Jumping off Shark Rock—

They must call it Shark Rock for a reason…

So last week was a flurry of theater—rehearsals for Threepenny, The Island opening (the current show here), getting this Student Shakespeare thing off and running.

This weekend was filled with fun and sun.

Oh yeah, one of my favorite bathroom signs:

IN THIS ISLAND
OF FUN AND SUN,
WE DO NOT FLUSH
FOR NUMBER ONE.

So on Saturday, I went out on Shanna’s friend’s boyfriend’s boat (ha) with a bunch of people to enjoy Tortola, snorkeling, and Yost Van Dyke. There were nine people: Shanna, her boyfriend Kyle, Kyle’s daughter Kaiden, Shanna’s best friend Ellie, her boyfriend JB, and friends Shaun, Charles, and me. JB (Jordan) runs a charter company out of St Thomas, so if any of you are on St Thomas and want to go island hopping for a day, he’s wonderful.

Anyway, so after clearing customs in Tortola, we went to Willy T’s, a boat-turned-restaurant (picture above) in the near-by Bight of Norman Island. People used to jump naked off of Will T’s upper deck, but no more. All it takes is a mis-calculationg tourist to stop a fun tradition… So we all did the “Shotski” which is an old wooden ski with 4 holes for shot glasses carved into it. So four people stand next to each other to take the shot together.
There’s a hilarious sign at the bar:

SEXUAL
HARRASSMENT
IN THIS AREA
WILL NOT BE
REPORTED.
HOWEVER,
IT WILL BE
“GRADED.”

Ha. Ha.

Stomachs full, we headed to “The Caves” to snorkel in the caves of the island. It was gorgeous and so refreshing. Then we went to Jost Van Dyke for dinner at the Soggy Dollar. There ensued the dead fish incident:

JB found a small fish (3 inches long) dead on the beach. He dared his girlfriend, Eliie, to eat it. He and Kyle eventually raised the wager to $20, but she wouldn’t eat it for less than $100. Kyle responded, of course, “Hell, I’ll eat it for free,” grabbing for the fish.
“No,” JB insisted, “I want Ellie to eat it.”
So for 10 minutes: “Eat it.” “No.” “Eat it.” “No.” And so on.
So JB offered to eat the top half if Ellie would eat the bottom. She acquiesced, and he bit off the top half, chewed, and swallowed. She wasn’t really watching him at the time, so she doubted that he had in fact digested the rotting fish. Bleagh.
So that argument went on for another 10 minutes: “Yes I did.” “No you didn’t.” “Yes I did, smell my breath.” Ugh.
JB was holding something behind his back, and Ellie assumed it was the uneaten fish. JB had eaten the fish, but his hidden hand suggested otherwise.
Then she said, “fine, I’ll eat it, jeeze.”
And she made like she ate it and stuffed it into her bikini top.
JB, who was distracted somehow, believed that she did eat it, and all was well. They had both eaten the fish.
Later, at a potluck, she revealed that she hadn’t eaten it after all, and so he gave her a wet willy (1. Lick your finger, 2. Insert into offender’s ear, 3. Wiggle around.) Mature relationship. Ha.

After Yost, heading back home, we stopped at Shark Rock to climb the jagged cliffs, avoiding the sea urchins, spiders, and lizards, and then leap clear of the rocks in the water below. Really fun. JB, Charles, Beth and I had no trouble getting the courage to jump. Kyle, though, he was up there for ten minutes “gauging” everything, etc.

So we returned to St Thomas safe and sound, and Shanna and I dashed to the theater to run the box office, then to a Pot luck at Arley and Marlas’ house. Lovely. So that was my Saturday, tah dah.

St. Johns, Tickles, and Fiesta!

Saturday, Kimberly (Costumer and Cast in 3Penny), Bethany, and I took the ferry over to St. John. It’s pretty cheap: $5 each way. Compared to St. Thomas, St. John is much more quaint and island-like. That’s because most of it is marked as a federal park, so development is small and tucked away. Getting off the ferry in Cruz Bay, we walked over the cobblestones, bought smoothies and headed to the dance studio up the hill.

Bethany was to teach a Master Class on Stage Combat at the St. John School of the Arts. The dance studio (that’s all it was) is adorable. Run by Kim from Georgia, the school makes barely any money, but they offer every class imaginable: tango, karate, ballet, yoga, tap, etc.

So Bethany taught her class to four boys, with Kimberly and me as her demonstrators. We learned lots of balance and reaction games, how to be slapped, hit, choked, pushed, tugged by the hair and ear, and lots of other fun and violent things.

Then we walked down the hill to Margarita Phil’s and had lunch with Bethany’s teaching money. This open-air restaurant is famous for their “grande” margaritas, which are ridiculously huge and alcoholic. While we were there, Shanna, the production manager and Polly in 3penny texted us, inviting us to go out to a bar, Tickles, that night. She and her friends, Ellie and Beth, were going over with their hubbies to hear Beth’s boyfriend Mike play guitar and sing at the bar. So we all drove over, and I met Shanna’s boyfriend Kyle and his little 2 year old, Kaiden.

Kaiden is adorable. She has red hair, a round nose and the cutest grin. I was at first shocked at first to see her out with everyone while they drank and ate at the bar, but then I felt surprisingly refreshed to see a father so relaxed and friends so comfortable around her, and so attentive to her. It was as if everyone parented her. I spent a lot more time with her this week, and I am in love, too.

Tickles Dockside Pub is in Crown Bay Marina in Frenchtown, a neighborhood of waterfront St. Thomas. It’s a nice place,

Shanna’s friend Joe told me a great piece of celebrity gossip:

“Did you hear about that movie star that caught her hubby cheating so she gouged out one of this eyes with her knife?”
“No, oh my goodness, who was it?”
“Yeah, it’s horrible, just took it right out with her knife. It was that girl…you know, Reese something.”
“Witherspoon?”
“No, with her knife.”
HA HA HA. I must be everyone’s favorite joke hearer. I’m so ready to be entertained.

At the table, Shanna decreed that the following night (Sunday), she and Kyle would host a dinner party, a fiesta, with Mexican food and margaritas, care of Ellie’s bartending boyfriend, JB.

So Sunday was a mighty fiesta indeed. I brought shrimp fajitas and coconut-drenched fried plantains, yumm. So that was divertido, of course. Kaiden has a “See and Touch!” book called, “Los Perritos,” that tells the story of little puppies: “Los perritos olisquean, pero esté no.” and none of us know what “olisquean” meant, but with the help of freetranslation.com, we got it, TO SMELL! Haha. Ok, so little things entertain me…

"I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it"

Name that Shakespeare quote...

Now that the show is cast with some young people—young-ER, I should say: this category includes ME at 22, Shanna (26), Bethany (32), Kimberly (36), Carl (29? 32? 40? He lies like a woman about his age), Adam (36ish), and Dan (30s)—I have people to hang out with on weekends.

And what a weekend it was. Friday Bethany and I went to the Antilles School (a beautiful and thus expensive private K-12) to lead a Shakespeare workshop with kids and teachers. We are trying to get certain teachers excited about the Student Shakespeare Festival that we are trying to put together for May.

THE kids were reticent at first, but when Bethany let them pretend to be battling, or told them that SHakepeare was never meant to be READ, they warmed up immeadiately.

In one activity, Bethany had kids in groups giving certain Shakespeare lines some gestures and “stances.” Our favorite was one seventh grade group who divided themselves into two lines by gender to act out a constructed couplet:

“3, 2, 1, Action!”
The guys went down on their right knee, hand out to the line of girls and said bravely:
"Sweet, above thought I love thee" (from Troilus & Cressida)
The women looked at the guys, sassily raised their pointer finger, turned away and did their “talk to the hand” and said:
“I love thee not, therefore pursue me not” (from Midsummer)

So that was great. We recruited some interested teachers, one of whom is a music teacher, so she’ll bring some of the Shakepsearean songs to the festival. Afterwards, Bethany and I had a meeting over lunch by the ocean at Iggy’s by many of the resorts. Beach restaurants are all open air, because the weather is so fair all-year round.

Then that night, Bethany invited me to go to “Betsy’s Bar” for Cory’s (her boyfriend) 27th birthday. After getting lost, I finally arrived that night, to Betsy’s. It was strange seeing my name in print…

Betsy was behind the bar, and of course we got on famously. Betsy is a big windsurfer on the island, and she’s like a mother to many of the family-less guys like Corey who come down here for work and end up staying. They’re her lost boys.

Everywhere I go, I learn a bit more about the island culture. Tonight I learned that the legal age for drinking is 18 and youngsters are “legal” at age 16, not 18 like in the states. I always said that kids in New York City must have the steepest growing-up curve, but I stand corrected.

Island (West Indian) women are usually pregnant at 16 or 17. So that the new mothers can stay in school or stay young, their mothers raise the new grandchildren. Of course, the grandmothers are in their early 30s taking care of their daughters’ babies, so that looks lieke mother and child to us Stateside tourists. But they have 2 generations for to one.

Tomorrow I’m going to St. John with Bethany and Kimberly for Bethany’s Stage Combat Class.

It Takes Two

Yesterday I led Dan and Jenny (two of the cast for Threepenny) in an Argentine Tango workshop. Now granted, I have almost no formal training besides what I saw as a kid and a master class or two in New York. But since we don’t want a Strictly Ballroom flippy-turny tango, I was well cut out for the job.

Because the posture of the dancers in Argentinean tango is so difficult and so “unnatural” for the woman (she puts he balance in the man’s hands), we worked on basic balance, posture and weight shift when in a pair. I taught them to keep the energy toward each other even if they moved away from each other.

For example, in one combination, when the man and his partner are in the regular dance position (hands on backs and in hands), the man walks clockwise, using the woman as the center of circle. The woman turns slowly on her left foot while dragging her right in a small arc. Of course, the woman is relying on the man for all of her balance. But as we discovered, when the man walks, the small shift he makes in his energy away from her can destroy her balance. So as he takes steps away from the pivot point (her), to the outside of the circle, he must compensate by continuing the pressure onto her hands and back to keep her straight.

Anyway, that was really great. It is so much fun to work with people who aren’t self-conscious about their bodies or weight. That comes from being more adult, but also from the Island culture. Here, body image is not obsessed over like in the states. “Fat and happy” is a reality here. With so much poverty here, roundness connotes plenty, fertility, growth, happiness and stress-free living.

Anyway, so back to the tango. There is a song in the Threepenny Opera named the Tango Ballad, sung between Mac the Knife and one of his whores, Jenny Diver (the Lotte Lenya character). It’s a wonderful song. Here are the bawdy lyrics:

Mack:
There was a time, and now it’s all gone by,
When we kept house together, she and I.
I had the brains, and she had what you see,
I cared for her, and she took care of me,
I was the one who got her time for free.
And when a client came I’d let him have the bed
And be polite and go and have a drink instead.
And when he paid I’d tell him very nicely, “Sir,
Please come again when you are in the mood for her.”
That’s how it was, that’s how the job got done
In that bordello where we lived as one.

Jenny:
That was a time, and now it’s all gone by,
When we were good together, he and I.
When things were slow, he’d softly murmur, “Dear,
Let’s pawn your skirt, ‘cause we don’t’ need it here.
You look much better without a thing to wear.”
What a nerve he had, I told him where to go,
He kicked me hard enough to let the bruises show,
I answered back and then he slapped me in the face,
I lost a tooth that time I never did replace.
That’s how it was, that’s how the job got done
In that bordello where we lived as one.

Than it goes one to explain that when she got pregnant, he “didn’t want to compromise the merchandise” so he took the baby lovingly and “found a place where it would wash right out to sea.” Lovely.

And then they dance--a very co-dependant, slow, sloppy and sexy dance.

Today I go to the Antilles Middle School with Bethany to meet with teachers and try to drum up support for the Shakespeare Festival. I really hope it works, because it’s a very ambitious and wonderful project. All middle schoolers should have Shakespeare in their curricula because they can understand it. The language acts out what young teens imagine and daydream about--- confrontation of jealousy, infatuation, and rage, and introspection about identity, family, life’s meaning, etc.

It seems that the older we grow, the younger we think teenagers are. But returning to that time for us, we remember poignant feelings of maturity and struggling to confront the very issues with which we labor now. Of course there are marked differences, like fart jokes, using “like” every other word, and other behaviors that teens would never dream of. Haha. Just kidding.

Anyway, have a wonderful weekend, everyone.

Much Ado About Something...

To pick up more money, and for my general edification, I have agreed to produce Bethany’s Shakespeare and Renaissance Festival that will happen in May. Bethany, in case I have not introduced her yet, is the Education Director at Pistarckle Theater. She holds after school programs and devises shows with her students. She’s well organized, ambitious, amazing.

So I’m working for her to produce this festival. It combines St Thomas artisans, guest performers from NYC, and local student performances of Shakespeare scenes. Based on a New York City Shakespeare student festival and teacher development program, the festival is very ambitious. But it’s a great experience. I can get my hands in Shakespeare again.

She wants to bring me back to St Thomas in April/May to attend the festival if it actually happens. And I may even return over Christmas 2007 to direct a show for Nikki—a non-ballet Nutcracker of sorts.

So for 3Penny, I will be the music director only. Not in the show, which would be way too much work. We have a great Production Manager at the theater, Shanna, who is also Polly in 3Penny, and she’s letting me work with her at her side business of cleaning boats. Everyone here is connected to each other in two or three ways; it’s a very small world down here.

The first few rehearsals have gone well. No attitudes or egos I have to contend with, at least nothing I can’t handle by my charm and wiles. Right.

We have rehearsals 7 days a week. I spend most of my time at the theater, which I need not do. I need to explore a bit more down here, like frequenting a beach or two…

Jost Van Dyke, the Joke's On Me.

This weekend I went sailing with the Emerichs to Jost Van Dyke, one of the British Virgin Islands. The sail over was a lot of work because we were fighting upwind, so a lot of tacking. We sailed out of the Yacht Club marina, turning NW to pass between St. Thomas and the St James islands. Leaving St. Thomas to port, I saw many hotel beaches I was missing out on, ha.
Passing St. John to starboard, we went through a narrow passage between large rock outcroppings, “The Brothers.” Jost Van Dyke is WNW of Tortola, a BVI, and it took us about 3 hours to get there (and an hour and a half to return…)

There are a few “famous” must sees on Jost Van Dyke, all on the beaches of the two coves where you can anchor up, White Bay or Great Bay. The most famous I suppose, is Foxy’s, a 40-year-old bar on the beach of Great Bay that boasts one of the best New Years parties in the world. “They” say that out of all the places to be on New Years, Foxy’s is number 3: New Zealand’s first sunrise being no. 1, and Times Square no. 2 (who knows why). The Emerichs were at Foxy’s that very day, along with 3,000 of their fellow celebrants. The yachts were parked out 30 lines deep out of the bay.


On White Bay, we spent a lot of time at One Love Bar. The bartender had a still and made really great liquor, and he entertained us all with card and magic tricks.

During one trick, he said to me,

“You worry too much. Do you feel yourself worrying, because I feel it. Just to prove to you that I know that you are thinking too hard, we will do a simple test. Give me your hand.”
I gave him my right hand, palm up. He turned it over, looking it over. Still holding it, he pulled over an ashtray and put a smudge of ash on the top of my right hand.

“Now, little lady, this simple test will tell if you worry too much. If you are thinking too hard, this ash will go right through you. It will go through your skin and come out the other side.” Then he said, “Get your hand away, lift them up at your sides, and hold them there. Now don’t worry, or the ash will sink into your skin and come out the other side.”

After a few second of holding my closed fists out like an airplane, he bade me to give my hands to him. I gave him the right hand first, and lo, there was NO ASH on my right hand.

“Give me your left hand to make sure you are not a worrier.”

I opened my left hand and there it was, the smudge of ash.

“You, my dear, are a worrier. The ash sank into your right hand and passed through to your left.”

All of his tricks were like that, complex and absolutely incredible.

There, I had the best Bushwhacker, the recipe for which is right here:

Bushwhacker for Two:
4 oz cream of coconut

2 oz Kahlua® coffee liqueur

1 oz Bacardi® black rum

1 oz dark creme de cacao

4 oz milk
Blend with 2 cups ice.

In the morning, we went back to Foxy’s to use the shore heads. Brian and I were walking to the beach from the head, and we encountered an islander constructing some cages from chicken wire.
“Good morning to you, sir.”
“Good morning. Beautiful morning, yes?”
“Always. Where are you two from now?”
“Well, I’m from St Thomas,” replied Brian, who is always eager to prove himself NOT a tourist.
“Oh, now did you hear about the horrible accident near Magen’s Bay yesterday?”
“No, what happened?” I prompted.
“Well,” continued the old man, “a young man on a motorcycle lost control and slammed into a taximan. He was in really bad shape, just broke everything.”
“Oh my God, that’s horrible!” I gasped.
“Yes, and so at the hospital, the doctor called his old father, who rushed in to his son’s side. The doctor pulled him into the hall and told him that his son’s body could heal, but there was too much brain damage. ‘What can I do?’ the distraught father pleaded.
‘Well, there are three options. We have 3 brains that we can transplant into your son…’ ”

At this point I did realize it was all a joke. This happens all over, and I’m just getting used to it…

“ ‘What are the 3 options?’ ‘OK, so the first brain we can transplant into your son’s head is a German brain. He will be always on time, very loyal and precise. It is $100,000. The second option is an American brain. He will be very business-smart with money and computers and such. That brain is $200,000. The third brain is $450,000.’
‘Wait, why so much?’
‘It’s a St. Thomian brain; brand new, never been used.’”

HA HA HA.

I think islanders like me because I’m so gullible. That must be the only reason ☺

Auditions, etc.

So Auditions! I didn't talk about those at all. They were great, very unorthodox, and found a great cast. We have seven principles, 3 men, 3 women, and 6 ensemble who will play two of three roles: beggars, whores, or thieves. Awesome. For anyone who hasn't seen the play/movie/read the script, it's a fun show. Between the August 1928 Berlin opening and the next January, it was performed over 1,000 times all over Europe. It highlighted the violent chaos of the late Weimar Republic and the greater underworld of Europe. So it was a hit. Of course, it soon became Hitler's "least favorite play," really.

But I digress...

There were so many kids at the auditions, it was really cute, but I doubt their parents would relish their playing a whore or gang member... well whatever. We do have one 14 year old in the show, Yasmine, whose mother came to the read-through last night. I was a bit apprehensive, but she guffawed along with us at all of the sexual humor in Three Penny. Yasmine has a voice that blows Christina Aguilera apart, so I'm excited.

Overall, the cast is talented and committed. I realized something wonderful about doing this show on St Thomas and that is that everyone looks a little rough. Whether from the sun or the salt, or poverty or manual labor, or recreation (sailors' bodies always take a hard hit), these people have great "looks."

Tomorrow morning I go sailing to _____ (I have no idea/don't remember) for an overnight. I rehearse this afternoon with Bethany, playing Jenny, Lotte Lenya. Woohoo!

Oop, meeting with Denny (director), more later…

Auditions and Close Call

So we held auditions last night for 3Penny, and I almost had a car accident, woohoo! Not at the same time, of course.

The accident is way more exciting, and of course it concerned my NOT driving on the right side of the road. I mean the "CORRECT " side of the road. The left, right? Right, the left side.

See how confusing it can be?

I pulled out of a restaurant at night, no one else on the road, and I wasn't thinking. Suddenly, there appeared headlights barrelling toward me. Funny thing though, I didn't get scared at all, and I was thinking, what can I do... aha, drive on the correct side! That should do the trick. So we both escaped unscathed.

So I suppose I'll either get a tatoo on my forward written backwards so that "Drive on the Left, dummy" appears in my rear-view mirror, or I'll paste a sign on my windshield. I think the former option is a bit extreme...

Also of news was that I got the "lowdown" about the theater and personnel. All the caveats and cautions....

And finally I got to hang out with some young people. Now that the show is cast, I have my group, I suppose. And I found someone to practice yoga and salsa dancing with.

To Be or Not to Be... An Islander

So for part-time work I am helping Bethany, Pistarckle Theater's Education Director, with the upcoming Student Shakespeare Festival. I'll be her Producer as she does her other work with kids. In this capacity I'll be her administrative support, basically, and help with creative ideas for the accompanying Renaissance Festival. La ti dah.


Nikki has asked me about directing or music directing a show this Christmas Season, and Denny wants to collaborate on a Cole Porter musical, Anything Goes. Will this become my life? Music directing. I never planned on that, but that's life for you...

Save the Best For Last

Bruises, scratches, blisters, a sunburn and a smile. That’s what a sailing race is all about. For get skill. It’s all about how much beer you have on board. Well, according to Brian, my skipper. I was out all morning and afternoon with Brian and 3 other guys, Nick, Dave and Richard, all of them my dad’s age, tacking up from St. Thomas around the St. James islands. This was indeed a motley crew.

While Brian was at the skippers’ meeting back at the yacht club, I asked the guys how the boat ran (“She’s a pig,” Richard replied) and how Brian maintains her (“She’s truly a piece of shit”). The boat cruises well at 12 knots of wind and above, but below that, forget it.

We began the race with a great start; the people in the committee boat told us so. As we crossed the line between the buoy and the small boat, the airhorn sounded and we were off. We raced until it was clear that we could never win or even come close with the shifting winds. So then we just sailed. That’s when the fun ensued. Beers were opened, jokes and banter flew about the previous mishaps of last year, and everyone was in high spirits.

There were a few tight moments, like when we had to tack to avoid a collision, forced him to tack also, and almost ran aground. Between a rock and a hard boat, what do you choose?

Anyway. It was great fun, and I was heckled a lot by the guys. I felt very comfortable being in the company of good friends, observing and enjoying the teasing between them and their good natured laughter.

The race ended at 2:30. We came in last, of course, since after the first (of three) laps we had decided against competition and for fun. The prize was a bag full of candy and a silve plastic tiara with “Birthday Girl” written across it. Of course, I got the tiara.

Old Trophies Race

So Brian (Nikki's husband) keeps his 32 ft. boat down at the St. Thomas Yacht Club and today, there's a race. So today I sailing in that race. It's called the Old Trophie's Race. The entrance fee is $10 and an old trophy. Then they redistribute the old trophies at the end, according to placement. Sounds like a blast.

The crew is just me and Dave Waller, Denny and Steve's landlord, and the host of little party Thursday night.

It's my first time in a boat for a long time, and my first time racing a smaller boat, so stay tuned for a mis-adventure, because one is sure to befall us, especially with Dave's margaritas.

3 Penny Schemes

So there’s a rain storm every morning. Now I get it. I ran out to zip up the windows in my jeep at 8 am when I saw menacing grey bottomed cumulus clouds lumber towards the house from the east. Conveniently on the top of a hill, I could track the rain line, and thus knew just when it would hit.

Today, Saturday, Alex is having friends over for paintball. Last night, while Nikki and Brian were at a dinner party, we ate dinner, watched a smattering of horrible television, played monopoly, which always brings out the best in people (ha) and finally settled in to watch Pirates of the Caribbean .

Yesterday, Steve, Denny and I went through the script, scene by scene and song by song to make sure that “if we had any assumptions about the show, at least we shared them.” We discussed different design elements and orientations of the playing space. Denny wants to have the actors shift around 100 degrees from the stage to play in the back of the house, using the spiral staircase that the stage manager and light-board operator use to access the booth as a main set piece. The set will likely be no more than 2 sets of painters’ scaffolding 4 x 6 ft. and 6 ft tall.

For costumes, Denny wants 19th century London, but as scraggly and using as much “found” material as possible. We want to reflect the characters’ avenues for acquiring clothes. And since we’re not going to steal anyone’s clothes off the clothesline, which is what most in 3Penny would do, “found” clothing will suffice.

Denny is leaving after the opening weekend, whereas I’ll be staying for the run of the show. Discovering this made Denny’s eyes widen with excitement, because now she can use me in the show. Woohoo.

We have a plan to gather as many odd instruments as possible to include in the show. Listening to the CD and seeing the mix of sounds and textures in the music, I want more than the piano, which is the only instrument we had planned on using. So we’re asking people in auditions if they play any of the following:

Accordion
Slide whistle
Kazoo
Clarinet
Fiddle
Auto Harp
Ukulele
Snare Drum
Horn of any kind

That should spice things up.

Ooo, Eggnog French Toast. That will spice things up, too. Yum. So with breakfast in my stomach, I'm off to the beach, or the roof, as far as I get.

It's Electric

I woke up with the sunrise and its accompanying rain squall this morning, and probably will for the duration, seeing as the east wall of my bedroom is glass. The sun rises down here at 6:30. Given the island’s latitude at 18º N and the sun’s location at around 19º S and rising, it’ll only get hotter earlier.

I followed Nikki down to Megan’s Bay, a beautiful beach and nature park at the north end of the island. Alex had soccer camp there, and I stayed to walk along the beach. After a lovely stroll beside swimmers and picnickers, I drove back to the house, then to the theater.

I had spoken to Nikki about doing some work in the theater during the day, so I started my new career as an amateur electrician. The lights in her theater work with the regular 3-prong plugs as opposed to every other plug I’ve seen, the flat square plug thing. So after taking everything apart and rewiring 100s of watts of lamp power, I reluctantly plugged it in, muttering "Don't die, don't shock me."

I really sound like I know what I’m doing…

So add “Electrician” to the list of things that I do.

Someone asked me what I was going to with my life, I said, “I don’t know, but whatever I do, I’ll do well.” Eloquently vague. That’s what I was going for.

So Denny, Steve, and I meet at 1pm to discuss design elements and songs.

No, your other Left.

So Betsy has driven on the left. In a Jeep Wrangler. Oh yes. Just call me Bond. Betsy Bond. It was a breeze—a stressful breeze, but a breeze.

Today I went to the Pistarckle Theater with Nikki for a short tour. It is a small theater in the middle of a very artsy complex called Tillet Gardens. A small concrete wall that’s painted various amorphous shapes guards the small compound, which contains several eclectic shops, an open area bar, and this theater. It’s odd and charming, and has great acoustics.

Grocery shopping. Now this is fun. There are several stores on the island for food. Some gourmet, some bulk style, and then some everyday Harris Teeter/Kroger/Shaws—pick your poison. So I went to a grocery store right next to Kmart and stocked up on a few essentials. Because I was still trying to win over the island (the “I’m not a tourist, I’m just like you… kinda” routine), I tried very hard to be nice to strangers wandering the aisles. Little did I know that any smile is an invitation to be hit on. And Cory (from yesterday) told me something tonight, that on an island with such a disappointing ratio of men to women (he says 3 or 4 to 1 which may be exaggerated), men don’t kid around. If only he had warned me. But I found that lying (“Yes, I do have a boyfriend; he’s in Kmart”) worked just fine to deter my ardent suitors.

Speaking of creeps, I also learned about all of the lovely bugs that wander the island. Nikki and her 12 year old son Alex entertained me with tales of various crawling things like the black wormy things that spit out a numbing Novocain-like substance that can blind a person smart enough to lift it to his eyes. Or the fruit rats that live in trees and eat, you guessed it, fruit. Alex shot one of those with a BB gun. Awesome. And lice from the beach. And huge mosquitoes, cockroaches, etc.

They warned me because of their house’s design, which is so great. The east side has the tiled and shaded veranda that overlooks their pool and St John. On the west side of the house, each of the living room walls can open like a garage door, so on beautifully breezy days like today, the house was completely open to the westerly winds.

Tonight I saw Denny (the director) and Steve, her partner at the house where she has an apartment. The house belongs to two people on the Board of Directors for the theater, and they threw a small party for us. They have an amazing westerly view from the top of a hill, and we saw the green flash, whoop ti do (Once you see it from a 120 ft. mast in the middle of the Atlantic, you’re pretty set).

It was lovely to see Denny again after Barnard and the five minutes in Vermont in December. Even though I only worked closely with her for two years, it feels like we’ve known each other for much longer. We talked business a bit: the new scripts, new lyrics, new German translations, let’s make everything bawdier, etc. So tomorrow I meet her at 1 at the theater to go through each scene and each song to prepare us for Tuesday’s audition.

*Background: Denny was a theater professor of mine at Barnard. My work study job was in the costume shop, and then I moved to every other part of theater work. For Denny I stage-managed, dramaturged, translated, and music-directed. So that’s how I know her. Denny is now on leave from Barnard, and can retire in 2 years. In the meantime, she and Steve (who taught Shakespeare, acting and Comedia classes at Barnard) live in Vermont. Her brother, Waring, lives on St Thomas and is on the board of the Theater, so that’s why she is down here, and she asked me to come along, so that’s why I’m down here.

So after yoga on the roof under the stars (if only I had the southern horizon to see a bit of the Southern Cross), I’m to bed.

Also on the horizon- I’m also looking for day-work, and it looks like I’ll find it. But more on that later.

Just The Beginning

I could get used to this.

When I arrived at the St Thomas airport, I was greeted by a lovely cardboard sign held by Cory, the Production Manager at Pistarckle Theater. We got into his jeep (the vehicle of choice given the roads around here) and drove through the island to Nikki's house, where I'd have an apartment.

We hit traffic at 5pm through downtown and the waterfront. Cory gave me afew island tips to help ease me into STT life:

Always greet with "Good morning," "Good afternoon," or "Good evening."
People stop frequently on the road to talk or pick up someone.
To hitch a ride, point in the direction you want to go, don't thumb.
Drivers honk a lot to communicate.
Drivers are anxious to let you pull out onto the road.
And of course, Drive on the Left. (I can already see myself having a problem with that...)

Driving through dense greenery on back roads that reminded me of Jamaican mountain roads, the air was warm and breezy. Small rain squalls come and go in this season, as do the tourists from cruise ships and day sails. I didn't expect St. Thomas to be so busy, but it is the most populated of the three USVIs. It is impossible to get around without a car because the terrain is so hilly.

After unloading my two suitaces, i was greeted by Nikki and her son Alex, and daughter Maxine, and three dogs, all who had returned from the beach. Then with a glass of white wine, I sat down on the veranda to enjoy the view of St John, due east, and rainbow.

My small apartment has a tiny foyer with a staircase up to the bedroom, a bathroom, couch, and kitchen. The bedroom is my favorite; it's tiny and fits a TV, wardrobe and an elevated bed next to huge Florida windows to the east, a balcony to the west, and roof access for yoga and capeiora in the morning (I promised Nikki I'd do my best not to fall)...

That evening was Maxine's last night before returning to school in Virginia, so we plus Nikki's husband Brian went out to Franklin's for appetizers and drinks. Sitting at the bar, listening to the surf from the beach-side restaurant, I was in heaven. I saw a few tourists with whom I shared the plane ride over, avoided them, and tried the famous "Painkiller," a drink born on St Thomas.

Painkiller:
2 ounces flavored rum
4 ounces unsweetened pineapple juice
1 ounce orange juice
1 ounce coconut cream

Garnish with nutmeg, YUM

Anxious to get to sleep after my day of travel and introduction to teh island, I left the restaurant at 10:30 with Max and 2 of her friends.

Tomorrow: car, theater, sun.