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Shuttlers

8/26/2018

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I used to tell people that there are expatriates on North Caicos, but that’s not largely true. Traditionally, expatriates live abroad full-time because of their work, and there are only a few of those on North. We have, instead, a mixture of foreign residents.
 
There are people on work permits, usually brought in not through multinational corporations but by local employers. This large group includes workers from Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Guyana and other island nations as well as Europeans, Canadians and Americans. People from the latter three also come in as either temporary or permanent residents, often establishing businesses or building homes in the TCI. Other homeowners are snowbirds, enjoying about six months of nice weather in the winter before returning to their native countries for the summer.
 
North Caicos used to have a solid community of these snowbirds, but the group more recently has morphed into what I call shuttlers, and I’m one of them. We are homeowners who spend chunks of time on the island in whatever months are convenient for us. Winter still sees the arrival of most of us, but we also come and go in all other seasons as well, spending a few weeks to a couple of months.
 
There appear to be many reasons this has happened. Some retirees who started as snowbirds have felt the pull of grandchildren and become shuttlers. Some new homeowners are still working and can’t get away for a six-month period. Others just prefer the arrangement, balancing in-season activities and socializing with the lazy, off-season “It’s my own beach” vibe.
 
Either way, there are tradeoffs. True snowbirds spend their first week opening up their homes and getting things back into order, then their last weeks prepping to leave again. Shuttlers are more likely to spread out house projects or hire help, but they face challenges at each end of their trips. Empty refrigerators and dirty domiciles in two countries are only the beginning of it.
 
There are, for example, constant cultural adjustments. After a month on North Caicos, I find myself re-learning how to live in the U.S. Driving on the right, using point-of-purchase or self-service gizmos and elevator etiquette (i.e, ignoring people) need mental refresher courses. On North, I must remember to plan meals while shopping instead of before (so I can see what’s available), and the etiquette while doing errands is the opposite: It’s rude to just launch into your hardware, grocery and liquor needs without first exchanging pleasantries. I sometimes get confused. Once, in Virginia, Tom caught me waving at the driver of a Land Rover because I thought he was someone I knew … on North.
 
Shuttlers who have animals also go through lots of guilt, whether they decide to fly the dog or cat with them or leave them with a sitter or at a boarding kennel. Tom and I choose to shield Daisy from the stress of flying (all that noise, all those people), but others schlep the animals with them, deciding that familiar people are more important than familiar surroundings.

And then there’s the packing! One thinks that, with a house in the islands, it should be easy to travel light, but the opposite is the case. Given the unavailability of many things on North, and the high prices and hassles of Provo, we bring all kind of weird things with us, pushing baggage weight and customs limits to … well, their limits. I have traveled with drills, car parts, faucets, shower curtains, printers, water filters, reams of paper and endless sets of bed linens and batteries. TSA always opens my checked bags to inspect them.
 
Okay, I can hear you now. “Oh, you poor thing, complaining about having a place in the islands. Let me get out my violin.” But I did not intend to complain, just explain. We shuttle; we don’t vacation. There are lives to be lived on both sides of that flight, and it’s different from being on vacation. But we wouldn’t have it any other way.

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Some Things Last!

8/19/2018

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I have, I realize, been writing a lot about things that go bad, don't last or just don't work in the TCI. It's time to be more positive and make a list of things that have lasted and do work, and I'll start with what's still here at Aloe House after 17 years.

*Most of our IKEA furniture. Say what you will about flat-box furniture, it has served us well. The "Billy" book shelves last forever until they get wet in a hurricane, and then they continue to last as garage/tool closet shelves. Our farmhouse-style kitchen table was a bitch to assemble, but it may be my favorite piece of furniture here.

*Our downstairs porch furniture. This was a high-end set purchased in South Carolina, coated aluminum and heavy plastic straps for the chairs, tempered glass for the table. The coating has chipped, but so far no rust. Amazing!

*The front-yard patio, made from local stone by Willis Taylor (now deceased). Excellent work, and for a fraction of what he charged Donna Karan on Parrot Cay! It pays to be a non-celebrity.

*Our Crock Pot! Rusty, yes, and we've replaced the lid, but still reliable.

*The bread machine. Now and then some moving parts require WD-40, but otherwise it remains a great way to impress island women with my assimilation skills.

*The refrigerators, "Richmond" and "Kennedy." I bullied a salesman at Lakeside Appliances in Virginia to sell us a very basic model that now makes plenty of noise and has acne issues, but damn, it still works. Pilot Mike Kennedy, who lived here for a while, bought what is now our beer fridge. And yes, I am knocking wood and doing whatever juju I can to ensure their continued longevity.

*The ceiling fans, especially the ones downstairs. I happened upon them at Lowe's on sale for $35 each, I guess because they were unfashionable. "I'll take all four," I said. No regrets.

Any lessons here? Well, I guess it's to be willing to pay for quality when there are no moving parts, and to keep things basic when there ARE moving parts. And to appreciate the things that endure while you replace the stuff that doesn't.


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Oh, Amana!

8/12/2018

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I don't have a very good relationship with washing machines. We were okay when they stayed in dormitory basements or laundromats, where I would feed them quarters and they would simply wash my clothes. It was like dating.

But then there was commitment. I actually cried when Tom and I went out to buy a washing machine for the townhouse that was our first home together. The refrigerator had been no problem, because they're necessary at all stages of life, but a WASHING MACHINE ... well, that meant we were real adults. The next step would be putting stuff in my toilet to make the water blue and keep it clean!

I made my peace with it, and for a while all was well. We went back to renting apartments that included washer-dryer units, so I didn't have to think too much about laundry or adulting. Until Aloe House.

It turns out that washing machines don't much like island life. They rust in the salty air, get cistern sludge or well sand in their lines and sometimes decide that moving their parts that need to move is just too exhausting.

We are currently trying to work through a relationship with our fourth washer, and she's proving to be rather high-maintenance. We sent Amana down from the U.S. because A) even with shipping and customs, it was less expensive than buying one on North Caicos, and B) on the website, it seemed that she wasn't a fussy, flamboyant thing ... just a few dials and one button.

If I had ever done any online dating, I would have known: Websites are deceiving. Amana has electronic sensors to adjust the water level, insists on having the hot water knob on even for a cold wash, and throws a fit if you try to toss in an errant sock after she starts her cycle. Interrupt her, and you have to give her some time before starting all over. And woe if you try too hard ... you may have to give her a full day to cool down, and then candy and flowers are expected. (Okay, the gifts are an exaggeration.)

I share all these intimate details because they bring me back to my recurring advice about island living: Keep it simple. Fancy-schmancy appliances with bells, whistles and lots of moving parts are more likely to give you grief than something basic that does only one job. Consider your own fix-it skills when making any purchase. Think about cleaning and maintenance, and the fact that you'll be doing more of both, in every aspect of life. Choose floss over the Water-Pik, a charcoal grill over gas, wind-down over power windows.

If you think you can do without some luxuries from your American, Canadian or British life, go for it! That's how we feel about a dryer, ice maker, dishwasher and air conditioning. Others disagree, and that's okay. Just set your priorities. Having a working printer is important to me, so I have put up with frequent replacements and packing my baggage with ink cartridges. I'm sure some people think that's crazy, but my version of the simple life includes a printer instead of, say, track lighting.

Still, there are clothes to wash. So to follow my own advice, I guess if I can't working things out with Amana I should start looking at one of those little foot-powered washers or a suggestion from Provo friend Beryl Nelson: a new, clean toilet plunger and a five-gallon bucket.
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Fashion? Ha!

8/5/2018

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Rex, one of the dogs who aren’t our dogs, made me mad the other day. He jumped on me in doggy enthusiasm and caught the bodice of my dress in his claw, ripping open the dress. I don’t like “bodice-rippers” in my reading, and I like them even less in real life. Also, that was one of my “best” clothing items, now ruined.
 
Dogs are only one of the many hazards for clothing here. Island life is hard on the things we wear. I don’t know about others, but when I’m on island I carry lots of things. Things that have corners and rough edges that rub and catch: baskets of laundry, ladders, cases of beer, rocks. I use glue, bleach, paints and other products that mar and stain. I dry things on a clothesline that whips in the wind. And so my clothes are in a constant cycle. Today’s “nice” dress, suitable for grocery shopping or Ribs Night, is tomorrow’s “everyday” dress for housework, and next month’s cleaning rags. Not much lasts very long.
 
I keep a supply of clothing at Aloe House, yet I always need to replenish what’s here. But it’s not as if it’s a constant stream of fashion. No, I buy my basics—swimsuits from L.L. Bean, dresses from El Cheapo East Coast beach shops with names like Waves, Sands, and Surf, and flip-flops from the Crocs outlet—and use them to wrap and cushion the important things like brake pads, printer cartridges and coffee beans.
 
Since clothing is both necessary and perishable, it’s important to establish one’s personal uniform. Guys find this super-easy: T-shirts and shorts, plus maybe a new nicer shirts with buttons and a pair of long pants for what passes as an island formal occasion. Women’s uniforms vary more. Mine tends toward dresses and skirts with swimwear as underwear, but others go with shorts and sports tops or T-shirts. Jeans for both sexes are seen around the islands, but they are hot (and I don’t mean sexy)! Skinny jeans? Well, that’s just stupid.
 
This isn’t to say that there aren’t any fashionable people on North Caicos. There’s just a separation between Real Life and The Fashionable Life. Looking pretty or handsome is practically its own event. Go to church, a funeral or graduation to see what I mean.
 
No, daily wear is different. So for those of you who are new to this, I share a few of the lessons I’ve learned:
  1. Go for the sturdy over the fashionable. Fancy embroidery, lace and delicate straps won’t last.
  2. Understand that most fabrics just don’t last, so avoid paying top dollar.
  3. (Corollary of #2) Don’t buy clothes in Provo, where you’ll pay tourist prices for bargain-store quality.
  4. Think ahead. Know that today’s clothes are tomorrow’s rags. One-hundred percent rayon doesn’t clean windows very well.
  5. If it works, don’t worry about wearing it to death. When I put on my one beach dress that has survived 15+ years, Addison raises an eyebrow. “You still wearing that?” Yeah. I am.
  6. Don’t even think about clothing-optional. Come on, people. This is North Caicos. There may not be many people, but no one wants to see that!
 
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    This blog by Jody Rathgeb has changed several times over the years and currently focuses on island living. It is also posted on Facebook as Beyond the Parrot Paradise.

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