8CcNmGVgfbn28jUyYF-52Uqsno_bnzVB9W5V8FMCiprHr91/s1600-h/smoke.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159783974805416546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VOOrb2QYpQmK4qsXx9ujKRNpuTT7ebqodWh4jxra-dsptGpcwMupNASVkHI65cwtzlnu53mg-DyRhS2a8ewQ2FfOMIDPQ8CcNmGVgfbn28jUyYF-52Uqsno_bnzVB9W5V8FMCiprHr91/s400/smoke.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />We spent our weekend working downwind of a neighbor's burning. Here the common practice is to throw a tire in the mix of burning brush to support combustion. So house, laundry and our lungs were filled with burning tire smoke for two solid days. I had a two day sinus headache. And that doesn't even compare to the environmental impact of this practice. Who cares about global warming and air pollution? Throw another tire on! <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Never mind</span> that <a href="http://www.epa.gov/garbage/tires/fires.htm">85 % of a tire is carbon</a>--making them another source of greenhouse gas emissions. Never mind that burning tires emits <a href="http://www.elaw.org/resources/text.asp?id=567">serious levels of carcinogens and mutagenic material</a> into the air. According the EPA, our neighborhood should have been evacuated or we should all have worn respirators this weekend.<br /><br />Mr. Wizard has fought this battle more than once. He has argued vehemently with hired workers that they are <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">never</span> to burn tires on our land, and he has met consistent incredulity. "But that is what we do here..." He has to repeat the mantra frequently: no tire burning, no tire burning, no tire burning...<br /><br />Here on the Nature Island, not only do we have the inevitable pollution of a refinery imminent, but we have the ongoing and time honored practices of tire burning, noise pollution, and general littering to cope with. There is a disconnect here between the goal of preserving the island and all things natural, and the reality of entitled destruction. Sometimes it seems to me that the island is honored only as long as an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">eco</span> tourist with dollars is listening.<br /><br />Please, Dominica, don't just pour your energy into developing a tourist "product". Pour your energy into education and environmental protection. Into changing the prevalent destructive practices. Into saving this green jewel before it is too late.<br /><br />And stop the refinery. There is no such thing as a non-polluting refinery, Friends. A frequent argument for the refinery is that it will bring jobs. But it will also cause jobs to be lost! When the resident whale pod moves on because of polluted waters, whale watching will die here. When the reefs are destroyed, the dive industry will die. When the air is full of refinery belched emissions, the entire tourist industry may die. When the first environmental "accident" occurs and there is a spill, the fishing industry will be seriously impacted.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">livingdominica</span>: who is <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">so</span> hoping that the neighbor is done burning. cough, cough, wheeze...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-87717100301821857152008-01-10T15:30:00.000-04:002010-02-07T10:18:00.417-04:00The Mustard Seed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/RvlbegBk0sI/AAAAAAAAA6M/mjZ6a3vn0Ss/s1600-h/4378-30.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; FLOAT: left; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5114219431406654146" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/RvlbegBk0sI/AAAAAAAAA6M/mjZ6a3vn0Ss/s400/4378-30.jpg" /></a><br />"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." --Jesus<br /><br />When I was 2 my Dad died in a car wreck, leaving my Mother lost as to how to cope with 3 kids. During the trials, (literal and figurative) which followed his death my Mother wore a necklace like the one pictured here. It contains a tiny mustard seed. She used to tell me it reminded her that she only needed to have a little bit of belief for things to work out. I still have that necklace and I have been wearing it recently, hoping it will provide the same reminder to me.<br /><br />As an adult I discovered this Buddhist story about the mustard seed. Isn't it interesting that both teachers used a mustard seed in their parable?<br /><br />A woman was grief stricken with the death of her beloved child. Distraught, she came to the Buddha begging him to restore life to her precious baby. The Buddha agreed to help her only if she could bring him a mustard seed from a home that had never suffered death and grief. The woman searched franticly, asking everyone, but was never able to find a home untouched by the sadness of loss. Slowly, she came to see that her loss was not special or unique. All souls suffer. All are touched by death and loss. Her grief was healed when she found compassion for others through her own grief.<br /><br />That story kind of kills off the "poor Me", doesn't it? And why is it that the best and most powerful lessons in life are also the most painful? Probably to open our hearts to the pain of others. When I was a hospice nurse, I noticed the very best hospice nurses had cared for their own dying relatives.<br /><br />livingdominica: I am a very lucky woman. May I never forget that.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-52861440292022161202008-01-07T07:07:00.001-04:002008-05-14T13:05:23.956-04:00Thoughts on Money<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;">Someone sent me a link to a site called </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="FONT-FAMILY: georgia" href="http://getrichslowly.org/blog/">Get Rich Slowly</a></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;">. It is an interesting site about frugality and voluntary simplicity. I believe these to be valuable goals as long as my frugality and simplicity is not supported by borrowing from others. "Never a borrower or a lender be" is the wise Yankee motto. Perhaps it is the fiercely independent American in me, but I am not comfortable borrowing from others. And lending can also be very uncomfortable when I have to ask for items to be returned. This has been a cultural adjustment for me, since sometimes it seems here that </span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >everyone</span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;"> wants something from me. So, I support the goal of frugality and simplicity as long as it is not paid for by others. Only saints should have their simple lifestyles supported by others.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;">Here is a quote by Ann Rynd:</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><blockquote style="font-family:georgia;"><blockquote><span style="font-size:100%;">"Poverty is not a mortgage on the labor of others, misfortune is not a mortgage on achievement, failure is not a mortgage on success, suffering is not a claim check, and its relief is not the goal of existence. Man is not a sacrificial animal on anyone's altar nor for anyone's cause. Life is not one huge hospital."</span></blockquote><p class="Attribution"><span style="font-size:100%;">-</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span dir="ltr" style="font-size:100%;">Ayn Rand, "The Voice of Reason"</span></p></blockquote><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;">Of course, compassion has to figure into the equation somewhere. I get a weekly thought from the Dalai Lama, and this week his words were also about money:</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span><blockquote style="font-family:georgia;"><p><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0);font-size:100%;" >"In the frenzy of modern life we lose sight of the real value of humanity. People become the sum total of what they produce. Human beings act like machines whose function is to make money. This is absolutely wrong. The purpose of making money is the happiness of humankind, not the other way around. Humans are not for money, money is for humans. We need enough to live, so money is necessary, but we also need to realize that if there is too much attachment to wealth, it does not help at all. As the saints of India and Tibet tell us, the wealthier one becomes, the more suffering one endures.</span></p><p><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0);font-size:100%;" >...Eating, working, and making money are meaningless in themselves. However, even a small act of compassion grants meaning and purpose to our lives."</span></p><p><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,0);font-size:100%;" >--from <i>How to Practice: The Way to a Meaningful Life</i> by the Dalai Lama, translated and edited by Jeffrey Hopkins</span></p><p></p></blockquote><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;">You can subscribe to the Dalai Lama's email list </span><span style="font-size:100%;"><a style="FONT-FAMILY: georgia" href="http://www.snowlionpub.com/pages/lists.php"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">here</span></a></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;">.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;">I am not sure how to reconcile Ann Rynd with the Dalai Lama, yet both speak truth to me. Perhaps balance is the key.</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-39209400460368007722008-01-03T06:13:00.000-04:002008-02-08T06:58:19.641-04:00Morning Meditation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwXQwoP8timBceo_mYxQKYrTb9N-4b9qrOqgF6Mf8UaicMEsxhWl1R1u4iq9cbhJkYJs-sSI5_-w5Js6dnx80DPOUb7xcnVQ_Oi4BcWF_gXdrSfPxcf5vsY-vwJRyAvYsLD7Pug7MwwO0U/s1600-h/pg27mistyveranda.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5150866384861714098" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwXQwoP8timBceo_mYxQKYrTb9N-4b9qrOqgF6Mf8UaicMEsxhWl1R1u4iq9cbhJkYJs-sSI5_-w5Js6dnx80DPOUb7xcnVQ_Oi4BcWF_gXdrSfPxcf5vsY-vwJRyAvYsLD7Pug7MwwO0U/s400/pg27mistyveranda.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Mr. Wizard and I have a very inconsistent meditation practice. But we do continue to try to incorporate meditation and prayer into our daily lives. One of the things we had hoped to find on Dominica was the time and space to expand these practices of spiritual unfolding. Unfortunately, our ability to be "too busy" and our procrastination followed us to the island like all the other character flaws we developed into full flower while living up North.<br /><br />But this morning we did sit in meditation on the back veranda. I had a lot of difficult getting quiet, but I was able be present in the moment as we sat. Each breath was moist as soft rain fell making a dull pitapat on the leaves in the garden next to me. Birds sang their morning celebration song. The pug snored softly in his meditation.When I opened my eyes, a mist was rising from the verdant green hills before me and the living presence of this island was immanent. Of course humanity is immanent also, and a car screeched down the road, its driver probably late for work.<br /><br />These are the moments which make me glad I am exactly where I am. The idea of listening to the furnace or A/C hum instead of hearing the birds and rainfall seems unfathomable. The image of hiding from the elements in a box, rather than being connected daily, seems an impossibility. All of the easy comforts of the Big World cannot make up for the prison life of house and job we once knew.<br /><br />livingdominica: and glad she is here, today anyway.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-27052628458961956982007-12-30T08:54:00.001-04:002008-05-14T13:44:18.904-04:00Spiritual Tourism<blockquote>"My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble mind." -- Albert Einstein<br /></blockquote><br />If you have looked at my blogger profile, you will see I list my profession as Spiritual Tourist. I have always found worthwhile bits and pieces from a myriad of spiritual traditions. Even things I might find a bit silly have a place in my sacred toolbox. At one time I had a positively glorious collection of trashy religious art. I loved it. I think I still have a flocked picture of Our Lady of Guadeloupe somewhere. I admire the kind of devotion which puts a statue of Mary in an upright bathtub in Saint Louis, or in more exotic locations, builds roadside shrines. And I love prayer flags!<br /><br />I also believe spiritual things, and life in general, must be approached with humor. Nothing is sacreligious to me. If God made pugs, He/She <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">must</span> have a sense of humor. So, I have to laugh at<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qzf8q9QHfhI&eurl=http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/"> Mr. Deity</a>.<object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Qzf8q9QHfhI"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Qzf8q9QHfhI" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="350" width="425"></embed></object><br /><br />In Saint Louis there is a custom that when selling your house, you <a href="http://www.snopes.com/luck/stjoseph.asp">bury a statue of Saint Joseph</a> upside down in the front yard. I can' t remember if he is supposed to face the house or the curb. All of the Catholic supply stores sell small statues for this purpose, with instructions on how to do it properly. You think I am kidding? Our house sold in less than a week at higher than the listing price. I dunno why these things work, but they seem to. And I am not Catholic. At least not recently.<br /><br />There is an order of nuns in Saint Louis, commonly known as the <a href="http://www.mountgraceconvent.org/">Pink Sisters</a>, who have remarkable success with the power of their prayer. They are a contemplative order who wear hot pink habits, and live smack in the middle of a very tough gang neighborhood where I once did hospice nursing. I used to go sit in their chapel during my lunch break. Maybe that is why I never had any harm come to me.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Ru_Y_INWURI/AAAAAAAAA2c/u61JjyK1lgI/s1600-h/sisters_garden.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111542681135632658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Ru_Y_INWURI/AAAAAAAAA2c/u61JjyK1lgI/s400/sisters_garden.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Anyway, a number of years ago, Pope John Paul II was coming to Saint Louis in January. That month is notorious for awful weather and people were worried, so they set the Pink Sisters to work on it. We had the best weather ever for that visit. (Hmmm. Maybe those Pink Sisters need to be praying for us as we build a house in Dominica.)<br /><br />So of course I love <a href="http://www.luckymojo.com/saintexpedite.html">Saint Expedite</a>. Saint Expedite is the patron of those who hope for rapid solutions to problems, who wish to avoid or put an end to delays. And I <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">certainly</span> need his help right now.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Ru_YCoNWUQI/AAAAAAAAA2U/5avXeALSQs4/s1600-h/saintexpedite.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5111541641753547010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Ru_YCoNWUQI/AAAAAAAAA2U/5avXeALSQs4/s400/saintexpedite.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There is a humorous tale about the arrival of Saint Expedite in New Orleans: The story goes that in outfitting the Chapel of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the priests sent off for a statue of the Virgin. Many months later, they received TWO crates instead of one. They opened the first and it contained the statue of Mary, which they had commissioned. They turned to the unexpected second crate, which said EXPEDITE on the outside. There they found the statue of a Roman centurion, and mistook the shipping instructions -- EXPEDITE, meaning, "expedite this shipment" -- to be the name of a saint.<br /><br />Expedite may be my favorite saint. I used to have a stack of his prayer cards, but I passed them out to friends who needed something expedited. I would love someone to send me some more.<br /><br />livingdominica: I also honor the solar wheel, have participated in sweat lodges, and meditated with the Buddhists. I am totally nondiscriminatory when it comes to the spiritual life, and therefore probably offend everyone. Sorry.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-48028754596081828592007-12-29T11:19:00.001-04:002008-12-29T00:17:02.816-04:00My least favorite present was from DOWASCO<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">DOWASCO</span> is our water company. And yet again, we have no water service.<br /><br />The sound of the jackhammer is filling the air, but the workers say they have not figured out the problem yet. We are in our second? third? day without water. It seems like a lifetime, since we are also feeling unwell at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Chez</span> Miller. And additionally, we have a new, leaky puppy who requires <em>lots</em> of attention and mopping up.<br /><br />That means lots of water hauling. And the laundry is piling high.<br /><br />Oddly enough, I heard the Minister over the utilities pontificate last night on TV about how <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">DOWASCO</span> is poised to provide service to the entire island. How will that happen if we do not have consistent water to the areas <em>already</em> served? Oh well, it was a lovely speech. But they all are, these speeches extolling the grandeur yet to come.<br /><br />I think I'll go back to bed. My misery index is up. I am sure the power will go out next just to complete this picture of tropical bliss.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">livingdominica</span>: I should have written Santa asking for consistent utility service.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-13792977614031378042007-12-26T12:30:00.000-04:002008-02-08T07:00:43.058-04:00One of my favorite presents was from a readerblueright wrote:<br /><blockquote>Merry Christmas Jen & Mr.Whiz,<br /><br />One of the gifts I bought for my Love is a mustard seed pendant, like the one you wrote about on <a href="http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/search/?q=mustard+seed">Tuesday, September 25, 2007</a>. I have printed your post and wrapped it with the pendant. Thanks for the meaningful gift idea.<br /><br />God Bless<br /></blockquote><br /><br /><br />Thank you, blueright, for sharing this with my family and I.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-30647264303461027302007-12-18T07:24:00.002-04:002008-12-29T00:16:31.926-04:00It Ain't Easy HereGentle Readers,<br />In case you missed this reoccurring theme, let me once again mention that life is tough on Dominica. Tough enough to make people flee, leaving behind everything they own.<br /><br />Let me explain.<br /><br />I got a call this morning shortly after 6 AM (!) from an expat woman I have never met, who was having a panic attack. She sold her house in the US, bought land in Dominica, ordered a car from Japan, and brought down a shipping container of her belongings. She has lived here just 2 months, and is ready to walk away from everything in order to return to the states. She hates it here. It is <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">not at all</span> like an island vacation.<br /><br />I have read that 40% of people expatriating to any country will return home within the first 2 years. I believe this number is probably larger on Dominica since most everything here is a trial fraught with difficulties, delays, and shortages. (Good friends of ours have had their construction project halted due to there being no cement on the island!)<br /><br />This panicy woman phoning at the crack of dawn is not the first person I have met walking away from their Dominican dream in despair. So let me state again for those of you dazzled by the dream of island living:<br /><br /><ul><li>Do not invest more than you can walk away from.</li><li>Rent first to make sure Dominica is for you.</li><li>Try an experimental mini-move if you can, without dismantling your life completely.<br /></li><li>Proceed with caution in all matters, using an attorney for all transactions.</li><li>Build a support systems of other expats, so you have people with similar experiences with whom to problem solve. Your Dominican friends just will not understand the <a href="http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/2007/06/expat-culture-shock.html">Culture Shock </a>you will inevitably experience.</li><li>Do not move here anticipating that you will easily generate income to support yourself.<br /></li><li>Please call <span style="font-size:0;">me</span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"> only</span> during regular Living Dominica office hours of <span style="font-size:0;">1:00 PM to 1:15 PM.</span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"> </span>(Someone else called us recently at 11:30 PM because they were experiencing their first <a href="http://livingdominica.blogspot.com/search/?q=Swarm">Swarm</a>)<br /></li></ul><br />Most likely I would have run back to the states already if Mr. Wizard did not have the tenacity (read <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">stubbornness) </span>born of his Germanic heritage. I would probably be up there shoveling snow and wishing I were down island again. Nowhere is perfect, but the grass does always appear greener where ever I am not located. So I perfectly understand the impulse to run away from island life.<br /><br />livingdominica: I recently had business cards printed which gives all my various contact information and clearly states in bold:<br /><br /><blockquote><strong>You have to be a little crazy.</strong></blockquote><div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-53186670172837654882007-12-18T07:08:00.000-04:002008-03-14T07:53:13.217-04:00Thoughts on the VolcanoesDominica is home to one of the highest concentrations of volcanoes on the planet. Some experts say 8, some list 9, but all agree on one point: we are overdue for an eruption here. And of course the area of densest population around Roseau (where we live) is where some of the worst volcanic risk exists. We have heard that the merchants of the island have bought up property in Portsmouth just in case it should become again the capitol city. Even for a Queen of Denial like myself, it is enough to give pause.<br /><br />Mount Pele today.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/RwtzUGq-pLI/AAAAAAAABA8/kXXdzFPpqV0/s1600-h/295px-La_Pel%C3%A9e_vue_du_Carbet.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119312190662157490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/RwtzUGq-pLI/AAAAAAAABA8/kXXdzFPpqV0/s400/295px-La_Pel%C3%A9e_vue_du_Carbet.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />In 1902 Mount Pele erupted just next door in Martinique, killing 30,000 denial prone people like myself in the "Paris of the West Indies", Saint Pierre. The mountain had been rumbling for quite a while, spewing ash, and the streets were awash with panicked snakes, centipedes, ants and the like. Still the people stayed at the foot of Pele, until May 8, 1902 when a pyroclastic cloud with temperatures to 1000 degrees C descended, covering the town and harbor.<br /><br /><br /><br />Blessing of the dead in Saint Pierre.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Rwt2Mmq-pNI/AAAAAAAABBM/jHW_K4b3cFI/s1600-h/102109.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119315360348021970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vUBYo0HbmsE/Rwt2Mmq-pNI/AAAAAAAABBM/jHW_K4b3cFI/s400/102109.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />The Wiz and I visited the Mount Pele museum last year and stood slack-jawed staring at the artifacts fused and warped by the intense heat. Looking at old pictures of the streetcars and the opera house in Saint Pierre it is a bit understandable how this sophisticated European community felt it could never happen to them.<br /><br />Dominica is just 30 miles from Mount Pele, so the eruption had a great impact on this island also, including this observation by our most famous daughter, Jean Rhys:<br /><p></p><blockquote><p style="FONT-STYLE: italic">At her home at the corner of Cork Street and Granby Street, now Independence Street, the 11-year-old Gwen Rees-Williams, later in life to be known as Jean Rhys, was taken to a window by her mother and was shown the glow to the south and the falling ash:</p><p><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">'My mother woke me and without saying anything led me to the window. There was a huge black cloud over Martinique. I couldn’t ever describe that cloud, so huge and black it was, but I have never forgotten it. There was no moon, no stars, but the edges of the cloud were flame-coloured and in the middle what looked to me like lightening flickered, never stopping. My mother said: ‘You will never see anything like this in your life again.’</span> from <a href="http://dominicapsn.freeyellow.com/Stories/pele.html">Mount Pele and Dominica</a></p></blockquote><br />So, here we are looking at property at the foot of Morne Anglais. Hmmm.<br /><br />livingdominica: I just may change my name to Cleopatra since I am the Queen of Denial...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-69064328867326569102007-12-14T07:07:00.000-04:002008-01-25T07:26:38.021-04:00We live at the end of the rainbowI took this from our veranda this morning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgTjCHBkKAYTKTpQ31NWMUwra558XIXB9rcAslyY1aUfbDLu5tb4cyWiGykBPNbuDXf1Y80gHVr6dGePG-FM762ycLKe_5EqRc7CfkMh8-e2HbCskDDNK880iiEQCsOw-xWwKUChoTdbl/s1600-h/100_4487.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihgTjCHBkKAYTKTpQ31NWMUwra558XIXB9rcAslyY1aUfbDLu5tb4cyWiGykBPNbuDXf1Y80gHVr6dGePG-FM762ycLKe_5EqRc7CfkMh8-e2HbCskDDNK880iiEQCsOw-xWwKUChoTdbl/s320/100_4487.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5143820924804322402" border="0" /></a><br />Here is a link to some other gorgeous pictures of <a href="http://www.flickr.com/groups/worldwidewandering/discuss/72157594305268529/#comment72157603452221120">Dominica</a>. Enjoy!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6150042189719858374.post-71874757877910125112007-12-12T13:14:00.001-04:002008-02-28T12:41:22.022-04:00"Help Yo Brother"Most of the taxis and minibuses here on Dominica have names at the top of the windshield. Some of the names are funny, like "Flash de Bobs", some are rather sweet like "Humble African". But I saw a new one today: "Help Yo Brother".<br /><br />And that is <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">exactly</span> what we need to do right now.<br /><br />Please, if you are on the island and are able to give blood, go to Princess Margaret and donate a pint for my friend Mr. Rasta. He has been having increased bleeding from his tumor and has already had two units, but he needs more. If you call <span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Life Goes On </span><span style="font-size:+0;">(449-8593)</span><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"> </span><span style="font-size:+0;">they</span> will give you his proper name so that you can tell the blood bank who you are donating to help. PMH accepts donations in the early am hours.<br /><br />Mr. Rasta would be very grateful for your help, and I am sure he would like to meet you if you donate for him. We discussed today me asking you to come donate for him, and he was glad to have anyone know he is in the hospital who is willing to help.<br /><br />I am sprung from sturdy peasant stock, so I gave my pint yesterday with no difficulty. Mr. Wizard, however, has some lurking aristocracy in his background and was flatly refused. He has a wee little thing with his heart that people fuss over. Humpf. Sounds like an excuse, doesn't it?<br /><br />It is the tradition here for family to provide food and linens for hospitalized patients, as well as all of the little things a Big World hospital automatically provides. The Wiz and I are trying to fill the gap since our buddy doesn't have much help.<br /><br />So I have been cooking vegetarian food of questionable quality, doing laundry for our friend, etc. Here, more than anywhere I have ever lived, the village really cares for a person. When those social supports are lost the effect is devastating. This is a much more interdependent world than where I lived in up North. Even my marginal vegetarian cuisine is appreciated.<br /><br />I do hope some of you will give a very special gift this holiday, and go give blood for Mr. Rasta.<br /><br />livingdominica: One Love. One People.<br />or "Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers..."<br />whatever truth speaks to you.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><a href="http://www.bloglines.com/sub/http://livingdominica.blogspot.com">
<img src="http://static.bloglines.com/images/lang/default/sub_modern2.gif" border="0" alt="Subscribe with Bloglines" />
</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2