Panama!

When we first moved to the island I was convinced that we'd no longer require vacations. We frequent the beach a few times a week, we lay by the pool every Sunday, and we watch the sunset every Friday during Happy Hour. Why would we need a vacation? The reality is: while I'm laying by the pool, I'm running back in to fold the laundry, our beach departures vary on the time at which Evan has completed a call with a client, and happy hour, although very satisfying, is often spent lamenting about this one time when a kiddo pooped his pants in speech therapy. So, even when you live in a vacation destination, one still needs to leave the island and vacation somewhere different. Vacations are all about seeing something new and leaving the "real world" behind. We're just incredibly fortunate that our "real world" is such a vacationy place. To get to my point: We needed a vacation. And we got one - a super fun, chill, and exciting vacation. Added bonus: We got to vacation with some of our favourite people in the whole wide world - the Hunters.

Darren and Allicia Hunter and Evan and I became instant friends about 6 years ago. Darren was a nurse on level 5, where I worked as a Speech-Language Pathologist. Darren was this outgoing guy with an intriguing "shark fin" hair style, who administered medication with his little boom box blaring from his med cart. Everyone loved Darren and I thought he seemed like a good dude. At that time, wakesurfing was a relatively new and unheard sport and Evan and I had just purchased a boat to learn how to master the sport. I underestimated and questioned Darren's knowledge of wake surfing boats, but when he showed me a video of him and his wife ripping it up behind their super cool surf boat (way better than ours!), my grade 9 self took over and I longed to be friends with these cool kids. It didn't hurt that after our first "couple's date," it was evident we had tons in common. Evan and Allicia love to analyze numbers and determine new and interesting ways to make money - Darren and I spend hours planning how we will spend the money. A perfect match!

Since we've moved to the island, I've really missed hanging out with Darren and Allicia. They are the kind of friends with whom you can surprise for a random Wednesday after work visit and laugh about the events of the week. Easy friends. We've also taken epic vacations together over the years: Cozumel, Honduras, and Bali. There was also that Little Cayman trip in the Fall, but you know, if you read my blog, you'll see that Derrek* had a little issue that resulted in an early departure. No biggie.

This year we decided to meet in Panama. Panama City was nothing like I expected it to be. On one hand, you have the "Manhattan-esque" skyline - huge skyscrapers, including Trump Towers, malls, and intense traffic (just keep beeping your horn, that will definitely move traffic along faster) -Yet on the other side of Panama City, you experience the old quarter, with the Spanish colonial buildings and quaint shops and boutiques. And it's all surrounded by tropical jungles. We spend a few days exploring the city, including a trip to the Panama Canal, which was actually super interesting (Allicia kept reminding us it was the 8th wonder of the world). We also found some amazing rooftop bars overlooking the massive city (one rooftop bar even had a prostitute! Hours of viewing pleasure for the boys!) I also did some shopping, which was challenging due to the fact that no one spoke English. Typical polite Canadian that I am, I profusely apologized to every saleslady, "No Espanol! Sorry!" haha. After a few days in the city, we hopped on a Panama Air flight and headed to a group of tiny islands called Bocas Del Toro. Bocas are a group of islands (or archipelago if you're into fancy words) in the Caribbean ocean, just off the northwest coast of Panama. I've never seen a place quite like Bocas before! Bocas is unique and has it's own cool surfer/hippie vibe.

The Panama Canal!

rooftop bar in "old" Panama City

Group shot in Panama City

Tourists!

The Hilton knew we were coming and prepared the Barbie Room for us

Vacation Barbie and Unimpressed Ken with a sore back

Air Panama Motto: "Despite what your itinerary says, our flights are never actually Direct"

Our deck for the week!

 We rented a house on the main island called "Colon." Our house was great. We had a huge deck, complete with hammock and our own pool to cool off in the hot afternoons.  We spent hours sipping coffee in the mornings, watching the sugar frenzied hummingbirds battle for our feeders. From there, we took water taxis to each of the other islands and explored beaches, jungles, islands inhabited by sloths and topless women (Evan and Darren never looked), bays teeming with wild dolphins, and cool little bars perched on stilts in the middle of ocean (Throw back a margarita, throw on a snorkel, and explore the marine life under the bar!). One day we rented a golf cart, loaded up the cooler with beer, turned on our cell phone stereo and traversed the Panama jungles to Justin Bieber. We had a blast! Honestly the best part of the vacay was just spending time together, laughing and enjoying each other's company again. Knowing and living Derrek's* history of aggressive vacationing, we contemplated wrapping him in bubble wrap; however, all went relatively smoothly with no hospital visits. Bonus! (plus we never saw any blowholes or dived deeper than 40 ft - no chance of decompression sickness!)

The most beautiful deserted white sand island (tops optional)

I'm not gonna lie, I was a little nervous about my joints prior to this trip. It looks like my elbow now has loose cartilage floating around in it (but elbows are stupid anyway) and my right knee (the first cartilage transplant 3 years ago) has been…well…inconsistent. Like sometimes it just doesn't work inconsistent. Ugh. Unfortunately I'm starting to feel like there's an expiration date on my transplanted cartilage, and worry that it could be fast approaching. I've come to the realization that I can't live my life waiting for my cartilage to disintegrate, I gotta live and do what I want to do, but I also have to treat my joints well and show them love (ice, elevation, inspirational music) on a daily basis. I know I'll never run or jump again - I've come to terms with that (by telling myself that running and jumping is stupid anyway). But, there are still some activities that I save up and challenge the knees with for special occasions. One of the things I've really missed since my knee surgeries is surfing. I'm still only a beginner, but I caught on quickly, have pretty stellar balance, and I just feel awesome when I'm doing it. I knew that I really wanted to try surfing again in Panama, but was really nervous that it would put my knee over the edge, and into the "no longer working" zone. So I practiced ways of standing up on my surfboard that didn't involve lunging or "popping up," as one is supposed to do, and found a method that seemed to work (in theory, on the floor at the gym).

The surf break in Bocas was interesting, in that it was out in the middle of the ocean - not off the beach like most. A little boat took us to the break and you simply paddle in and catch the waves. There's a channel that you exit into once you've caught the wave so that you can paddle back into the break without getting slammed by waves. On our past travels, we've rode waves in Costa Rica, Sayulita, and Bali that were about 3-5 feet high. Baby waves. I didn't realize until I was paddling into my first wave in Bocas that I was dealing with 8-10 foot waves. That's like North Shore pipeline in my Saskatchewan prairie mind! The first wave was an epic failure. All four of us got slammed. Hard. When I finally surfaced, my rash guard was around my ears, my bikini bottoms were hanging at my knees, and my hair was completely wrapped around my face. I swept my hair aside just in time to get slammed by another 8 foot wave..and then another…and then another. Good times.

The four of us met back at the boat, in an attempt to regroup. Darren was nauseous from vertigo, Allicia was ralphing off the side of the boat after being slammed in the head with her board, Ev's freckles had been redistributed to new places, and I was in shock after exposing my naked bottom to the Bocas' surf community. Isn't surfing fun? I decided to go back out and give it another shot. This time, I caught a wave and tested out my new adaptive "pop up" method. It worked! It was the most sloth-like, most geriatric form of surfing one could imagine. At one point I was actually doing a downward facing dog on my board (thank god my bikini bottoms were firmly in place!). Gingerly, I stood up in slow motion, my joints producing a loud, "CREAK!" as I straightened up on the board. It was ugly. It was no Kate Bosworth in "Blue Crush." But….I stood up and I surfed that wave. Four times! Boo ya! I forgot all about my joint issues and rode my 10 foot beginner foam surf board like a boss. A boss I tell you! Total awesomeness. I couldn't actually walk the next day, but, hey, you can't have it all.

Countdown to Summer!

Overall, the trip was a huge success. I miss my buddies so much and it was so hard to say goodbye in Panama City. We sacrificed a lot to move our life to Cayman. It was a good decision and I don't regret it. But, the biggest sacrifice by far as been living so far away from the people we love. Maintaining strong friendships in a long distance situation can be challenging. I'm so grateful that we were able to meet up with the Hunters and pick up right where we left off. Such good times. I'm looking forward to be reunited with all our Canadian friends a family - the countdown is on - summer starts in 82 days!

Kirstie and Allicia = recipe for FUN

Just chillin' in our hammocks

Bocas Hummingbirds: we watched these for hours from our deck!

Scuba Steve says, "don't pee in the ocean!"

Golf cart Justin Beiber Jungle Tour

Easy on the Eyes

Hey friends! It's been an action-packed month in the Cayman Islands.

Working with kids, or "kiddos," as I lovingly call them, is interesting.  There are definitely times that I mourn the loss of working with the adult population with whom I worked for about 7 years. For example, when I hear myself saying, "Fingers out of nose," "Hands out of pants!" "Get off the floor" "Don't put that in your mouth!" and my personal fav, which happened a few weeks ago, "You mean you can't wipe your own bum?" Oh dear. I'm not qualified to wipe little bums, that's for sure! On the other hand, the kiddos are pretty funny. I love how innocent and carefree they are. They're goofy and silly and not yet old enough to feel self conscious about it - which, in turn, makes me feel free to act goofy and silly. It feels good to rap fun songs, celebrate a successful role of the dice, and act out "Little Red Riding Hood" with puppets. That's right, puppets, people. I'm pretty much Romper Room (Man, I always hoped she would see me in her magic mirror!)

The majority of the staff in the schools that I work with are from the Caribbean, so the children aren't used to seeing blonde, blue-eyed people very often. The kiddos are intrigued by the fact that I look different than them and often ask questions to determine what my life is like - like I'm a new species of animal they've never encountered. One little guy asked me, "Miss, your husband white too with yellow hair?" One little girl asked me if my skin would turn the same colour as hers if I went in the sun.  One boy was so confused about which child at the school "belonged" to me, "Miss, which one your kid?" Haha. I've never been a minority before moving here. It's a strange feeling, but to be honest, I don't think about it much anymore. Occasionally I notice that I'm the only caucasian in a store or at a school, but I've never heard a racist remark or felt uncomfortable.

Overall, working with children is great. Their laugh is contagious, their joy is contagious, their pink eye is contagious.

Say wha?

That's right, pink eye. Gross. Me. Out.

I woke up one Monday morning and felt like my contact was ripped, as my eye was irritated, red, and itchy. By 11am, it was partially swollen shut and becoming crustier by the minute. After being diagnosed with conjunctivitis (Pink eye) and written off work for a week - an entire week! I settled down in my house with the intent to catch up on my reading and daytime TV, give my angry knee a proper break, and perhaps share some quality time with Ev. Boy, that didn't pan out at all.

By that afternoon, I was unable to see out of my eye and it was seeping. What a gross word. Seeping. Reading and watching TV were not an option, my eyes were too sensitive to sunlight to go outside, and Evan, of all the nerve, was working! Evan works from home and by "work," I actually mean "work." After a week of careful observation (I think I may have annoyed him?), I can conclude that Evan works, with just a few short breaks, for an average of 10 hours a day. Unreal. Why? Seriously, why?

By day 3 I had a fever, both eyes were red and angry, and I felt like total shit. I opened an email from the government warning me about the risk of Zika Virus in the Cayman Islands: "If you have the following symptoms: pink eye, fever, and joint pain," you may have the Zika Virus." Say Wha? Pink eye: check! Fever: check! joint pain: Um. I've had 6 knee surgeries, of course I have joint pain! Check!

So now not only was I a gross disgusting human being with weepy sticky infected eyes, but I was also thoroughly convinced that I had the Zika. After much research (AKA "google"), I determined that as long as I wasn't pregnant (which I was not), my symptoms should subside in a few days - no harm done.

I interrupted Evan from his computer, "Ev, I think I have the Zika!"

"What should we do?" he responded.

"I think as long as we don't partake in unprotected sex we are fine," I responded,

Now, I can't be sure because I only had about 20% vision in one goopy eye and 35% vision in the other, but I'm pretty certain I detected a look of disgust on Evan's face that indicated that he had absolutely no interest in participating in amorous activities with me. Who could blame him? Shuffling sadly around the house with sunglasses over my glasses, eyes leaking, and fever-induced sweating, this was not my finest moment.

Who wants to make out? Anyone? Anyone? (This is not actually me, by the way - taking a pink eye selfie did not ever occur to me!)

So we'll never know for sure if I had the Zika. It definitely sounds much more dramatic to contract some exotic mosquito transmitted virus than dirty old pink eye; therefore,  I think I'll just stick with the Zika self diagnosis.

Once everything cleared up, and the crust settled from my eyes, Ev and I took a quick 30 minute flight over to the Cayman Brac for the weekend. The Brac, as everyone refers to it, is a sister island just northeast of Grand Cayman. It's much smaller, but the landscape couldn't be more different. Instead of sandy beaches, the Brac is mostly comprised of bluffs and limestone. The bluff is pretty impressive, with a 140 ft drop into the Caribbean. A bird called the Brown Booby (haha, I said, "booby") nest on the bluff and we were able to see their fuzzy, little white booby babies! It feels satisfyingly juvenile to yell, "Look! Boobies!" It was a fantastic weekend! Our buddy, Monty, used to live on the Brac, so he introduced us to all the locals, invited us to a locals pig roast on the beach, and took us on an island tour (AKA: drive around in a jeep and stop at every bar along the way, and wake up with a true Brac hangover). Ev and I also managed to fit in some really beautiful dives - I've never seen so many fish! We were back in time to pick up my sister, Kayla, from the airport.

sunrise on the Brac - heading out on a dive

The bluff - 140 foot drop

Look!  Boobies! - a mom and baby 

Kayla is presently enrolled in her last year of business at the University of Saskatchewan. She played University volleyball for the past 4 years, making any travel during the school year difficult, so this was her first time visiting me on the island.

Kayla and I had an awesome time! I took her to all my favourite spots, we saw turtles, starfish, and stingrays, we baked, and we laid in bed at night and watched our favourite shows (The Bachelor!) with mud masks on our face. I loved showing Kayla where I lived and introducing her to my friends. Last summer when I was down and out, Kayla spent a lot of time just laying on the couch with me, bringing me treats, and cheering me up with her wicked sense of humour. Although I'm still struggling with some joint issues today, I felt well enough to explore the island and show her how awesome this little tropical paradise truly is. I miss her a lot and wish I could see her more often. I feel grateful to have such a great friendship with her. Confession: When I was 16, I occasionally would babysit Kayla. By "babysit," I mean steal booze from my dad's liquor cabinet while Kayla was sleeping. Phew, I feel so relieved getting that off my chest. Love you, Kayla!

That's my update. This week's goal is to avoid the head lice and any other mosquito transmitted viruses!

Cheers!

Hell's not so bad!

We finally got a PO Box!

It's in Hell. Literally. One of my pet peeves is the misuse and overuse of the word, "literally;" however, I can literally tell you that our post office box is literally located in Hell.

Our neighbourhood of West Bay has a unique little tourist attraction. It's an area of black limestone formations that resemble upside down stalagmites in a cave. Apparently, someone took a look at this natural wonder and exclaimed, "This must be what hell looks like!" Hence, it was named "Hell," and a little red souvenir shop was erected with a post office next door.

Hell? Do you really think Hell would have palm trees?

An odd little man owns the souvenir shop. He dresses up in a red devil's costume, complete with legit devil's ears, and greets tourists with clever little quips like, "How the hell are you?" He also assists you in mailing a postcard, direct from "Hell." Interestingly, this is actually a tourist attraction. People skip one of the most top rated beaches in the Caribbean to drive to "hell" to meet and acquire a photograph with this odd little man.

See, it's legit. 

I have no idea who these people are but they're having "one hell of a holiday!"

Our new post office...

…is a tourist attraction!

The other day I entered the quiet little souvenir shop in hopes of finding a stamp to mail my letter from "hell." Upon opening the door, a bell chimed, and I heard the odd little man run into a back into a room to quickly don his devil's costume, "It's OK!" I yelled, "I'm not a tourist. I just need a stamp!" Within seconds, out popped Satan himself, "How the hell are you?"

"Haha! It's Ok, I'm not a tourist," I repeated, "I just need a stamp, please."

"Well where the hell are you from?" he responded, obviously ignoring my plea to stop the routine.

"I live down the road. Do you have any stamps?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" He responded.

"I just need a stamp."

This went on a for a while, until he finally agreed to sell me stamp. As I walked out the door, I yelled, "Have one hell of a day!" which definitely resulted in a huge devilish grin. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?

Anyway, although we are officially receiving mail in "Hell," life isn't so bad on the rock these days. Last we chatted, I explained that I was craving a trip off of the island, and was desperately yearning for the hustle and bustle of city life. I got what I asked for. Evan, Evan's mom, Peggy, and I took a quick trip to Orlando. As I sipped my Starbucks (prepared incorrectly, I might add) and watched hundreds of crazy women dig through $5 panty bins at Victoria's Secret, I soon realized that city life is overrated. Navigating the I-4, toll booths, traffic lights, and the right sight of the road were serious stressors that I wasn't prepared for. (FYI: I did actually turn into the left lane once. My mother-in-law calmly informed me that I was on the wrong side of the road. Oops). The stores were crowded, the restaurants were lined up, and the concrete pool in the middle of the interstate was noisy. It was perfect. I probably could have gotten my fill simply by riding the escalator in the Miami airport, but 4 days in Orlando was ideal to remind me of how fricken lucky I am to live in the Cayman Islands.

On that note, I got some great news today! I received a letter informing me that the Cayman Islands Department of Education will be "seeking to renew me for another two year contract." This would allow me to continue with my current position until the end of school year 2018. I totally took for granted how simple it was for me to get employment on the island. To be honest, I was home sick one cold February day in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, and my TV stopped working. Bored, I navigated the internet and happened upon an job posting for a Speech Therapist in Grand Cayman. Having no idea where Grand Cayman even was located geographically, I applied on a whim. Within months I had the job, we took some serious risks, and we were on our way! Easy peasy. A little bit of luck, fate, and the ability to throw caution to the wind? (Actually, I was TERRIFIED). Who knows. After working here for almost 2 years, it is apparent that the reality of securing a job, let alone a well paying job with amazing benefits, is difficult in Grand Cayman. Unless you have permanent residency or hold Cayman citizenship, your job is never guaranteed. I've watched people come and go (not by choice), simply because they were not renewed or were unable to find a job that was able to support them financially on this expensive island. I've worked hard the last year and half to make myself as indispensable as possible to the education system, and thankfully, they seem to have recognized that. After years of taking for granted that my job would always be there for me, it's interesting to be in a position where you essentially "fight" for your job every 2 years. Keeps you on your toes, and reinforces Trooper's wise words: "We're here for a good time, not a long time…so have a good time... the sun can't shine every day." Ahhh, thank you Trooper... and Power 99 Fm radio for playing the hell (hehe) out of this good 'ol Canadian band during my entire childhood.

 So it looks like we have a 2 year plan. I was pretty nervous about making a whole new plan, and honestly, when I saw the email today with the subject heading, "Contract decision," I pictured Jeff Probst's sober face as he extinguished my tiki torch proclaiming, "The tribe has spoken."

It's all good. Throw me on an escalator with an Earl Grey Latte (1 pump of vanilla syrup) every 4 months or so and I'm happy as an island clam.

Cheers to 2016! Have one hell of a year! hehe.

Rock Fever

Rock Fever: the hemmed in, claustrophobic feeling you occasionally experience when you live on an island

Here are 10 signs of "Rock Fever." I am not a licensed Psychologist, so please refrain from using this list as a form for diagnosis; however, if you are experiencing any of the following, it may be time to briefly leave the island on which you currently live. It's Ok. Part of the process of loving where you live is being able to identify that occasionally you need to take a break to gain perspective. The following may or may not be based on real life experiences. You decide.

1) You're talking to chickens - specifically, you are criticizing the chickens' parenting habits: "C'mon Hen, are you seriously walking your babies out in the middle of traffic??? Be a better Mom!"

2) When you ask your students about recent trips to Miami, you begin to tingle with excitement as the student speaks of malls and famous food chains: "Ok, Jevonte, we'll start speech therapy in a minute. Tell me about the mall again... Did you see a store called Express in that mall? Tell me... what colours are in for Fall? Did you see scarves? How about tall leather boots? See those?

3) Your entire day revolves around the cruise ship schedule. The cruise ship tourists are preventing you from living your life to the fullest: "Cocktails at Bar Crudo today? Oh, I'd love to but there's actually 5 cruise ships in port. I'd prefer to do cocktails on Monday when there are only 2 ships in port."

4) You deem a meeting a "success" when one out of four people attend and arrives less than 30 minutes late.

5) You create your own offensive Xmas coffee cup and fill it with your crappy packaged vanilla latte so that you can feel closer to Starbucks.

6) You bring a friend to the Pharmacy for back-up when you go to pick up your prescription: "Ok, buddy, I usually lose my cool after the second hour of waiting for my prescription. You got my back?"

7) You don't even blink an eye when your student tells you that he ate Iguana for dinner last night. In fact, you ask what it tastes like (chicken, obviously), and consider adding it to your weekly menu.

8) When someone tags you in a Facebook photo, you carefully examine the picture and wonder who the blonde Jamaican is in the photo. Upon realizing that the blonde Jamaican is actually you, and your tan resembles the colour of the tangerine rum punch in you hand, you vow to spend the next week in the shade.

9) You've become obsessed with a section of the grocery store called "Day Olds." This is a special place where you can occasionally score $8 CI brownies for $2 CI. You celebrate moments like this by texting all your friends about your sweet pick-up and calculating your amazing savings ("That's only 50 cents per brownie! Boom!")

10) When the power goes out for the second night in a row, you lay in your very hot room pondering hairstyles for work that won't require an electronic appliance in the morning and praying for a "power outage day" (that's like a "snow day" in Canada).

The stealthy Cayman chicken: She waits for you to go snorkelling and then steals your chips

Just walk it off, Derrek, walk it off

I have this awesome friend named *Derrek (*all names have been changed to protect identity of individuals). Derrek is fun. Derrek is kind. Derrek is dependable. Derrek is a really loyal, awesome friend. Derrek is one of my favourite people in the entire world.  Derrek is also an aggressive vacationer.

By aggressive, I mean that Derrek takes all vacationing activities to the next level. He is not content with seeing sharks behind a glass…he wants to swim with the sharks - and touch them. Derrek doesn't want to buy the coconuts from the roadside stands, he wants to climb a tree and get his own coconuts. The beauty of travelling with Derrek is that you will never be bored. Ever. Derrek will entertain you with his shenanigans. There is; however, a downside - Derrek has a tendency to hurt himself whilst aggressively vacationing.

Take for example, the Cozumel blowhole incident of 2010. Derrek saw some blowholes. They interested him. While we all stood back to watch the blowholes from a safe distance, Derrek insisted on putting his face directly on top of the blowhole to get a much better vantage of what was about it to happen. Yelling, "Don't worry, I timed it!" we managed to get the camera out to capture this moment that will forever be a memory of that powerful blowhole.

Cue deviated septum.

We laughed as Derrek complained about the saltwater in his sinuses and his painful nasal passage for the rest of the holiday. We all felt slightly guilty for laughing when we returned home only to discover that Derrek required nose surgery for a deviated septum. Oops. Sorry Derrek!

Typically Derrek brings about his injuries whilst vacationing aggressively. This time; however, we can't really blame Derrek for what occurred. He was vacationing at a fairly calm level. Derrek and his fabulous wife had just arrived from Canada. We hopped on a tiny little plane and flew to Little Cayman for a long weekend of diving.

The dives were beautiful - and "normal," in the sense that no one went any deeper than they were supposed to, we all did a safety stop, and everyone was fine when the boat took us back to our rental house.

A few hours after our dives, Derrek began complaining of vertigo. Vertigo is a common problem for Derrek, so we handed him a Caybrew, told him to jump in the pool, and all would be well.

Derrek just wasn't feeling better. Typically the life of the party, Derrek was lethargic, barely sipping his beer and quietly sunning himself by the pool.

"Hey Kirstie, my arms are kinda numb."

"Um, hmmm. That kinda sounds like the bends, buddy."

We discussed this new symptom and Derrek deduced that there was no way he could have decompression sickness, given the depth that we dived and our safety stop time.

"You know what…I think my circulation is just poor. I'm gonna walk this off."

Famous last words. A word to the wise: If you have the bends, you can't just "walk it off."

Within 4 hours, we were all being emergency airlifted back to Grand Cayman so that Derrek could spend some quality time in the hyperbaric chamber. Poor Derrek was on tons of oxygen, IV in arm, laying on a gurney, feeling his limbs get tinglier by the minute. The rest of us were trying not to freak out, as our little plane was flying 500 ft over the ocean (Given that we had all just dived, we were all at risk of decompression sickness if we flew at a higher altitude. Plus, Derrek could have gotten much sicker).

Thankfully, Derrek only required about 3 hours in a very hot claustrophobic hyperbaric chamber before all the numbness, tingling, and nausea was gone. Within 24 hours, he was in tip top shape again, aggressively attempting to catch sting rays with his bare hands, whilst vacationing aggressively. Haha.

I must say, although our diving trip on Little Cayman was cut short, we all experienced quite the adventure, courtesy of our friend Derrek. We were all just so relieved that it had a happy ending. The dive Doctor explained that there are many factors that can contribute to the acquisition of decompression sickness. Derrek may have simply been dehydrated prior to our early morning dives. He did not, surprisingly, dive aggressively. It could have happened to anyone.

Moral of the story: vacation aggressively at your own risk. Sometimes the bends happens. You can't walk it off.

Love you, Derrek!

Palm Trees and Pumpkin Pie

Sometimes I get a little bit homesick.

It's not that I don't love our life on the island.

It's not that I want to move back to Saskatchewan.

It's just that now that I've been living here for over a year, I'm beginning to notice that certain times of the year pique a twinge of homesickness in my heart.

The other day, I went to fill out a check and I had absolutely no idea what month it was. As the bank teller watched me fiddle with my pen, wracking my brain for a month, (any month!) I scoured my environment: palm trees out the window, people dressed in shorts and tank tops, A/C cranked in the cool building. Shit. It could have been January. It could have been August. For about 60 seconds, I had no freakin' clue what season I was even dealing with! Other than American television urging me to find my perfect Halloween costume and the fact that the pool temperature has decreased from 92 to 83 degrees, there are absolutely no cues that orient one to time on this island.

Facebook tells me that it's Thanksgiving weekend in Canada. Although I was never a super Thanksgiving holiday fan, I find myself longing for a cool fall breeze, a scarf around my neck, and a pumpkin spiced latte in my hands. It makes me miss my family. I know they will be gathering on Sunday for turkey, Baba's perogies, and pumpkin pie, and yes, it makes me feel sad to know that I won't be there….but then the romantic version of Thanksgiving that I've created in my brain fades and I recall the feeling of dread that I always experienced around Thanksgiving - knowing that winter was on the way.

Pumpkin spiced latte and Kahlua on ice - Genius?

It's no Baba's perogies, but it does taste like Thanksgiving in a glass. 

My mom traveled back to Canada today. We had such an amazing time together. It flew by and I miss her already. When Mom planned this trip in July, she anticipated that I would still be in a lot of pain from my knee surgery. Her intent was to come down and help out around the house, thinking that I may still be immobile only 4 months post surgery. I was so excited for her to arrive and see that I don't need help anymore. My knees are doing awesome! I'm working full time, doing my physio exercises regularly, weaning off of the knee braces, and am almost completely off of the painkillers - whoohoo! So instead of coming to the island to act as reinforcement, she was able to spend the entire time touring, beaching, lunching, and spending quality fun mother-daughter time with me! I've told my Mom numerous times how grateful I am for all of her support during all of my surgeries, but it was so awesome to show her by treating her to a fabulous few weeks on Cayman. I realize how lucky I am to have such a great relationship with my Mom and I'm so proud when people comment about how similar we are! Mom and I both classify raw cake mix in a bowl as a legitimate and tasty bedtime snack, we speak about celebrities like they are our close friends, ("That's so sad about Miranda and Blake. I saw him on The Voice the other day and he looks like he's doing well"),  and we both appreciate the art of people watching and conjuring up creative stories, ("Check out that couple. She must be introducing him to her parents for the first time. You can tell that her Dad's not impressed.") We really do have fun together and I just genuinely enjoy my Mom's company.

So this Thanksgiving weekend, I am incredibly thankful for my Mom. I miss you already, Mom, but now we have so many awesome memories to replace some of the crappy ones (ummm... Let's toss out that memory of that one time when I stole all of your vodka and replaced it with water. TIP: Parents, freeze your vodka. Duh).

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in Canadia (haha). Throw on a scarf and have a piece of pumpkin pie for me!

Sunset wine!

East End lunch!

Bar Bites at Camana Bay!

Marriott live music sunset!

Spott's Beach!

Catamaran to Rum Point BBQ!

Swimming at Seven Mile Beach!

Ev can't keep up. 

Soon Come

My co-workers are awesome people. They're all very brave. They've said goodbye to family, friends, stepped out of their comfort zones, and moved far away to be here. Many accepted their job without knowing a soul on the island, arriving with no car, no home, and no support system - simply a 5 night hotel voucher at Sunshine Suites. My co-workers come in many colours - they come from all over the world! - Jamaica, Barbados, Ireland, England, Mexico, Canada, and the US. They all come with varying religious beliefs, political views, morals and values. They embrace adventure and excitement. They reminisce about their "old" life and support each other through bouts of homesickness.

In one year of working in my office, I've learned about Georgi-Ann's family time - stargazing in their oceanfront backyard in Barbados. I've learned that Stephanie's grandparents immigrated to Jamaica from India. I've learned that Monty misses combining Milo on his family farm in Colorado. I've learned that Joan thinks the world of her two sons and really misses her son who is still living the UK. I've learned all about the "rules" of dating Caribbean men from Denise (FYI: complicated. Think I'll stick with my Canadian boy). We've celebrated successful weeks overlooking the sea, sipping a cocktail at Friday happy hour. We've lamented over tough case conferences with chocolates on our office couch at coffee break. We've all introduced our family and friends to each other when they come on island to visit. These are the people who helped me create my "worry box" when they saw that I was stressed out about my surgeries. (A worry box is little red box where I can store my worries, by the way - I'm pretty sure it's a psych tool used when working children with anxiety disorders, but whatevs. It works!). This is a unique workplace. Something happens when you bring together such a diverse group of people who all moved away and made so many sacrifices to be where they are - you become attached. Fast.

This week was tough. We said farewell - good luck - bon voyage to one of our best, Stephanie. Stephanie is an Educational Psychologist and has been here for 2 years. She decided to move on to her next adventure and do her Post-doc in Minneapolis this Fall (I know, I warned her…It's chilly. Well,  let's be honest, Minneapolis is almost Saskatchewan cold!)  Stephanie hails from Jamaica and is smart, witty, hard-working, and thoughtful. She's very beautiful and we lovingly refer to her as "Jamaican Barbie." Stephanie taught me that "buddy" means "penis" in Jamaican (The horror of realizing that I've been calling my  students "buddy" for 8 months - remember when I introduced "buddy week"?? - "Hey kids, grab your buddy and bring him to speech today!" ACK!!!). Stephanie taught me that "Soon come" means, "be back soon" (or..."I'm skipping out of work early and I will not see you again today," depending on who is saying it. Haha),  and she taught me that Jamaican Bulla (ginger flavoured heavy carb) settles any stomach.

I've only known Stephanie for a year, yet she was such an integral part of my recovery this summer. When I was at my lowest, feeling sick, useless and sorry for myself, she sent a package containing all my favourite Caribbean treats, along with a note telling me how much I was missed at the office and encouraging me to hurry up and get well because they needed me back! It completely lifted my spirits and pushed me to keep going, at a time I wasn't sure I even wanted to.  It reminded me that I would and could actually get through this. Thanks, buddy friend. That was awesome. It's super cool when someone whom you've just recently met "gets" you and impacts your life in such a short period of time. I'm a firm believer that people come in and out of your life at specific times for a reason. Stephanie was one of my "people."

So although one of the perks of working and living here is meeting so many interesting, diverse people, the downside is all the goodbyes. Cayman is a transient location. People are constantly coming in and heading out. I went to buy a "farewell, good luck" card from the card shop today and they were completely sold out. Coincidence? Most employees here are on 2 year work permits. Upon meeting someone, the conversation typically goes like this, "How long have you been here? So when are you leaving?"

Evan and I discussed this oddity:

"Ev, it's so weird, people are always asking, 'How long will you stay? When are you moving on?"

"It's just like hockey life,  'When are you moving on? Where will you go next?"

Wow. It is. It bears an uncanny resemblance to my previous life as a "hockey wife." Obviously I'm attracted to this transient lifestyle for some reason. I guess I'm drawn to the excitement - the highs and lows of trying something brand new - meeting and learning from such diverse, interesting, adventurous people and then saying goodbye - well goodbye for now anyway. Good luck, Steph. Buy a toque and some Sorels, buddy. Soon come.

Since this pic was taken, we lost Kevin, Raven, and Steph. We miss you guys!!

My birthday

Steph always looks much more poised in pics than me. Perhaps it's because she's sober.