Follow Your Dreams

Life in Utila continues to be kind to me.  I've been busy with many aspects of writing: a weekly writer's group meeting, involvement in several online writing forums, a new volunteer position as Communications Director for a local community group, and daily writing of short stories and a novel in the works.  Yesterday I was honored as winner of an online writing competition.  My story was chosen by my writing peers, which was both flattering and validating.  Some of you have asked to read the story...a themed writing about winning...so I'm sharing it with you here on my blog and hope that you will enjoy it.

                                                           The Summer of Sour Lemons

Stuey Martin, at age eleven, was a year older than me.  He was small in stature.  Freckles danced across his thin face, and over-sized ears were usually sticking out beneath his Boston Red Sox cap.  He could always be seen riding his bike around the neighborhood, but he never joined the rest of us when we played hopscotch or kick the can on our dead-end street.

Eddie thought it was because he had a bum leg.  "I bet he has a limp from an accident or something," Eddie mumbled.

Arlene, as always, interrupted to give us her opinion.  "My mother says he must have been born like that."  The look on her face dared me to disagree.  I knew better than to do that.

A few days later, I saw Stuey riding towards me on his bike.  Mama was making lemonade, and I had coerced her into giving me a few of the tart, juicy pieces to suck on.  As I sat on the curb, the prized lemons firmly in my grasp, I was hoping the shade from the red maple would offer some relief from the oppressive heat.

Stuey slowed to a stop just a few feet in front of me.  "Whatcha got there?" he asked, eyes fixed on my lemons.

Having just placed one of the wedges between my teeth, I answered, "lemons".  It sounded more like "yemas", but I was pretty sure he knew what they were before he asked.

"Can I have one?" he asked.  Looking up at Stuey's expectant face, I answered with a boldness that took me by surprise.  "I'll share them with you if you tell me what happened to your leg."

Stuey hesitated, eyes downcast, but his lemon-craving got the best of him.  "Okay," he said.  "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."

Arlene's smug, horse-like face came to mind, and I thought about what it would be like, winning an argument with her.  After a moment's hesitation, I held out the handful of lemons and smiled.  "I promise."

We sat side-by-side on the curb, sharing our refreshing summer treat, as Stuey told me about having polio when he was seven.  "I was sick for a long time.  Mom says I'm lucky, though, because I almost made a full recovery.  My left leg is just weaker than my right, so I walk with a limp.  The doctor says it might go away by the time I'm grown, though."

I was impressed.  Stuey didn't seem to feel sorry for himself at all.  I had heard about polio.  Mama said lots of people were paralyzed from it, and some even had to be put in iron lungs to help them breathe.  I was glad that hadn't happened to Stuey.

When he had finished his lemons, he got on his bike and rode away.  I was ashamed of myself for blackmailing him, but I wouldn't go back on my word.  I would never tell the other kids what he had shared with me.  I still like sucking on lemons sometimes, and when I do, I always think of Stuey Martin and that summer of sour lemons.

The Accident(al) Traveler

I have not been an accomplished traveler in my lifetime.  It all began when I was sixteen and flying home to Massachusetts after visiting my sister in Wisconsin.  Alone in a New York airport with no money, I discovered the last shuttle flight had already left for Boston.  Uh oh!  It was only the first of many interesting, exasperating, and sometimes hilarious travels.  My recent trip to Antigua, Guatemala, was NOT the exception.

I took the afternoon ferry from the island to La Ceiba on the mainland, where I spent the night at the Hotel Paris so that I could make the 5:15 AM Hedman Alas bus to Antigua.  I dined at the hotel restaurant, passing on the breaded snook…since no one could tell me what it was…and opting, instead, for the shrimp in béchamel sauce.  At the bus terminal, I made certain to question the ticket agent about stops and bus changes, since I know very little Spanish and didn’t want to take any chances while traveling.  There would be one change in San Pedro Sula, then stops at Copan and the border, arriving in Antigua at approximately 8:30 PM.

 

The trip was comfortable and uneventful.  We were supplied with water and other drinks, as well as snacks and lunch.  I slept some of the time and read a book the remainder of the time.  Hector, a Hedman Alas employee who accompanied us on the trip, provided instruction in halting English when he realized I spoke no Spanish.  He, thoughtfully, brought me to the appropriate immigration offices at the border and advised me on trading my Lempiras for Quetzals.

Upon disembarking the bus in (what I thought was) Antigua, a taxi driver approached and asked, “Antigua?”  “Si”, I answered, as he grabbed my suitcase and ushered me to the awaiting taxi.    Hector stopped at the taxi before we left, squeezing my hand as we said our goodbyes.  I told the taxi driver I was going to Casa Madeleine.   He said something to me in Spanish, of which I understood not one word.  “Sorry”, I said.  “No Española.”  He repeated himself but, of course, I still didn’t understand him.  Now he had me hoping I would eventually make it to Casa Madeleine!

As we drove through the city, traffic was heavy, and American establishments like Pizza Hut and Burger King were prevalent.  Highways had multiple lanes, medians and directional signs.  This was not the Antigua my friends had described to me, and my disappointment was daunting.  I have not worn a watch since moving to Utila, but I know we drove for a very long time…well over an hour…and I began to wonder how I was going to pay for this taxi ride.  And where on earth was I?  Soon I began to notice signs pointing to Antigua, and realized that the bus must not have dropped us in Antigua after all.  Finally the terrain began to change.  Tiny shops with adobe facades replaced the fast food restaurants.  Paved highways turned into cobblestone streets.  I thought, ‘THIS must be Antigua’.

We approached a large intersection where three other taxis were parked.  My driver pulled up next to them and walked over to one of the other drivers, who then came and transferred me and my luggage to his taxi.  The first driver never asked me for payment, and I wondered if they were going to split the fee.  At this point I was so totally confused that almost any scenario could have applied to my situation.  We drove only five minutes when he pulled to a stop and I realized I had reached my destination.  “Thirty Quetzals”, he told me.  Since I knew that was a small amount of money, things finally became clearer.  The bus must have dropped us in Guatemala City; then Hedman Alas provided transportation to Antigua for whomever needed it…apparently I was the only one that night.  How I wished someone had thought to tell me!  I was relieved to have finally solved the mystery, but now a new mystery confronted me:  how was I going to get back to the Hedman Alas terminal in Guatemala City to buy my return ticket?

I had been traveling for more than seventeen hours, the last leg of which was laced with anxiety.  I was grateful when I was shown to my room, which was complete with a mini bar.  The bottle of red wine was atop the fridge, along with two silver-rimmed wine glasses.  I sat on the edge of the bed and took an unladylike gulp, savoring the flavor in my mouth before swallowing.  Ah!  Wine helps everything.

My room was decorated in an old Spanish country style.  It was called The Blue Room and was very cozy and soothing.  The bathroom was accented in a colorful patterned tile and matching sink.  Since I was going to be there for three nights, I unpacked my belongings and put everything away.  I wanted it to feel like home.  I had a second glass of wine and turned on the television.  A surprising number of channels were in English.  The room was quite cool.  I reminded myself that I was high up in the mountains…it would cool off at night…and I would most likely need to cover up with a blanket.  I slept like the dead, awaking at 6:30 AM and ready for my complimentary breakfast.

Casa Madeleine was charming.  Decorative tile, wrought iron features and lush, tropical plants filled every room and hallway.  I went to the front desk to ask for a map of the town so I could walk around and see the sights.  Alysia was very helpful and friendly.  She wrote on the map, showing me where certain places were that I might like to see.  I asked her where Hector’s Restaurant was and she marked that.  I explained about the confusion with the bus trip, and she told me there was a Hedman Alas ticket office in town, marked it on the map, and suggested I check with them about transportation to Guatemala City.  Then she showed me to a lovely little dining area overlooking a garden filled with fruit trees and exotic flowers, where I had an amazing omelet accompanied by a spicy potato cake, mixed fruit cup, assorted breads and the most delicious coffee I think I’ve ever tasted.

I left for town, where my first stop was a coffee shop named The Refuge, owned, I’d heard, by an American.  I ordered an iced mocha, certain that I would definitely be buzzed after this and the two cups I’d had with my breakfast.  There was one other customer, a young man, and I started a conversation with him.  His name was Corey and this was his third visit to Guatemala to do missionary work.  His fiancé had just gotten her nursing degree, and she would accompany him on his next trip and work with the pregnant women living in the mountains who had no health care available to them.  They would be married by that time, he said.  He normally spent five months every year in Guatemala, but this year it would only be three months because he had to get home to Florida for his wedding.

 

The shops were located maybe six blocks from the hotel.  On the way I passed many interesting cathedrals and some ruins from a previous earthquake.  The three volcanoes…one of them still active and appropriately named Fire…towered in the distance.  I took so many pictures, stopping sometimes in the middle of the street to capture something.

This large, ornate cathedral was in the square across from the park in the center of town.  The little alcoves each contain a statue of a different saint.

I then decided to have a late lunch/early dinner, and headed over to Hector’s.  It had been recommended to me by island friends, Tony and Jo.  The place was small, but clean and comfortable and with friendly service.  Another couple was finishing up their meal, and the man spoke English so we exchanged pleasantries.  I was amazed by the size of the salad I ordered, piled high with assorted crisp greens, cherry tomatoes, cucumbers and crowned with a mound of freshly grated cheese.  It came with a small bowl of sweet/tart vinaigrette, and I enjoyed it with a glass of Malbec wine.  A young man entered, placed his laptop on the table in the corner, and conversed with the other couple as they were leaving.  I assumed that the young man either owned the place or worked there.  He soon introduced himself as Hector, and I informed him of my friendship with Tony and Jo.  We had a very pleasant conversation as I finished my salad, and when I left he gave me his business card and told me to keep in touch.

I looked in many of the shops, bought a few souvenirs and a gift for my friend, Jan, who was back in Utila taking care of my cat, Pumpkin.  There are many street vendors, and they are re-lent-less!  Most are selling jewelry, and no matter how many times I would tell them that I don’t wear jewelry they would continue to follow me saying, “only $1” or “special price for you”.  They would even follow me as I crossed the street trying to get away from them!

 

I was fortunate to find the Hedman Alas office on the third attempt, and I purchased my return ticket and discovered that I was correct in my assumptions from the night before.  I was told that a van would pick me up at 6:00 AM on Friday morning to bring me to the bus terminal in Guatemala City.

 

I then decided to walk to the marketplace to see what was offered there.  I expected it to be mostly local produce, but there was very little of that.  Most of it was local art: Mayan masks, paintings, hand-crafted purses, weavings and jewelry.  The rest was mainly CD’s, children’s toys, shoes and even umbrellas.  I saw two young girls sitting in the median at the entrance to the marketplace.  They were selling fruit.  As I took the picture, one of the girls covered her face.  In many instances I noticed that the Guatemalan people do not like to have their picture taken and will often turn away.

At the marketplace I was having a little difficulty with the map.  I would be returning to the hotel by a different route, and I get turned around so easily.  I examined it closely and headed off, hoping for the best.  I thought I was following the map, but it soon became apparent that I was lost.  I kept walking, hoping to come across a familiar landmark.  Finally I had to try to communicate with someone, as my back and calves were beginning to scream at me.  I stopped two women who were walking together and showed them the name of the hotel and the address, which I had written down “just in case”.  They both shook their heads ‘no’.  I walked farther, coming upon a gated entrance to some ruins, and showed the address to someone I assumed to be a guard.

He looked, and then pointed in the direction I was walking.  I didn’t think he understood English, but I asked him anyhow if I just kept walking straight and he nodded ‘yes’. After walking quite a way with no luck, I saw a middle aged man ahead.  Fortunately he spoke English and, although he wasn’t familiar with the address, he quickly found out from someone else that I was still twelve blocks away from my destination.  “I’ll never make it,” I said.  “Do you think I could find a taxi?”  “Come with me,” he said, and he walked to the corner with me.   “A tuk tuk will come along any minute.  I’ll wait with you.”  He was right, and another 30 Quetzals later I was back at Casa Madeleine.  Too tired even for a glass of wine, I retired for the night.

 

The next morning I was prepared for more sightseeing.  It would be my last day in Antigua, and there was more that I wanted to see.  I started with the Greek breakfast: a slice of lightly breaded eggplant topped with an over-easy egg and all of the previous day’s delicious accompaniments.  I would miss the lovely gardens and the beautiful view of the volcano.

I headed for town, more confident now that I had done it once, but still with my map in hand.  I had only gone a few blocks when a man stopped me with a variety of nuts for sale.  I bought a bag, mixing two different kinds…a sweet and a salty.  My next stop was the Chocolate Museum, where I bought a small selection of white and dark chocolates and a refrigerator magnet as a remembrance of my trip.  After checking out a couple of other shops and doing my best to dodge the street vendors, I headed to the square for a little rest in the park.

I shared the bench for a while with a businessman who spent the entire time on his cell phone.  A young boy, no older than ten, passed by with a shoeshine kit and the man motioned for him to polish his shoes.  I was sad that the boy, so young, had to miss out on school in order to help support his family.

My bench mate left, and I was about to follow suit, when a beggar approached me.  He was rumpled and none-too-clean, but pleasant and friendly.  I had seen others turn away from him as he approached, so I invited him to sit down.  He told me his name was Charlie.  He spoke good English, and said he also spoke Spanish and French.  He had a cast on his foot and said he had broken it when he fell while running.  We exchanged some of our stories, and occasionally he would stop to give me a high five.  In a few minutes he got up to leave, and I handed him five Quetzals.  “You don’t have to give me any money, ma’am.  Thank you for treating me like a person”.  He took my hand and pressed it to his forehead.  “I don’t have much,” I said, “but please take this, and always remember that you are a very special person,” and with that he left.

I walked several blocks to Cazador Italiano for lunch, a restaurant with an authentic Italian chef who was purportedly one of the very best.  I ordered the risotto with smoked salmon, asparagus and mushrooms.  It was presented in a large bowl topped with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.  Cooked in a peppery broth, the combination of flavors was delightful.  I enjoyed it with two glasses of Malbec…one of the best Italian meals I’ve ever had.

I was a little sad as I returned to Casa Madeleine.  Antigua was quaint and lovely, and I almost wished I’d had more time to enjoy it.  I’m hoping to return for a few more days at the end of the year…perhaps around the holidays…to experience a little more of it.  They give guided tours to the volcanoes, and I think that would be interesting.

I was picked up in the morning by a large van with Hedman Alas printed on the side.  If that had been the vehicle which brought me to Antigua from Guatemala City, I would have understood what was happening.  I’m assuming that, because I was the only one from the bus going to Antigua, a local taxi was a more reasonable option.  After picking me up, the driver stopped to pick up two other young couples.  They were on their way to the island of Roatan after spending three months in Guatemala doing missionary work, so we would be traveling to La Ceiba together.  It took us two hours to get to Guatemala City.  We hit rush-hour traffic and it was bumper-to-bumper much of the way.

We were served our choice of breakfast or lunch on the bus.  I had thought of napping after that, but instead decided to take some pictures of the countryside from the bus window.  What I saw was so interesting and satisfying that I spent most of the trip doing it.  The small villages and mountainous landscape can be quite beautiful in both Guatemala and Honduras.

The poverty in Central America can be devastating, however.  We passed houses…less than shacks, really…which I thought were uninhabitable until I saw laundry hanging on the line or someone standing in the yard.  I don’t know what the people who live there do when it rains.  Thankfully they don’t have to worry about cold or snow.  For some reason I found it incredibly sad when clothes were hung over the clotheslines with no clothespins.  I guess it was because I felt as if the family couldn’t even afford the clothespins…but, perhaps, it was because they realized they didn’t need them.

An interesting sight was the corn growing on the steep hillsides.  Those people have no equipment.  Planting is done by hand.  It must be an incredible feat to plant corn under those conditions, and I can only guess at how long it must take them.  Those farmers are to be admired.

I also passed a few cemeteries, and it was interesting to see that the deceased were buried in crypts that were above the ground.  The crypts were painted with bright colors, and there was always a religious arch of some sort where family members could leave wreaths or flowers.  I almost missed getting this photo…sometimes the bus was just traveling too fast!

When we reached La Ceiba, I checked into the Paris Hotel again for the night.  Once again I was exhausted after a seventeen-hour trip, and I asked if the bar was still open so I could have a glass of wine.  Only one man at the bar spoke English, so we talked for a while and he translated for me with the bartender and the man who was playing  guitar and singing beautiful Spanish songs.  Shortly after he left, another English-speaking gentleman joined us and we also had an enjoyable conversation.  When the bar was closing, he even walked me to my room…a very sweet gesture.

In the morning, as I readied myself for breakfast, I heard a knock at my door.  Expecting it to be the front desk telling me that my taxi was here to bring me to the ferry, instead I was shocked to see my friend, Sue, from the island.  She had been in La Ceiba on personal business and was staying at the same hotel, so we enjoyed breakfast and returned to Utila on the ferry together.

It was a memorable trip, one where I connected with a number of very interesting people who I felt I was destined to meet.  I’m a believer that there are no coincidences in life.

Etc.

I'm calling this post Etc. because it's a little of this and a little of that, and I didn't want you to think I was rambling!

I sometimes lean against the porch railing, instead of sitting on the Adirondack chairs in the gazebo, just so I can feel the salt spray on my face.  It's become a nightly habit to retire to the porch with a cocktail or glass of wine and watch the wind play with the waves.  It reminds me why I'm here on this island...the call of the ocean.  Last night I had the pleasure of an unobstructed view of the mountains on the mainland.  Most of the time they are shrouded with haze, but last night only a few clouds hovered, so I ran to get my camera.

I have a screen door now, and Pumpkin has figured out how to open it.  When I go outside on the porch, I always call him in case he wants to go out with me.  It's the same every time: he comes to the door and sits there looking at me...I try to coax him, but he doesn't come out...I finally give up and shut the door.  Ten minutes later, as I'm sitting in my breezy spot enjoying my drink, here comes Pumpkin!

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I experienced my first carnival here on the island last week...Carnaval de Utila...which began Monday night with the coronation of the Queen and her court and ended on Sunday with food, drink, music and dancing on   Chepes Beach.  I watched the parade on Saturday from the porch of a friend in town.  It was all-encompassing, with horses, marching bands, dancing girls, floats and Mardi Gras beads.  The music was loud, the floats were colorful and the people were noisy and spirited.  It was supposed to start at 2 PM, but it was after 3 before the horses appeared, and then another half hour before the rest of the parade caught up to them.  Another 20 minutes passed before round two of the floats appeared...just when we thought the parade had ended!  Jan almost gave up and left several times, but I didn't intend to miss my first Carnaval!

Everyone worked hard to make Carnaval de Utila a success, and I do believe that the majority of the population was there in town to witness the parade.  It would be a while, following the end of the parade, before I would be able to make my way back to where I had parked my golf cart, so I walked across the street to Bobby's store and bought a bottle of wine.  Three of us shared in drink and conversation to pass the time, and I made it home before dark, Caribbean music still playing in my head.

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Following the filming of Truth in Toronto, I had numerous people tell me that it was now time to write the book.  Isn't that why I'm here, I thought...to write?  I decided to go for it...but immediately faced my first roadblock.  The story is about taking a leap of faith and moving to an island in a foreign country that I had never laid eyes on.  But it was more than that.  It was also a story about a woman who finally found her chutzpah, ended a toxic marriage and began a loving relationship with herself.  Where to begin?

In a matter of days it came to me...start at the end, then go back to the beginning.  Therefore, the title of my book should be the title of my last blog...A Day in the Park on a Purple Couch.  I needed to start with the filming of Truth and backtrack to what had happened in my life to get me there.  I couldn't wait to get started!  Every day I sit at my laptop to relate snippets of my life.  It's really coming together.  Soon I will have to begin the search for an agent and start sending out query letters to publishers.  A very exciting time!

Recently I had a customer at Fancy Fish Gallery who was vacationing from her home state of Maine.  We began to share our stories, and she seemed fascinated by mine.  When I mentioned that I wrote a blog, she asked me to write down the web address so she could read it.  I did as she asked and wrote my name underneath.  When she looked at it she said, "You're Miss Carolyn?  I've heard about you.  I'm so excited to meet you.  You're my hero!"  It was then that I fully understood that I need to write this book in the hope that it will impart inspiration and courage to (mostly female) readers.  We all have the courage to take that leap of faith, but some just need a little push...a push that I hope I can provide.

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Some of my friends on the island are also experiencing excitement or difficulty in their lives.  Dustin and Kate are on the mainland in La Ceiba, awaiting the birth of their first child.  We had a baby shower for Kate a few weeks ago, and there's a pool I've taken part in guessing date of birth, weight & height.  We can't wait to meet you Baby Insley!

Jan had a nasty experience with renters who moved out in the middle of the night, leaving the house wide open with keys in the door, A/C and fans running, and outstanding electric bills.

Sue has two tears in her rotator cuff and has been unable to dive for more than two months.  Diving is her passion, and it's been very difficult for her.  I'm trying to keep her busy with morning coffees at Rio Coco and Words With Friends on Facebook!

Linda, who has been in the states for a few months and recently started a new job there, finally got so homesick for the island that she's returning sooner than originally planned.  It will be great to have my Scrabble partner back again.  Her daughter, Sarah, may join her for the winter...double hurrah!

Caitlin and Tony will be returning to Canada in just over a week.  We're having a pot luck celebration in the gazebo on Saturday to wish them a Bon Voyage.  Thankfully, they will be returning in time for the rainy season.  Caitlin has been the yoga instructor on the island, and I'll definitely miss the personalized "house calls".

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I've saved the best for last.  We discovered a couple of weeks ago that we no longer have a post office here in Utila.  Rumor has it that the woman who worked there got a job on the mainland in Tegucigalpa.  The municipality tried to find a replacement for her but were unsuccessful, so when she left, they just closed it up!  No idea when...or if...it will reopen.  Just another day in Utila!

A Day in the Park on a Purple Couch

Many of you already know that the unlikely and unexpected actually materialized, and I have just returned from filming my segment of "Truth" on the OWN: Canada network.  What an amazing trip!

I slept only a couple of hours before my flight left the island at 6:00AM, and it was after midnight before I arrived in Toronto.  Following a $55 cab ride to my hotel (I know!), I enjoyed a much-needed glass of wine before a deep sleep claimed me.  The suite was the most luxurious I had ever stayed in, complete with kitchen, mini bar and washer/dryer.  A lovely polished stone in a black velvet bag lay atop my pillow.  Drat!...I had thought it was chocolate!

On day one I toured the city with my friend, James, who I had met in Utila when he was a neighbor for three months.  We walked the city streets lined with towering skyscrapers, drank coffee at Tim Horton's and strolled around Lake Ontario.  We returned to my hotel and enjoyed some wine, nuts, popcorn and chocolate, while having one of those great talks we used to have on the porch of the Sandstone, overlooking the ocean.  It was a delightful day.

The following day I got an early start to a nearby mall James had shown me.  The production crew was very particular about what could be worn in front of the camera...no white, plaid, checks, stripes, artwork or logos...and since I own only beach clothes anymore, I knew I would have to buy something appropriate.  I had no idea what was in store for me!

I started with the Sears store, since I was familiar with the name, and then I visited every single clothing store in the mall, trying on dozens of outfits and finding absolutely nothing that would work.  My back and feet were screaming with anger and fatigue.  What was I to do?  I had to buy something for the next day's shoot!  I dragged my swollen feet around the perimeter of the mall one more time, hoping to find a store I had magically missed.

It was then that I spotted a covered walkway between the mall and another building, a place called The Bay.  Not knowing if it was a department store or something else, I decided to check it out.  Bonanza!  Ladies garments galore!  I looked at the price tag of a pretty pink summer dress...gasp!...$550!  I was obviously in a designer store.  Feeling as if I really had no choice at this point in time, I decided to look anyhow.  I wound up purchasing a three-piece outfit (the third piece due to the fact that the top was somewhat see-through) that I thought was quite flattering on me for the absolutely obscene price of $598.

I was, surprisingly, not nervous on the day of the shoot.  The day was warm, partly cloudy, and I was dressed to the nines in my Eileen Fisher ensemble.  I set off for St. James Park, the site of the shoot, which was only a few blocks away.

I introduced myself to Colt, the Production Coordinator.  He told me it would be a little while before they got to me...filming is all about "hurry up and wait".  I spent my time getting to know all the members of the team...Amanda, who had initially called to offer me the opportunity to be on the show; Germaine, a very savvy Jack-of-all-trades with a PhD in film; Paul, the sound man; Mark, the interviewer, who it turns out is a therapist, not an actor!

This photo shows Kevin and Heather on the purple couch, being interviewed by Mark.  Colt, Production Coordinator is in the foreground with Paul, the sound man.

Kevin and Heather were on vacation about a year ago.  While swimming, Kevin was pulled beneath the water by an undertow, flipped upside down and slammed into the sand on his head.  Kevin is now a quadriplegic.  He and Heather have maintained a wonderfully positive attitude, understanding that life can change in an instant and you have to deal the cards you've been handed.  They are in Toronto taking part in a new rehab program.

For a time the sky was threatening rain.  A wind blew in and people scrambled to shelter the equipment.  Amanda said, "I don't think it's going to rain...if it does, it will just move through quickly."  "No", I replied, "It's not going to rain.  God wouldn't have brought me this far just to rain on my parade."  I was convinced, and in a few minutes the clouds dispersed and the sun returned.

I thought my turn on the purple couch went very well.  Mark put me completely at ease and asked some very interesting questions.  I wanted to talk more about Utila, but he kept asking questions about how I felt about different things.  I don't want to give too much away...I'm hoping we'll all have the opportunity to watch the segment.

According to Colt, this will only be shown on OWN: Canada.  His suggestion was that I check the webpage towards the end of August and find the listing for TRUTH.  I will be in Episode 6.  I have asked James if he would record it for me and mail it to my son in the states.  He will make a few copies and distribute them.  I don't know if there's any other way to be able to watch the show...unless you live in Canada and get OWN: Canada on your cable or satellite.  Another friend of mine, Walt, has friends in Canada as well, and has said he can get additional copies.  If you'd like to have a copy, please let me know and I'll see what I can do.  There may be a small fee for the DVD and postage.

I'm hoping that one DVD will go to the Transportation Center in Middleton, where all my former co-workers and friends can gather to watch it.  The family will want one...I hope!  I'll eventually get one here in Utila (remember, mail can take up to a month to arrive here!) and it would be fun to have a big get-together on the island to watch it.  I'm hoping I won't embarrass anyone...including myself!  It was exciting and wonderful, and I'm grateful to have had the experience.

On to Wisconsin, family and good friends!  I arrived in Madison just in time for granddaughter, Ruby's, first birthday celebration.

Although she enjoyed the party and all the great gifts, she was especially glad to have Cousin Zach with her.  Spending time with all my family was a real bonus, and I loved reconnecting with many of my daughter-in-law, Aimee's, family as well.

Daughter, Monice, and son, James, took turns putting me up.  We did a little shopping and had a couple of lunches at favorite restaurants, but mostly just relaxed at home, shared stories and coffee, drinks or s'mores on the patio.

I'm really blessed to have two of the greatest children ever!  Monice and James...my best work!

I was also able to spend a couple of days in Middleton with my dear friend, Sue, which enabled me to visit good friends and former co-workers at the Transportation Center, as well as my former student, Robert, and his mom.  I was able to have dinner with good friend, Ted, and got to spend Memorial Day with my friend, Walter, who has just returned to the states from China.  A great treat was lunch with Sue and three other Girl Scout retirees who I hadn't seen for a number of years.  Then Sue, bless her heart, got up at 1:30AM to drive me to the Milwaukee Airport for my flight home.

I had been a little sad at leaving the family, especially little Ruby.  She's learning so many new things: walking, talking, waving and saying "hi", and dancing to Sponge Bob.  She's a happy little redhead, laughing all the time.  I wondered if I would feel miserable without her, depressed at being all alone on my island.  And then I saw Utila from the plane, and my heart almost burst with the joy I felt at being home.  Dewey was there waiting to bring me back to Sandstone.  I was so happy to see him that I ran to give him a big hug.  "Welcome home, Miss Carolyn", he said.

I loved being with my family again, and I brought loving memories back with me.  My day in the park on a purple couch was awesome, and my hope is that my story will inspire someone else to move forward with their life and not let fear or the unknown prevent them from making a change.  Welcome home, indeed!  

My Fifteen Minutes of Fame

I've never thought of myself as lucky...at least not until I moved to Utila.  Throughout my life I've bought raffle tickets, submitted short stories to various publications, tried my luck with lottery tickets and even gambled once at a casino.  Never had much luck with any of them, not even door prizes at parties.  I certainly didn't have much luck with my marriage...an understatement, really.  In fact, I often described myself using that old cliche, 'if it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all'.

So just imagine how lucky I feel now.  I've moved to a tropical island where it's warm and sunny year 'round.  I live in a cute, breezy apartment just yards from the ocean.  I have a sweet little golf cart for transportation.  No car payments, insurance or expensive visits to the gas pump.  I'm learning to appreciate another culture and the warm generosity of its people.  On a daily basis I enjoy scenery  that most people only see in photographs.  Not to mention the peace and serenity I feel...a far cry from the worry and stress I lived with in my previous life.

Thanks to the simplicity and the exquisite sense of oneness with the universe that I feel here, I have grown so much spiritually.  If you've read my blogs from the beginning, you know that I had an overwhelming feeling of being "sent" to this place.  When I read about Utila in a newspaper article, I could almost hear a voice whisper in my ear...'this is where you need to go'.

I've learned to let go, leave the past behind, and forgive those who have hurt me.  That was huge for me, because when I arrived here I had brought all that old baggage with me!  I've always been a positive person, looking at the glass as half full as opposed to half empty, but my time here has had the added benefit of building my self-confidence.  Much of that has to do with the fact that I was able to handle the entire move by myself, I'm sure.  No small feat for a single woman to give up her life, sell everything and move to a foreign country that she'd never laid eyes on...a real ego-booster, let me tell you!

I've also found myself adopting a greater "live and let live policy".  I might not have the same opinion as another person and I may not want my life to be the same as another's, but it's their life and their choices...not mine.  And instead of getting angry because I think my take on something is correct and theirs is wrong, I take the stance that it's only opinion for each of us...no one is right and no one is wrong. That leaves me with a much nicer feeling than the anger that rises like hot bile from the pit of your stomach all the way to your throat, eventually causing you to choke on your own petty thoughts.

I'm no longer so hard on myself, whereas once my expectations were so high I needed a ladder to reach them.  If I go to bed with dirty dishes in the sink, it really doesn't matter...I can do them in the morning.  If I'm busy writing and get sleepy after lunch, I'll give in and take a nap in the hammock.  I've acquired the gift of relaxation.

Most important, I've found purpose here on this island.  I've been working hard at cleaning up the beach by the apartments.  During the winter months the rains swell the rivers on the mainland and they empty into the ocean.  The tides bring all the flip flops, plastic bottles and other trash from the rivers' shores to the shores of Utila.  The environment is important to me.  We only have one planet, one home, and we have to stop killing it...or it will kill us.

I've taken on another challenge lately...that of helping some friends pay for a kidney transplant for their son.  Robert is 14 years old and was a student on my school bus for six years.  He's a great boy with many health challenges.  I became very close to him and his family.  Robert had a heart transplant at two weeks' of age.  Anti-rejection meds have destroyed his kidneys, and he now needs a kidney transplant.  Eight hospitals in Wisconsin turned this boy down for a transplant because he's autistic.  Apparently if you're autistic you don't deserve to live.  Frantic parents searched the country for a hospital that would save Robert's life.  Boston Children's Hospital rose to the challenge, but now their insurance company refuses to cover the cost because   the hospital is out of state.  They appealed, and were denied again.  As far as I'm concerned, this doesn't say much for the health care system in the United States.

Robert is in Boston now with his mother, having life-saving dialysis while he waits for a kidney.  Robert's father is back in Wisconsin because he needs to work, and an online fundraiser has been established.  I have been spending time on my laptop each day searching for jobs in the Boston area for Robert's dad so they can relocate.  I've also been searching for charitable organizations which will help pay for the transplant.

Last weekend I was on Oprah's Website, hoping that she might donate to the cause.  While there I noticed a posting requesting that people who have had a "Life Changing Experience" send an email describing it.  A new television show on Oprah's network, OWN, will be based on the experiences of all these people.  I decided to go for it.  Many people have told me how courageous I was to just pack up and move to Utila, since I'd never been here before.  I thought my story might be interesting to them, so I wrote it up and sent it.  I truly never expected to hear anything back from them, but two days ago I got a phone call.

I understand now how all those Academy Award nominees feel when they say it's just an honor to be nominated.  It was explained to me that they really liked me story.  I was asked several questions and then told that next week the finalists would be chosen and they would call me.  If I'm lucky enough to be chosen, I will have to fly to Toronto sometime between May 10 and June 10 for taping.  I'm hoping it will happen, because I like the idea of empowering women...of showing them that it's all right to take risks...that they're stronger than they perceive themselves to be...that they SHOULD follow their dreams.  An added bonus: if I get to meet Oprah, perhaps I can plead Robert's case in person.

It might be fun to be famous for the length of a television show.  And how cool would it be if I get a chance to rub elbows with Oprah?  It could even lead to a book deal or something equally outrageous.  It's out of my hands now.  The universe will decide for me, and if it's meant to be it will happen.  If it doesn't, that's all right.  It really WAS an honor to just be chosen as a finalist.  And either way, I'll still have Utila.



 

Finding Home

Slowly I've been turning my apartment into my home.  I began with small accessories: matching shower curtain, towels and bath mat; sheets and plump pillows for my bed; a wall clock and a little decorative wall art.  My son bought me a portable convection oven for Christmas...a nice addition, since the apartment only has a range top for cooking. 

My bedroom was furnished with two queen beds and a small bedside table.  A lot of my clothes were buried on the shelf in my closet or jammed into the one drawer in the bedside table.  So one day I asked Victor to remove the extra bed, which left the bedroom quite spacious.  My plan was to find a small chest of drawers, a matching bedside table, and then move the existing table to the living room to use as a tv table.  The tv had been perched atop a pink plastic stool with a small piece of plywood for stability and covered with a colorful piece of fabric...a little more shabby than chic!  Perfectly acceptable for someone staying only a month or two in Utila, but not for someone making the apartment into a permanent home.

There is a small furniture store in Utila, but the only chest of drawers available there had a large attached mirror, which I didn't really want.  I then asked my friend, Sondy, if she wanted to take a trip to the mainland with me so we could shop around there for some used furniture.  A couple of people had mentioned Productos Americanos, a large store in La Ceiba which sold gently used furniture from the states.

Sometimes things just fall into place so nicely that you know it was meant to be.  Sondy's husband flew to the island from San Pedro for a visit and let us take the chartered plane to La Ceiba for a day of shopping and errands.  We drove around for over an hour trying to find the furniture store, but it soon became apparent that we would have to scrub that idea and get back to the airport for the return flight.  On the way, we passed a small store with a chest of drawers out front, so we stopped to see what was available.  There I bought a beautiful chest of drawers and matching bedside table, hand made of Honduran cedar, for just over $200.  They were delivered by boat the following week and are now usefully and fashionably situated in my bedroom.

Although most of the residents here at the Sandstone Apartments are short term, there are a few of us who are long term.  My next door neighbor, Jason, has been here almost as long as I have.  He is starting an exciting new business, Breakthrough Adventures, which utilizes his expertise as a life coach and also as a diving instructor. Jason's premise is that people can overcome their fear of diving...and he's the man to help them do it.  As I have done, he also has commited to living in Utila and following his dream.

Mac & Nichol are here for nine months as missionaries.  Young, energetic and sociable, they have been a delight to have as friends and neighbors.  They will be returning to Canada in May, and I will definitely miss having them here.

James, also from Canada, was here for only a couple of months, but sometimes you just click with people, and that was the case with James.  I found that we had a lot of common beliefs, and our friendly discussions of current world issues were in-depth and satisfying.  In the evenings we would sit together on the porch with our glasses of wine and enjoy the ocean breeze.  He is in Ireland now, with his girlfriend, for a tour of that country before they return to their homes in Canada.

Since the Sandstone is on the outskirts of town and rather secluded, we have developed into our own little microcosm.  We rely on one another for trips to town, evening conversations over a glass of wine, morning coffee at Rio Coco, occasional pot luck dinners, and the occasional borrowed cup of sugar.  Jason gets his "kitty fix" from my cat, Pumpkin, who loves to wander next door into his apartment uninvited.

A recent pot luck get-together included Sondy, Eric, Jason, James, and James' brother, Chris.

Sondy, who manages the apartments for her sister and brother-in-law, lives upstairs with her son, Charlie, and his nanny.  She divides her time between here and San Pedro, where her husband lives and maintains his construction business.  He visits the island often, and Sondy occasionally makes a trip to San Pedro as well.

Sondy is very accommodating with the residents here.  She will drive us around if needed and makes any necessary improvements with the apartments.  I had an old fridge that needed to be defrosted every couple of months and she just swapped it for a very nice frost-free fridge.  Next week she's having my bedroom painted because of a little damage done during a particularly heavy rainfall.  She often goes shopping for us and currently has a shopping list from both Jason and me for the next time she goes to San Pedro.

I have my own little golf cart now, which makes shopping and going longer distances much easier.  I still love to walk, so I continue to do that if I'm going to Rio Coco for coffee or going to the bank or post office.  Doug, another expat here on the island, rebuilds used golf carts and he customized this one for me.  It has some cool wood accents and a gold stripe around the midsection.   In my previous life I was a school bus driver, and we lady drivers always named our buses.  Following that tradition, I've named my golf cart Bucky, a reminder to me of the Wisconsin Badgers football and basketball teams which brought me so much enjoyment.

I have quickly accustomed myself to both the similarities and the differences between cultures.  I know when the ferry is bringing shipments of food to the stores, know what days Rio Coco is open for coffee, know what time of day certain businesses are closed for siesta, know that no one is in a rush to get anything done, and know that if you ever need anything there are hundreds of people right there to help you.

There are many talented artists living and creating in Utila.  Gunter creates plaques with maps of the island...some of them three-dimensional...and whale sharks sprinkled with colorful resins that glow when hung in a sunny window. Dennis, a self taught artist, paints vibrant ocean views with acrylics and watercolors.  Neil, artistic designer of The Jade Seahorse, creates his fairytale designs from recycled bottles, broken china, and other reused objects. 

I am surrounded by so much beauty that it's difficult to take it all in.  I always have my camera with me, because I'm never sure what amazing scene might be right around the corner.

The ocean is a source of serenity and joy for me.  My roots are by the ocean, and just listening to the roar of the surf and witnessing the crash of waves against the rocks, gives me comfort and a feeling of being home.  To some, the ocean is just a body of water.  To others, such as I, the ocean touches something deep within our souls, and it's both physical, sensual and spiritual. 

If I have to be separated from my family, I'm overjoyed that it can be here by the ocean, in this little community of friends who feel like family.  Each new day brings untold beauty, interesting discoveries, new friendships and exciting opportunities.  I have found my forever home.

A Serendipitous Life

Finding Utila was no coincidence...of that I am certain.  I have been here for six months now, a milestone that some thought I'd never reach.  During that time I've achieved a greater understanding of my responsibility to the Earth, the importance of sacrifice in our daily lives, the true meaning of love for all creatures, and the unbridled joy of living a simple life.  I'd like to share some of that with you today through some of the many photos I've taken since my arrival.

What could be more inspiring than waking to such a glorious sunrise?  I get sunrises from one end of my porch and sunsets from the other end.  Doesn't get much better than that!  The intensity of the colors always amazes me.  I've recently begun taking yoga classes.  How peaceful it is to lay my mat down next to the porch railing, in the glow of the early morning light, and stretch my muscles into wakefulness while synchronizing my breath with the ebb and flow of the waves.  I feel so close to my Creator, and completely connected to nature.

When day is done and the sun sets on Utila, the colors become softer and more subtle.  Do you suppose this is a part of the grand scheme of things...vibrant, intense color in the morning to help energize us for the day ahead; quiet, peaceful color in the evening to bring about a restful mood in preparation for sleep?

This is the view from my bedroom window.  I'm fortunate enough to be able to lay in my bed at night and be lulled to sleep by the rhythmic melodies of waves rushing to shore.  I believe we are all drawn to the ocean...a timeless reminder of life in the womb, surrounded by the life-sustaining amniotic fluid.  Born and raised near the ocean, I lived most of my adult life away from it in the center of the United States.  It was sad to be so removed from the sea, for it was in my soul.  Perhaps I am being rewarded now...nearing the end of my days here on Earth...with a life surrounded by the sea.

There is year-round flora on Utila.  During the rainy season, October through January, some flowers don't bloom as prolifically, but during the warmer summer months the island is ablaze in color. Many residents have an abundant variety of tropical flora...a palette that will please all the senses.

Most Utilians understand the connection between the land and their well-being and survival.  By developing the land "around" the trees, instead of clearing the trees, they are insuring the island's sustainability.  Substantial rainfall during the rainy season is crucial to maintaining healthy flora during the hot summer months.  Rainwater is also the main water source on the island.  Cisterns collect the water for use in bathing, laundry, toileting and cleaning, while drinking water is ferried in from the mainland.  A healthy growth of palms and other trees means there will always be sufficient rainfall to sustain the population of Utila.

 There are many unusual fruits and vegetables growing on Utila.  This photo is of a sapote (suh - po - tay), a sweet, orange-fleshed fruit reminiscent of pumpkin with the spices already added.  Avocado, mango, papaya, limes, bananas, pineapple, coconuts and sapote grow in abundance on Utila...each ripening at different times of the year.  The locals are warm and friendly people who don't hesitate in sharing their bounty.  My friend, Sheldon, just gave me a beautiful papaya yesterday.  It needs a few days to fully ripen, but I'm really anticipating the fresh sweetness of it.  No pesticides are used on the island.  Utilians are very careful of protecting the pristine beauty of the coral reef here...the world's second largest...so no poisonous substances are allowed.  It's comforting to know that what I'm ingesting isn't going to sicken or kill me.

This is a special type of banana that grows on Utila.  As you can see by the knife I placed next to them, they are only about half the size of normal bananas.  They are slightly firmer and much, much sweeter than the average banana.  They aren't in season right now, but I can't wait until they are again!  I make myself a banana or sapote smoothie every morning for breakfast, using vanilla soy milk and plain yogurt made by my friend Gunter.  Gunter even sells his yogurt to the grocery store and Rio Coco Beans Cafe for their smoothies...it's so good, and good for you!

Every year, during the summer months, the baby crabs make their journey from the ocean, inland.  Hundreds and even thousands of them cross the road by my apartment.  Unfortunately, with the increased use of scooters and golf carts on the island, many of them don't make it.  During this time I can hear them rustling in the grass by the sides of the road as I walk to town, and it's not unusual to see them scurry into a hole as I pass by.

If you don't have a scooter, golf cart, bicycle, or a good pair of legs on Utila, you can take a local taxi anywhere on the island for only $1.50.  I love to walk, so most of the time I just use my legs.  However, if I'm going somewhere at night or I have a lot of groceries to carry, I'll get Alejandro to take me where I'm going.  He doesn't speak English, and I don't speak Spanish, but somehow we manage to communicate with one another.  At the end of February I'll be getting my own golf cart, so I won't need Alejandro anymore.  He will undoubtedly miss the extra 50 cents I always give him.  There isn't a lot of employment on the island, and many of the Honduran people live in poverty.  The mainland sees a lot of crime, but the island is very peaceful and safe.

Tourism is the main source of income for the island, and there are almost thirty dive shops here.  They are all PADI certified and courses for Master Diver and Dive Instructor are given in both English and Spanish.  Most of the dive centers have dorm rooms where divers can stay for as little as $1/night.  Many of my friends dive and/or snorkel; some do amazing underwater photography as well. On one occasion I saw a blanket of plastic bottles float onto shore behind my apartment building.  Shocked and amazed, I asked some of the locals what was happening, and was disgusted to learn that cruise ships actually dump their refuse at sea.  What a tragedy for sea life, and how irresponsible of the cruise lines to treat our oceans like their personal dumping ground.  The local Bay Island Conservation Assoc. holds a beach cleanup once a month, and I do my own personal cleanup along the beach behind my apartment.

I leave you today with this photo of a double rainbow...the first one I've ever witnessed in my 65 years.  This was my first rainy season on Utila...not a bad one, as I've heard they can be quite heavy.  We were fortunate to get a lot of our rain while sleeping at night...an added bonus.  I hope you enjoyed today's photos and stories.  I look forward to sharing more of them with you as my life on Utila develops.