Having thrown my clothes and miscellaneous personal items into a bag, even if not the correct bag, or even my bag, I felt my packing for our departure from St John was complete, so Carrie, Allie and I walked down to the souvenir shop while the in-laws made final sweeps of all the drawers and cabinets and threw all the bags in the jeep.  By the time we arrived in town, the bags were awaiting us (along with the in-laws) at the ferry dock, the jeep safely returned to the nice jeep rental man.

Allie wanted to mail some post cards, so she and I were in line at the post office when Carrie called to ask if either of us had seen the video cameras that morning. (Allie thought you could just write an address on the postcard and drop it in the box. She is 14 years old and has never used a stamp.)  Neither of us, come to think of it, had seen the video cameras. Sometime during our walk back the ferry dock my mother-in-law sort of remembered maybe leaving the cameras in the gazebo at the Westin, after we watched the feeding of the iguanas. 

A phone call or two confirmed that this is indeed where she had left them, but that someone had turned them in, and a gentleman from the Westin drove them to us.  (Nice people.)  By then we’d missed the 11:15 ferry, and the next one was not until noon, so we went on the hunt for a few more souvenirs. All over the island (and in The Keys too, if I remember correctly) there are shirts with a pirate image and the phrase “The beatings will continue until morale improves.” These are funny, but we’d seen them and they were not exactly flying into our hands. But, my father-in-law happened upon a variation of this shirt – “The drinking will continue until the economy improves” – that he thought just about summed up his attitude, and it was while purchasing this shirt that his phone rang. It was the nice jeep guy – they found a bag in the back of the jeep.  We trotted over there and discovered that, in their haste to get the bags out of the jeep while holding up traffic at the ferry dock, the in-laws had missed my wife’s purse.

So, finally having all of our personal belongings – we hope – we boarded the noon ferry to St Thomas. The taxi ride from the ferry dock on St Thomas to our hotel near the airport was pleasant, as we shared the taxi with a friendly couple from South Carolina who were completing their fifteenth trip to St John. Our hotel rooms would not be ready until 4:00, so we had two and a half hours to kill. It is common for restaurants to only be open for dinner here. I’m not sure if it is the time of year, or just that everyone sleeps in, but the only open restaurant was at the other hotel (not our hotel) so we took a shuttle over to another hotel and had lunch. It was nothing to write home about, so I will not.

After lunch, Allie and I went in search of our jet skiing adventure. We’d passed a place on the shuttle that looked like they would rent us a jet ski (our biggest clue was the jet skis littering the beach in front of a hut with a sign that said “We will totally rent you a jet ski.”) This was in walking distance from the other hotel (and right next to our hotel – we really didn’t need the shuttle, but some of us were tired of walking, I guess) so we walked over. They were happy to rent us a jet ski, but only for cash. I only had $45 cash left, so it was looking pretty grim, but one of the kids working at the jet ski place offered to drive us to the airport to get some cash. 

It was a three minute drive, at most.  As I stood in line for the ATM, the thought did jump through my mind that I’d just left my 14 year-old daughter in a car alone with a stranger.  But, the kid seemed nice, and when I walked back out, he and his car and my daughter were still in the same spot. So, we jumped on the jet ski (I’d worn my swim suit all day just in case) and off we went.  My jet skiing experience is limited to mostly small reservoirs in Colorado. I did ride one in Key West, and I remember not liking it so much because of all the waves. There are waves in this ocean too, but after a while we got comfortable and then we got a little crazy, and then it got really fun.  I had to give my sun glasses to the kiddo so her contacts did not fly out or get salty or something.  I had to turn my Soggy Dollar hat backwards, and eventually take it off and shove it inside my life vest so as not to lose another hat to the ocean this trip.  And we only almost killed three sea turtles. Actually, that last piece is sort of sad, and I did try to stay away from the area where I kept seeing turtles. They are so cute, and look so frightened when a jet ski comes whizzing by them at a billion miles an hour and the driver is steering maniacally in all directions trying to avoid their heads. There have not been Jet Skis in the area very long, and as much fun as we had, we agreed that we’d rather have alive sea turtles. 

By the time our hour ran out, we were whipped. Crashing over waves at high rates of speed can, after a while, start to become physical. And, having your feet shoved backwards so that your hips are spread as far apart as they will go can also severely debilitate a person. This is why, for the trips back toward shore, I selected what I began calling the Harley stance. I would put my feet as far forward as was possible and lean back into my seat so that I appeared, at least in my imagination, like I was riding a motorcycle. We sang “Born to be Wild” on several occasions, because if seemed like the right thing to do.

And that, my friends, was pretty much the end of the vacation.  We checked in, showered, had an uneventful dinner, and then fell with a thud into our hotel beds. “We” always travel with too many electronics, so this time “we” were not allowed to bring “our” laptops. Somehow this conversation that happened over a week ago translated this evening into Allie and Carrie on their laptops, and me laying in bed waiting for a computer. (This hotel has internet. I love the internet.)  So, the ladies are asleep, as we have to meet the in-laws at 6:30 in the lobby, and I am getting my computer time.  Tomorrow we are off to Atlanta, were we will spend the day. Carrie was trying to book us a tour of the Coke factory while we are there, so if that happens, I’ll have more to talk about. If not, I’ll just be sitting at the airport for six hours, wondering how they get all of the goodness into those little red cans. (Not that I drink Cokes anymore, but it is good.)

It’s been a fun trip, but I am looking forward to being home. I think that’s a good sign.  Adios, for now.

I am sitting at JJ’s Texas Coast Café – on the island of St John in the US Virgin Islands. I am tucked in a corner of the bar just inside the garage-door sized opening. From here I can see the Ferry dock and St John Island Spice. If I lean forward and squint through the boats and taxis I can almost see the sea, but knowing that it is there is enough for me.  Though I am inside, I am wet. Not soaking wet – but I do keep having to wipe my hands on my shorts to keep the moisture off the MacBook – a gift to my daughter last summer which came in quite handy this morning when I decided to find a spot to sit and write that might have internet, and a dry seat.

On this, our sixth day in the Caribbean, I am naturally beginning to summarize the trip, though we still have four days of paradise to get through. Were I a novel writer, I would wait until I was home and back to life before I began to dissect the trip – and would actually have no need to dissect, since in novel length I would have license to describe each footstep I took this morning in my search for a connection.

“I first placed my right foot – my good foot – to the uneven pavement, inspecting the ground carefully through the rubber of my flower-print Birkenstocks. The ground was hard, and though uneven, offered a surface wide enough to support my weight and that of my bag which held, among other things, my daughter’s phone, which I took in case of emergency, and her laptop, which I carried to record my thoughts and feelings of the morning, and perhaps my dreams for the future.  Having mentally registered that the ground was, in fact, solid and acceptable, I gingerly placed my left foot in front of my right. In this way, I knew I would make The Beach Bar within five minutes, and that, barring any pot holes or tree roots, I would arrive with all the tendons of both ankles in tact”

It’s raining. Again.  I have finally had enough rain.  While searching for the prevailing theme of this trip, I dismissed the lack of Internet, because I can live without Internet for a week. I discounted the exorbitant amounts of cash I have parted with, because this is vacation, and the only shrink I ever visited – who told me I did not have ADD, but was just lazy – also told me that spending money on vacation was what made life worth living. But, no matter how hard I try, I am unable to discount the rain.  It has rained every day – some days were just a drizzle off and on during our hike or our snorkel, but there have been real-to-life downpours lasting hours – the type of rain that never happens in Colorado, and the type, until recently, I professed to love and miss.   

Our last trip to St John was April, two years ago, and lasted only four days. We fell in love with the beautiful weather and relaxed atmosphere of the island. There is no bustle or even much commerce on St John – in sharp contrast to St Thomas, where there is an airport and gang shootings and all sorts of real-life stuff that no one wants to see on vacation.  This small island is ¾ National Park, and in the last three days I believe we have seen most of it. Hiking is relaxing in comparison to building a stone wall with your bare hands or clearing a jungle to plant sugar cane, but when compared to laying on the beach, or swimming in crystal-blue water, hiking treacherous mountain trails feels a lot like work.  Of course, with the weather, laying on the beach is sort of stupid. You can’t spend the whole day in the condo, or in the bar, so we decided to get out and see the island, allowing the rain to cleanse our bodies, if not our souls.

On Sunday we left the St John and spent the day on a boat touring the entire Island chain – from the Batholiths on Virgin Gorda to the Soggy Dollar Bar on Jost Van Dyke. I lost my favorite hat when I jumped off the boat to begin my swim to the Soggy Dollar, so I felt it was only fair that I bought a hat from there. Thus far, this is the only souvenir I have purchased. There will be more, I am sure, but unless they sell a “It rained on me in St John” t-shirt, I fear no souvenir will capture the trip completely. 

I have these big questions in my head – things that might be unanswerable by anyone. Sometimes I ask these questions aloud and people look at me quizzically – that is how I know the question is best contemplated in silence. One of those questions is – if you find a vacation spot that you love, though there are thousands of other places you have never been – should you go back to the same place again, or should you try somewhere new.  This same question could be applied to dating, but for now I’ll focus on vacation.  We could have tried somewhere new this trip. But, we decided to come back to St John because we loved it, and we felt we hadn’t seen the whole island last time.  I’m not sure how it will eventually pan out, but right now I’m not certain that was the best decision.  If we’d left St John up on its pedestal as this amazing place with great weather and beautiful beaches, it would still be up there, a little dusty but untarnished. 

But then, life is tarnished, and a vacation can’t take that away, apparently. I suppose that was a lot of pressure to put on a little island – to be perfect and happy and let us forget, for a week if possible, or just a day if you can, that we are missing someone horribly.  I’m not sure that Hawaii, or anywhere really, would have been able to take us where we want to be – because that place no longer exists.

It’s still better than working, though I can actually feel my work piling up. It is sitting, unevenly, on my shoulders, and jostles about with each step. I fear one misstep will have the whole mess spilled out onto the ground and I’ll spend the better part of a day re-organizing the thousands of docs. I’m trying to let that go.

This place is officially hopping, so I have to give up my table, since I am sitting here for freebies and not eating.  More later, if I can.

Have a great day.