How We Got our Groove Back: Piecing together Life Post-Irma

Haven looks at what used to be our home.

Our first charter for our daysail company, Aristocat Charters, was April 10th. It might not seem like a massive announcement in the grand scheme of things, but getting our flailing business back up and running (we lost both our day charter boats to the storm and have been income-less since) was the last piece of the "Irma puzzle" we had to put together to resume life as normal. It's a laughable concept - "as normal" - because life here after hurricane Irma is anything but "normal"... so much has changed. People have left (both by choice and not), "disaster relief" groups have taken their place, buildings are destroyed, construction is booming, tourists are few and far between, new industries and companies have emerged, tides have changed in a million ways, and many lives and livelihoods face uncertainty...The fact that our first charter was six months overdue is just one *tiny* anomaly among many. It's pretty much the same plot line for every single one of us that lives here: adjustment and recalibration is part of the new normal.

Life post-Irma has been an equally strange and amazing time, living in what some might describe as a "disaster area" that, in many ways, has not quite found it's footing is...interesting. From a global perspective, this situation is not unique. Every day there are a whole host of geographical areas effected by natural disasters, wars, and extreme poverty. These are polarizing predicaments, to be sure. But coming from the relatively bubble-wrapped perspective of a privileged "first worlder", this is very unique. Despite the "different-ness" (life will for a long time be discussed in a pre vs. post Irma vernacular), however, the beauty shines through. My heart continues to swell with gratitude every single day that we can live here, our girls continue to thrive in their wild and carefree childhood, and the tourists who have chosen not to cancel their travel plans all echo the same sentiment: "This place is amazing!" Because it is. Sure, you will see a whole host of cars driving around with only plastic for windows with mangled bodies and, yep, you will probably turn to gawk at some buildings who's second floor is no more, and - true - there are some areas where the destruction and damage will be shocking and possibly depressing, but if you can get past that - you will see that so much beauty remains unchanged. And to be able to see beyond the destruction is, I am learning, a gift.

Those of us that live here, we have to see beyond it. We have no other choice. And so we do.

When I lived in Tanzania my best girlfriend from college came to visit. I picked her up from the 8:30pm KLM flight that arrived from Amsterdam in my old beater of a Land Cruiser and we made the long, dark drive back to my house. We chatted and caught up as we passed a flicker of a roadside oil lantern here and there, and I was giddy with excitement to have a visiting fried. The drive to my house was an hour and to get there we passed through a little roadside shanty town to get up the hill to where I lived. I walked or drove through this little neighborhood every day. Ramshackle dirt-floor homes made of propped up corrugated roof bits and sticks, cardboard mats, and whatever was available. Stray dogs, mamas collecting firewood, and barefoot little kids kept a regular buzz of activity along the roadside...it was all very normal to me. "Oh my gosh Brittany!" my friend gasped when the askari (armed guard) closed the car gate behind us. "How could you not warn me about that?" I was confused..."About what?" I asked, perplexed. "That poverty down there" she said with wide, sad eyes. And suddenly it dawned on me: this was NOT normal to her. It was shocking to her. She had never seen anything like it before. To me, however, those were the kids I hugged and high-fived on the way down the hill. Those were the mamas that sold me my daily maize and welcomed me home with a smile. To me, it was normal. My brain had adjusted.

And it's kind of like that here.

This lesson that I learned so long ago and am re-learning again is the amazing ability of the human brain to adapt. I have always wondered how people in war torn areas were able to live day to day, marveled at the horrors of history such as concentration camps and how people persevered, and my heart breaks daily at the thought of losing a child and how parents (like my own mother) go on after such utter devastation ... while our situation absolutely pales in comparison to those above, what I have learned is that people are often stronger than we think. And when you don't have a choice, your brain does this amazing thing: it adapts. "If you don't bend you break" is a mantra that has resonated with me for a long time - and as a very "type A" person it's not always an easy one for me to embody - but life post-Irma has taught me that more than anything. You need to be flexible. You need to be patient. You need to bend. Choices are a gift, for sure. But when they go away, you learn to work with - and appreciate - what you have. And you go on.

Do not get me wrong, our family is by no means "choice-less" in the literal sense, we are still very much in the top percent of the world's population, but leaving this place would mean abandoning a dream, a life we love, and it would set us back financially in a very significant way. We, in our thought process, had no choice but to stay and try to salvage what we could of our life and business. Irma took us out at our knees; we were at the top of our game, making more money that we had even predicted and growing our business in leaps and bounds. Last season was a record breaker for Aristocat Charters and this season was on track to break that by a LOT...we were doing so well and excited about future plans and goals, dreaming big travel dreams and plotting some exciting getaways. Irma changed all that over the course of a few hours but focusing on the past and how good we had it is easiest way to sink into an anxiety ridden depression. The only way to look now is forward. And one fact remains: we still have it very good. We still have a wonderful life. We are healthy and have our kids. We live in a beautiful and inspiring (albeit imperfect) place.

Perspective is everything.

"What's it like there now?" people ask me. I tell them that it's different, yes, but there are what I describe as "pockets of normalcy" where things feel okay and even like they were before. The main grocery store is unchanged and fully stocked, the roads are clear and free again, Isla's darling school is a haven of happiness and joy (and looks just as it did pre-Irma), our beloved Nanny Cay Marina - while very different - still feels very much the same and the community here is stronger than ever. These are just a few examples... Every day things get a little bit better.  These are still some of the most beautiful islands on the planet and one of the best places for a water-based vacation. Despite what is a very uncertain future in regards to tourism - not to mention the very real (almost palpable) terror that is inside all of us about future hurricane seasons - I am grateful. Our family - no doubt about it - are some of the lucky ones.

So yes, this past month was a big one for us. Our new boat is here meaning we finally have a place to call our own again (stay tuned for a tour and pics!), our beautiful new (to us) daysail boat for Aristocat Charters is up and running (and arguably better than our other boats!), and life is beginning to feel more "normal". Things are coming together and it feels so, so good. As the islands build themselves back up and nature restores itself, so does the human spirit. We are all of us changed from the hurricanes, but I also believe most of us have a new layer of empathy, understanding and an inner strength that has grown. We have nowhere to look but forward.

Our new home and boat, s/v Sonder

These islands still need help! The best way to show support is to come and visit us! People who have been here since the storm are RAVING about their amazing times on charters...this place is still amazing, awe-inspiring and beautiful - ESPECIALLY from the water. Check out my post for Marinemax about what to expect on your trip. See you soon!

Also, if pictures are your thing and you want to see more - please follow us over on Facebook or Instagram where I post pictures of our life and adventures every day. Thank you!

Back on Island Time: A Recap and Update on our Return to Post-Irma Tortola

The only time I actually got teary about our return to Tortola was during take off on the puddle jumper in San Juan, Puerto Rico. It had been an emotional few months. We were back in the US on holiday, when - days before we were scheduled to fly back - a massive hurricane named Irma demolished our island, home and livelihood. As a result, we were 'displaced' for over four months. We made the most of it, as any of you who follow our Facebook Page know; we met up with friends, we made new ones, we fundraised almost $170K for our island, and spent the holidays with family. We went to movies, dinners and we even went skiing....yes, our time in the US was nothing short of wonderful, but it was still not "home". So on that flight - that tiny little nine seater that I love and loathe so much - I felt four months worth of heartache, anticipation and excitement bubble up in me and, well, I got a little choked up.

But that's where the emotions subsided really, at least the ones that brought tears to my eyes...which actually surprised me. I had mentally prepared myself for this return, both out of self preservation and on Scott's urging (he'd been back and forth several times since the hurricanes). I also prepped the girls. There was no question that the place we left for our annual summer holiday in July was not the place we'd be returning to in January. "Tortola is not going to look like it did when we left it" I kept telling them. "We know mommy!" they would sigh (we had this conversation a lot) "It's all broken up, we *know*..." they'd say like it was no big thing, like I was asking what color the sky was. As for myself, I prepped like I do for any big moment in life: moving abroad, long sailing passages, cruising with a baby, twins, flying with kids and just about every other occasion that warranted planning: expect the worst, hope for the best. If there is anything I can pat myself on the back for it is an ability to know what I am getting into due to very calculated and ninja-like method of preparation. I was primed for some sadness and shock, and I was definitely ready for tears.

So as the azure blue of the Caribbean sea made way to our beautiful island of Tortola, I was struck by one observation: from a distance, she looks the same. (And I, for the life of me, could not get that damn Bette Midler song "From a Distance" out of my head...) But when I came to that realization, that beautiful and simple realization, the only emotion that was left was pure, unadulterated happiness. I knew then that we were going to be okay, and whatever tears I thought I might shed upon arrival were replaced with a shit-eating grin.

***

Our plane touched down on Tortola soil and I was hit by the familiar sweet, sticky heat that I missed so much. The girls were giddy and punch drunk from almost twelve hours of travel, and as we clamored out of the tiny plane they giggled and jumped and we took in our surroundings. "Look mommy, a broken palm tree!" "Look at that broken car mommy!" "There's no windows over there mommy, hurricane Irma did that!" they observed... Sure, things were a bit worse for wear, there was no doubt about that. But it wasn't that bad. It was nothing that we hadn't seen in pictures and nothing that some time and hard work couldn't fix. The blue sky, the sun shining, and that lovely winter trade wind breeze was still there. It was all I needed to know we were back where we belonged, and it felt so. very. good.

Driving back to our home marina of Nanny Cay, we saw closer up what the aerial view from the plane did not expose; broken buildings, abandoned cars, entire homes demolished with only a single toilet left standing to let you know that, yes, just four months ago someone actually lived here. Sure, it was sad. And to know that so many people are still unemployed and struggling on a daily basis, that is very hard. But nothing about the state of the island was utterly shocking to me. Nothing really took my breath away. Call it a point for social media; but I knew more or less what to expect. Sure, seeing it in person is a little bit different, but after scrolling through hundreds of photos and having spoken to many on-island friends, I felt well prepared. As our taxi man, Larry, navigated potholes new and old, the girls pointed out all the broken things around us (like it was a game) I challenged them not to find the broken things, but the beauty around us instead... And, as kids do, they changed their tune completely; "Look at those beautiful pink flowers!" "And those baby cows! Look, beautiful cows mommy!" and "Look at the water mommy, the water is beautiful..." and it is, the water and the views are still breath-taking...

***

We arrived to our temporary residence, the catamaran that my mom had bought right before the storm to use as her base for visits. Miraculously, it survived - almost unscathed - only a couple slips down from where our boat sank. The girls ran into like it was no big thing. They claimed rooms, started un packing their things and playing. Like we'd lived here forever. I immediately went into organizing mode and started assessing storage and where things would go, keeping in mind that this is a temporary dwelling and we'd be moving again in a couple of months, and that's when I saw her out of our front window: Legato. Our old boat who had been found on the bottom of our marina a month after Irma and who'd been raised and laid haphazardly on her side along the break wall in the place that is now referred to as "the graveyard". She is a sorry sight and almost unrecognizable; her name nearly completely rubbed off, her once-sparkling navy hull now a dullish gray-blue due to the murk from a month on the seabed, and her rigging in tangles on her deck and all around her. While it is sad to get an eye full of her nearly every day, she is a reminder that we have not given up and we are moving on. Life after Irma gave us a lot of perspective, namely: a boat is replaceable. People are not. We are blessed and lucky and can and will rebuild. We unpacked a few things and hit up the beach bar where we were greeted with happiness and hugs, the girls went running off on an adventure on their own, they didn't miss a beat... We even left a pair of flip flops buried in the sand like old times. It was almost as if we hadn't left.

***

"How *are* you?" people will ask us in earnest with a gentle shoulder touch and heavy look in their eyes. I feel almost guilty shrugging and saying, "We are fine, we are really just *so* happy to be back." I also feel guilty for people thinking that we have any reason not to be fine. Sure, we lost a hell of a lot in Irma and she really knocked us off our feet - but she did that to every. single. other. person who lived here as well - and we are far luckier than most. We didn't have to live through the horror of the storm, were 'displaced' in a familiar place with familiar people, we had solid insurance (that has paid out!), a roof, power, and take-out and Uber and organic food... we could flush our toilets, come and go as we pleased and we could cook on a stove. We were fine. Coming back we have returned to a very comfortable boat with air conditioning, a cooking stove and electricity. We live in Nanny Cay, arguably the most recovered and comfortable place to live at the moment, with a vibrant community, a fully stocked grocery store, coffee shop and beach bar with nightly barbecue specials (THERE IS TACO TUESDAY NOW, PEOPLE!)....we cannot complain. "Honestly, we are just so happy to be back" is what I say to everyone, and I mean it with all of my heart. Maybe that makes me odd, but the destruction doesn't really bother me that much. And the girls? They don't give a hoot about it. Kids are truly amazing in that way, their resilience is inspiring.

***

We have been back just over two weeks and the thing is this: while everything looks VERY different, (the destruction from this storm is everywhere, overwhelming and almost too much to comprehend)  the BVI still FEELS the same. In fact, in some ways, I even like it better than before. It's a little grittier, a little more raw, a little less crowded and it feels more rustic. As someone who used to live in a little cowboy town in East Africa, I like rustic. We didn't move here for the architecture, the restaurants, or the cuisine...we weren't here for the glitzy night-life, spas, fantastic road quality or the bustling city center. We were here because we love living on the water and beacause we love this community. Because we love the melting pot of cultures Tortola provides and the fact that our girls greet at least ten different nationalities and dialects on a daily basis...we were here because most of our waking hours are spent outside in the sun, running around barefoot in the sand or climbing trees or swimming in pools.... we were here because the pace of life is a little slower and planning an outing with friends takes minutes, not weeks....we were here because this little group of islands - the BVI - are so. damn. beautiful and unlike any other place on earth.... we were here because we can hop in our boat and have lunch on a new island in less than an hour....we were here because people are more laid back, rules are not so rigid, and we can be a bit more "heathen" and a little less "uptight"....we were here because the characters we meet on a daily basis range from the crazy to the quirky to the profound and we learn from all of them... we were here because I truly believe this is one of the greatest places to raise little children in the world...the list goes on. My point is this: all of that is *still* here.

So - don't get me wrong - Tortola is still struggling and the road to recovery is a long one, I do not want to sugarcoat that. I have an overwhelming amount of respect for those people who were here for the storm, and those people who have remained to rebuild in the aftermath. I honestly cannot imagine what they all endured....Help is still needed here and it will be an uphill battle for quite a while, years in fact. But for us, at least, it's okay. In fact, it's better than okay.

It is so, so good to be home.

To see more pictures of our daily goings-ons, please follow us on Facebook (@sailwindtraveler) or Instagram (@windtraveler), where I am posting daily.  More blog posts and updates to come! Thank you for your notes of concern and patience. My email has been more or less neglected since having the twins (cringe) but I appreciate all your kind notes. Thank you for being an amazing community for us.

Island Life: The Good, Bad, and Quirky

The "idea" of living on an island evokes a bit of envy and turquoise tinted mental pictures for a lot of people. But just like most things, the 'idea' of something and the 'reality' of it can be very, very different. While I will be the first to tell you that I absolutely love my island home and island life in general, there's a lot more to it than beautiful beaches, tropical slushy rum drinks and cotton-candy colored sunsets (though we do have those things in spades!)...I've written before about >>> how to determine whether or not island life might be for you <<< , but just for fun, here' are some ways that island life on my rock is very different from life back stateside...


1) Lack of abundance: There are no malls, no big box stores, and our grocery stores pale in comparison to those back home. Finding affordable quinoa or natural peanut butter is very difficult and there is less of just about everything on a small island. We island mom's talk excitedly in dreamy, coveting tones about Whole Foods or Trader Joes the way other mom's might gush over that 50 Shades trilogy (...that I have not read). The prospect of shelves upon shelves of organic, wholesome goodness is that exciting for us. Clothes? Again, limited choices unless you dress like a 26 year old from San Diego (which I do). Household goods? Not many options for good, quality stuff but lots of plastic crap from China marked to about triple what it should cost. Life on our rock is expensive because of this but it's the price we pay because what we do we have an abundance of? Beaches, boats and bars. Not a bad trade.

2) Kids wear school uniforms: Here, every single school child wears a uniform. Period. IT. IS. AWESOME. Can someone please explain to me why the United States has not adopted this practice?!?! Dear GOD! Getting my kids dressed in decent, practical clothing is easily one of the most unpleasant parts of my day (they either want to wear completely ridiculous things like socks and leggings to the beach or underware on their head with a princess dress to dinner - which I let them most of the time - or they (Mira) want to wear the same exact ratty, dirty, threadbare thing every. single. day). I can only imagine that this fortitude and pension for 'style' gets more awful determined as we near the teen years (face palm) but, honestly, my uber independent daughters dress themselves and it drives me nuts. School uniforms save me just a little bit of headache and a hell of a lot more time on school days. Plus, they look pretty adorable. AMEN for school uniforms. I dread ever living somewhere without them.

3) Rules are more lax: I have seen numerous signs around Tortola that say you are not allowed to smoke in public places. I have also seen more smokers on this island than I have seen since my pre-smoking ban bar days in Chicago. There is a "strict" helmet law, yet only one out of every four motor scooter drivers is wearing a helmet. And good LORD do not start me on parking. A parking lot here looks like a mini glimpse into the collapse of society. Full-blown anarchy. Every man for himself. When it says "no parking", people will freely park. Even better, if you are parked in a perfectly legal spot, it is not unusual for someone to park right in front of you, blocking you in completely for anywhere from ten minutes to over an hour. This incredibly selfish practice is not only commonplace, but pretty infuriating to all residents, and yet nothing is ever done about it. Why? I have yet to see a tow truck or a car ticketed for this. No consequences? Behavior remains the same. Sigh.

4) Livestock roams free: You will not see one single squirrel here on Tortola, but a drive to town or up on the ridge road will present you with a whole host of farm animals. Chickens run free all over the place, goats regularly hold up traffic, and driving by a cow lounging on the side of the road with her calf is no big deal. Donkeys and horses used to be the main mode of transport around here until fairly recent history so you will see plenty of those as well, though their physical states might make you shudder...which brings me to my next point...

5) Animal cruelty and brutality is everywhere: Treatment of animals here is atrocious. Period. I'm not one to hate on my rock, because I love it here so very much, but animal cruelty and abuse is rampant and if you are a true-blue animal lover, you will probably have your heart broken daily here. I don't even want to tell some of the stories I have heard but suffice it to say: it's really bad.

6) You can drink while driving: Yes, you read that correctly. While you technically cannot drive 'drunk' (see #3), driving with an open alcoholic bev in the car is totally acceptable. Do not talk on the phone or skimp on clicking your seat belt, but go ahead and fix yourself that rum and coke before you hit the road. Welcome to the land of the roadie my friends, it's a nice place to be.

7) Drivers and Roads are Insane: Let me preface this by saying that I have been pulled over for "driving with intent to kill" (no, I was not, it's actually a classification after going over the speed limit a certain amount), ticketed for "reckless driving" and I had my license suspended for a year. I spent many years weaving in and out of traffic in the city of Chicago where I gained some legit "aggressive driving" chops. My point in telling you all this? I AM NO GRANDMA BEHIND THE WHEEL. But here? I literally get road rage several times a day because the drivers here are the very worst I've ever experienced in all the world (and I've driven in Rome, Bangkok and East Africa, to name a few). They are careless and downright terrifying. They fly around blind corners at mock speeds, pass on narrow roads, and play chicken daily. I cannot tell you how many times I have had to avoid what would have been terrible accidents had it not been for me swerving out of the way or breaking suddenly. The roads are just as bad: barely wide enough for two cars to safely pass, featuring hair-pin turns that make your hair curl and hills that are so steep they make your feet and palms sweat. Island driving is not for the faint of heart.

8) Hitch Hiking is normal: Hitch hiking is not only normal, but the way many islanders rely on getting from point A to point B. For one, there is no public transportation here (gripe alert!), which is a real bummer. And secondly, cars are not affordable to everyone and many people don't know how to drive, so every drive on our rock will having you passing hitchhikers standing on the side of the road, casually pointing a finger in the direction they want to go. I have picked up children on their way to school, women on their way home from work, and men headed to their jobs. It's a fun way to get to know people and I've heard some incredible stories from hitchhikers. I also think it's showing my girls an important lesson in kindness, as more often than not they are in the car with me when I pick up people.

9) Village Mentality of Islanders: Living on our particular island is not unlike living in a small town. Most everyone knows one another in some, way, shape, or form and a trip to just about anywhere will have you running into someone you know. Being anonymous here is not really an option. Because of this, there is very much a "village" mentality when you live on a small island, we tend to stick together to help one another out. We are all in a similar boat (no pun intended) and whether it be mom's helping out other mom's or simply picking up a hitchhiker as described in #8, we are all part of this community and we all want to see it be the best it can be.

10) Kids are more free-range: I've talked about how I tend to >>> lean more in the direction of "free-range"<<<  as opposed to helicopter parent and I realize this is largely due to the fact that we live in a very safe community where this is easily done. Kids hitchhike to school, it's not unusual to see an older sibling caring for his or her baby sibling, and young kids running free on the beach with their parent keeping a safe distance is very, very normal. Our girls skinny dip regularly, kick off their shoes at every chance they get, and are full of bumps, scrapes and bruises from being outside every day. Our community is relatively small and we all know one another so there are many sets of eyes on our children. I feel really lucky to be able to give our kids the freedom they want and need and the ability to do this is a large reason we chose to live where we do. I've had a lot of conversations with other parents who child-rear in a similar way and agree that we live in a very special place where times are simpler, where kids can be kids, and where there is no need >>> or social pressure <<< to helicopter.

11) Very little to do outside of beaches, boats, and bars: A certain type of person might find themselves very bored living here full time (pretty much everyone >>> loves to vacation here <<<). There are not many restaurants, no winery tours, no theater district, no dance clubs, few coffee shops, no indoor play lands, no malls, no theme parks, no museums and - in general - outside of nature and outdoorsy stuff related to all things water, there's really not much to do here. Taking a stroll 'downtown' is not something that yields much of anything and if you don't enjoy beaches, boats, bars and water sports you might find this place a bit of a yawnfest. Many of us, however, chose to live here in spite of this and actually enjoy the sleepiness of our rock: there's less distraction and fewer things pulling us every which way. You can relax and unplug here. The focus is more on making simple fun with your community; picnics on the beach with friends, dinners at people's homes, and DIY parties...Though, not going to lie, I'd really love there to be a dance club here where I could go with my girlfriends!

Those are just a few of the ways living on my rock differs from living back on the mainland. Some are weird and funny, some are frustrating and sad, but it's all part of the reality of #islandlife.

If you'd like to see pretty pictures of life on our rock, feel free to follow us on:

 >>>Facebook <<< & >>> Instagram <<<

Our "Normal" Life Aboard a Sailboat in Paradise: "Same, Same, but Different"

Our family of five lives aboard our 48 foot sailboat in paradise. I'm not going to lie, it's pretty awesome and as far as I'm concerned, I would have it no other way (no joke, I thank the Universe daily). That said, our living situation - while most definitely not for everyone - might just resemble your life in more ways than you think. I've written before about how >>>this is our "normal"<<< and how every step of our life has been an natural progression and evolution to this point...but what I have not written about is the fact that despite living in a rather unconventional home on a small tropical island how very normal our lives actually are in some ways.

***

Yes, we live on a (relatively) small sailboat. However, we are no longer "cruising" as in "journeying to places far and wide" like we once were, which greatly changes things. Sure, we go out island hopping, daysailing and >>> spend weekends at anchor <<<. But we are no longer accumulating passport stamps or doing long passages. We have, for now, >>> 'settled' here in Tortola <<< to focus on growing >>> our business <<< and our bank account for the next adventure. What does this mean? It means we are a part of a community. That we have some very regular routines in our lives. We know the lay of the land and go about our day to day like many other families. When you put down "roots" or - in our case - tie yourself to a dock, it doesn't matter how unconventional your home might be, life falls into step in a very - dare I say - "normal" sort of way.

 "SAME SAME"

We live in a "neighborhood" - granted, it's floating - but it is still very much a neighborhood. We are part of a wonderful community that we love and rely on. I call upon my neighbors for milk, eggs and the occasional urgent babysitting gig just like you probably do. My girls go to a little school three mornings a week and we wake up, have breakfast, and frantically try to make it out of the door before 9am - usually with me looking like a hot mess and barking orders out like a drill sergeant - just like many moms. I do morning drop-off, get school notices, and participate in school activities like many other stay at home moms. Just like most parents, I relish in the few hours my girls are in school and I use the precious time to run errands like grocery shopping, cleaning, and general house-keeping. Every now and then I'll treat myself to a pedicure and If I'm really lucky, I carve out time to write and edit photos.

My husband goes to work every day, too. It can be stressful, frustrating and a burden that limits us, just like on land. He doesn't commute to an office or wear a suit and tie, but he works very hard and very long hours. Sometimes he is home for dinner, sometimes not. Sometimes he leaves at the crack of dawn to fix a broken boat, and sometimes we get to have breakfast together. Most days he is up until midnight or later on his computer, working. So while the backdrop is pretty and the perks of being our own bosses are many, he'll be the first to tell you that he is very much in the "daily grind", which kind of flies in the face of the whole "living an endless vacation" image.

We adhere to a loose little routine and while the potential for island adventure (boating, beaches, hikes...etc) is always there, a lot of our days I am spending time with the girls doing things they love like playing grocery, coloring and swimming. While Instagram might make our life seem like a never-ending tropic-ation, it is not. The scenery in our photos might look a bit different than yours, but I'm doing the same thing as many other stay at home moms, namely: taking my kids outside to play and burn off some energy while trying to keep my shit together. Some families go to children's museums or parks, we go to the beach. We see local children's theater (much more rudimentary than home, but still), birthday parties, and school sponsored events. Packing my three girls and whatever gear we need to 'x' activity into the car is just as big of a pain in the ass here as it is on land. Sigh.

Despite the fact that I lean toward the "un-busy" life with kids (go ahead, call me lazy but there is also some reasoning here) we go to dance classes, play dates and tennis lessons. I have a car to get me to and fro and maybe like yours, mine is a total disaster area of dried up food, random toys, sticky wrappers and crumpled up papers. We have a television and while we hugely limit tv time and have banned iPads for our kids, we watch cartoons and movies. Our boat looks like a toy store vomited when our girls are in full-blown play mode and I have to harp at them to clean it up. We do crafts and go to the park. I make dinner while my girls play in our 'living room', we try to eat as a family as much as we can. We get the girls ready for bed, brush their teeth, read them books and tuck them in. Each day of our life, with some variation here and there, has some predicability. Normalcy.

My point? While the keywords of our life, namely: sailboat, tropics... rightfully elicits thoughts of an exotic existence, of which there are definitely elements - there are also many attributes of our life that are normal, mundane and - well - just. plain. life.

"... BUT DIFFERENT"

There are, however, glaring differences between our life and a more traditional one. For starters, >>> we are expatriates <<< which means that we are visitors here and, technically, could be booted out on a moment's notice which is slightly unnerving. As Americans, we are also in the minority on our rock; both in terms of skin color and culture. Every day our girls see and interact with a whole host of nationalities, accents, and languages. Our girls understand Rastafarianism and can tell you that it's a religion, that they wear dreadlocks and that most are strict vegetarians. When Isla first started school and told me about her best friend, Danya, I wasn't sure who she was. "Which one is Danya?" I asked her. "Danya is the one with the curly hair" she said very matter of factly. I still had no idea who that was. Turns out, Danya is black. Never once did Isla mention that as something that set her apart, and still hasn't six months later.

As expatriates, we are also prone to >>> bureaucratic adventures <<< that citizens do not have to deal with. We wait in lines in customs, we sit for hours on end at the immigration office, and every year we need to ask for permission to stay here and have a multitude of forms stamped, signed and filled out (just so) to make it happen. Combined, it is a tremendous amount of time spent waiting and it can get very frustrating, but it's a small price to pay for the privilege of calling this place home. Island time is for real and the pace of life is S-L-O-W, not much gets done in a hurry here. If you are impatient, >>> island life probably would not be for you <<<.

As for our home, well >>> ours can move <<<, which is unique and pretty cool. At a moment's notice - work and weather permitting - we can untie the lines from our dock and set sail to a whole host of places. Normal Island is just 45 minutes, Virgin Gorda four hours, we can be in St. John in just over an hour, St. Thomas in two hours, Culebra (Puerto Rico) in a full day, and St. Maarten (Dutch West Indies) is an overnight away. And that's just a few of our options! Island life is best enjoyed from the water and we are very lucky to have a front row seat.

Our boat is very comfortable and homey, but compared to most homes it is most definitely "tiny". While I find the benefits of living smaller massive (less stuff, easy to clean, close sisterly bond, more time in nature...etc), it is very different from a home. We have no garage, no back yard, and space is always a compromise. We will never host a big birthday bash or large dinner party in our 'house' because there's simply not the room for it. Our girls have fewer toys and less indoor space than their peers and as a result, we are off the boat and running around outside most of the time. I would say our girls spend an average of at least four unstructured hours outside in nature per day. Squirrels are replaced with chickens, our "yard' is the beach, and we spend a lot of time in the water. Our girls have held starfish, collected conch shells, and seen an octopus in the wild.

Life on our rock is also a lot less convenient than life back home. We don't have any big box stores and from time to time the produce ship doesn't come in leaving or grocery stores barren. Options for just about everything you can imagine from clothing to household good to foodstuff are not only limited, but much more expensive than back home (I can pay $10 for a carton of strawberries). Choices for everything are fewer and it all requires a little more effort to get. Amazon prime doesn't deliver here and receiving mail and/or packages is costly and timely. Forget the instant gratification from hitting the "buy" button, we have to buy and then either wait for a ship to come in or a visitor to act as a sherpa for goodies. Basically, everything on an island takes more time. A lot more time.

Speeeeeaking of time, we have more of it. Life is a bit less rushed. There is less to do. Fewer directions to be pulled. When I go home it takes weeks and weeks to get together with all of my girlfriends. Here? Planning a get together is pretty easy because, frankly, most of us are available. Life on our rock is like living in a very small town....surrounded by water ;)

***

So while our life has some very obvious differences to a family that has taken a more traditional route, we also share some similarities. Our days aren't always exciting and full of fun and adventure. Some are normal days devoid of beautiful, beachy pictures and Insta-worthy moments. Some, of course, are moments that dreams are made of. For the most part, however, we live somewhere comfortably in the middle.

This is a view we are treated to pretty regularly, but in a lot of other ways, our life might look like yours.

Beach, Please: On Playing Goldilocks, Island Style

It never ceases to amaze me how far away we can feel from it all on this island. Despite being a pretty primo travel destination with hundreds of thousands of people flocking here every year, the island remains deceivingly underdeveloped. We are big enough to get a decent haircut or a meal, but not too big that our streets are lined with big box stores or restaurant chains. This delicate balance of maintaining island "authenticity" and halting over-development is something that is pretty unique to the British Virgin Islands and is largely >>> why we chose this island <<< to settle on. Case in point: we can venture to to any number of absolutely pristine beaches - I'm talking jaw-droppingly beautiful shorelines that are the stuff magazine ads are made of - and more often than not we will find ourselves alone or with no more than a few others on a massive stretch of sand. No need to stake out a spot, pay for an umbrella and put down your blanket. The threat of anyone stealing your valuables while you swim is slim to none. And, no, you will not hear the Macarena blasting over a large speaker here... It's just you, me, and the sea, baby...

A Mother's Day Mini-Vacation in Maho Bay and a Nostalgic Awakening

"What do you want for mother's day?" Scott asked me while looking up from his computer. I was making breakfast, the girls were being their usual boisterous selves, and it took me about .02 seconds to reply, "Go to St. John for a night and have brunch in Cruz Bay!" St. John, while part of the United States Virgin Islands (USVI), is a short sail from where we are, and with the blissful haze of our last >>>quick getaway<<< fresh on my mind I was thirsty for more...so thirsty, apparently, that one night away turned into four...

Getting off the Dock: A Recharge, a Refresher and a Water Commute to School

We have had our boat since December and have sailed her only once. Pretty pathetic, right? Thing is, >>>running a business<<< in the islands is a >>>heck of a lot of work<<< (even though the job comes with lots of perks!) and the months have been slipping past. With Scott managing >>>our company<<< and me managing our kids and home life, time flies by with zero effort and no lag. It's been go, go, go around here and we've had one heck of a busy high season with lots of fun stuff in the mix - but one thing we haven't been doing? Sailing.

That had to change...

A Special Day in Trellis Bay: An Artist Community and A Magic Morning

We don't get to East End, home of the eccentric and eclectic Trellis Bay, often. For one thing, it's quite a drive - which I realize is laughable on an island that measures twelve miles by three - but as the car drives, it's a solid 30-40 minutes one way. With three little kids, and a mid-day nap that I will only forego for extremely special occasions - it's hard to justify an hour or more commute for an hour or two of fun. But when our friend, Cem (pronounced "Jem", like the jewel) invited us to see a special artist friend of his, I thought, "Why not!"

From Cruiser to Expat: On Fernweh and Putting Down Roots Abroad

The incredible experience that lead to this photo would never had happened if I wasn't a local.

There was an internet meme going around a while back that defined the word "fernweh" (n) which is the German word for "farsickness". According to Wikipedia it means: wanderlust, a desire for travel, a longing for far-off places.  I, along with many of my cruising comrades, have this. I cannot say exactly where this "fernweh" in me came from, but I know I had it from a very young age and I suspect it had something to do with being born to pretty adventurous parents. Throw in a well cultivated love of reading (the very best way to travel if you can't actually do so), a thirst for all things "different", and - POOF! - there I was, a child who wanted to see the world and would stop at nothing to do so.

From comparatively exotic family vacations to places like Belize, and fairly regular trips to England to visit my British family - my youth was peppered with the excitement of travel. I was privileged and lucky to experience these things and my parents were sure to remind me of this. As I got older, I literally worked for no other reason that to save money for travel. At eighteen I backpacked around Europe for five weeks, and as I entered my twenties I spent a semester abroad in Rome, Italy. I traveled, solo, around Southeast Asia and South America and while my shoe-string journeys were full of all the adjectives one could use to describe travel (amazing, beautiful, awe-inspiring, eye opening...etc. etc.), I always left wanting more... Not more stamps on my passport or patches for my pack, but...more...something intangible and out of reach. I wanted to feel like I belonged in those places I visited. To sit at the cafe and laugh at the jokes the locals were laughing at. To know the intricacies, the stories, the histories and the true color of a place. I wanted to know about the widowed lady who ran the bakery and the grumpy man who sold the papers outside the flower shop. I didn't want to be a person merely passing through. I wanted to be a local. And a few days to a few weeks in a place just doesn't get you there.

Enter...Africa.

No place in this world has held so much allure to me as East Africa. Growing up, I had read several books that were directly responsible for this blind love affair that began as an early teen, and in college (after reading several more books) I made up my mind that I was going to live there one day. I graduated from University and lived the boozed-up post collegiate city life and loved it. But Africa was always on my mind. After a few party-packed years of care-free fun and not much to show on my resume, I knew I needed a change. A nasty break up with a not so-great-(for me)-boyfriend seemed as good a catalyst as any, and I quit my lucrative yet dead-end waitressing job in the city and signed up for a three month volunteer stint in Tanzania.

I came back three years later.

This experience, way too rich and bohemian to describe in a single blog post, was my first experience as an expat.  It was the most incredible, storied, and adventuresome period of my life thus far and there is no way I would have had even a sliver of the experiences I had if I'd only visited for a few weeks.

***

Which brings us to now. We are expats. We've >>>put down roots here in the British Virgin Islands<<<. And while being an island-dwelling (live-aboard) expat and being a cruiser have quite a few similarities, this is a significant deviation from the suspected plot-line of our well documented story in which we had cast ourselves as roving sea gypsies.

While there are certainly aspects of cruising that I miss; the countless nights at anchor, the freedom of coming and going, seeing the sun rise on the ocean and the excitement of a new landfall - for me, being an expat is, in many ways, more fulfilling.

While we were cruising, we would only scratch the surface of a place. We'd visit a few beaches and towns near the anchorage. We'd visit a restaurant or two and maybe get friendly with a market vendor during our time, but knowing that we'd be leaving in a few day's or a few week's time meant our understanding of a place was always limited. Don't get me wrong, you can (and will!) have incredible cross-cultural experiences as a cruiser but they will be different to those you have as an expat. As an expat, we are certainly not acquiring as many passport stamps, but the experiences we are living have that much more depth.

So what do I love most about expatriate living?

Getting to Know A Place

For one, we have a car at our disposal which means getting off the beaten path and exploring farther afield is that much more feasible. We've lived here for about a year in total and we've only just begun to see what this place has to offer. Part of this slow learning curve is due to the fact that a busy work schedule and a gaggle of girls limits us significantly, but it's also due to the fact that it takes a long time to really get to know a place. We are now getting to know customs (for example, here you always say, "Good Morning" or "Good afternoon" when walking into a place of business or a store, not doing so is considered rude) and the inner-workings of island life (like how to deal with island time, the 'powers that be' and general island bureaucracy.) We still have a lot to learn, but time is an expats greatest teacher. In my experience, it takes at least six months to really sink your teeth into a place...

Cultural Diversity

While the "melting pot" of America is certainly diverse, where I grew up you would need to go to great lengths to not only see that diversity, but interact with it on a daily basis. If Isla was living in my hometown (which, I might add, is a wonderful place!), odds are she'd be in pre-school with no children of color, and seeing a rainbow of ethnicities would be reserved for trips to the city. Here, she is the minority. We interact every day with children and adults from all over the world, and - as a parent - this is very important to me, and a huge bonus of expatriate life.  We certainly got this perk from cruising as well, but instead of playing for a single afternoon, or sharing one single conversation or sundowner on the beach, we are forging more consistent relationships with people from all over the globe. Our girls have a steady group of little friends, which I think is important for them at this age.

Like Minded People

Expatriates, I learned first in my experience in Tanzania and am learning again here, are a different breed of folk. As with cruising, it takes a certain type of person to up and move from their homeland to somewhere foreign. Forming friendships with other expats is usually pretty easy - people who want to live abroad tend to be more open-minded, accepting, and cut from a similar cloth. We are all a dose of hedonist mixed with a pinch of crazy. While the expatriate community is transient, the coming and going of so many interesting people in your life can be very stimulating and inspiring. While the relationships you make might not be as longstanding as, say, a childhood friend, they carry a different kind of depth and connection that is equally fulfilling in a whole new way. Stronger relationships are forged in a shorter amount of time, which is the same with cruising, except with our fellow expat friends we're not saying "goodbye" nearly as much, which is a nice change.

Adaptability

As with cruising, living as an expat requires a good amount of adaptability. Things don't work like they do back home and island life takes more effort in general. You learn to get by with what's available or improvise. Because of the comparative lack of resources you will, in general, be much more inventive with what you do have. Furthermore, making an effort to integrate yourself into another culture, and not simply acting as an observer, will force you out of your comfort zone and show you the importance of being flexible, open-minded, and accepting.

Adventure Every Day

I've already written about the fact that >>>island life is not for everyone<<< and is by no means utopia. But if you are the kind of person who can find beauty in the mundane, laugh at the absurd, and stop and smell the roses, this life is full of excitement - it's all about your perspective. For example, one quick run into town as a family turned into a full morning out when we decided to take our car to the pop-up car wash. Sure, they took over an hour and a half to get our car cleaned, but instead of being annoyed, I chose to find the beauty in it. The car wash was basically a street party; loud speakers blasting music, friends washing cars while shaking their hips to the beat, and a giant water truck providing the means to clean...it was an event! I ended up doing a little photo shoot and it was so fun to embrace this experience as something we'd never have back home. Perspective.

Stability

While there was a time in my life I would scoff at the notion of stability, as a mom of three little ones, I embrace it. I love that our girls have a little consistency in their lives.  They love our "neighborhood" of Nanny Cay and the community we live in is a HUGE reason why we chose Tortola as home. We have wonderful friends and neighbors and a few days before we left a taxi driver told my mom, 'We love those kids. That family is very good to us and we watch after those girls. All of us here love them and look out for them." He then told her he was going to taxi us to the airport, for free, as a gift (turns out Scott got off work so he could take us, but still...) I nearly cried when I heard that. Aside from the sense of community, being in one place means we have some nice land-lubbing liberties that were not available to us when cruising... Very soon the girls will be going to a little preschool a couple days a week to give mommy a break and to give them a chance to experience a slice of life away from my hip (which, for the record, they've never been away from their entire lives!) I'm excited about this for all of us.

***

Do we miss cruising? Of course. It's an incredible lifestyle and one that we have plans to return to one day. But I love expat life just as much and in a different way. Luckily for us, we chose to live in one of the >>>most popular cruising destinations in the world<<<, so there are many similarities between the lifestyles and elements that still remain the same. Do I still suffer from fernweh? Yep. Do I long to travel freely and experience new and different places? For sure. Will we do everything in our power to show our girls as much of the world as we can? You betcha. But this period of our lives, the one where one day we will be able too look back and talk about the time we lived in the British Virgin Islands? It's pretty incredible too.

“What makes expat life so addictive is that every boring or mundane activity you experience at home (like grocery shopping, commuting to work or picking up the dry cleaning) is, when you move to a foreign country, suddenly transformed into an exciting adventure. Try finding peanut butter in a Japanese grocery story or explaining in broken Spanish to the Guatemalan pharmacy that you need cough drops and you’ll understand. When abroad, boredom, routine and ‘normal’ cease to exist. And all that’s left is the thrill and challenge of uncertainty.” 

 – Reannon Muth

So You Want to Live on an Island? Thirteen Things to Consider Before You Move to Paradise

We live in paradise. It's true. This place we call home, the >>>British Virgin Islands<<<, are frequently touted in glossy magazines as a primo world travel destination and regularly featured on "top ten" lists for one or all of the "three B's" (beaches, bars and beauty). Our pictures make you swoon, our tans make you jealous, and the fact that you are shoveling snow while we are lounging poolside kind of makes you want to kill us. Yes, our lives appear pretty idyllic from our >>>Instagram photo feeds<<< ... but are they? Well, yes and no. While island life ab-so-lutely has it's merits (duh!), it is definitely not for everyone. Might living on a rock be for you? Well, after five years of living on and around islands, here are some things I've observed that you might want to consider:

1. Everyone will know your name. If you love small town living, island life might be for you. Everyone knows everyone here, and if you don't know everyone, chances are they've heard about you or you've heard about them before you even met. While this "small town" nature of island life comes with a comforting sense of community and accessibility, it also comes with the not so awesome side effect of gossip. And holy crap, scandal and drama - real or finely tuned through the "coconut telegraph" - is everywhere. 
2. Power and water run out, regularly. Infrastructure is often lacking on islands. We happen to live at a marina with it's own reverse osmosis water system and a hefty back up generator so we are very lucky to not suffer from this common island affliction. But most folks who live here are very regularly lamenting about power outages which seem to happen a lot. And water? You know, the stuff that pours out of your faucets whenever you want it? Yeah, that runs out too. It is not unusual for entire areas of the island to be waterless for several days at a time. I have one friend who's water went dry mid-shower. And don't even get me started on fast internet or conditions of the roads... 
3. It's harder to get stuff. Second hand shopping is common here regardless of social class or wealth.  Our beautiful island lacks big box stores of any kind and while I absolutely love the absence of blatant American consumerism and the eyesore of it all, it also means many of the things we are used to buying back home are not available here or are very expensive. My hunt for three car seats turned up with zilch (literally could. not. find. three carseats to buy on this rock) that I eventually had to suck it up, buy them online, and have them shipped down from the US (making them the most expensive carseats on the island, possibly in the entire Caribbean, maybe in the world...) From furniture to cars, kids toys to water toys, a lot of your stuff will be second hand. Anything that's not might have to be purchased off island and sent down via traveling friend or shipping company. How much you miss the amenities of the mainland will depend on your ability to be patient and/or flexible (or how many off island visitors you get!), but most people will feel some sort of consumer pang quite regularly whether it be because you can't get something or the exorbitant cost of it.

   

   We've been known to ship everything from boat parts to kids' toys down.
4. You will be behind on a lot. When people talk about a movie or show, I often ask if it came out after 2010 when Scott and I left to go cruising, because we have absolutely no clue about anything that came out after that. Game of Thrones? Breaking Bad? OITNB? These mean nothing to me. Then again, this is largely due to the fact that we don't have television and don't have a good/comfortable place to watch our computer after the kids go to bed but still...living on an island usually means you will be a step behind when it comes to trends, news, pop culture, fashion, and giving a crap about any of it. If you *do* care about the latest and greatest in x,y or z, island life might not be for you.
5. Garbage, trash and litter is up close and personal. The pictures we post of our island are often from the best beaches and the best views, but what you do not see are the not so pretty sides of life on a rock. The side that shows you how serious the issue of pollution, particularly in the ocean that surrounds our home, is. Remember that time our family >>>cleaned up the trash at the park in town<<<? We've been to beaches in the windward islands that are covered in plastic, trash and debris. It's sad to imagine that some people have that little respect for the environment but it's something we've seen on just about every island we've visited. Tortola, however, is very clean compared to others and it's one of the many reasons we love it here. Even still, you will see an impressive amount of trash if you get off the beaten path.

   

   A garbage bag full of trash we collected at a park one day.

6. Goodbyes are a regular occurrence. Aside from the fact that most of us are away from our families and have to say "bye" to our visitors, island communities are often very transient. While some people come here and stay forever, most do not. They are here on contract, for a few years, or as part of a temporary adventure. Add in the fact that we are host to vibrant yachting and cruising communities and"...people come and go so quickly!" Maybe for this reason or because of it, it can be hard to find friends and some people can find island life very isolating. If you are single, finding a mate can prove very challenging as well.
7. "Island time"is legit. In the day and age of "instant gratification", this is a tricky one for many to handle. However "island time", while not a scientific measure, is 100% real. Urgency is not a thing here (unless your are on the road where it is very much a "thing".) Life is definitely s-l-o-w-e-r and while that might sound appealing at first, the reality of it is often a shock to the system. Island time varies from task to task, but is - on average -  two to three times longer than you would expect to do/accomplish/finish said task. It can be as simple as a painfully slow clerk at the grocery store who takes no fewer than 10 minutes to scan your not-in-the-system-for-some-reason strawberries or as severe as your husband dropping off a small poster to be framed the week before your birthday, for your birthday (April 27th) and getting said birthday present/poster in the middle of July. Yes, 'island time' is real and if you are a task-master used to fast-paced city life, you will have some serious adjusting to do.
8. Bureaucracy is no joke.  I like to call it bureauCRAZY down here. From immigration to labor to customs, the name of the game is waiting. Waiting in line. Waiting to get a ticket in order to wait in line. Waiting for someone to call your name to tell you to wait some more. Waiting for approval. Waiting for a stamp from another department. Waiting for an official to come back from vacation. So. Much. Waiting. God forbid you try to run a business down here because no matter how many people you hire to get all your legal ducks in a row and no matter how many officials you speak with to clarify things, you will definitely get it wrong. Mark my words. And then you will have to deal with even more bureaucrazy. And then you will have to wait some more. Before you are a legal resident you will have waited no fewer than 262 hours in various departments and will have filled out your body weight in forms. 

   

   Just one of the approximately 1,436 forms I had to read and/or fill out.

9. Weather can be brutal. I will never forget the summer we spent in Grenada while I was pregnant with the twins without air conditioning. It was >>>so. effing. hot<<<. My uncle was just here last month and he walked around with a towel on his person that had one purpose alone: to wipe away/absorb his sweat. It was profuse. I'm pretty sure he lost half his body weight in perspiration and I doubt he will be coming back any time soon. It was very uncomfortable for him. NEWSFLASH: THE HEAT CAN BE AS LIMITING AND OPPRESSIVE AS THE COLD. While our winter's kick your winter's ass in terms of we are drinking rum drinks on the beach while you shovel snow, our summers are brutal and can be ungodly hot. As if the mind-bending heat wasn't enough, we also have the threat of hurricanes five months of the year. This is unnerving and potentially catastrophic, particularly if you live on a boat and own three others as your livelihood (insert emoticon with wide eyes and teeth). 

   

   He showered 3x a day. Still no relief. The heat is for real.

10. You might get bored. I know this sounds insane because when you came here on vacation you filled every day and still didn't see it all, but islands are islands and their very nature means they are limited. There are only so many beaches, bars, and activities to occupy your time. We don't have the museums, theaters, art houses, libraries and music venues to explore. There are only so many shops, clubs and restaurants to frequent and if you are someone who doesn't like to do the same thing twice or needs to be doing "something" all day every day, well, you should probably reconsider island living. While there is much to do for the water enthusiast, people who don't embrace the simple pleasures island life allows (and there are many!) can be somewhat disenchanted and limited by choices. It is, I think, for this reason that drinking becomes an olympic sport here. Day drinking at 3pm on a Monday? Why not!
11. You will inevitably come down with "Island Fever."According to Maui Goodness, "Island Fever is the phenomena of feeling claustrophobic from the close proximity of each shoreline, and feeling disconnected from the outside world. This is a pretty common thing on the islands... Most people move away after a few months to a few years because of a lack of family and the necessity of having all the amenities of the mainland at their disposal." We have never lived on one island long enough to come down with this very real affliction, but have heard many a story about it. For this reason many seasoned islanders recommend getting "off the rock" at least once a year.
12. You will be an outsider. Here on my island you are either a belonger or...not.  As in "You belong" or "You do not belong." I am not joking. "Belonger" is the actual term and if you are one, you have a card in your wallet that says so. To become a "belonger" is only slightly easier than becoming a saint in the Roman Catholic Church. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what it entails but I know it's just about impossible for me to ever become one so I don't really sweat it. Being a belonger has many, many perks that an non-belonger does not enjoy (having to deal with less bureaucracy is a big one) but it is how it should be and I get it. Regardless, I will never "belong" here.   And finally...
13. Living with that feeling that everyone thinks your life is perfect because you live here when in reality you are living with items 1-12 on a daily basis! It's true, once you relocate to paradise you simply are >>>no longer allowed to complain<<< because, obviously, our life is one giant vacation and we should just shut up and be grateful.  (thanks to my friend >>Claudia<<, for this one!)

    

    It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but it's pretty damn awesome if 1-13 aren't problems for you.

All said, I absolutely *love* living as an expat on an island (more in-depth post on this subject coming soon). I find this lifestyle vibrant, inspiring and I truly love my experience here. It's not all sunshine and rainbows (there are a lot of those, of course), and I've never met Jimmy Buffett or Kenny Chesney, but it *is* unique and if you have a flair for dichotomy and embrace the fact that adventure (and not always the thrilling kind you chose) awaits you each day, it just might be for you.

Word to the wise: if you still think that living on an island is for you, read Don't Stop the Carnival: A Novel by Herman Wouk. It is, so far, the best book about living and working in the islands I have ever read. It's a classic and will prepare you for living and working on a rock better than anything. We considered it "required reading" for our crew.

On Writing, Time and What's Up: A Rambling Recap of the Last Few Weeks

So much to say, but the wind won't write my words!

It's hard to find time to blog these days. Which is frustrating to me since writing is something I need to do. Just as some people need to run or make music or sing, so must I write. Scott will vouch for the fact that if I've gone too long without it, I get all wonky and - in general - pretty unpleasant. "Go write," he'll say in exasperation. "I'll take the kids. But for God's sake, just write something." It is my life's greatest passion; the hobby that keeps my brain sharp, my thoughts clear and yields the most fulfillment. I love it. My mind is a dizzy flurry of thoughts, stories and ideas I want to flush out and I often have the urge to break open my computer in the wee hours of night (or morning, rather) to jot down a reflection so I can bring it to life later. What can I say? Like many writers, I have the compulsion to share...what I lack, however, is time.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

I haven't been able to share much on the blog these days, or at least not as much as I would like. Luckily, our social media accounts - like Instagram and Facebook - make sharing in snippets pretty effortless. I post very regularly over there because it's simple, quick and easy. As much as I enjoy chronicling our life in images and short captions (because I really look at it all as a chronicle), it doesn't quite scratch the creative itch for me and it certainly only shows 1/100th of the picture. It offers a precisely filtered highlight reel and doesn't cut to the nitty gritty like I sometimes like to do. But it'll do for now. High season is behind us (maybe?) and Scott should (in theory) be able to help out with the girls a little bit more, affording me a few hours here and there to work and write. So more to come, I promise.

***

So, what's been going on the past few weeks?

Well, a lot. My parents and my amazing sister came to visit (separately), and spending time with them and showing them our new "island expat" lifestyle was so much fun. Our business continues to flourish which is wonderful but means that Scott is burning the midnight oil every. single. night. If you think running a day charter business in the tropics is all fun in the sun, you'd be wrong. It's a hell of a lot of work, and because I am on mommy duty all day, every day...the business end of things falls on Scott's shoulders.  I must say he is doing an incredible job, and seeing him take the bull by the horns and assume the roll of business owner with such ability and ease is impressive. It's a pretty insane work load though, and while we are taking steps to streamline certain procedures so that the work/life balance is better for him - these things take time. Not the worst problem to have but no one can work 12-18 hour days forever. That's a one way ticket to crazy town right there.

Other news? Oh! We got a second car (a white Hyundai Veracruz, baby!) The girls and I are now mobile and while we absolutely love Nanny Cay and our extended family of workers, neighbors and friends that are here with us - it's been nice to change things up a little with the freedom to go to other places, parks and beaches without paying an arm and a leg in taxi fare (there is no public transportation here). The girls are ob-sessed with the car and car rides. Obsessed. Every night after I tuck the twins in (and after I do the little routine they've developed of doing kisses, hugs and - get this - fist and elbow bumps) they say, "Car?" and I say, "Yes. We will go in the car tomorrow" to which they reply, "Okay!" So, yeah. The car is a big hit all around. Granted, finding car seats was a treat. Tracking down one on this island is like finding a needle in a haystack, locating three proved pretty much impossible. So we drove around (very carefully) without them for a while which was utterly TERRIFYING. The twins figured out how to unbuckle the seat belts approximately .02 seconds after I secured them the first time which meant driving around, for them, was like being in some sort of moving jungle gym and for me was...it was...let's just say I could've used a Xanax. We eventually found one booster style seat and rotated the kids around in that for a week or so, but one carseat for three kids is no good not to mention it created an existential dilemma a la "Sophie's Choice" every time I got them in the car. Who gets to ride in the car seat today? After realizing decent carseats weren't going to magically appear in my car or on this island for that matter, I ordered some on Amazon (this car seat can fit three in one row! Take note moms of multiples!) and my dad shipped them down to us. Now we are safe and my kids aren't hanging out the windows like dogs anymore. Whoo hoo!

We've also decided that we'll soon be putting the girls in a pre-school/play group here two days a week for a half-day to give me a little break and allow me to stay on top of things like a) my business responsibilities (I am technically the marketing manager of Aristocat Charters), b) "house" chores (like organizing cupboards, tidying lockers, purging excess and cleaning the fridge; things that need to happen regularly around here but don't) c) my personal hygiene (there are really nice *warm* shower facilities here. I use them maybe twice a week and cold-water bathe on the aft deck with the girls 90% of the time) and d) my writing (see first paragraph.) This change, I think, will also be great for them socially as they love other kids and while we play with other children on a daily basis, I think a little regular playtime with kids their own ages will be helpful. Did I mention that I think this will be great for my sanity? Because...that too.

***

Despite the fact that I haven't been writing much, we've had several things written about us and a couple new interviews went "live" recently, so if you'd like to read those they are here:

• This Adventurous Couple are Raising Three Kids on a Boat in the Caribbean - an article that got compiled on the world wide web and has been shared a bunch. It's pretty accurate and uses a bunch of our pictures except we left in 2010, not 2012. We had nothing to do with this piece, and were not contacted for it. But I'm grateful for the publicity and the shares that have come from it.
• Goodie Goodie Gumdrops: Inside a Traveler's Walls - A great interview series about people who live and travel in unique situations. Jessica's blog is pretty awesome too! This piece is specifically about our boat, what we love about it, what we don't, how we have altered it to make it work for us, and why we chose it for our home.
• Women and Cruising: 12 Questions for the Asante Family - Part of a great series of interviews with families who sail with children. I answer twelve questions about life aboard with kids, the good, bad and poopy.

In related news, I have also been updating the pages of this blog, the "ABOUT" page got a refresher as did our "PRESS" page. Feel free to poke around there, and people interested in boating with babies, please check out our Baby on Board page where I've consolidated most of our posts on sailing, traveling and living tiny with tots.

What else? (Yes, I realize I am rambling)...That's about it. We have our good days and bad. The girls are growing in leaps and bounds and with that come new revelations, freedoms and challenges. Spending so much time with them and watching them grow, learn, and become who they are is pure magic, it really is. But with yin, there comes yang and darkness follows light. There have been some pretty significant and very personal extended family struggles that I have kept to myself which have been devastating and life-altering. We ride up and down the unpredictable wave of life just like anyone else and sometimes we are at the crest and can see what's coming our way, sometimes we are in the trough and have no idea what hit us. That's how it goes, we have all been there. But despite that, I call myself lucky and I am thankful beyond words. It's a wonderful, beautiful life and there is no place - literally no place - I would rather be than right here, right now. My heart is so full of love, gratitude and happiness for the life we have created, for our children and what we are accomplishing.

My time, whether or not I am writing, is well spent.

And that is (the very cliff-noted version of) where we are at right now...

Thanks, as always, for reading and following along on our journey. It's truly an honor.