Rainin' to beat hell

Just a note - a tropical wave is passing through with rain to beat hell and thunder and really impressive lightning.

Flood watch (not warning) in effect through Sunday. No place I have to go tomorrow, so I'm not going anywhere. Very small chance of this system developing onto anything bigger.

Maybe I'll even get some work done! Although Losing power is a good bet.

The Sun Also Rises – Twice

Couple of weeks ago I was driving Millie to work at the crack of dawn. Literally. That's the whole point of the story. We left the house before sunrise.

She works at a patisserie near Sunny Isle and once a week has to open, so since we only have the one car, once a week I have to get up damn early and drive her to work.

So anyway, we're driving down the highway when it happened. We saw the sun rise twice. Absolutely true.

It's easier to visualize than to explain, ut ll do my best. We were near the end of the highway, it rolls up and down the feet of a couple of hills. In the near distance there was another hill certainly not a mountain, I'm guessing a coupe of hundred feet high at most. It was less than two miles away. And the stretch of road we were on was shorter by maybe a hundred feet, maybe less. Got it more or less in your head? I'm probably explaining this badly. Sorry.

At 5:48 a.m. we approached the end of the highway, the highest point of the trip. The hill ahead was still taller than where we were, but not by much. And as we neared the top, the sun rose over the hill. I noticed because we were driving due east and it burned a hole in my eyeballs.

Then we topped the rise and started down, and as we descended I could see again because the sun dropped back down behind the hill. Or the relative position of the hill, our car and the sun put the hill between us.

Moments later we drove up the gentle grade to the traffic light at Sunny Isles (some of the worst traffic on the island at midday, hardly any at 6 a.m.) And as we climbed – and as the earth spun, of course – the sun popped back up over the hill.

Tried to repeat the experience, but we mistimed once and got there too soon, and there were clouds the other. But I'm going to keep trying, because that was pretty cool.

My first day with two sunrises.

Anniversary and Mangoes

This is the three-year anniversary of our move here. I'd actually gotten off the plane the day before with Alex, Kate, Millie and a pissed off cat. On July 1 I met Tori at the airport with Max and Janet.

It's been great and we have no regrets, except that we miss friends and it's hard to travel anywhere from here. On the other hand, we live here, why would we travel? It's like the ads we've been seeing on TV urging us to plan a vacation in Michigan, or Nebraska or Missouri. WE LIVE IN THE VIRGIN ISLANDS!!! We may visit any or all of those places at some point – as a matter of fact I've traveled through two of the three in my life. Bu I cannot imagine the circumstances under which I would choose to leave my tropical island for a vacation on the plains.

Last weekend was the annual Mango Melee. It was one of the first events we went to when we got here three years ago. This year I covered it (again – also covered it in 2009) for the Source. It was something of a milestone. None of the kids wanted to go, so for the first time ever, the Baurs' Fun Family Outing was just me and Tori. And you know what, it was nice.

A video I shot for the Source is online here.

The mango eating contest actually was kinda exciting, neck and neck. And next year Tori is thinking of entering the Mango Dis, Mango Dat cooking competition because it looks like fun.

Anyway, it was way too long since my last post. I'll do better.

(July 23 - Just noticed and fixed a really stupid typo.)

Pretty Good

We were sitting on the beach yesterday watching a squall move over the water, the sun poking fingers of light through the clouds, when Tori laughed.

"What?" I asked.

She pointed out at the beautiful scene and said, "If this is as good as it gets, this is pretty damn good!"

Here It Comes

Very exciting times. Every time I drive out to Sunny Isles, I pass where they're building a Home Depot store. It'll be open by fall and we couldn't be more excited.

Why is it exciting that they're building another big box store? Understand first that there aren't a lot of places to buy things you need here on St. Croix. There's two Kmarts, which I find myself in two or three times a week. Want shampoo, or paper products, or cat food or socks or vitamins? Kmart is pretty much your only choice. There are a couple of decent grocery stores, but no other choices for general "stuff."

There's an Office Max at Sunny Isles, it opened about year before we moved here. I'm told people were so excited they actually made a day of it, going out to see what the store carried. It's pretty good for a lot of the office supply stuff. But unless you're looking for very basic stuff, they never seem to have what you need. I was recently there looking at laptop computers. They have a whole display of them, a dozen or so models all set up to look at. But they don't have a single one to sell - and couldn't tell me when they're likely to! Same with cameras when I was looking for one. I'd like to look at that one Don't have it. How about that one? Not in stock. That one? Also not in stock. I finally was able to buy my fifth choice.

There are several hardware stores on island, but only one worth going to. Gallows Bay Hardware is good, but it's in a difficult place to get to. This is a small island, but depending on traffic, it can take as long as 40 minutes to drive there, which is kind of a pain in the ass. It's also one of the few stores on island with good customer service.

You want terrible customer service? Kmart is your place.

So here comes Home Depot. They had actually announced it was coming in early 2008, but then the economy went sour and their plans were delayed. During last year's gubernatorial election the challenger made a big deal about how it was never going to be built and it was the current governor's fault. Didn't help his campaign when they broke ground two weeks before the election.

So I've been watching. The grading and foundation seemed to take forever, then suddenly the walls flew up. About six weeks ago, driving by at dusk, was the first time I saw lights on inside. I can't tell you how cool that was.

Yes, Home Depot will probably be a problem for some of the existing hardware stores. The one out here on the west side will probably survive, because it's the only one out here if you need something simple and obvious. And Gallows Bay will survive, because it's much handier to people from the east side, and has a well-earned reputation for service and a loyal following. If it was easy to get to I'd go there all the time. They've also been planning for years how to survive Home Depot.

The others will be in trouble, and I can't work up a lot of sympathy. The biggest one on the island is terrible. I've never been able to find what I'm looking for there, or anyone to help me find it. You see people in the aisle with name tags and they either ignore you or run the other way.

Maybe that's the best thing about Home Depot coming. My experience with Home Depot in the states is that service is key. I like a hardware store where you know generally what you need to do and they can't wait to tell you how to do it, and what you'll need. When Home Depot opens in the fall, locals will treat it like a trip to Disneyland. I certainly will. I've already warned the kids that all Christmas presents this year will be bought at Home Depot.

But its biggest impact might be if they can bring that idea of customer service and instill it in the local employees. That'll be the gift that keeps on giving.

'Toot!' Cut Right In!

"Why did the Crucian honk his horn?"

I looked over at Tori, in the passenger seat. She was staring straight ahead, with that smile that said she'd come up with a good one.

"I don't know, Tori," I said. "Why did the Crucian honk his horn?"

"Because he was driving."

Honking horns are nothing new. In lots of places people seem to steer with their hands plastering down on the horn. But in almost everyplace else in the world, it's either aggressive, impatient or a warning. "Get out of my way, jerk!" "Can't you see the light has changed, idiot!" "Don't even think about pulling into this lane you moron! I'm drivin' here!"

On St. Croix, and probably elsewhere in the Caribbean but this is what I know, it's different.

First, you have to understand that there is only one multi-lane road on the island. The Melvin Evans Highway boast two lanes east and two lanes west. All the rest have room for only one lane in either direction, and many don't really have that much room but they painted a line down the middle anyway.

The point being, the roads can get crowded and if you're on a side street waiting to get acoss traffic or just turn into traffic, there are times and places - especially early morning or between 5 and 6 p.m. – where you could be waiting a long time.

Except for Crucuan driving courtesy. You can pull up to a stop sign on a cross street of a busy line of traffic extending out of sight, and can rest assured that someone will stop, toot their horn (or flash their lights, but horn tooting is far more common) and let you go. Honestly I think it's very rare that I've had to wait more than a minute, no matter how heavy the traffic has been.

I can't do the horn toot. Whenever I've tried, it sounds to me a little too loud, to aggressive. So I go wth the light flash. Tori does the horn perfectly.

And, yes, I have heard an aggressive, "the light has changed, idiot" car horn once in a while – three times, maybe four, in the almost three years I've been here. Usually, almost always, the tooting of car horns is the melody of the road, a polite musical accompaniment to the morning commute.

So at various times a car horn honk can mean:

• Go ahead and cut in front of me please.

• Thank you for letting me cut in front of you.

• Hello friend! I haven't seen you since yesterday!

• Look! My car is equipped with a horn!

Sometimes someone will stop to let you turn in front of them or cross traffic when there's no one behind them for a quarter mile. All they have to do is pass on by and you can do whatever it was you intended to do in perfect safety. But the whole driving courtesy is so engrained in them that they can't not. And it does no good to wave at them or blink your lights to suggest they have the right of way. They will not move until you turn out. Not always, but it happens at least once a week to me.

Because they just want to be polite. And really, there's nothing wrong with that.

Sunday Surprise

I put down the book I was reading, "And Another Thing," by Eoin Colfer, and looking out at Tori, Max and our friend Alan in the water decided to join them.

It was Sunday afternoon and we were at Ha'penny Beach, a beach on the southside we'd heard was the nicest on the island. It was nice, a white beach circling a perfect little bay. But the nicest beach on the island? I mean, how do you choose? It's a small island, but it's almost all beach.

Still, it was the first weekend of spring break and we decided to try a different beach than our usual one – Dorsch Beach, a three-minute drive from our house – as an adventure.

The water was shallow and you could wade a long way out. I was waist deep and still about 20 feet away from Tori, who was about shoulder deep, when a shadow passed over the water between us.

It was a bright day, hardly a cloud in the sky. The shadow was small but distinct. I wish I could say that, like Aragorn in "The Fellowship of the Ring," I had realized immediately that it was moving swiftly, and against the wind. I admit, it was only later that I realized the shadow was moving west to east, while the breeze was coming from the east. At the moment, all I realized was that it was all wrong to have been cast by something passing between the sun and the surface of the water.

It was something big under the water, passing right between us.

Tori realized it right away, and it made her jump.

"Ray!" she shouted. And no, she didn't mean a Corvette Sting Ray or one of those bikes with the banana seat and butterfly handles. This was a ray, a flat, diamond shape fish, about four feet from tip to tip.

Tori has seen them in the water before. She snorkels, and has found herself more than once passing over one. She gives them a respectful distance. She has also noticed them noticing her, and circling underneath her as if trying to decide whether she posed a threat or would be good to eat.

This one had apparently been enjoying a snooze on the sandy bottom (a good name for a rock band) when it was annoyed by the sudden presence of a school of people splashing about. So it took off in a huff.

It had been closer to her than to me, but since there was only about 10 feet between us, it was a tight fit. And a little alarming, I admit. He swam away, but Tori and I decided maybe we'd get out of the water for a bit.

Max and Alan (he's the 19-year-old we've known since Tori's first on-island teaching job) weren't in the least fazed by the experience, so they stayed out. And Tori and I both went back out in the water, though I admit I didn't wade out as far as I had. And none of the other 30 or so people at the beach had noticed a thing or showed any concern if they had.

That's all it was. A thing. The sort of event that happens from time to time when you live in the tropics and go in the water. And if you don't go in the water, what's the point of living in the tropics? Other than the rum, I mean.

We stayed at Ha'penny about another hour, as the sun worked down the sky. Being a sunny Sunday, the beach was "crowded" by St. Croix standards – I counted 38 people in the water or on the sand in that almost mile stretch of beach.

Here's the other thing about St. Croix's south-facing beaches. From any of the north beaches you can usually see St. Thomas, sometimes St. John and even up to Tortola in the BVI. From the western beaches, on a clear day you can see all the way to Vieques, the island just off the southeast coast of Puerto Rico.

From the south, it's nothing but blue, bending horizon from the east to west. There's nothing to see but the occasional ship and Venezuela about 500 miles to the south.

Staring out to sea at the deep blue of the Caribbean, I shook my head again. How did we get so lucky?