Holidaze’d

It’s been a true whirlwind of a month…Mexico, Christmas, New Years and the busy swell of high season, both in the restaurant and on the beach.  It’s crazy that, as far remove from the “real world” as we are down here,  the winter storm and the hurricane in the North East brings tales of it’s existence to the island in a multitude of ways.  For starters, the tourist season was delayed this year, or so I hear because I wouldn’t know as it’s my first year on Saint John.  Christmas Eve was the first night at Asolare that we were booked solid.  Additionally, the beaches have been washed out by crushing white caps that surge with the memory of fallen snow in a place closer to home.

And now, the beaches are packed with pale skin and the restaurant buzzing with folks traveling from the eastern seaboard with high hopes of relaxation and new adventures on this island I now call home.  I feel a lot of long time locals starting to puff up their chests a bit.  I’ve heard the “I live here” card being played on multiple occasions and yesterday, with suitcases in tow, my roommate and I were treated scruffily by a bar tender, who undoubtedly mistook us for tourists, as we waited for the ferry en route to Saint Thomas for supplies at Cost You Less and Kmart.

This is a phenomenon I will never understand.  In my four years in Breckenridge, although by March, we were ready to have our town back, we understood the need for tourist traffic and treated them with respect.  Out-of-towners are the reason that we are able to live in beautiful places.  They come in., spend their money and go home with a lifetime’s worth of special memories. I always strive now, as I did when I lived high in the Rockies, to become a positive part of their vacation experience.  I listen to their stories, with true interest, and I share my own.  I’m not trying to be self-righteous, just stating a point.  “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”  is a phrase that is ringing true in my mind’s eye right now.

It’s funny how a thing like a suitcase can put one in undercover reporter mode.  I’m glad for it as I was able to see a true side of a few people yesterday and I’m very aware of a bar that I will not be frequenting again any time soon.

Having said all of this, December was truly an amazing month.  I have worked almost every night since my return from Tulum and my journey through Mexico with my closest friends.  I’ve barely had the time to update my facebook status, which leads you to the assumption of my lack of posts here.  But, busy is good and, between frequent trips to the beach riddled with snorkeling and volleyball, I have begun to finally collect the things I need to make my house more of a home.  Yesterday, we set off a bug bomb in the house and, after returning from Saint Thomas, my roommate and I OxyCleaned the Villa from top to bottom without a ninja mosquito in sight!  It was a beautiful thing to wake up this morning on my new tempurpedic mattress pad, towed from Cost You Less in said suitcase, to the early morning light rather than a pack of black masked blood suckers dotting my sun kissed skin with red bumps.

My wonderful mother sent boxes and boxes of books and summer clothing for Christmas and I, in turn, shipped off a box on New Years Eve, containing a selection of island souveniers which I won’t reveal here as she and my ever-supportive father (to whom the box is also addresssed) follow my blog closely.  We skyped on Christmas morning, the three of us and my sisters and their husband and boyfriend…and the dogs as well.  It was a warm feeling to sit in my bathing suit and cover up, a thousand miles from the first home I knew, and yet be present in the living room with the first people who knew and loved me for me.  We opened packages together before I scooted off to brunch and a white elephant exchange in the home of the first people on island to take me into their home and give me shelter.

Later that day, as I took a quick dip at Frank Bay before heading into work, I revisited the Ghost of Christmas Past and gave thanks to the universe for my happy upbringing, without which I would not be able to be where I am now…I indefinitely would not be the positive person I am now….Able to conquer the setbacks of life and the difficulties of paradise with a grain of salt and a smile.

New Years Eve was perhaps the most nostalgic of times I’ve experienced.  As the makeshift ball of red Christmas lights dropped slowly from the ceiling of Motu, shimmery silver tinsel lining every surface of the bar, and the skeleton inside of the ball emitted fake snow (foam) and I hugged new friends and toasted champagne to this new found home, I was sucked back in time to a montage of the past eight inaugurations of new beginnings.

I can’t remember a New Years before Yonder Mountain String Band at the Fillmore, the Ogden, the Boulder Theater, the Pepsi Center.  Always with the best of friends surrounding me with true love and infatuation, both for the music and for each other.  I shed a tear as the clock struck midnight and 2013 fell like a heavy vail….The people I hold dearest would not see the New Year for another three hours and were probably stuck in a bluegrass haze of the first set played by Jeff, Adam, Ben and Dave at the Boulder Theater.  Was I sorry I wasn’t there with all of them?  Most definitely.  Was I sorry I was on the beach in the Caribbean.  Most definitely not.