Creature comfort?

The tropics are home to a number of animals and creatures, many of which do not live in Barbados.  I know this because whenever I say something like, "Oh man, did you see that toad?!!" or "Why do the lizards keep coming into the house?!!?"  Someone, read my husband, always reminds me that at least we don't have centipedes or millipedes or snakes that can strangle us in six minutes flat or bloodsucking bats or bugs that get into your clothes and eat your flesh.  Got it.  It's true.  Those things I definitely could not abide.  But I am not in love with any of these other creatures either and none more so than the mosquito or the toad or the snail or the mothra moths!

When the girls and I first got here, there were no screens on any of the doors and windows and all kinds of creatures made their way into the house for cozy, cool resting places.  How Didier could have lived here all those months without thinking of screens is beyond me.  We had a newborn baby and the swamp had brought all its things to our home!  I arrived with a "hell no" in the eyes and a little bit of crazy.  I still believe I can feel a mosquito lurking at 10 paces and the poor lizards cling to the wall when they see me because they know I will spend the night trying to get them off the wall and out of the house before anyone gets to close his eyes, read Didier. 

The mosquitoes waste their time these days in their attempts to torture me as I believe they have met their match in Stephanie Penn-Virot.  Not only do I have three electric mosquito zappers strategically placed around the house, but I now boast three tennis racket "bug zappers" that function much like Roger Federer at practice.  A mosquito comes into view and "Whoosh!"  I swing the racket and zap that sucker to kingdom come.  It is not a one-sided game either.  Somehow, every morning, I awaken with two or three new bites.

I think the African snails face the greatest wrath of my crazy.  Stowaways to the island in the late 80s, early 90s, the African snail eats everything that gets in its way, destroying vegetation, flower gardens, banana plants, leaving slime all over the patio and walkways.  I had no idea what to do with these snails and as I am married to a Frenchman, thought to ask him for a solution.  Of course he had already inquired.  These snails could be eaten, but they needed first, to be starved for 2 weeks to get rid of all the crud, technical term, they had taken in eating everything in their pathways.  Seemed the better solution was to pour salt water over them and watch them melt into oblivion like the Wicked Witch in Oz.  They destroy crops before you come for me.  I am doing a service.

Before the screens were put in, and I know by now you must have realized they would be, a giant moth the size of my hand flew into the house and started to land in my hair!  Because I am hypervigilant in the dark, I saw him coming from the darkness and started a silent shriek. (Well, the girls were asleep and I still did not want to wake them.)  Didier, the nerve, started laughing until he saw the size of the thing!  Of course I have no pictures of this one, but trust me, some of its relatives still linger on the patio walls.  Scary.

Finally, and this is definitely last but not least, is the giant toad.  Yes, I am aware that they eat the mosquitoes, like the lizards, but really, they are not doing their job the way I am getting eaten up.  They might be some of the ugliest things you have ever seen and worse than all that is the defecating done all about the premises when the sun goes down.  Black, slimy, sludgy nastiness, smelling like the sea and cut wet grass there is literally nothing to make me love that shit or those toads.

The girls, even Virginie, laugh their heads off when they see me freak over these creatures.  Ha ha.  At least I amuse them and at the end of the day I get to see them smile...and that is pretty much every day.

(c)copyright 2010. Citymominthejungle

Immigration Nation

So now that we are "officially visitors" of the great island of Barbados, as per our newly stamped passports, it is my new responsibility to get Lily, the soon-to-be four year old, a student visa.  The visa for Lily will have to be renewed every year that she is enrolled in school, even though Didier's passport and work permit are valid through 2012.  Virginie and I are also valid through 2012.  If we do not take care of this, our soon-to-be four year old will be an illegal here on this great isle.  Let me remind you that it took from September 2009 until the end of June 2010, to get our current status processed, so I have no great hope for Lily's being a valid international student of Barbados by early September.  But one can dream.

The line at the Immigration Department is kind of like those commercials that want to demonstrate bureaucratic inefficiency where everyone is grey and wearing grey, with bloodshot eyes, waiting for what looks like an eternity for assistance by a person with a huge stack of papers on his desk.  We got there at twenty past nine in the morning and the line was out the door and all the pews, as the seats for some reason look like pews at Immigration, were full.  We just wanted a form. 

Waiting on line, I dreamed, if you can believe it, of the United States Postal Service where, what I can only imagine a desire to have face to face contact with as few people as possible, all the forms and labels are available at a kiosk or under a long work table.  No such luck here.  There are five plexiglas windows for service with just one person actually answering questions and some older lady plugging away at something that definitely didn't involve any of us, and maybe not her job either.  When we finally get to the front of the line, another person has come on and asks us a series of questions before she is willing to give us the forms we need.  To obtain her student visa, Lily will need to present her birth certificate, 3 passport sized photos wearing a long sleeve top, seriously, proof of her guardians' right to be here, and $200 Barbados.

Sunday brunch...but first we have to get there

Have heard such wonderful things about the Atlantis Hotel near Bathsheba and decided to go for brunch with the family and some friends.  This was our second attempt at a brunch reservation, having been sidelined by a stomach bug on the last try that had the entire family doing a system clear out for days.  Our friends Holly and Steve who have since left the island took the girls one afternoon and raved that the girls would be able to "express themselves" should the desire arise and no one would be too put out.  Wherever you are in the world, this is important for parents of young children.  Both Lily and Virginie continue to surprise us with their relative goodness when we dine out but one has to be prepared should the occasional freak out be hidden in their bag of tricks.

We reserved a table for noon at my suggestion.  I figured that since Virginie usually napped at 11:30 am, she could pass out in the car, take the 30 minute drive with us and should she wake up early, she would have at least had an hour of rest to launch her into the afternoon and if she continued to sleep, well, I could get a break and actually eat at the table.  But that was not Virginie's plan.  After a morning swim with a few underwater dives, Virginie came inside and promptly passed out at 9:30 am and woke up at 11:30, delaying our departure time by 15 minutes. 

We met up with J.La and KC so that we could follow them across the island to the East and all arrive together.  Rather than going North toward Speightstown and crossing at the road to Farley Hill and the Wildlife Reserve, we went South to Warrens and then took a left to the East Coast.  This is where, one could say, we took a wrong turn, literally.  We found ourselves driving through fields of sugar cane, on small farming roads, zig-zagging through different parishes, trying to get to the hotel.  We came to a crossroads where we did not recognize one street name and had no idea what direction we were going.  We aimed for the sea and took a turn.  Feeling like we were getting close, we turned to cross a bridge that would take us directly in front of the hotel.  Excitement was soon dashed when we found that the bridge was closed for repair and we would have to retrace our path and cross at some other location.  The truth is, there are not too many ways to cross the island.  Miss one and you just might find yourself meandering through the mountains, taking twists and turns and hoping that your Hired "H" car does not draw too much attention.

This trip usually takes about 20 minutes.  Forty-five minutes into this particular route and Lily had to pee.  We stopped our mini-caravan, unstrapped Lily from her space chair/car seat and ran to the woods where she immediately got stage fright.  We got back in the car and Lily promptly fell asleep.  Virginie was now sitting on my lap in the front seat after shrieking for 15 straight minutes in her own space chair.  When we finally arrived about an hour and ten minutes after departing the West Coast, Lily was asleep, Virginie was in desperate need of a diaper change and everyone was starving.

Whisked immediately to a table, we ordered drinks and a bottle of rose to be served with the meal and hit the buffet.  It was a lovely afternoon.  A beautiful restaurant with local and standard brunch fare and good company.  Lily and Virginie behaved themselves to the best of their abilities and ate well.  The view of the Atlantic Ocean was lovely.  Choppy waves and small boats dancing in the surf.  A nice change for a Sunday afternoon.