Goodbye Relaxation, Hello Registration and all that Follows

The end of the vacation phase of this journey has ended for now, Registration was on Monday and the pace has definitely picked up from last week's beach hunting mode. The incoming May 09 class is about 91 strong with 53 men and 38 women from 26 states in the US and countries all over the world. I have met people from Egypt, Poland, Russia, Uzbekistan, Vietnam, Canada and plenty others. What a diverse experience this is going to be!!

Most of this week (until today when the real classes began) has been about orientation, how to function as a medical student and more importantly how to functionas a medical student on an island such as St. Maarten with its many distractions. The chief prosecutor from the Dutch Police Force came and spoke to the class about the quickest ways that you can go to jail while residing here. They seem to be quite unaffectionate about personal weapons of any sort, firearms of any kind are strictly forbidden as well as a simple can of Mace. Both will land you in jail with no questions asked or explanations entertained. The psychologist for the school's wellness center gave tips on how to cope with life here away from everything and most everyone and deal with the pressures of a professional school.

As for the reason I am here, the education, began today at a mediocre pace only 2 chapters of medical genetics to know by tomorrow and begin to memorize all the bones, nerves, vessels and muscles of the spine and the back. The faculty is impressive the Genetics professor studied at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland (where Darwin rose to fame) and one of the Anatomy professors is from New Zealand and helped develop the process of plastination. If you have seen the events of "Body World" that draws so much controversy, that is platination. First day in the cadaver lab today, and that's when it really hit me that I am really here and really doing this. (I may have caught a glimpse of that bear)Still can't believe it. Sitting in an ice cold room that smells of phenol and other chemicals with 12 cadavers kind of put everything in place for some reason. Entering the lab where the cadavers were present was a very somber and reverent time for everyone, the professor spoke softly and we spent several moments in silence with our heads bowed silently thanking these people for donating their mortal remains to benefit our education. Very ethereal.

Anyway for those that aren't quite sure where I am in the world there are a couple of maps below and photo of the front of the school. The island of St. Maarten is about 200 miles southeast of Puerto Rico and is a part of the Netherlands Antilles, the school is located in the the area known as the Dutch Lowlands in the city of Cupecoy, on the southwest corner of the island, and rests on the shore of Simpson Bay Lagoon.

Till next time

Paradise Found

As the antithesis to Milton's epic droning i have found the little slice of paradise that i had been searching for. I was on the wrong side of the mountain the whole time and no one here understands a Louisiana accent well enough to understand what I was even talking about. So I threw out the map and the gps (repudiate your possessions and then you can see the bear) and just went by the direction that i knew the beach to be in. All that i knew was that a dirt road near a recycling plant that ended on an old coastal foot path that ran along the cliffs and then over the mountain.

Propelled by the raw power of the sweet 4 cylinder Dihatsu, I just started making lefts and rights out of the village named Cul-de-Sac that lies on the extreme northern end of the island. I knew the path to the hidden beach was close and had I discovered that I had been right on top of it on my previous journey, the only problem was the the road was now paved and I had been looking for a dang dirt road. I began to see signs for the recycling plant and recycling stations and began to get excited. After topping an enormous hill I saw the coastline at the bottom and over to my left the recycling plant. Alleluia!!

The road did in fact become dirt at this point as I drove closer to the ocean, after about a mile the road abruptly ended with no warning. Determined at this point i donned my trusty ancient and worn backpack, loaded it up with water and apples and struck out in my flip flops (which i later discovered are not the best foot attire for transversing mountain terrain).

Ha!! I FOUND THE PATH, right at the edge of the ocean and right at the base of the cliffs, I knew I was going to make it finally. With my feet sliding to and fro in the ill-prepared flip flops, I started making my way over the rocky path, that occasionally took all 4 appendages to successfully navigate.

I met some friends along the way, the sea urchins were trapped in the rocky cliff base after the tide receded

Lots of sea urchins trapped

The road began to point a little skyward--up and over...

And continued

..and continued

But the view along the way was fantastic

I was beginning to wonder if these circling Brown Pelicans were trying to alert the carrion eaters of my exact location.

There was a nice rest stop along the way fashioned by some early Baroque era Hobo I believe if I recall my Hobo architecture accurately



And what appeared to be a marker for someone that just couldn't make the journey. ;-)

And then suddenly after only 40 minutes of hiking and 1.5 liters of water as I overcame the last small rise in elevation,there it was...Petites Cayes. Amazing what a little determination and effort will reward you with isn't it.

After playing Robinson Crusoe for a little while and just enjoying the solitude, I began the journey back along the rocky path with the setting sun to my back.

Every worthwhile accomplishment, big or little, has its stages of drudgery and triumph; a beginning, a struggle and a victory.--Gandhi

Before I go I have to tell the perfect end to the perfect day...

After a day like that how could any thing or anyone do anything to change the quantity and quality of the emotions I was feeling. But oh Fortuna why have you forsaken me as you have. My trusty and valiant steed failed me on the way back home...

Between the village of Cul de Sac and the French town of Marigot there is an enormous hill that requires some special preparation for you (well at least me and my sweet 4 cylinder 22hp ride) to undertake. Get as much speed as you can in 3rd gear at the base of the hill, switch off the AC and jam it up into first (don't ask how i discovered that this was the only way to make it up this hill). Well I had performed this maneuver numerous times on my trips around the island, but on this particular day Fortuna decided I had had enough fun for one day.

As I made the change from 3rd to 1st gear KAAAAAPOOOOWWWWWW!!!!! The awfullest racket that you ever did want to hear came from directly under me, quickly followed by the sound of metal dragging on pavement and my trusty and once valiant silver steed began to sound like a log truck on hwy 33.
Now to set the scene a little better I must inform you that there is no DOT in St. Maarten, hence the shoulder of the road is non existent and the road itself is at best undesirable littered with potholes that could be mistake as bomb craters

So i have no where to pull over...for at least 2 miles until i make it to the town of Marigot where i pull off and have a look under the car.

Just as expected the muffler had blown off during the massive power transition of changing gears, but Fortuna kept dealing the hand better and better. There was no more than 3.5 inches of clearance between the roadway and the bottom of the car and better than that the muffler did not fall off on the rear section as most do it fell off from the manifold end. What a conundrum! With no tools and no way to get under the car to tie the thing up (or anything to tie it up with) I made the executive decision to press on. Muffler dragging, sparking and making all kinds of noise.

The people walking on the streets of Marigot are still telling the story of the little silver car flying through the streets leaving a trail of sparks and muffler pieces behind it and the driver that seemed unaware of their continuous attempts to flag him down. Its a rental, I have insurance, and I am having a great day, so down the road I go smiling and singing along with Bob Marlyey.

Until the noise becomes aggravating and I know I can't drag this thing around all the way back to the Avis station, so a plan begins to from in my devious mind. "the muffler is facing forward and made of flimsy metal use the pot holes to your advantage", it says to me. So, haha, i begin driving toward the bomb craters and centering the car over them....it only took three attempts to successfully dislodge the malfunctioning muffler without a single tool or even getting out of the vehicle. Now to just conjure a story to tell the Avis folks as to the location of their muffler.

SWEET RIDE!!

Wind Surfers

Lunch again at the Sunset Beach Bar looking over the western seas. Grilled swordfish and Carib Bright to wash it down.

Most of the morning was spent at Orient bay watching the kite surfers and enjoying even more watching those take lessons being drug across the surf (what masochists) it looked fun once you got the hang of it but learning seems brutal. As with the preceding days today is also met with many places completely closed down because of Carnival and the lingering effects of Queen's Day which was yesterday. So all i am able to do is wander aimlessly along the 37 beaches that circle the island and read while trying to keep from contracting skin cancer. The winds give the illusion that you are in no danger of frying which i have found out the hard way that you do rather quickly. So much for today, not much to to tell. I"m about to go in search again for the elusive Petites Cayes that i couldn't find the other day.

enjoy

In Search of the Hidden

Secondary to sporadic wireless connections and inept Internet installation workers, my connection to the rest of the world has been somewhat intermittent so the post are not coming as frequently as i like.

Yesterday was a day of searching for the hidden and secluded beaches of St. Maarten, so me and my sweet Dihatsu 4 banger went tooling around the island's back roads with a handheld gps and a less than poor road map.

With nothing more than a backpack full of bottled water and a few green apples I struck out, following miles of tiny paths through deserted resorts, decaying sea grapes and rocky terrain; but the rewards were worth the efforts and exertions as you can see. The beaches were all quite deserted, it was kind of nice not being around the civilized world for a little while--while i wait on the bear to show.

The beaches I found are named Plum Bay, Long Bay, Coralita Beach and Happy Bay; I have yet to find the one named Petities Cayes--it is on the extreme north end of the island and directions by land are difficult and hard to come by--it is a 20 min boat ride from the nearest beach and after an 1.5 hr hike I decided I was in the wrong spot since i couldn't get over the mountain.

After a nice early morning run and a swim, I spent a good portion of the morning doing the tourist thing by watching the planes land and take off from the airport, and also watching the silly folks standing behind the jets upon their departure.

So pretty much a sedentary day, everything is closed down because of Carnival, of which I could not summon the energy to go and partake of. The traffic is bad enough on the island's one road between Cupecoy and Phillipsburg so I had no desire to partake of the increased throngs of Carnival maddened motorists.

My vacation time is ending soon, registration for school starts on Monday, Orientation on Wednesday and the first day of formal instruction on Thursday. The fun ends there, so I suppose I will have to suck up all the sun and sand and other pleasantries while I am able. See you soon.

Arrive'

I'm not sure what spurs a person to forego all of their belongings, their career, and most everything and everyone they know to move to a foreign land to start over, to begin again--regardless of the source of the spur, the spur has struck, or inadvertenly and unknowingly been left under the saddle by some passing ruffian.

I have arrived!

What began as a fleeting thought at the suggestion of good friend has resulted in a new beginning. (thanks mike)--i'm finally doing what i set out to do 30 years ago, i'm in med school (a perpetual student now it seems), the kids are enrolled at an international academy here on the island that begings in August, Leah is going back to school while on the island to work on her masters/nurse practitioner. 4 unemployed students in foreign land, at least one of us should undergo some type of psychoanalysis to discover if this is all really real or not.

Anyway this is day 2 of the transformation: I left a 2,000 sq. foot house, a definite and productive future in a nationwide company, dogs, vehicles, friends and family to chase a dream. I have transformed into an unemployed long haired, bearded pepetual student living in a 750 sq. foot apartment, that isn't too bad yet, I have a place to get out of the rain and running water and lights (although they sometimes aren't both functioning at the same time) but being able to get up and go for a run to the cliffs overlooking Cupecoy beach seems to compensate for any lack of modern necessities (i'm also discovering that all the former necessities really aren't necessary at all), which brings another thought into my mind:

William Faulkner once wrote about a character named Ike McCaslin who had a long and tumultuous life, but as a child he was an avid hunter in the fictitious woods of Yoknapatawpha County, in those woods there was this enormous bear named “Old Ben” that all the men had tried to kill for years there, it is a long and tedious story to read but the point of this verbal wandering is that Ike could never see the bear until at one point he gave up all his belongings at the suggestion of his mentor and friend that was a half breed Indian tracker, by repudiating all of his worldly possessions Ike was able to see clearly for the first time, he was finally able to see “Old Ben” and I do believe that is what is happening here now, repudiate the fast life, repudiate the damn blackberry, repudiate the need to serve everyone’s needs and wants---I’m waiting to see the bear.

So much for the philosophical side of the blog, chew on that for a little while and see where it takes you. I’m writing this from the Sunset Beach Bar on Mullet Beach where the runway of the Princess Julianna Airport ends (or begins depending on your flight plan), I just watched a 747 take off from directly behind it and felt the blast of 224,000 lbs of thrust. WOW!

I’m not sure why I like this bar so much but it just has a nice kinda laid back atmosphere;-)
well my mahi mahi sandwich is here, so long--I’m going to watch the sun to set and ignite the green flash.