Vive le weekend!

Saturday and Sunday were spent together as a family, something that hasn't happened in a long while.  The girls were tickled to pieces to have Didier home all weekend and we did one family activity after the next until all were thoroughly exhausted.  Saturday was pool day with both girls practicing the skills they'd learned at their swimming lessons and Mommy and Papa swimming laps and racing according to Lily's commands.  We did make a quick diversion to the grocery store to get some food for the week, but the girls love that too, so it was all in fun.  There was splashing in the paddling pool, baseball pitches to Lily, stroller rides around the garden for Virginie, capped off with an evening barbecue for all.


Sunday morning did not start out well, after a night up nursing and chatting with Virginie who continues to suffer each tooth as though she has never felt that sensation before.  A morning visit to the beach always washes the stress away and Didier proposed we do just that before I became the ogre I was beginning to resemble.

Our visits to the sea have been far too infrequent of late because it is such a chore to get everyone sunscreened and dressed, toys, blankets and towels packed, and Virginie in the stroller and Lily flip-flopped and ready to walk.  But once there, I always forget the struggle.  It was beautiful today...and something I cannot trade,  not even with the Hamptons or the Jersey Shore, both places I have spent a good deal of time.  The water is so clear and refreshing and we never find ourselves surrounded by people or lots of overproduced music.  The most obnoxious visitors to our beach camp are the wave runner drivers trolling the beach for people who might want to pay for a ride and the jewelry peddlers selling shell necklaces and coconut bracelets. 


I am so happy that we spent Saturday and Sunday morning together honoring each of the girls in their own way, because when a Sunday afternoon birthday party came around, I witnessed Mean Girls at the pre-school level and was nearly crushed for Lily in the way some of those little girls behaved!  It is my own fault really.  I took Lily to a birthday party for a little girl who was turning 5.  I am friendly with her mother, a woman I like very much and was hoping to get Lily and her daughter acquainted.  Perhaps I should have chosen a different day to do so, but hindsight really is 20/20. 


Lily didn't know any of the kids there which is usually not a problem.  Although a little shy, she makes friends easily; but she was out of her element here.  The kids were a little older and many knew each other already from school.  They just seemed to close their circle and poor Lily couldn't find a way in.  I felt myself wanting to defend her, to get in there and support her, and honestly, I did a few times.  She would get in the pool to swim and the other girls would just swim past her.  She tried to smile at them but they just ignored her.  There were a couple of girls who let her race with them and paddle around with them, but I found her often alone. 


When it was time for the kids to eat, she sat at a little table and ate her pizza and drank a glass of water from a crazy straw all by herself.  She seemed okay with that.  We have taught her table manners and she often seeks out a nice table with a napkin and a place for her cup so that she may dine properly.  (I mean, her father is a French chef after all!)  The other kids sat around, some with their plates on their laps, something Lily really doesn't care for. 


Once the evening was over and the girls were put to sleep, I spent far too long in tears thinking about my sweet girl feeling hurt and left out.  I know this is something all, or at least most kids go through.  I just wanted to spare her a few more years before that all began.  If I don't try to protect her, try to help her through these times, then what kind of mother would I be?

It's getting hot in here

Before the rainy season gets into full swing, we have been doing basic maintenance at the house.  We had an extra gas delivery for the main house as well as the guesthouse.  Supplies of water and pasta are being collected should the power go out.  Extra batteries and candles are in store.  And finally, today, the AC repair man is here to service all the air conditioning units in the bedrooms.  Not a moment too soon either.  Last night the unit in our bedroom appeared to be struggling to cool down and that can be no surprise to anyone in living in or visiting Barbados for more than a week.  It is blazing hot and only getting hotter. 


This isn't like the heat in New York in the middle of July and August.  This is the REAL hot and there will be no reprieve before the end of December!  I know how seriously we consider the heat, especially in New York.  Truly, we suffer there because it is such a pedestrian culture and we are still inclined to walk everywhere, even if the thermometer reaches 100 degrees.  But there is some escape in New York if you so choose.  Air conditioning, that great invention, is a way of life and there are countless opportunities to find the cold--going to the movies, the grocery store, the corner deli, restaurants, bars, anywhere really that hopes to have customers or guests.  One can either purchase window units inexpensively or bask in the cool of central air.  There are options and they are pretty easy.


But that is not the case here in Barbados, as air conditioning is not a right; it is a privilege and one that costs.  Electricity is expensive, something rarely considered when one is sitting at a window unit after a 30 block trek from Midtown to the Upper West Side.  Many people do not have air conditioning (and certainly not central air) and wait for the breezes available in higher elevations on the island.  We live at sea level and the air is often still.  With an open plan to the house and no air conditioning in the main living space or the kitchen, by 9 am, it often feels as though one might actually roast alive without realizing it...like a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water.


Yes, there is the sea, but there is very little cover.  Shall we go out in the heat of the day to cool off in the sea with a temperature of 75 degrees F, when the sun will more than likely laser off the first layer of skin even if you are wearing an SPF of 70?  So we stay in the shade and drink lots of water and eat lots of fruit.  Mangoes.  But you know how THAT ends.
I have been getting such a kick out of all the "summer stories" in the fashion magazines. A summer scarf? That might actually land me in the hospital with heat exhaustion. I wonder seriously, if any of the style mavens have spent any significant amount of time in a place where the humidity never dips below 85 % and one does not hustle from air conditioned hub to air conditioned hub. One of my favorite sights was a young woman too hip to be damned walking, well shuffling around Bridgetown in a pair of ankle booties and hot leather shorts. Leather. Her feet had swollen so terribly, as evidenced by her puffy ankles and calves but she was rocking that fierce summer leather and no one was going to tell her that it maybe needed to be rethought and executed at another time...or at least in another climate.

So I am dressed as cool as possible.  Down to the bare minimum--cotton dress, tank top, shorts, flip flops.  Sometimes I wear my swim suit as underwear, just in case.  I do not blow dry my hair often.  I do not wear makeup.  I cringe at the thought of putting on pants, even linen pants.  Virginie laughs whenever I put on her pajama pants for a night spent in the air conditioning because she is just not used to anything on her legs.  In fact, most of the family is naked at any given moment.  Anyone looking at Facebook photos might ask, "Is Lily naked?"  And the answer is always yes.  It's getting hot in here.  Let's take off all our clothes.

(c)copyright 2010. Citymominthejungle















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One fish, two fish

This morning, Didier and I took Virginie for her first swimming lesson.  Funny, before Lily's first lesson we had never considered lessons for Virginie.  She is only 13 months old and we both remember that we had our first lessons when we were a bit older.  But after talking with Wendy, Lily's instructor, we were curious.  Apparently, up until they are about 12 to 15 months, babies have the ability to breathe underwater.  I suppose it is not breathing under water but they hold their breathe and do not take in water coming up choking as someone older might.  We were also interested in preventing a fear of water from settling in as it clearly had in subtle ways with Lily, ie the fear of leaning back or getting water on her face.

We joined a class that had been together twice before, but we were able to fit right in.  Aidan and Emma were both 16 months old and were at different levels.  Aidan's father and Emma's mother were also in the water, not only to ensure the safety of the children, but to make them feel more secure with someone they already know and trust.  I got in with Virginie as I am more likely to do the silly things one must do to put children at ease in the pool.  God love him, but can you see the French husband singing "The Wheels on the Bus" and splashing the water?

Virginie was not sure what was going on exactly, but she loved the pool toys and watching the other babies.  When it was her turn to go underwater, I had Wendy do it first while I held Virginie's little hands.  Virginie was surprised but her breathing kicked right in!  I was so overwhelmed with joy for her and proud of her bravery...and mine too frankly.  I just put my baby underwater!  She really enjoyed kicking and splashing and moving around the pool and we will surely continue our lessons.   Wendy has taught babies as young as 8 weeks old and while you wouldn't leave them to do laps in the pool on their own, it is a wonderful introduction to water and swimming, a skill I can only hope both girls develop as they grow up.

Coming back for more

As I sipped my coconut water on the patio yesterday afternoon, I looked out into the garden and saw that the coconut crew, long gone, had left a pod full of coconuts, about 15 or so, cut down and resting by the girls' swing set.  I imagine that in their haste to chat with me, they'd left some behind.  I thought this morning of calling them to have them retrieve them so they wouldn't go to waste but didn't want to trouble my landlord for their number.  I also get a bit exhausted being ogled all the time by a group of young men while I am home alone on a pretty quiet street.  Didier, on occasion, does cut down the coconuts and I drink the water and he and the kids join me in eating the meat or jelly inside, but it takes forever for him to get around to it.  Case in point, we have seven coconuts sitting on our patio dining table waiting to be opened.

At noon, after Virginie's swimming lesson (to be discussed in the next post) and right before nap time, I hear the bell to the house clanging.  Outside at the gate is one of the coconut team who wasn't with the crew the day before.  He yells over the fence that he has some coconut water for me as he knows I only took a glass yesterday.  I told him not to bother, but then remembered the coconuts out back.  I told him as much and brought him around to collect them.

Crazy for Coconuts

About every 6 to 8 weeks, the coconut guys come around to collect the coconuts from the trees in our garden which they then open, drain the water, and sell it on the side of the highway like countless other coconut crews.  Our team varies, but the leader is always the same and the work is always done quickly and efficiently.  At the end of each marathon collection, I often take a bottle or cup of coconut water, something I have grown to love here. 

The crews work in teams of two.  One man serves as the anchor and holds the rope that guides and supports the climber as he swings through the tops of the coconut trees releasing the coconuts and pods with his machete.  The climber either wears a sort of brace for his feet with spikes in the sides, kind of like cleats or running spikes or, if he is really good, runs up barefoot!  The coconuts are cut down and tied to the ropes and are then dropped down for collection.  Should any palm fronds fall, they remove those and take them to the rubbish pile for us.

Learning to Swim

Lily took her first swimming lesson yesterday after school.  She was so eager and excited and felt safe in her floaty bathing suit.  I know that she will soon have to give it up in order to really learn to swim and trust her own body in the water rather than these floatation devices, but I wanted her to feel safe and secure for her first class.  Her teacher is Wendy Baker, an ex-pat from England who has recently returned to the island and has decided to make Barbados her home.  She holds the lessons at her home in a beautiful swimming pool and I must say, she has the knack.  Games, songs, and fun props had Lily in the water immediately, although she did have a hard time following directions because she was so excited by the little rubber fishies and swimming noodles.

Exterminator X

Because we are living out here in the jungle, more so than some in Barbados because our garden is big with lots of plants and bugs and frogs and snails and outdoor kinds of things, we have our exterminator come pretty frequently.  I was excited to write about this because our usual exterminator is such a character and I just knew he would let me take a picture of him to share.  He has that look about him that shows he takes pride and serious interest in his work.  In fact, he looks like a bug!  It makes me giggle every time I see him.  But the gentleman is sincerely one of the nicest people I have met.  He is courteous and punctual, something you do not always find here in Barbados...even if I kind of don't understand a word he is saying...and he always asks about the family and talks about how the baby is growing up.