Day Drinking and Other Worthy Pursuits

There will come a point, usually a few weeks in--or maybe months, if you've managed to distract yourself well enough--when you'll suddenly realize that all of this is your life. It's real. It's happening. Not for weeks, or months. But years. And you can't escape it.

Ever  heard of the Five Stages of Grief? Well these are the Five Stages of Grenada:

1. Confusion. Shortly after arriving to the island, your senses will be water boarded by a host of strange new things. Sights, sounds, smells, and of course there's the godawful, sweat-drenching and soul-sucking heat. For possibly the first time in your life, you'll be feeling completely out of your element, far-removed from whatever comfort zone you usually call "home." I don't care if you're from the U.S. or Canada or India. Dorothy, you ain't in Kansas anymore.

2. Irritation. Once you start to understand the daily workings of your new socio-economic and geographic environment, you'll probably be pretty pissed. No, the garbage doesn't always get picked up when they say it will. No, the local market will not always have the basic things that every market you've ever shopped at seems to have (such as milk, eggs, marshmallows, etc.). And no, drivers will not brake for pedestrians when they're crossing the street.

3. Counting. Unlike the "bargaining" step of the grief process, you're a Grenadian housewife, and so you essentially have nothing to trade. Your power and autonomy is so limited, sometimes you'll feel like Blanche DuBois, constantly relying on the kindness of strangers. Or, in this case, the begrudging tolerance of strangers. Impotent and embittered, you'll simply lock yourself away and begin counting the days... trying to brainstorm ways to make them pass by more quickly. Drinking helps.

4. Fantasizing. Eventually, your conscious mind will stop occupying itself with thoughts of eventual escape. Instead, you'll begin to idealize everything around you. The fruit is the freshest in the world. The children are the cutest. The roving packs of stray dogs are hilarious, and the uninsulated shack you live in is simply charming and rustic. Like Russel Crowe in A Beautiful Mind, you might even start to hallucinate some awesome new friends. It's not wrong, just slightly worrisome in a psychological sense.

5. Acceptance / Extraction. We see it all the time. At the end of the road, there really are only two options. No matter how tough the circumstance or uncomfortable the choice, you have to accept the life you've been given. Or you can leave. We see a small handful of people every term, fleeing back to their homeland with their metaphorical tail tucked between their legs. I, for one, have a hard time rationalizing this kind of premature exodus. But I do understand it. And on some basic level, I am jealous. But not jealous enough to leave the most important person in my life alone in Grenada.

In case you were wondering, I'm currently living in Stage 3.

You're welcome.

Cordelia