Happiness Quotient in Guadeloupe

Months back, I received a message from someone who was reading my blog (!) and was also in the process of moving to Guadeloupe. Who knew anyone was reading this besides you? Furthermore, who knew anyone was choosing to move to Guadeloupe if they weren't being taken by a Pirate? At that time, we began exchanging emails and one half of Couple Moving To Gwada asked me a fantastic question:
What would you say is the happiness quotient of the people of Guadeloupe?

Here were my choices:

happy?
miserable?
welcoming?
stand-offish?

Now as I said this was months ago, and I thought about this for weeks. I wanted to give a fair answer, so I could not write about this on a day when the internet needed resetting three times and there was no wind at all and it was a million degrees and I had mosquito bites in places I couldn't believe they could get to. Not a good idea. I also didn't want to write while I was having my best moment here, after a fantastic day full of friends, because although that's positive, it's still not like that all the time. (It is more and more, but it's still quite lonely.) I wrote a bit. I saved the draft. Now I go back and look and it's interesting to see what I thought. Here it is, two months old view of the happiness quotient of the people in Guadeloupe:

"...happy, not miserable, and stand-offish, not welcoming. It's a blanket statement. I know...But at the moment it's my experience. I want to be clear though. To say that I find a culture not welcoming is not the same thing as saying I don't like it, or that I find the entire culture to be not nice. This is not the case at all.
The thing with living Someplace Else is that to a certain extent I think we expect that being from Someplace Else will aid us in making friends. Yeah, I've pretty much realized that this is princessy of me, because frankly, who cares? Does it make me a better or cool person because I'm from Someplace Else? No. BUT, It's a talking point, the similarity in that we're both here, but the interesting differences in our paths to get here. Right? As I'm finding, not so much. Or at least, not enough to break down the wall I find in the culture here. That is why I arrived at not welcoming."

So there it is. I wrote it. Each person I met didn't throw a parade for me to say "Congratulations American suburbanite for coming to reside on our island. Have a coconut!" Apparently this was disappointing a few months ago. Well, even a little time can change things I guess. I don't really think people are unwelcoming anymore. Why? I guess I realized that I don't organize a parade for every person I meet who is from somewhere else. Sure, I may be more interested in their story than the next guy, but that's my style. I've always been nosy. It's a gift until it ruins your own surprise party. This is a good example of growth in the first few years of living Someplace Else. Never get too set in your head about something because it - your view of things - may very well change.

When it doesn't translate...

..Or does it?

Tweetage Wasteland : Say Hello to My Little Friend

A re-blog of another blog. Because it's relevant. Although my French is (according to some friends) much better than it was a few months ago, I still don't really pick up on conversations going on around me if I'm not trying to participate. What I'm saying is, I don't overhear things. I tune it out. It's too much work. Do I tune it out conversations going on around me at the mall back home? Probably. That being said, I could overhear with greater ease something being said in English.
Since I'm not snooping on my neighbors conversations, I choose to spend my waiting time - have I mentioned that there is A LOT of that here - looking at stuff on my iphone. In the doctors office, at the post office, the bank, the supermarket, the school parking lot, in traffic, walking in the mall, at the restaurant. With the Pirate. Sad but true folks. Much like the writer in my re-blog, I have used the excuse that my iphone keeps me in touch. With who? With my family and friends back home. It provides an opportunity to communicate with ease, to understand jokes, to make snarky comments on peoples facebook posts. Ahhh, the simple things in life.
But what of real conversation? I miss it. I know as I post and read completely gratuitous things that I'm not truly participating in a conversation. I know that with every hour spent looking at a screen I am keeping myself from practicing French, and from meeting people where I am RIGHT NOW.
And you know what? I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I'm not ready. Perhaps I have not hit my rock bottom and I'm happy dwelling in my semi-reality; iphone in hand, laptop within reach, English language jokes a plenty to keep me laughing. Ahhh. Yes. No celebrity rehab for internet over-users here. Not yet. Hey....what's that? Is that a new app? Where ya goin'?

Tweetage Wasteland : Say Hello to My Little Friend

French women don't get fat? Not sure.

Random thought:
French women do get fat. That is, they can. And if I'm to make blanket statements similar to the title of the famous book French Women Don't Get Fat, from my perspective here in Guadeloupe:

French women do get fat. They smoke. All of them. They eat McDonalds sometimes. They DO shave under their arms.

More blanket statements:
I see that French women here don't seem to get hung up on a non Kate Moss-like body. They rock that bikini at any age, often sans top, actively moving around the beach. They go to anti-cellulite massage, and make bread at home in a bread machine. They drink wine and beer. They bring the entire kitchen to the beach, table, chairs, pot right off the stove with real food in it. Okay so that last bit is typically Creole family style, but we're talking French Creole, et voila.

What stands out to me here is a lack of over-doing anything. Working, for example? Never too much. Eating? Enough to satiate, maybe some snacks with the apero, perhaps a dessert at dinner. No Doritos bags being carried around. No Big Gulps. No extra large triple shot half caf one third skim two thirds whole chocolate sprinkled on top chocka mocha hava nagila lattes. McDonalds, yes, but I tell you, I swear the Big Mac is smaller here.

Now that I've adjusted to expresso insead of iced lattes, I have to say, I'm enjoying (most of the time) my gastronomical journey in the land of good yet not so plenty.

Interesting article on French women and fat on subversify.com. Like it!
Playmobil Wine Bar - get yours today !

The lives within our life

Les Monstres are a busy pair. They look after so many things each day, you see. For one thing, there is the entire planet of LEGO which exists in the playroom. For another thing there is planet Playmobil. From time to time I find life in the playroom carrying on without Les Monstres, which is kind of freaky.

I found Batman and not quite Robin having a conversation in a not so well lit playroom, alone.

Then I opened the window for some sunlight, and saw the body of a LEGO man on one side, and the house they had ransacked, and gasp, the body of an innocent Playmobil man on the other side. Jeesh. I have no idea what went down but the aftermath is clear.

"Batman, we've got to clean up this mess before they come back. I don't know what the hell you were drinking last night but you should not have driven that Batmobile home. Now look: we've got a dead comrade and a dead Playmobil dude. But that's okay 'cos we can take his house...the Lego dude though..jeez dude, get it together!"

Living in Guadeloupe, amazing things can happen even when it seems unlikely

The other day I watched an incredibly beautiful sunset over Guadeloupe, the island of slow moving everything. At times, something gives me pause and I feel my solar plexus relax and I take a deep breath and think that I really can get past the differences between here and home that test my patience and my morale. Like what? A few things:

The Pirate. He is extraordinarily patient. He makes me laugh my ass off, which helps tremendously. Laughter really is one of the best medicines.
Les Monstres. I'm attached.
The friends I have managed to make here.
Exercise, when I get to it.
New comments from strangers who are reading my blog. So cool! I know, dork alert but bear with me...

I have received a small handful of comments on my blog about living in Guadeloupe. The people leaving the comments are living here now and like me, they are from someplace else. They are learning French also, or at least speak English, although I can't speak to the level of French for all of them. The common denominator amongst us is the perception that living in Guadeloupe certainly presents some challenges.

Just the other day I was thinking that on some level I had lost the battle here in Guadeloupe. I was feeling that I had tried to befriend her, tried to work with her, and ultimately could not figure out how to exist with this strong, slow moving beast. I was feeling unequipped. Then I received the comment from Jack, a reader on the island who wrote almost exactly what I was thinking. Wow. Really? Someone who feels the same as me and doesn't just shrug their shoulders in quiet acceptance of things? Intriguing.
Suddenly, I did not feel so alone in my seemingly typically American stress-outs about Guadeloupe. Suddenly, I'm feeling that perhaps together those of us who are baffled by some of the culture here can come together and find some inspiration, recall the great points of Guadeloupe in order to stay positive and create a more successful experience. We could exchange learned information in order to save time and energy. We could drink Budweiser and eat steak and clean our rifles....not exactly...but you get the idea.
So in combination with my attempt to look for inspiration rather than despair, I think I'll offer up a meeting with the folks who have contacted me specifically about life in Guadeloupe. No, like an actual in person meeting - old school - I know, CRAZY but it could be cool. It could be awful, who knows. All I know is I'm legitimately trying to focus on the good. I'm trying to remain calm, to find the zen spot more often than not. I believe that I can find the balance point. I believe that I can adjust. Some. I still stand by my beliefs in some spots though: I still believe it should not, in 2010, take three months to transfer internet service from one freaking house to another. Not. Budging. On. That.

Bisous!
...see? leaving on a positive note already! Good, right?!