May I recommend a watch, sir?

Much to the chagrin of my knees, I've signed up to train for a short distance triathlon here in Guadeloupe. I can do it. It's not really far: swim=.47 mi, bike=12.4mi, run=3.1mi. Seriously, I know I can do it.
Thing is, the first two training sessions were a bit of a disappointment, and I'm chalking it up to island time. Night number one. I call in the afternoon to confirm the time and place. All good. I show up at designated place five minutes early. I wait.

For. Forty. Five. Minutes.

During the minutes, I asked around. Everyone in the other groups was very nice, saying they had never really seen my group at the track. Ok. I called the guy, who said he was coming in ten minutes. He arrives, asks if it's me who's waiting for him, I say yes, and off we go. No' sorry', no 'how long have you been waiting', no 'this is a better time for you to come since I can't get here before now'...Okay. I went with the flow and had an okay workout.

Next day: today. Again, I call ahead and confirm the time, place, and person to look for. I arrive on time. I search the beach. I call the guy, no answer. I call the organization. No answer. I swim alone.

Now, I'm just saying, I could be wrong, but generally speaking, if you hand out a printed pamphlet including a schedule of events and meetings, shouldn't some of them actually happen, and could they possibly happen on time if I gifted the organization some free Timex watches? And if the meetings won't happen, shouldn't there be some sort of, oh I don't know, system, to let people know?
Consider email, perhaps, a lovely invention which allows entire lists of people (aka listserves) to be notified instantly and all at once of any news you'd like to send them.
Additionally- though a bit less advanced- is group texting. Straight to the mobile phone, same concept. I know this works because I watch people here in Guadeloupe texting while driving around the roundabouts allll the time! I'm fairly certain this would be the best method of communication.

All in all, I can't say I haven't started training. I ran. I swam. Plus, the exercise allows me to rationalize this ti-punch I'm about to have with The Pirate, alongside the vegetarian pizza(read:entirely overloaed, half a pound per slice, three cheeses also). So that's nice.
Now, I'll try again tomorrow and get some information from the other running group that seemed much more interesting, and interested.

The King...how could I not.

Much like the news from the US, MJ's death is all over the news here, online, on tv, on the radio. Check out this article from the local news, France-Antilles. It's in french, sure, but it's a peek at the local online news.

Since I had a poster of MJ in my bedroom growing up, the one with him all in white and a yellow border around the outside, I have to post simply to acknowledge his passing.
I'm bummed that I never went to a concert, but then I have mixed feelings about him and the whole sharing a bed with children thing.

So there it is, my small, heartfelt, electronic condolence.

Swimming to a tiny island from a bigger one...

Island life has a lot to offer in terms of outdoor exercise, in spite of the insane heat this time of year. Swimming is top on my list: I can do it, it keeps me cool, and who doesn't love the beach.
I couldn't help but think of some cheesy symbolism in my swim: I leave the big piece of land for a smaller one. Just like leaving the States for this island of Guadeloupe. The difference is that in reality, I'm not heading directly back to the bigger piece of land, the States, for a nice sandwich and a nap on my towel. No, I'm staying on the smaller piece of land.

I do wish the smaller piece of land had a bit more to offer though. Just as during my swim, I get to the small island, and while I love the beauty, the natural state, and the people who are there are nice, it's just ... well...it's an adjustment. Perhaps in life it's like the swim: each time I go back and forth to my small island from the big one, it gets easier. Each time the current is strong but I still make it.

How did I get here and where is the mall.

I'm not serious about the mall. Well, okay a little. Here I am, on the island of Guadeloupe in the french west indies. It's a laid back place filled with exciting little events, like coconuts falling from trees or having to kill an enormous cockroach with your flip flop. Yeah, it's not always roses, especially when you become convinced that the roaches know who you are and are running at you, ensemble, in some form of attack. Despite my war with the roaches, life is pretty sweet.

Now in my mid thirties, (when do I say late thirties? I refuse to do so until I've hit at least 38) I have this amazing opportunity to learn a new language, a new culture, and how to live in a family that consists of more than just myself. I'm learning a lot more than that but those are the majors. All of this learning makes for what I think are some pretty funny/cool/touching/interesting moments. I had the urge to share the ones that gave me the biggest belly laugh, a tear in my eye, a devilish grin, or that left me looking like a dork, the latter probably being the most common.

I grew up in the northeast of United States. I spent the last ten years in California. How did I get to Guadeloupe? Let's chalk it up to love. You just never know when it can hit, and all the major facets of your life seem to coordinate in a perfect performance, with you out in front, being pushed ahead in a way you never could have conceived of, until you are finally there, center stage. It's a little stressful, admitedly. Love can bring you places, but you still have to make your own way when you get there.

Life is different here as compared to where I have lived before: a bit slower. In a new place, without your close friends, it's easy to feel lonely even surrounded by people. I found myself thinking of walking around the mall here for many reasons, the first of which being that the mall is air conditioned. Heaven. The second reason is that well, sadly, I feel at ease there. I can just walk, look, listen, and if I so desire, pay for some goods. Easy. Easier than trying to keep up with french conversation moving at 100 miles an hour when you're stuck on the first sentence that ended five minutes ago. Someday......at least the book I bought said I'd be speaking French in 'just three months'!

...and so, this is the world of a suburban-raised, city loving, now island living girl who doesn't surf.