Month: January 2016

Nothing like writing about white sandy beaches and sunsets when you’re watching a blizzard of white shit dumping snow by the foot from the sky now is there? Sheee-it!

St. Croix or Crotch – Right from the starting gate, the oddest things happened when I boarded the final puddle jumper from San Juan to St. Croix.  First, there was an actual gridlock of wheelchairs lined up to get on the plane, and I didn’t know what the hell to make of that.  It turns out the seniors use this tactic to be the first on the flight and the first off.  They were perfectly spry little old people gathering their luggage and sprinting to the curb for their pick up!  The second thing I noted was all eyes on me.  The white woman.  When I say all eyes, I mean the Cruzan’s have mastered the evil eye and that continued throughout the entire week wherever I went.

Wake up calls – Morning alarm is roosters.  Roosters that roam the entire island.  Brought over from Puerto Rico years ago for cock-fighting, these feral birds strut in packs and cock-a-doodle-do starting at the crack ass of dawn and continue til nightfall and beyond.  Most islanders try not to poison or rid them because some of the destitute in the projects use them as a food source although the meat is stringy and tough due being feral and eating garbage unlike the $12.99 per pound Bell & Evans chickens who are organically fed and tender as a scrambled egg.

“The Stare” – Around mid-week of my stay, I finally asked my daughter and her boyfriend, “What the hell is with the evil eye stare?”  No matter if we were in the car, the Cruzan’s just burn through your soul with that stare.  Thankfully, I’ve got some of the Italian gene in me and can give the, “You’re dead to me” stare too so I just started doing it right back.   Hell, I couldn’t help but stare at some of the Rasta’s with their dredlocked dingleberry balls hanging from their chin beards.  I ask, does one shampoo the crumbs and food out of that thing ever or does it just morph into a green afro of sorts like food left too long in the fridge?

Laws on the Island – From what I saw, this depends on the day, your color, and what applies to some doesn’t necessarily apply to others.  I’m also pretty sure it’s all who you know.  So, same as here in the States.

Welfare – Also no different from here.  Although there are “FREE” condom dispensers in public bathrooms, babies continue to have babies and live off the system.

Driving – You can own and operate a car all without a driver’s license.  Probably not legally, but driving is a totally twisted adventure on this island, and forget the fact they drive on the opposite side than the U.S.   Fun fact:  You know when the driver is sober because they have to weave all over the road to dodge the gargantuan potholes that can take out a tire and rim per week.  When drunk, they drive perfectly straight.

The Cruzan hooligans also believe everyone wants to hear their bass “Fuck-Shit-Bitch” music so their pimped out Honda Civics are equipped with outward facing speaker systems that replace both back windows.  I was totally entertained by these pimped-high decibel cars, and didn’t find them even a fraction as disturbing as the Mr. Softee pedophile ice cream truck that drives past my house at 4:00 every day of the summer playing that creepy “come little children” tune.  It’s also not uncommon to see the Cruzan cowboys and cowgirls on the streets riding bareback to take their horses for a swim.  An awestruck sight to see.

An entire flatbed truck can be filled with toddlers and small children and no seat belts, but the police will pass you and yell over the speaker, “Ma’am, please put your foot back in the vehicle.  Thank you,” as I witnessed firsthand.

Voting Rights – The residents of the U.S. Virgin Islands have none.  The way they figure it as was told to me, “It’s our problem since we vote for an asshole,” and apparently we did.  The end.  St. Croix is just pretty waterfront property owned by the U.S.

Crime – As far as I’m concerned, I think the U.S.V.I. receives a bad rap.  The U.S.V.I. was deemed as a dangerous stop for cruise ship a few years ago, but just as it is here in the States or anywhere else for that matter, you can’t have good without bad and I met some truly wonderful people.  Their lifestyle is definitely laid back and you should prepare to have a 2 hour lunch or a 3 hour dinner.  They don’t have the wherewithal to cave to the neediness of the frenetic, instant-gratification-needed tourists. If you’re respectful, kind, and patient (which they’ll surely note and appreciate), you’ll receive extra bread, a drink on the house, even an upgraded room when your toilet is leaking in your hotel room as I did.  Prior to leaving Sandcastles in Frederiksted, I was hugged and bid farewell by the lovely women who scrubbed and washed the tile pathway outside my door each morning, the young man who set up the beach chairs and umbrellas, and the sweet soul who cleaned my room each day.  Lesson is simple – Be mindful and don’t be a prick.

Unfortunately, I was also witness to tourists who were rude, made disparaging remarks, and talked down to servers.  They received a well deserving mirror of their behavior.  That’s how it works in life.

Hovensa oil refinery – Driving through the abandoned 1,500 acre refinery was like driving through a graveyard. It’s nothing less than a catastrophe, and the U.S. Government deems St. Croix as a monopoly property and give it as much regard as a billionaire does towards one of their multiple vacation properties. I was told the oil refinery was contracted until 2022, but shut down all their refining and processing operations leaving approximately 30,000 unemployed in February 2012.  The plant had been one of the region’s largest oil refiners not to mention the 1,500 acres with rusted abandoned tanks and piping and probable environmental leaks.  This site has the potential of storing 13 million barrels of crude oil.  Something very, very wrong with this picture.

Shopping – There’s the “Cruzan” price and then there’s the “Tourist” price…naturally the tourist price is higher because as far as the Cruzan’s are concerned, we tourists all have deep pockets.  There’s a Kmart as well.  Oh, the bargains there….one side of the display reads, “SALE $15.99” and the other side displays the regular price at $12.99.  You figure it out.

Thanks to my daughter, I did find my ghetto store though….the Burlington Coat Factory of the Island.  It’s called Marianne’s and where I purchased $5 and $7 clothing items – because finding disposable clothes is my true addiction, second only to alcohol consumption.  Speaking of which…..

Cruzan rum – A distillery founded in 1760 in St. Croix USVI and is “the most honored rum distillery in the world.”  Although the rum is produced in St. Croix, it is sent to Kentucky for distributing and then is shipped back to St. Croix for sale.  Makes perfect sense right?  Nothing makes sense here.

We also drove past the Captain Morgan distillery which is powered by solar panels.  The field of solar panels was an incredible sight.  I understand they have a rockin’ tasting tour as well that I’ll hit up on my next go ’round for sure.

The Devil’s lettuce – a staple item for Cruzans.  Take a wild guess what I’m referring to.  It’s definitely growing in random areas because when you’re driving around, all of a sudden you get a wiff of the skunk-like THC from the marry-jee-wanna plants.  You’ll also see plenty of helicopters keeping an eye out for these “High Life Field of Dreams.”

Street Zombies – From time to time, you’ll see these homeless-types slouched against a building, collapsed in front of a parked car.  Legend has it, they ate the devil root – a plant that grows in the bush.

Chaney – Beautiful shards of china that can be found snorkeling or when you’re hunched down long enough on the shoreline grabbing between breaks in the waves.  The word “Chaney” was made up by the local children who would smooth and round the edges of these shards to use as play money combining the word “china” and “money” forever to be known now as “Chaney.”  Some of these pieces are worth a lot of money and locals have made them into jewelry.  Chaney is a true treasure find and can date back as far as the 1700’s unlike sea glass which has now become more of a manufactured item.  Since people have become environmentally conscious and stopped throwing glass overboard, there is less and less authentic sea glass.

I arrived with the spirit of exploration and left 100% intact taking home only appreciation, knowledge, and beautiful images of St. Croix.  Out of the islands I’ve been (Aruba, Jamaica, Bermuda, Bahamas, Puerto Rico Cozumel, Mexico, St. Thomas, St. Maarten, Belize and the ones I’ve forgotten about), St. Croix has been the most beautiful and magical by far. This island has so much to offer in:  Culture, history, magnificent beaches, Caribbean waters, Moko Jumbie rain forest spirits, and Point Udall, the most Eastern point of the United States.  If you catch the sunrise on January 1st at Point Udall, you are the first to see it in all of the U.S. for the New Year.  It’s considered a very spiritual experience by the natives.

Cheers to St. Croix and all its quirkiness that befits my personality, and I look forward to witnessing another “green flash” of one its spectacular sunsets some day soon.

A special thanks to my daughter, Johnnie Angel, and the Freedom City Surf Family who treated me with open hearts and such graciousness as hosts. 

Next up, Freedom City Surf & Beach Grille.  Like an Italian kitchen in Little Italy, you’ll get what Mama’s serving up that day and you WILL EAT IT & I GUARANTEE YOU WILL LOVE IT.  As a good Italian Mother, there is always something for everyone…..even that pain-in-the-ass finicky brat of the family.  To be continued……

 

 

 

“24 Hours and it’s over” – C.A.S.

We’re a mere 15 days into the New Year and so far I’ve searched for a missing person, impacted by the tragic death of that sweet soul, took in another border into my home, and hopped a flight to the U.S. Virgin Islands.  Although I hope to provide a chuckle here and there, I hope this post will serve as a lesson of sorts for all; and no matter what happens in your 24 hours, the sun will rise and set each day.  It’s guaranteed unless of course you’re going by the Mayan calendar whereas we were supposed to be smoked out in 2012 and since that theory went down the shitter, the next prediction was an apocalypse in 2015.  I think I’m still here ….then again maybe it’s just a kick ass dream because…

I’m writing from the beautiful Island of St. Croix or Saint Crotch as I like to refer to it.  We state-siders thought we coined the term, “Can’t make this shit up” to describe our dysfunctional lives, but the Cruzan’s really do have the market cornered on this saying.  I was actually denied helping serve at the beach bar where my daughter works because I hadn’t shit in a cup.  In order to receive your health card to serve food here, you have to shit in a cup.  How appetizing.  Sadly, I can’t pitch in when the two cruise ships dock this weekend.  I’ll just have to sit back, relax, and refill my umbrella drinks.

Let me explain the 24 hours and it’s over.  After my Mom died over 17 years ago, my Dad looked upon any holiday, birthday or celebration with the thought that “24 hours and it’s over” all thanks to our parish Monsignor who shared that phrase with him soon after my Mother’s death.  The same Monsignor who embezzled $1.2 million from our parish, so I’d say his take was he made it through another 24 hours without getting caught – not yet anyway.  So, I would venture to say my Father deemed all celebrations empty without my Mother to share them with.  I couldn’t comprehend this pessimistic train of thought for many years since he was surrounded by a multitude of family and friends, yet now it’s completely understandable since we’ve all done a little delving into our family history.  Thanks also to some added information from Ancestry.com that led us to having him answer some pointed questions about his past and family tree.

By the second day of the New Year, I had a revelation that maybe my dear old Pop’s wasn’t so off his nut after all because it’s all about interpretation.  On January 1st, my family was frantically searching for a beloved family member who left home at odds.  24 hours later, she was found and 24 hours after that, funeral arrangements were being made.

So, as I sit here looking at the 12 aqua shades of the Caribbean with blue sky over head watching a horse go for a morning swim with his owner, I think to myself I’ve had an absolutely blissful 24 hours.   Therefore, I’m beginning to think along these lines now:  A horrific 24 hours will come to an end just as a blissful 24 hours will come to an end.  It’s all about living in the in between:  Making memories, spending time with people you love, and being conscious of what you give of yourself and the energy that surrounds you.

You’ll find this sign hanging or displayed in most or all of my extended family’s homes including mine.  Now that I’m successfully deleting overloaded brain files with sunshine and liquor, I’ve had time to process what happened in just the last 3 weeks.  I hosted a Christmas Eve dinner for approximately 35 or more people.  I had to stop counting because I ran out of chairs and cutlery, but I knew it would work out.  I continue to place complete faith in where kindness is extended, kindness is returned and I’ve stopped worrying about shit because I have devoted angels that have to constantly work overtime on my behalf (both divine spirits and mortal) and I didn’t so much as flinch when I spilled the 30 pound tray of chicken scarpiello all over my oven door 15 minutes prior to my guest’s arrival.  I stood there mute and frozen while 4 human angels sopped it up back into the pan. Yup, whomever ate it had oven door chicken scarp – 30 second rule….more like 5 minutes…..sorry.  The oven was on all damn day so I’m sure the door was at a sterilized stage.  Don’t worry, they didn’t put the shit that spilled onto the floor back in the pan.  The point is,  I would never turn anyone away that didn’t have a place to go as I know holidays can be the toughest time of the year for so many people.  Add to that, I suck ass in portion control as I’m constantly reminded by my children, and I make enough of each food to serve an entire homeless shelter just with the leftovers alone.

After all was said and done, my youngest daughter who did most of the clean up with her man, gave me some advice for next year’s Christmas Eve.  “Buy a ticket.  Go away.  That shit was crazy woman.”  Without even knowing what was coming down the pike, I reminded her of something my brother said as part of his speech at his daughter’s wedding a few years back, “This group of people will never be in the same place at the same time ever again,” and it had come to fruition once again.  Take nothing for granted.  It may have been mayhem, tight seating, and we may not have had it all together, but at least we were all together because another special soul will not be there to share the next Christmas Eve.  At least not in mortal form.

I haven’t sent Christmas cards out in quite a few years, so consider this a late holiday greeting with some reminders going forth for 2016:

May you find the time to reach out to those struggling during the holidays (and all through the year)

May you ALWAYS set an extra place setting even if you have to use plastic/paper (nobody gives a shit what their food is served on)

May you place your emphasis on the memories and not the gifts

As one of my daughter’s said to me today, she couldn’t tell me what she got as Christmas presents in past years, but she could tell me about the Christmases we forfeited gifts and I took them away.  One never to be forgotten memory was a trip to the Bob Marley compound in Jamaica. The “9-mile” rickety Rasta painted school bus (red, yellow, green) that vomited all Bob Marley quotes. Drinking rum punches through the rain forest, up a one lane mountain with no guard rails (the reason for rum punch – a valium would’ve been appreciated).  As we entered the gates of the Marley compound, they actually had their own McDonald-like take out window except the burgers & fries were actually ganja blunts the size of a bratwurst for sale by the little man in the window.  Aaah yes, and you could smoke ganja throughout the whole tour.  How delightful for three teenagers.

 Mother of the Year Award – FAIL, but a Christmas memory never to be forgotten.

24 hours have passed since I wrote this blog post without posting it, and I’m just happy I lived through the past 24 hours.  My dear daughter and her boyfriend took me on a 1/2 mile hike up a damn bluff in 90 degree weather to a lighthouse yesterday.  When you don’t perspire like normal people your body goes into heat stroke.  I was only minutes away.  I figured if they were going to off me it would be via paddle boarding.  Launch my ass into the ocean as shark bait or I’d turn into a human french fry trying to paddle back to shore against the current.

I’m still here and so are you if you’re reading this.  Be grateful.  Be kind. Be happy. Life can change in a split second and is only a split second.