Car Ferry Connection

About 13 years ago I learned to center myself. We sat in the classroom. Jeff taught us about the center of our bodies' and the center of the earth. He taught us to connect the two.  

The trees swayed in the breeze. The lake rolled against the shore. A breeze swept through the classroom. New friendships began; old friends reconnected. These were my summers for three years. Nature and soul reconnect.

 

I loved studying Thoreau in high school. His connection to nature, to simplicity, to himself inspired and motivated me. Sitting in the classroom with Jeff was the closet I had gotten to that. Breathe in the breezes, stretch the stench out, and connect the body with the environment. 

By doing such exercises, Jeff taught us to focus on the center of the universe and we could not be moved (an idea upon which I became stuck). He taught us to focus on a feather floating and we could be lifted as such. He taught us to connect our minds, souls to the environment. No, not just the environment, the planet.
 

We ended up doing one of the martial arts that week. One in a beginner form. We all broke wood with our hands like the Karate Kid. It is a feeling I have never been able to let go. It is the most physically successful feeling I have ever had. A full on chop of a tree split the wood and changed lives.  

 

Being in the island this past week, I feel as I had that week thirteen years ago leading up to the wood chopping. My body has fully adapted to island time. It's better than McKenna time! And mentally I know I'd need to work to live here.

 

The odd thing is with the lax attitude that leads steps here, is the invigorating motivation I have discovered here. It is the same feeling I had when Jeff taught us to concentrate to the core of the Earth. I am at my core. I am connected here.  

 

To severe tomorrow - I don't know - I wonder / hope I can feel this connection again. I need to be close to the earth. I am materialistic granola. Green is my preference but functionality is also key.  

 

A piece of my upper left chest is tugging on the volcanic rock below me. Something is tethering it here, like a ship to an anchor. Or better yet, I am the car ferry and my drive dock is down. The ship hands loop the long lline around the bow handles on deck and yank the rope through the holes on deck.   

The lines become taught and the ship wavers less. No cars are falling off. Can I stay tethered without my cars falling off? The cars' only goal is to get to the opposite island.


 
Read of my other traveling experiences here:

Traveling pt. 1

Traveling pt. 2

A Stick of Gum

STJ Memento

STJ Memento

 
We sit on the beach. It isn't as busy as yesterday. Different beach, different island. Today we are on St. John. Glorious!  

St. John is completely different than St. Thomas; or so I've been told. The islands are a mere 20 minutes and ten worlds apart. The greeting on St. John is the welcome I expected upon St. Thomas. Music is playing. Drivers are coaxing you to their taxi. Seabreeze is blowing, and the buildings of radiant colors are calling our names. 


We enter into the Texas Coast Café. A mimosa, margarita, and bushwacker, please. Delicious! We each try each other's drink. The perfect start to the day - at 11:30am.

Another round plus one later, and switch the bushwacker for a Blue Caribbean (had to - it matched my dress!) and the semi-native appears. Just in time - the bartender just poured her drink. Only in STJ.

We go on a joy-ride of sorts. It is the second time today I have gone in the car with a stranger. But she isn't quite a stranger - she is from the same hometown as I. 
 
  A few errands later we get to her house. I don't realize it is where we are going, perhaps the bushwacker and blue drink had to do with that. The hills lead to immaculate neighborhoods. Lush flowers line the lawns in front of the white stone houses. The native pulls in a driveway. I realize it is hers. 
 
  She splits the house with another family upstairs. We walk around back. I take a picture of the small reptile on the flower pot. I am fascinated by the little geckos and iguanas among the islands. Where did they all go when it rained yesterday? Why haven't I seen one splattered on the side of the road? I've seen a cat like that.
 
  In her beach bag she also packs wine. Barefoot - one of my favorite. We begin to leave there, but apparently as the Islanders go, - they run on McKenna time - we leave 20 minutes later. We leave after the start of the rain shower and after switching the wine for rum and OJ. Hmmm…
 
  The car ride continues. I don't know where I am except that we are heading north-ish on the island of St. John. Couldn't say much more. I have not studied a map of this island; I am just going to take their words for it. 
 
  Speaking of their words - they speak of folks from town: exs, friends, enemies, businesses, life - how it's changed and how it hasn't. I try to follow. I feel like Hansel & Gretel looking for their breadcrumbs - picking up the few pieces left behind by the forest animals.

  My other friend was very right about the roads of St. John. They wind, climb, and have no rails before the cliffs. The roads to the beach take us through the rain, down the hills, and around the sharp bends. We pass scenic overlooks, construction sites, and road work where the flaggers say hi to you.

A Stick of Gum

The plane is mostly full. Two seats next to me are open. I hope no one will sit there. That would be nice. I have never flown in an empty row. The only other seat taken is a gentleman across from me at the other window. I bet he’s thinking the same thing.

Flight attendants make their final announcements. I look up to see a family of 5 coming down the aisle. Right to me. Great. I swallow the hope and adjust myself to be sure I have the right armrest and the space I need before they sit.

Two women sit with me. Clearly they know each other. They start code switching and I wonder if this is how the 4 hour flight will go.

It is hard not to ease drop in these tight quarters. The younger of the women, the one right next to me talks about when she moved to California. She recalls the flight out by herself. Her ears popped and she was miserable most of the trip. A boy behind her was making fun of her. At the end of the flight, the same boy, four years her junior, offered her a piece of gum. It was then she learned to chew gum to avoid the horrid ear pain.

Through her story, I gather she is about 16 years old and on her spring break. The other woman next to her turns out to be her mother. They continue to talk, sleep, and listen to the I-Pod for the flight. Across the aisle were two men. I am not sure of their relation to the women with me, but they keeprro the conversations going.

I try to drown them out with the book in my lap. It sort of works. I feel the 16-year old’s eyes on the words in front of me. One of my pet peeves is people reading over my shoulder. I change my position, close my book, and reach into my bag. I hope it’s enough to distract her.


It’s not.

She continues it seems to look at my book and out the window. She also moves in on my armrest. I am not a fan of sharing my personal space and I squeeze against the wall of the plane. I stick my sweatshirt in between my head and a window. My tray is also down to reclaim some space. I look over. She is asleep.

Peace and I drift off.

The turbulence awakes me. It was a bumpy ride all the way south. I let it rock me back to sleep and slept much better…until I heard her voice…again.

Where did I leave my headphones?? I couldn’t find them in the days approaching my trip. How I wish I had them now!

I find comfort in my book again and fight between reading and sleeping more. I had only gotten 2 hours of sleep last night. Or rather this morning.

We begin our descend. The pressure change awakes me this time. It’s not quite gum time but close. I am awake now - no sense in trying to sleep at this juncture. My book is still open to my page and I continue reading.

My seat neighbor is eagerly looking out the window I left open. The water below is crystal blue. A glimpse makes me smile. I love this view! I love being over the open water and watching the waves from above. This is why I get the window seats.

Feeling the ground closer I recognize that this is a true definition of faith - to descend over the sea and trust the pilot has the runway or airport in sight.

I see rainbows and reefs. I see the stratosphere and ships. My vacation is becoming more and more of a reality. I feel home. Inside the pressure is building.


The young woman reaches for something in her bag. I don’t pay much attention, my book is getting good. She turns to me and offers me a stick of gum. Did she read my mind?

Too distracted and thrown off by it, I politely refuse. I continue reading and glancing out the window. But now I can’t concentrate on my book. A stranger I sat next to for 4 hours offered me a piece of gum because she noticed I wasn’t chewing on any and didn’t want anyone around her to feel that pain she felt on her first flight.

I reach into my bag. I put my sweatshirt away, grab my camera, notebook (the rainbow sparked a verse), and a stick of gum. As I do this, a gentleman in the row ahead turns and asks her if she has any extra gum. His got hard. Of course she shared it.

With a smile and glint of excitement in her eyes, she talks to her mother about the island of Puerto Rico. It seems as though she spent her early years here. She is full of questions and memories.

And as the plane lands in San Juan, applause fills the cabin. It was a bumpy ride.