A Letter Home at Christmas Time

Dear Family and Friends,

Christmas in the Caribbean was a major adjustment for me this year. Palm trees, white sand, cool gusts of trade winds blowing in from Magen's Bay, intermittently rainy weather causing the temperatures to dip scarily into the frosty upper 60s at night, steel pan Christmas carols, and the bright white sun reflecting off of the decorations hung in town are just a few ways that Christmas has been different this year than in years past. There was no anticipation of a white Christmas or the hopes of seeing the glow of Christmas lights reflecting on the snow. In fact, the only thing white about our Christmas was little Molly who at this point resembles a puffy white marshmallow since we've failed to have her groomed since our move to St. Thomas. Ah yes, here she is "helping" to assemble the Christmas tree.In an attempt to make the holidays seem more like something we Midwesterners are used to, I at one point found myself on a mission to bake gingerbread cookies, must to the dismay of Chris. I wouldn't stop until my mission was complete (as with any of my frequent missions and always to Chris' dismay) and it was no easy task to locate cookie cutters in the shape of Christmas trees and snowmen on an island in the sun. I told him I would be "right in and right out," which was his fault for believing as nothing happens "right away" on St Thomas. There he sat in the parking lot of K-Mart, waiting in the steamy Jeep as I frantically searched K-Mart for holiday cookie cutters. Twenty minutes and a bag full of Christmas paraphernalia later, I was ready to head home and participate in a truly traditional activity. Making the dough was a blast and cutting it into shapes reminiscent of a faraway winter wonderland made me feel a little less homesick. Unfortunately I haven't learned the art of operating a gas oven and a quarter of the gingerbread cookies burned to a charred crisp on top of the baking sheet leaving perfect brown stains in the shapes of little men and Christmas trees. At the time I was more than a little perturbed but quickly realized that I still yielded tons of cookies and now we have a little memoir of our first Caribbean Christmas literally burned into our kitchenware. Someday it will make a pleasant memory.

I tirelessly hounded Chris until finally he relented (caved) and gave in to the idea of buying a Christmas tree, ornaments, lights, and ribbon. No Christmas is complete without a tree, no matter where you live. He thought it would be a better idea to buy a palm tree from a local nursery so that when Christmas was over we still would have a functional plant to keep in the house or on the deck. I deemed this far too logical and we found ourselves in K-Mart once more picking up a 6-foot faux pine tree, assembly and minor headache required. I couldn't have been happier and Chris was happy to have a happy girlfriend. We took our tree and decorations home, stuck in my Thomas Kinkade Home For Christmas CD, and began assembling the tree (with Molly's "help" of course). No more than fifteen minutes into the process, in the blink of an eye, we found ourselves cloaked in darkness and silence as a rolling blackout made our home its target. The cozy Christmas carols playing on the stereo were ceased as quickly as the smile on my face disappeared. Happy girlfriend turned into crabby girlfriend in a shockingly fast and bipolar sort of way. Chris didn't say as much, but I think I heard him whispering a quick prayer to the Water and Power Authority gods for the electricity to be restored lest his girlfriend turn green as the fake pine needles on the tree while textile stitching rips and deep gutteral roaring emanates from deep inside her exponentially expanding torso as she throws the half-built Christmas tree into Magen's Bay. The Water and Power Authority answered his prayers a few minutes later, electricity was restored, carols played, and the ugly BaileyGrinchHulk never made an appearance. Actually, the rest of the evening was as cozy as any Christmas tree night in Kansas City or St. Louis could have been, and everyone was happy.

On a separate night, we attended the Havensight Christmas tree lighting ceremony which was filled with holiday spirit, but a little less than exciting. We went directly after I was off work at 5:30pm. The tree lighting occurred at 6:00pm. Being the overpopulated island that St Thomas is, it takes approximately three hours to travel three miles. This of course is an exaggeration but I feel an exaggeration is necessary to invoke the intended effect: shock. It took much longer than a half hour to travel the 3 miles from downtown to Havensight (I say three, it may be less), park and make our way to the parking lot where the masses gathered to listen to the steel drum band in front of the beautifully lit Christmas tree aside a few delightfully decorated palm trees. We had a couple of cold beers from the Rum Shack located conveniently in the same parking lot, took some pictures, listened to the bands playing local and traditional Christmas carols, and ducked in a couple shops that stayed open before deciding to head back to home sweet home.

Thank you Mom and Dad for sending Chris, Molly and I Christmas stocking to hang! The puff paint spelling out our names was a nice touch and they were MUCH nicer than the ones I bought at K-Mart for $1.50 each. Molly's is especially cute being that it's red with green trim, complete with white paw prints on every square inch! Chris and I both worked on Christmas Eve and Christmas, making following tradition a little more difficult. We weren't able to find time to unload our stockings until after work on Christmas evening, but when we did we found all sorts of goodies! The contents of mine included, Mint M&M's Premiums (yum!), hair clips (in loud Caribbean colors!), a super cute head band (perfect for the beach!), and a 500 piece puzzle of a snow-covered barn in the country. Chris' stocking held a 10-in-1 screwdriver (handy!), a flashlight with a clip on it (handy as well!), and a roll of duct tape (who doesn't need duct tape?!). Molly's stocking was the best of all. Inside was a red satin evening gown with a bow, a green-and-red jingle bell necklace, and a tiny Santa hat with holly berries and a white puff on top. I just about melted when I put the new holiday clothes on her. She didn't want to take them off. Pictures are coming soon of that whole getup.

A woman I work with at Cardow, Eva, brought a mouthwatering, warm, sweet, dessert wine she simmered with cinnamon sticks and clove to the holiday party which took place during work hours. I asked her how she made it exactly and determined that I MUST make the same wine for Christmas night when we would be attending our landlords' Christmas dinner party. This falls under the category of a "mission" and when Chris picked me up from work Christmas afternoon and was informed of this new mission, I saw an eyeroll (don't think I didn't see it Mister). Supposedly, Eva purchased this wine at Pueblo which is quite possibly the most repulsive grocery store in which I've managed to set foot throughout my entire life. She said it is a semi-sweet wine made fairly locally in the Dominican Republic and cost about $1.50 per bottle. Not only does it cost $1.50 a bottle but boasts a delightfully tacky label where a steroidal man is seen flexing his muscles with a dashing smile. Needless to say, I had to find this wine and would settle for no other. After trying Gourmet Gallery and one other Pueblo in Havensight, we drove the length of the waterfront BACK toward downtown and into Crown Bay/Frenchtown to our last ditch Pueblo attempt. Chris wasn't pleased. After searching the wine section to no avail, I asked a cashier if they had any in stock. She guided me to a separate section of the store nowhere near the wine aisle. Obviously this wine was in a class all of its own. And there it was in all its glory. Small bottles of dirt cheap red wine with a man on the label who could have starred in Pumping Iron right alongside Arnold. Awesome. I purchased four bottles and we made our way home to get ready for the Christmas dinner. I simmered the wine with fresh cinnamon I bought at the local open-air market and whole cloves and transferred the concoction back into the ultra-classy bottles. Surprisingly, everyone at the Christmas party enjoyed the wine as much as I did the previous day and everyone had a wonderful time eating turkey, local and spicy potato stuffing, homemade macaroni and cheese, bean and rice dishes, and an array of desserts. All in all it was a pleasant Christmas.

By the end of the night, we both were so exhausted from work that the few glasses of wine at dinner sent us into a Christmas coma. In the midst of our back-and-forth mission of finding dirt cheap sweet wine we managed to rent a holiday movie, Fred Claus, but were far too tired to watch it. And so our Christmas night ended, on the couch and utterly passed out.

Nothing could ever take the place of holidays at home and with family. I managed to make it through the season without crying, which is a feat of strength in my opinion since many times I thought I could never make it through a nontraditional Christmas. The first one away from home always the hardest, or so I've been told, but I'm hoping there won't have to be another. To our families reading this, we missed you lots and lots and wished we could have been there to eat all the Midwest home cooked meals to which we're so accustomed. We still can't wait for you to come visit us here in the Caribbean, but I'm not planning on being away for the holidays again if I can help it.

Love and kisses and best wishes from St. Thomas,

Chris and Bailey

Giving Thanks From Afar

This Thanksgiving was a little different than we had ever experienced in that we weren't sure it would happen at all.

Two days before, sometime during the early morning hours while everyone slept a fire spread through the Water and Power Authority building, causing some sort of an explosion. This in turn caused St. Thomas and St. John to lose connection to all of the outside world. This meant no cell phones or laptops would work after hearing those last disparaging beeps indicating low battery. Oscillating and ceiling fans hummed to a stop. Luckily the winter weather in the states blow their chilly winds our direction toward the islands and nothing but cool breezes passed through our doors. A couple of months previous and the sweltering heat would have made the cottage unbearable.

The dark cloud of bad luck that frequently looms above my head had a sense of humor that day. My job interview with Cardow Jewelers that I wanted to nail so badly was that afternoon. That same afternoon when eyebrow brush precision, even foundation, and ironed shirts would be something almost impossible to accomplish. Oh, how fun it is to bathe in darkness and attempt to adjust hair and makeup while only relying on beams of sunlight peeping into the cottage. The dark cloud was no match for the powerful ray of sunshine my interview cast upon the day and my sour mood lifted instantly as I raced to The Greenhouse to meet Chris.

Most of the restaurants downtown (and all over the island) were shut down. Not everyone was lucky enough to have a generator powerful enough to support business. The Greenhouse was one such privileged local restaurant. We had agreed to meet there when my interview was complete because of this reason and by the time I had gotten there, Chris had already enjoyed his fair share of cold beers. Without my knowing, he ordered my favorite Bailey's Banana Colada. I told him the positive news but rather than sitting and drinking delicious beverages, which sounded far more appealing, we decided the responsible thing to do would be to head to our local market and stock up on ice to keep the refrigerator and freezer as cool as possible.

Back at home, with not much else to do besides wait for batteries to run out, enjoy the cool breezes, and read, we resorted to what most islanders do during an electrical failure: drink. After a long night at Hull Bay Hideaway (someplace where we had sincerely hoped could become our neighborhood hangout but unfortunately do not feel safe around the unusual breeds that congregate there after sundown), we came home and called it an early night. After all, when there is no television and are no lights by which to read, being at home in the pitch darkness isn't all that exciting.

The next morning, the day before Thanksgiving, and still no electricity. We heard through the seagrapevine that power may not be restored to St. Thomas or St. John until the night of Thanksgiving, far too late to celebrate in a traditional way, especially with no way to properly defrost a turkey. Randomly and with no warning, the power was restored midway through the day. I had bought no ingredients whatsoever, thinking we would be spending our Thanksgiving packed in one of the few restaurants that was lucky enough to have a generator. When the electricity had stayed on for a good two hours and I felt a little more confident it was not a passing fluke, I told Chris to pack it up...we were heading to the store. There was no way I was letting island life get in the way of our Thanksgiving!

We bought all the necessary ingredients for a spectacular Thanksgiving dinner, sans yams. Chris isn't so keen on them, although I yam (just for you, Mom!). My mother and father sent a "Thanksgiving Care Package" that included decorative paper plates, napkins, Pilgrim candles, fall garland, a nice card, a box of Stove Top Stuffing, the ingredients to make cranberry fluff, and a "fabulous centerpiece" as they called it. This cut our list down by a couple of items and we were well on our way to having our very own Caribbean Thanksgiving. Our determination and positive outlook must have radiated all the way to the Water and Power Authority. The power stayed on with no blips or scares as I baked the pie, mashed the potatoes, browned the turkey, fluffed the cranberries, baked the green bean casserole, and stirred the gravy. With the stuffing fragrant and the turkey glowing, Thanksgiving was a success! Even little Molly Anne was presented with a tiny portioned plate of all the goodies. She even ate her green beans. What a doll.

We wished we could have been with our families and it was sad on our ends to only have the three of us enjoying all of the good food. There was something slightly pleasant about the peacefulness of it, but the annoyingness of family is something you don't realize you enjoy until it's not there. There was no sitting and talking around the table for an hour after eating, or gathering in the living room for a loud game of Catch Phrase. There was no cold weather to feel sheltered from by the comfort and warmth of our families' homes. For these reasons, we felt a little homesick. Our landlords, who are also our neighbors, invited us over for dessert and wine which took our minds off of missing our families. Phaedra had sufficiently polished off a bottle of champagne before we even arrived, and Dwight wiped out an entire six-pack of Elephant Beer. Chris and I blew through our bottle of wine during dinner so everyone was game for some lively conversation and a few good laughs. At the Mitchell's, we all seemed to drink the wine as if another Prohibition was going into effect the next day and before we knew it, nighttime had fallen over St. Thomas.

Warm, full, tipsy, and happy we made our way back home, just in time to catch the tail end of the Bob Newhart marathon. All in all, it was a most enjoyable island Thanksgiving despite our mild case of homesickness. Neither one of us can wait to see what Christmastime on St. Thomas will bring!