jodyrathgeb

There was sad news this week from Middle Caicos, where three American tourists drowned off Bambarra Beach. It’s the kind of incident that’s hard to wrap around your head; the waters there are shallow, and the people weren’t doing anything dangerous or stupid, just walking through the water to a nearby cay.
 
It also gets you to thinking about that basic reality of island life: We are surrounded by the ocean.
 
Okay, ocean, sea, waves, tides, beach, flats, “the creek,” bay … water, filled with life and movement and beauty and power. And too often we tout and admire the beauty while forgetting all that pure, raw power.
 
I am not one of those who claim that tragedies are a message from God, a punishment from God, or a judgement from God. I don’t believe God works that way. But I do think we can and should take from this a reminder of where we are and the powers that are stronger than us.
 
For anyone who lives on or moves to an island, recognizing the power of the ocean might possibly be step one in life, and learning as much as we can about that power around us is ultra important. I have been amazed by the numbers of people who live so close to the ocean but know so little about it, and who don’t ever learn how to swim or even tread water.
 
This is not a new thing. TCI history is dotted with accidental drownings, often involving people who have no water skills and boats. I cried on hearing Miss Suta’s experience of losing two daughters in a boating accident. I have been amazed by people who own boats and have no swimming skills. I learned early on that sometimes the only instruction given to children about the ocean, particularly to girls, was to stay out of it.
 
On the other side, I was cheered and heartened by news this summer of swimming instruction given to children on North Caicos. I would hope such instruction includes a healthy dose of respect for the ocean. Not fear, but respect.
 
Learning to swim and respecting the power of the ocean (and of many of the creatures living there) won’t protect us all from everything. Incidents like the one at Bambarra are not fully preventable. But learning as much as we can about tide action, jellyfish, sharks, barracuda, sea urchins and weather behooves us all. Life on an island means understanding exactly what an island is.
 

It goes without saying that I love being on North Caicos and taking in all the sights of the beach and the bush. And when I’m not there, I love looking at the photos of people who are there and on Middle Caicos. It’s just such a beautiful place.
 
But there are some things I don’t ever want to see on North and Middle. For starters…
 
CHAIN RESTAURANTS. I know that they are popular with families, and some of them have good food, but dotting the roads with McDonald’s, KFC, Chipotle and Panera makes a place look like any other place. Our local restaurateurs work hard. Let’s not drive them out of business with bland Everyeats.
 
EXCLUSIVE LUXURY RESORTS. “Exclusive” says it all … they exclude mostly everyone who love and call the islands home.
 
CRUISE SHIPS. Please, no. Inundating an island (or anywhere) with huge numbers of people on a daily basis can destroy a place. Just ask St. Thomas. Santorini. Venice. I’m fine just watching those floating behemoths just go by at sea.
 
BIG SHOPPING PLAZAS AND MALLS. Maybe I’m peculiar, but I think that “no shopping” is a good way to winnow out the kind of tourism that small, fragile islands don’t want.
 
THEME PARKS. I enjoy a good roller coaster, but I don’t expect to find them in places of natural beauty, and I really don’t want to see places that exploit animals (like “dolphin adventures”) in our backyard. As for water parks, come on. The ocean itself isn’t enough fun?
 
JET SKIS. They’re noisy and they rip up reefs.  I wouldn’t object to a ban.
 
THUG CULTURE. The islands I love aren’t edgy or badass. They’re friendly and laid-back. Please don’t copy this horrible American export.
 
THE HANDOUT HUSTLE. My brief time on Antigua was a turn-off when a guy grabbed our bags (unbidden), moved them five feet, then put his hand out for a tip. That kind of “soak the tourists” attitude is starting to show up in Provo now. I pray it doesn’t spread to North and Middle.
 
I know some will say my opinions would hold back the islands, and that these things are needed for tourism development to benefit the islanders. But bringing in all these “crowd-pleasing amenities” drives against the whole idea of the TCI’s “beautiful by nature” slogan and creates just another so-called paradise based on things that were never there in the first place. We can do better than that. IMO.
 
 
 

Minor problem here. One of our windows slowly slides closed when we want it open. Now, this would hardly be a problem at all if it weren’t for our cat Winston, who likes to hang out in the sash area between the sill and the screen, and who sometimes decides to climb the screen. His antic is heart-stopping enough (what if the screen won’t support him or he punches through and tumbles down to the sidewalk?) without the added fear of the window closing and trapping him there.
 
There is a simple solution that doesn’t require calling property management. “What we need is a stick,” said Tom.
 
Easier said than done in our city neighborhood. Oh, we have trees, but even in the parks or by the river the windfall sticks are flimsy things, unsuitable for holding up a 45x50 section of window. What we need is a substantial tree branch, a good piece of driftwood, or a leftover from a carpenter’s workshop.
 
Yep, we need a stick like we’d easily find on North Caicos.
 
We solved our problem by using a heavy milk-bottle-shaped ceramic vase that I mosaicked for Tom, but the whole thing got me thinking about how important the simple stick can be to island life.
 
First and foremost is the sliding door stick. This is what you throw down to make sure that even if someone breaks your door lock, they can’t get in without a lot more effort. Cut to size, the stick fits nicely into the slider track. There may be some unimaginative, retail-conditioned types who go online to get a device designed for this purpose, but most of the island folks I know figure out how to DIY for free. You want fancy? Paint it, or get an artist friend to do so. My downstairs door stick was painted with fish by LynnRae McLean; my upstairs one has trilliums and bougainvillea blossoms by Tom.
 
Ballpark measuring sticks are also useful. These are most often used to determine if a cistern has sufficient water, but there are other uses. Our first island vehicle, a purple CJ-5 Jeep named John after its previous owner, didn’t have a working gas gauge. The stick kept track of the fuel level.
 
Anyone with a yard needs a knocking-things-down stick, to get high fruit off a tree without dragging out the tall ladder. Ours was originally a long-handled tree trimmer. It broke, but the stick part is still useful.
 
And what is a conch pounder but a good, heavy stick? You won’t find many island homes without one.
 
Now that I got myself started, I’m thinking of so many uses I’ve had for sticks in my island home. I’ve used them as window valences (gussied up with shells or beads), islandy picture frames and, of course, for keeping certain tricky windows open. I even have some that are purely decorative, thanks to LynnRae’s stick-painting-for-fun-phase (see photo).
 
Actually, I’m forming a little island-living theory here. Want to know if those new people will stick? Count their sticks. The more, the merrier.
 

Group tours are something I approach warily. After years of being a docile and obedient schoolchild, I no longer merit the comment, “Plays well with others.” I am not a “team player.”  And I really don’t like being part of those clumps of people that block streets and shuffle slowly past tourist sites, holding up the lines while taking photos.
 
Yet there are positives to group tours (advance planning done by someone else, admission fees and transportation covered, a simple safety net), so I’ve taken a few here and there. Tom and I recently returned from one, which visited Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal and Quebec City, Canada, in 11 days. During the down times on the bus (and sometimes during guided tours), I found my mind drifting to the job of tour guide. I realized that no matter how much one knows about a particular city, island or country, not everyone is cut out for that sort of thing. I’m certainly not a guide candidate, even for someplace like North Caicos, which I love and have known for nearly 30 years. Here’s why I will never be a tour guide:
 
--I’m not into numbers. How high is Niagara Falls? Don’t care. What’s the population of North Caicos? I keep hearing the number, but it never sticks. I’m sure there’s an impressive number of churches on North, but I don’t know it. Those people who love and are wowed by numbers would find me a lousy guide.
 
--I don’t do superlatives, and even actively hate “best” lists. Highest, longest, most beautiful, biggest, most luxurious … those words will never pass my lips.
 
--Real estate bores me. I don’t know the current cost of beachfront property, and I couldn’t possibly impress my group with how much the latest mega-mansion on Parrot Cay sold for. I consider big resorts blights on the land, and would rather take people to see the local bushman than recommend a spa.
 
--You probably guessed this next one: Nix on name-dropping. It’s easily done in the TCI, but even though I know tourists lap it up, I think it’s tacky.
 
Enough of my spiel on the van, or lack thereof. Let’s hop off and find more reasons not to hire me to lead your group.
 
--I can’t stand ditherers or lollygaggers. When the guide says, “Follow me,” I expect everyone to follow, tout-suite. With a group behind me, I would be a drill sergeant, or Captain Von Trapp with his kids. Keep up or get lost!
 
--In every group, there’s always that one person. You know who I mean. They ask the question that has just been answered, state the obvious, arrive late, find the flaws forthwith and otherwise make things slow and miserable for everyone else. I have no tolerance for that person. And I’m sure it would show on my face.
 
--I am too honest about my opinions. As a tour guide, it would be my job to support all the local businesses. But if someone asked me about a particular restaurant, hotel or shop that I believed had lousy service? Well… I fear I would have no tongue left after all that biting.
 
It’s a tough job, guiding groups of tourists. It requires tact, a positive attitude, good local knowledge and a genuine appreciation of people in all their crazy craziness. In a way, every island resident is a guide, so we need to work on these skills. I’m trying. But making it a full-time position? No, thank you!

I can see that I’ve completely lost my campaign for more judicious use of air conditioning. Even the German people, who long eschewed the big chill, have been seeking canned air in record heat this year. So let me turn to another windmill and go to war on clothes dryers.
 
This idea comes from Michelle Slatalla, who recently wrote a column in The Wall Street Journal about her own rebellion against the clothes dryer. Slatalla, inspired by her travels in Italy, decided to hang her laundry on a line in front yard, to the consternation of her husband and neighbors. The flap (get it?) drew her to try to understand why Americans, unlike Europeans, are more enamored of dry-heat machines than of fresh air.
 
Her research took her to the introduction of the dryer in 1938 and its strong embrace by Americans that essentially changed the culture. “If you were middle class in the U.S., you got your house electrified. Clotheslines became associated with poverty,” noted Steven Lake, director of a documentary called “Drying for Freedom,” as quoted by Slatalla.
 
That explains a whole lot about Americans, who often forego common sense and economy in favor of an ethic ruled by “How would it look?” (a “logic” that also explains some women’s devotion to impractical high heels). Ah, but then we move on to island living.
 
Nowhere is a clothes dryer more stupid than in the islands. With such good weather and breezes for most of the year, the island is the perfect place to get that fresh smell of air-dried clothing. Also, dryers add unnecessary heat to the home, eat up electricity, and release carbon dioxide into the air. Yes, it is less time-consuming to toss the clothes in and push a button rather than hang them out on the line, but seriously? What are you going to do with that extra 15 minutes?
 
It used to be that anyone building a home in the islands understood that dryers were dumb, but gradually the American way snuck in, even to the point of contracts that insisted on them. When I did an article on the proposed development at Sandy Point called the North Caicos Yacht Club, I was appalled to see that “no clotheslines” was on the list of community rules. Let me repeat that: The developers were telling people that they were not allowed to save money and the environment by drying their clothes in the abundant sun and wind. Yikes! (I know of only one house built there, and yes, it has a dryer … but no one to enforce its use.)
 
I of course use a dryer in the U.S., mostly because I have no backyard in which to put up a clothesline, and because the weather is rarely conducive to it. But on North Caicos, I want a dryer even less than I want a ravenous bugblatter beast of Traal in my home. It’s a wasteful, lazy idea.
 
Next up on my list? Dishwashers!
 
(There will be no Beyond the Parrot Paradise blog next week. Summer break!)
 
 

I spent a nice chunk of this week trying to contact Fortis, the TCI electric company, to let them know that my latest bill was incorrect. The bill noted that my previous bill was unpaid and overdue. I checked my TCI bank account and saw that the payment had indeed been deducted.
What should have been a simple correction turned into a days-long struggle. First, there's the issue of getting someone to respond to an email or phone call. This involves bounced mail, phone menus that hang up on you and apparently are turned off during lunchtime, and other system failures. Then, after providing proof of payment, there is the waiting while your two behemoths, bank and power company, do battle. I image it's Godzilla v. King Kong. I'm supposed to be the winner here, but I'm still waiting.
As Jimmy Buffett sings, "We've got a lot to drink about."
So, okay. Reasons to drink on North Caicos:
--Dealing with Fortis
--Dealing with FLOW
--Dealing with the government
--Prices
--Surviving a day on Provo
--Tourist drivers
But not all reasons to drink are negative experiences. Some are joyful. More reasons to drink on North Caicos:
--Turks Head beers
--Bambarra rum
--Sunsets
--Lovey's music
--A nice breeze
--Good news, like plastics bans and the imminent arrival of an ATM
--Fresh coconut water for gullywash
--Just being there
Having a bad day on North? Drink up and cheer up. Having a good day? Drink up and cheers!

I think most people have played that speculative game with themselves, “If I had to do it over…” Sometimes it’s about life choices, like whether you would have finished or quit school, stayed in your hometown or moved away, chosen a different major in college, or married the person you married. Or it’s smaller stuff: the tattoo, the decision to go/not go to Woodstock, Ford v. Chevy.
 
Homeowners seem to be prone to the game, especially those of us who have built. We love our island home, yet almost 20 years later we still revisit the choices we made. Many of our reconsiderations come from how we actually use the house or matters of maintenance. If we had wrapped our decks the whole way around, for example, it would be easier to clean windows and put up hurricane shutters. And for that matter, why didn’t we just include permanent shutters in the design? Why didn’t we pay more attention to the arrangement of the kitchen, which is fine for a single cook but keeps two people bumping and getting in each other’s way?
 
There are plenty of “Yeah, we did that right” thoughts, too. We’re glad to have both a cistern and a well, and that we listened to our builder when he wanted to add two more windows. And we have no regrets about choosing a site not directly on the beach and “building up” to catch breezes and keep any flooding away from living areas.
 
Our own preferences went into all our choices and most of our idle “if I had to do it over” thoughts. But there is one do-over idea that I should share for a number of good reasons: If we had to do it over, we would have gone solar.
 
It wasn’t exactly a choice back then. PPC (Provo Power Company) was the only game in town. The company discouraged alternative energy, and besides, rebels were up against a technology that was still fairly new and very expensive. When PPC became Fortis, not much changed except the rhetoric. Now Fortis states that it supports renewable energy, but you can still feel the resistance when it comes to action.
 
This resistance adds to the argument for trying as hard as you can to work around the company. We who have dutifully paid Fortis year after year can attest to its shaky relationship with customer service. Power outages have become more frequent over the years, and “scheduled” outages are often done at times of maximum inconvenience for families. You would think that a “local” company would know that traditionally, island women do some heavy kitchen work on Sunday mornings, so that dinner is waiting after church. Yet Fortis continues to conduct its routine maintenance then, and even if you have a gas stove, you can’t run water.
 
And yes, we understand that it takes some time after a hurricane to get things up and running. But does Fortis understand that sending out bills at that time and extracting payments is just a slap in the face? You’re paying for power. There’s no power yet, but you still have to pay. WTF?
 
Going solar can be done, and I encourage it strongly to those now building their island homes. But be prepared to work hard. According to the Fortis website (fortistci.com), under “renewable energy,” the word is essentially that YOU do the installation, YOU are responsible for damage repairs and YOU follow all the instructions for connecting with their grid. Yeah, you can do it, but you’re on your own.
 
Online research will help, but I also recommend seeking out and talking with someone who has done it before you. Find someone on Provo who has solar panels on their roof and introduce yourself. On North, talk with Clifford Gardiner about what he’s done at Pelican Beach Hotel. Do your homework on both the theoretical and the practical side.
 
Or, as eco wisdom has it, Think Globally, Act Locally.
 
Slowly, Tom and I are initiating do-overs at Aloe House, like extending our roof when it needed to be repaired. Solar is on our list. But if you can make it a do-right and not a do-over, I encourage it.
 
Just don’t tell Fortis. I really like being able to flush my toilet in the mornings.
 

The first time we met Agnes Swann, she was doing the cooking at Pelican Beach Hotel. And teaching at the high school. Clifford Gardiner was a pilot and the hotel’s owner. Lovey Forbes was a musician. And working in construction in Whitby.
 
So began our instruction in the double lives of North Caicos. The lesson was so indelible that once, when I saw a “Saturday Night Live” skit about Jamaicans working five or six jobs, I cried, “That’s North!”
 
Nearly 30 years later, not much has changed. Kadra Handfield runs a liquor store, grocery store and car rental business. Addison Forbes has a painting/handyman service and is planning to open a restaurant. Sharon Taylor has a store on Middle, but also works for the restaurant at Mudjin Harbor.
 
Nor does this idea of “more than one way to make a living” belong only to modern times. Traditionally, people on North and Middle made their way through double, triple, even quadruple lives: Farming AND fishing AND running a trade boat AND making crafts AND so on.
 
These double lives make perfect sense on a small, mostly remote island. Weather is fickle, and sometimes conditions are not right for fishing. Doing stonework or painting for others is lucrative, but sporadic. It’s wise to have a this and a that.
 
But this goes beyond the lives of belongers. Doubling up is also wise for expats, retirees and anyone who spends chunks of time in the islands. It’s one thing to have a fishing vacation on North, and quite another to hope for constant good fishing when you’re there for six months. Having a plan, plus an alternate plan, for your days keeps your time in paradise from dissolving into dissolution. Margaritas on the beach are a fine way to spend a vacation day or two; there is danger when drinking becomes a lifestyle rather than a treat.
 
I know I’m a poor one to preach. Liquors Plus and the Barracuda make lots of money from the Rathgebs when we visit. But I wonder how much worse it would be if, in addition to reading and walking the beach, we were not doing mosaic, taking photographs, writing and gardening. Go ahead and drink your wine, but also consider making the wine and doing a bit of fishing, a la David Kennedy. Or experiment with fabulous recipes for the fish you catch. Work on a novel. Paint. Raise chickens.
 
THEN raise a glass. Oh, okay, make it a double, like your double life. Cheers!
 
 

“Back in the day” is a stupid phrase. What does it mean? Back in what day? Whose day? How far back?
 
All right. Now that Jody’s word snit is over, let’s get to the blog, starting with the stupid phrase.
 
Back in the day, vacation rentals on North Caicos were few and simple. Some people who had beachfront homes would rent them by the week when the houses were otherwise empty. They used their back-home connections, joined up with VRBO (Vacation Rental by Owner) or ran a simple website. Their customers were travelers who liked getting off the beaten path and didn’t expect resort amenities.
 
Fast-forward to now. Airbnb has grown globally, to the point where some cities consider it to be detrimental to neighborhoods (see The New Yorker’s recent article on its effect on Barcelona). And on North Caicos, many people are getting in on the act, renting rooms in their homes and unleashing tourists with little information on island life. The guests arrive with no guidance about how/where to shop, the differences in public and private property, the fact that driving is on the left, the need for four-wheel drive in some areas, or the general displeasure toward wearing swimsuits into places of business. It’s a DIY existence that leads to misunderstandings and contempt on each side of the tourist/resident divide.
 
This is unfortunate, and perhaps avoidable. I can’t do much to help educate tourists (except to keep blogging in the hopes that those who care to do their homework will learn something), but here are some suggestions for people who want to rent space to those tourists. The ideas come from my brief time renting portions of my house, both short- and long-term.
 
If you rent…
 
… expect your property to take a beating. There will be some who don’t respect your home or furnishings. They will mar and punch drywall while moving furniture to suit them. They will burn food in your pans, then put the hot pans on wood surfaces. They will leave garbage to attract vermin. They will use good knives to puncture cans. Et cetera.
 
… expect your power bill to increase. If you have air conditioning, some will keep it on constantly, and some will even leave it on while doors and windows are open.
 
… don’t expect vacationers to understand about water conservation. Most of them come from places where water is always there all the time, not stored in a cistern and used carefully in dry months.
 
… provide a book of info about the island. Some will have done research in advance, but don’t assume that everyone does so.
 
… don’t throw your neighbors under the bus. Yes, tell your guests that the beaches are public, but also point out where the beach access roads are. Don’t make someone else the villain when they have to tell people their yards are private. Likewise, tell guests that there aren’t public restrooms, and it’s not cool to use the facilities in a business without patronizing that business.
 
… and please, please, please don’t promise what isn’t there! Don’t pretend there’s a swimming pool, beach toys, food delivery or a shopping mall if you yourself are not going to provide them. The gap between expectations and reality is the biggest “tourist problem” North Caicos has.
 
If you are getting into the tourist business, do your own homework, learn the laws, and be considerate. For all our sakes.
 

Tom and I recently went to the grand opening of a grocery store near us in Richmond. This was a Big Deal because, although the West End and South Side of Richmond are filled with warring supermarkets, the neighborhoods near us have been in what is known as a food desert. The Market @ 25th brings fresh foods to people who often don’t have their own transportation and don’t have a lot of disposable income.
 
Highlighted by a high school band and local activists, the event was upbeat and urban. It also seemed, to us, Very North Caicos. I know that Fairfield and 25th, across from a Family Dollar and near a laundromat and public housing, is as far away from North as you can get, but the vibe was similar. I almost expected to see church vans and ladies with containers for free food.
 
There was even a version of that odd island phenomenon that we call “protocol having been established.” Those who have attended a few ribbon-cuttings in the islands know what I mean. The first speaker gets up and hails everyone (yes, I know I’m using an island-ism) by naming all the important people, from the top politician/statesman on down to “boys and girls.” After that, each speaker avoids having to do all this naming by simply stating, “protocol having been established” and going on with the speech.
 
I’ve wondered if there is some sort of template for speakers at public events describing how to do this. In research, I didn’t have a lot of luck, but Tom did find a commentary from Montserrat describing the same type of speech introduction, and I found on the TCI government website some examples of introductions under the annual government “throne speeches” from the governor. (Aside: I was amused by one link that included the words “thrown-speaches.” If only.)
 
Here’s how it goes: “Mr. Speaker, Honourable Ministers, Her Ladyship the Chief Justice, Honourable Premier and Members of the Cabinet, Honourable Leader of the Opposition, Members of this Honourable House, Officials, Members of the Clergy, Distinguished Ladies and Gentlemen.”
 
That mostly tracks with what I’ve heard at official events on North, except that “boys and girls” is usually added in a nod to the children that might be present. And if the governor is there, he/she (has there ever been a she?) goes first. And then there’s “protocol having been established” from each subsequent speaker. It’s kind of comforting to know how everyone will start a speech (or speach). And to me, it’s very North Caicos, even when I’m hearing the equivalent at a grocery store opening on the east side of Richmond.
 
If you’ve never attended an official event in the islands, I recommend it. It gives you a sense that the place you might have thought was a lawless Wild West is indeed a country with a long and distinguished history of laws and formality. It makes you a little bit proud to be there. And, if you’re lucky, there will be free food. Bring your own containers.