jodyrathgeb

This week’s blog is going to take a different form. Instead of my usual nattering on some island-related topic, let’s do something more interactive. Contrary to how I must sometimes sound, I don’t have all the answers to island living, but I still have plenty of questions. Allow me to ask you to answer one of them.
 
(Yes, I can hear you, savvy readers, saying, “Well, that’s a lazy-ass way to do a blog.” True. But it allows for more answers than just I could give.)
 
The question is: Why THIS island? Many people I know have one particular island that they deem their happy place. It’s where they go when the yoga instructor tells them to close their eyes and relax. It’s the place in the photos they keep in their cubicles. For the lucky ones, it’s the location of their retirement or second home.
 
But why? Why Bermuda and not Jamaica, or vice versa? What is it about Anguilla that’s so special? Why Ocrakoke?
 
I know people who claim those islands, and many more, as “the” place for them. What I don’t know is why. If you have one particular island, share it here, with your reasons.
 
Yes, this is difficult to figure out. Heck, my whole blog could be me trying to answer “Why North Caicos?” So I’m not asking for definitive answers, just some hints about what you find appealing. To help, here are some other questions to help you focus.
 
Does the distance matter to you? Lots of folks here in Virginia focus on drivable beaches and islands … Chincoteague, Topsail, Pawleys, Ocrakoke, Nags Head. How important is that issue?
 
Do tradition and comfort matter most to you? Familiarity with the places you went as a child can be a strong draw. If your parents had a place in Hilton Head, is that why it still makes you happy?
 
What about the memories? The honeymoon spot can become the every-year spot. Or not.
 
Staying in the country, or sampling a foreign culture? Some like the security of not actually leaving home; others need the difference. And then there are places like Key West, which are a bit of both.
 
Don’t discount your passions. I know some who like TCI mainly for the fishing. Surfing takes others to their happy places. Food, shopping, and that catch-all “family friendly” can also be draws.
 
If you choose to participate, I think this can be a most informative “blog” for all of us. Sound too difficult? Let me prime the pump.
 
I asked a former colleague why she continues to visit St. Martin/Sint Maarten. Here was her response:
 
“Being an aviation geek, St. Maarten was a bucket list airport for its famous Maho Beach landings and takeoffs. It surpassed my expectations. Way beyond that, I fell in love with the little island for its great beauty, friendly people and two distinctly different cultures - Dutch and French. It's the friendliest Caribbean island we've visited. Its ability to rebound from the devastation of Hurricane Irma is nothing short of miraculous. We've been twice since the storm and were overjoyed to find our favorite people resilient and rebuilding. The spirit is inspiring, the beaches breathtaking and our visits life-changing.”
 
Get the idea? Okay, GO.
 

Before Tom and I even built our house on North Caicos, we considered opening a business there. A few businesses, in fact (one at a time).
 
Whew! Dodged that one. We may be slightly above our heads in home ownership, and we had to learn the hard way that we’re not boat people, but at least we came to our senses about becoming entrepreneurs on an island that’s fairly remote. Here are some observations we’ve made over the years.
 

1. Having a business as your sole source of income is a risky proposition on an island. From the get-go, we saw that islanders are jugglers of this and that. We laughed about the sign we saw on our first trip that offered “Plumbing and Beauty Supplies,” but later saw the sense of it. It’s a small place, and when demand for one type of goods or service dips, it’s insurance to have something else to take up the slack.
2. Grand schemes are an invitation to disaster, unless there’s a grand investment, which invites the same. Starting small and working upward seems to work best. Before Josh McIntosh built and opened his corner bar, he sold beers out of a van with refrigeration. Smart start.
3. The whole thing is difficult, damnably difficult, even if you were born on the island and have a supportive family. The government has its hoops for you to jump through, and I’ve written before about getting things done legally on the island. “A” has to be in place before “B” and “C,” but when you get to “C,” time has expired on “A” and you have to  start over.
4. There will be competition. There is probably already competition that you just don’t know about. We wondered for a while why islanders are so secretive about their business plans, but then realized that there’s a good reason: copycats. One person would build a block of apartments for foreign workers, and then suddenly there was construction of apartment blocks all over the island. Three car rental services blossoms to nine within a year. One person rents a couple of kayaks, and then suddenly there are kayak rentals everywhere.
5. Partnerships are often poison. Local partnerships, arising most often out of the need for seed cash, are fraught with mutual suspicion, family dynamics and differences that often date back for decades. Expat-local partnerships, arising from both economics and government decree, can fall apart easily unless expectations are worked out in advance. There are exceptions, of course, but they are exceptional exceptions.
6. Jealousies abound. You would think that mutual support would be part of such a small community, and the local entrepreneur would be encouraged. Wrong. Probably the hardest thing a local business owner will encounter, beyond the government hoops, is the attitude of “Who do you think you are?” That’s why having tourists and expats as a customer base, however shaky that can be, seems to be a better idea than depending on other islanders to buy your pizza, hire you to paint a house, or get a haircut.

 
I realize that by even typing Number Six, I may face a barrage of “Who do you think you are?” and accusations of stereotyping. But Number Six is also the reason that the news I share today is so astonishing and uplifting: There has been a business merger on North Caicos. Three car-rental agencies, Al’s Rent A Car, Nick’s Rent A Car and Pelican Rentals, have merged to become Twin Island Adventures.
 
I see more in this news than a mere business merger. To this observer, it seems that cooperation has finally won over competition, freeing North and Middle Caicos from old grumbles that managed to keep everyone down and struggling.
 
I know I said that partnerships can be poison. But I applaud this one, which seems to be based in true business practices rather than misunderstood assumptions. Bravo! And good luck.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Optimism
 
Optimism is a latent gene for me. I tend to be not just a glass-half-empty person, but a glass-three-quarters-empty one, especially when it comes to human behavior.
 
Recently, though, the news that TCI is banning plastic shopping bags has given me hope. Maybe this is the kick we all need to pay more attention to that fragile island-ocean relationship.
 
I know there will be those who scoff and grumble. They will complain about the “inconvenience” of carrying their own reusable bags and say such a small step toward reducing plastics won’t make a difference.
 
I’ve heard it before. I have had the scoffers laugh at me for cutting apart the plastic rings from six-packs. When I explain how easy it would be for a bird to pick up a whole yoke from the dump, then drop it into the sea where a turtle could be caught in it and die, they say, “Yeah, what are the chances of that?”
 
Well, our islands are small, so the chances are good, just as the chances are high that a stray bag can be blown into the ocean and mistaken for food. Cutting the rings and not using the bag reduce the chances. It may be a small amount, but it’s still a reduction.
 
I am reminded of the story about the girl at the beach who is throwing washed-up starfish back into the sea. She is told her actions won’t make a difference. She thinks, picks up another starfish and tosses it back. “It made a difference for that one,” she answers.
 
Little by little, it does make a difference. Over the years on North Caicos, I have seen a gradual reduction of litter, an increase in beach and park cleanups, and better respect for fishing seasons and national park areas. It’s a matter of education and awareness that Earth’s regenerative powers are limited.
 
So let’s get together behind this. On an island, the ocean is both front yard and back yard. Let’s clean up our yard.
 
 
 

 
“Life in the yard.” I used that phrase in a travel article I wrote after visiting Nevis in 1989 (pre-Four-Seasons-Nevis). Remembering one little phrase for 30 years reveals what it is about island living I find so appealing (after proximity to the ocean, that is).
 
When we are on North Caicos, we aren’t exactly doing everything “in the yard,” but we do spend much of our day outdoors. We read and I do mosaic on the porch. Our outdoor shower gets a lot of use, I hang clothes out to dry, and of course there’s grilling. I write at the picnic table on the patio, on the porch, or on one of Lovey’s tables by the beach. The French doors are open all day, so the boundary of in and out is flexible.
 
It’s the kind of flexibility I miss at our Richmond home. Cool and cold weather keeps us indoors most of the time, and when we decide to go outside anyway, there’s all that putting on of shoes and jackets. Even when the weather is warm enough to go outside without dressing for it, getting there is not as easy as just stepping out. Our apartment does not have a porch, so we must take an elevator to the rooftop pool, remembering to lock the door, make sure our drinks are not in glass and take the book, the reading glasses, the phone, etc. Outdoor life is possible, but much more complicated.
 
My love of outdoor living is longstanding. I remember, as a kid, spending most of summer vacation outside. I’d walk or bike to the playground to hang out with other kids, drag a blanket up to the edge of the yard to read under the maple trees, or get into creative mischief in the garage. (The doors were always open in those pre-homeowner-association days.) If it rained, I’d hang with the Blanchard boys on their roofed porch or fuss over my pet turtles at our roofed picnic table. Back then, when I was a hardier person, I even spent time outdoors in winter. Instead of going inside after sled riding, I’d lie on my sled and watch snowflakes in the driveway light.
 
Wanting to be outdoors or remember that there is such a thing as “outdoors,” I have long been an opponent of air conditioning. Yes, we’re the weirdos who have open windows all summer in steamy Richmond, Va. It has to be pretty darn hot for me to close the windows and turn on the air, and then I last for only a day or two before feeling cooped up. No wonder I dislike winter and extended winter (which some people call spring)!
 
And so one of the things we escape when we go to North Caicos is the not-so-great indoors. But we are a dying breed there, too. First television, then the Internet, then whole-house AC have driven people inside. (OK, mosquito nights and sandfly mornings have helped, but they’ve always been with us.) I no longer hear children running past the house or playing outside, and the number of people who go to sleep being lulled by the sound of the waves is greatly diminished.
 
Not me. Give me the sea sounds, the wind, the open doors and the break from television. Give me the outdoor life, island-style.
 

Ten reasons to go to the Turks and Caicos Islands RIGHT NOW:
 

1. Great weather. Yes, there’s great weather there almost all the time, but I have found May-June to be particularly wonderful at the beach. It’s warm enough for swimming, but not so warm that you’re taking a seawater bath, and the sandblasting winds of winter have become a welcome breeze.
2. Fewer people. The busy social scene of winter is over and you can enjoy the natural beauty in solitude.
3. Things are still open. Local businesses have not yet closed for the off-season, so it’s still easy to find restaurants and bars that are open, and the stores are still well-stocked.
4. I-Soon-Reach has joined the Turks Head Brewery family of beers (with Ain-Ga-Lie, Gon-Ta-Nort and Down-Da-Road) and needs sampling.
5. Even very rich spring-breakers tend to go elsewhere.
6. Trump drama.
7. Brexit drama.
8. Trudeau drama.
9. It’s pollen season in northern climes. Clear your head.
10. I don’t have a tenth reason. I simply claimed ten because that’s the listicle tradition (and for the record, I am not a fan of listicles but not above doing one). If you’ve got a number ten for me, please share!

 

 
I am an American, so I know the frustration and depression that can come from following the news. But most of us do so anyway, knowing how much current events can affect our little lives, from the condition of the roads we drive, to the taxes we pay, to how we can survive when we’re old and sick. We also follow the news because we want to be knowledgeable voters, so we can affect the things that affect our little lives, from the condition … well, you know. “I’m not political” isn’t something to be admired; it’s lazy, a cop-out, an abdication of personal responsibility.
 
Yeah, okay Jody, we get it, but what does this have to do with an island blog or the Turks and Caicos?
 
Well, folks, you may not like it, but unless you are the most casual and infrequent of tourists, it behooves you to put the same amount of attention you pay to American, Canadian, British or other politics into what’s going on in the TCI.
 
Indeed, there’s a lot going on. The Beaches resort is in a feud with the government over who owes whom large sums of money. The two political parties are assigning blame and/or taking credit for such things as new clinics that haven’t opened, fire trucks, a still-damaged dock and foreign investors who gain the fast track to citizenship. It can be hard to keep up with it all, and harder to maintain neutrality.
 
Sometimes, when I was bartending at Pelican Beach Hotel, one of the local guys would ask my opinion in a political argument. I would reply, “It’s not my country. No opinion,” which was a perfect answer for a bartender, but an imperfect position for someone trying to live in the TCI. Also, it wasn’t true. I was beginning to form opinions. I was listening and learning, not because I would be able to affect things, but because I sensed that it was important to know what was happening to me.
 
Things WERE happening to me, and they continue to happen to all of us … sunbirds, temp residents, work permit holders, frequent visitors and, of course, TCIslanders. All this stuff in the news will affect our plans for aging, how much we spend on travel, whether we can make a living, how easy it is to live that “easy life.” It’s all important to our little lives.
 
Pay attention.
 

As a freelance writer, I have been associated with quite a few magazines, from “Reptiles” and “River City” to “Teaching Theatre” and “Civil War Times Illustrated.” My longest and most fruitful association, however, has been “Times of the Islands,” published quarterly in the Turks and Caicos Islands. I started contributing to it in 1992, when the magazine was only six years old, and have been with it ever since … not in every issue, but fairly close to it.
 
There are lots of good reasons for this long association. First, I believe that as “regional” magazines go, TOTI is a cut above the rest. This genre, which includes city mags and competing publications in tourist areas, is usually all about the advertising. That’s understandable, because that’s where they make their money. But it also means that the magazine’s content is often skewed toward the moneymakers. “Features” focus on the businesses that advertise and are upbeat to a fault about big developers and any idea that comes out of the Chamber of Commerce (or tourist bureau). Some of these magazines have no firewall at all between advertising and editorial, and require writers to allow their material to be edited by the advertisers themselves.
 
“Times of the Islands” goes beyond that tit-for-tat arrangement, offering readers a look into island life that doesn’t involve dollars. Sure, there are upbeat reports on new resorts and some articles submitted by advertisers, but TOTI also has real articles about islanders, entrepreneurs and island history and folklore. Each issue includes the Green Pages, focusing on environmental issues, and the Astrolabe, the newsletter of the Turks and Caicos National Museum. There is a depth to this publication that rivals miss.
 
I have also stayed with TOTI because it has been good to me and for me. Its longtime editor (though not the first), Kathy Borsuk, has always treated me with professional respect. She pays me in a timely fashion (believe me, this is important to a freelancer!), doesn’t ask me to travel among islands without reimbursing me and thinks of me when ideas come up that are suited to my interests and style. It’s a good relationship that has blossomed into a friendship as well.
 
And being good for me? Wow! Because of TOTI, I have been able to see island life so much more deeply than I could when I first started visiting and writing about the Turks and Caicos. I got to meet so many islanders through my writing, and each one was a window into my new adopted home. Kathy said, “Hey, there’s this woman on North who’s a fisherman” … and Tom and I ventured into the Pink Squeeze and finally convinced Dar to let us tell her story. Because of my “Day in the Life” column that ran for a while, I ended up one day on South Caicos talking my way onto Ba Parker’s boat, then getting stuck on island and enjoying the hospitality of the School for Marine Studies. I’ve tromped through farms and gardens, warily handed over my credit card at Parrot Cay and bicycled to Bottle Creek (when I was younger) in pursuit of island stories.
 
I know that TOTI isn’t perfect (what business is?). It has standing sections that sorely need updating, there may be too much kowtowing to resort developers and its picture of the Turks and Caicos lacks any of the political conflict that certainly exists. But it keeps asking the important question: What is your story?
 
Because of this magazine, I have learned to ask that question, even when I’m not working, and even when I am not in the islands. That’s the question that allows us all to get to know people and places. Anyone attempting to live in the islands should burn that question into his or her heart. It is your entry.
 
Postscript: Times of the Islands is published quarterly. It is available at many places in the TCI and as a subscription. Visit www.timespub.tc for more info. The spring 2019 issue is now available.
 

I get it. There are some people who aren’t suited to neighborhood living, for one reason or another.

Maybe privacy is the reason. They don’t relish others recognizing their cars on the street or knowing their daily schedules and habits. They prefer anonymity over the prospect that the barista or bartender will know what they’re having, and are loath to give a full name or real name in casual encounters.

Or, maybe it’s shyness. They find idle chit-chat ridiculous or difficult, and prefer online contacts to interacting with real people.

Or, it could be fear. A neighborhood is full of people who might not be like them, some of whom might be threatening or harmful. Complete solitude, either out in the country alone or hidden in an urban crowd, seems safer.

Or, it’s just a difference in values. A perfect lawn is preferable to one loved by children or animals. The freedom to burn leaves at any time, no matter if a neighbor is hanging laundry or entertaining in the path of the smoke, is tantamount. Having a home gym means never having to wait or wipe down for someone else.

I get it. We’re all different, and some just aren’t neighborhood people.

Problem is, some of those not suited for neighborhoods think that island life is the solution.

News flash: Unless it is uninhabited by anyone else, each island is a neighborhood. Other people live there and it’s a community, like it or not. Others will know what you drive, where you go, who you talk to (and who you seem to avoid), how friendly you are and whether you contribute to the neighborhood or separate yourself from it. They will form opinions about you and treat you accordingly.

There are few secrets on an island. Sasha can tell you what Tom and I like for lunch and what beer we drink. Josh has us memorized, too. Marqui just waits for a nod, and brings my drink. If you socialize only with other ex-pats, the locals will know. If you keep your home as a fortress from all others, we all know.

I have watched as various people who don’t like neighborhoods move into the neighborhood. I’m interested to see how this works for them. Can you live on North Caicos without being a part of North Caicos?

Good question.
 

 
Moving back and forth between the Turks and Caicos and one’s native country may sound all jet-setty and glamorous, but there’s work involved and re-entry issues both ways. Mostly, these involve changing one’s habits to adjust to the other environment. It’s what gives you a bit of disorientation the first couple of days, no matter which direction your travel takes you.
 
For me, the habits that change are largely personal or household-based. Here are the changes between Aloe House (AH) and Richmond, Va. (RVA):
 
AH-Put on sunscreen before taking a walk. RVA-Put on lip balm before taking a walk.
 
AH-Freeze meat and vegetable scraps and other organic garbage until the day you actually put out the garbage. RVA-Put veggie scraps in the compost jar and use the disposal for meat scraps. AH-On garbage day, tote your bags to the nice bin at the end of the lane that Addison made. RVA-(oh, this is embarrassing)-Remember which days the Trash Fairies (yes, real name) pick up outside the apartment door.
 
AH-Hang out the laundry. RVA-Watch TV while waiting for the dryer to buzz.
 
AH-Spray yourself with Off! when you go out for the evening. RVA-Going out for the evening? What?
 
AH-Sweep and mop. RVA-Run the vacuum.
 
AH-Drive on the left. Curse the tourists who forget to drive on the left and come down the road straight at you. Wave at all other drivers. RVA-Drive on the right. Panic when you think your husband is not in the proper lane when he makes a turn. Forget that you do not know the guy driving a vehicle that looks exactly like Farrington’s and wave at a stranger.
 
RVA-Read the newspaper. AH-Check your news website.
 
RVA-Go downstairs and check your mailbox. AH-Ummm, remember the days when there were post offices on North Caicos and you could actually get your New Yorker magazine.
 
Okay, those are my changes of habit. Anyone out there have others? Please share.
 
 
 

With the rounds of holiday parties on North Caicos recently, I found myself uncharacteristically prone to some house envy. We were in several island homes, all much newer than ours and all smartly decorated in a tropical-chic manner. Gorgeous places!
Aloe House is far from tropical-chic. Instead, I would describe its decor as beach-bargain. When the house was completed in 2001, we were still working and had put all we had into construction. (While others were investing in dot-coms, we invested in concrete!) There was no real "budget" for furnishings, so our goals were not fashion but durability. I sought futons with frames of wood, not rust-prone metal; coated my aunt's old steamer trunk with polyurethane, planning to use it as a coffee table; shopped at Ikea for sturdy things. (I had also been influenced by one resident's advice not to bring in anything so valuable that I wouldn't want to lose it in a hurricane.)
What we didn't bring in, we supplemented by "shopping" at the beach. Flotsam gave us a length of bamboo that we turned into a DVD holder, salt-soaked boards that we turned into valences, and our prize accent table: a large wooden box that we hauled back along the beach, making frequent rest stops.
The eclectic result of our "decorating" is one part Robinson Crusoe, one part First Apartment and one part Bohemian. We find it comfortable and islandy, but it's a far cry from the island elegance I see today.
Yet I must ask myself if I'd do it differently now, when we have more money and it's easier to find and buy goods in the islands. Do I want my home to be tropical-chic instead of beachy-fun? Nah. Formal elegance is not something I seek from the islands. I actually prefer the improvisation that comes with living at the edge of a capricious ocean.
Even though I ooh and aah over those grand homes, I think I'll keep my tiki-hut style.