Going home

 

Friday—our last full day in St. Lucia—was absolutely gorgeous.

This was the weather we had paid big bucks and flown thousands of miles to see.

We spent Friday at the pool, soaking up every bit of the abundant sunshine that we could, making up for the rain of most of the rest of the week. I hoped to build up stores of vitamin D and serotonin to last the rest of the winter, like a bear fattening up to go into hibernation.

It works that way, right?

We woke up Saturday, departure day, to everything clouded over and wet again, which did make it much easier to say goodbye.

We had breakfast, handed over our packed bags to the butlers, and had a couple hours to kill.

We lounged on a hammock by the beach a good long while, until we decided to grab lunch, at which point it started—guess what!—raining.

It was time to go home. I had had enough of tropical rain showers, my stomach was begging me to return to my regularly scheduled diet, and it would be good to see the kids again.

Little did we know our hour-and-a-half layover in Atlanta would turn into twenty-two hours; involving several planes’ worth of misplaced luggage by Delta, 45 minutes watching a luggage carousel spin around that remained completely empty, a lost wallet (can’t blame Delta for that), a missed connection (obviously), a forfeited nonrefundable hotel booking, miles walked on a rapidly developing, severely itchy, swollen rash all around the bottom of my swimsuit line, angry crowds, a midnight taxi ride, cancelled flights, exiting a plane that we had just boarded due to the discovery of mechanical problems, multiple concourses, a new plane, and the conviction that Jason and I had become permanent residents of Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.

{The rash was not due to excessive airport walking, although my friend later theorized that I was so stressed I literally got my panties in a bunch, which is a not unreasonable hypothesis. It was actually the latest and most severe iteration of a rash I always get after a week at the beach; however, it usually shows up on my ankles and wrists and is the worst on my knees. It was on one knee only this time, enough to swell and then turn purplish and leathery, per usual; but the swimsuit line area was a new development and not one that I enjoyed, particularly when Delta sent us on foot from concourse A to Z to collect our luggage that they misdirected and then neglected to tell us about for two hours. Or when we had to deboard the plane we finally made it onto, to be told that they had a new plane ready for us…in concourse E.

My vague theory about my regular beach rash was always something to do with sand, since it showed up mainly on my knees, but my newer theory (since sand really had hardly anything to do with this week) is that maybe I’m allergic to sunscreen, which the internet says is not common but is a thing.

But I still hate the Atlanta airport forever.}

By the time that ordeal was over with, we couldn’t wait to see the kids and be home again.

It’s really good to be home. My tummy is happier, my rash is faded, we still have a little tan from that last day. St. Lucia was gorgeous, as before, although often covered in clouds and rain this time. But the unending time with Jason was so deeply welcome and that’s the vacation memory I cherish most of all.

Boating

 

The heavens are telling of the glory of God;

And their expanse is declaring the work of His hands.

Thursday was our other excursion; unlike the Tuesday adventure, this was one we hadn’t tried before.

We were up bright and early for a 40-minute shuttle to Rodney Bay Marina, where we were given our own speedboat to drive. Being a brave and generous man, Jason let me drive the whole time.

At no point was I asked whether I had a driver’s license or any other credential. The entire instruction consisted of: “This is a button…you won’t need that. Here’s a lever…you won’t need that. Stand up for a minute, open the bench you’re sitting on, and look under some stuff to the bottom. Those are life jackets…you won’t need that. Close the bench. Here’s the throttle. Follow me.”

We started by motoring out of a very full marina with all kinds of catamarans and fancy yachts parked all over the place, only one of which did I run into with our boat, and that so minorly. I have no idea what Jason was getting worked up about.

After navigating out of the marina, we hit the open sea and it was full throttle ahead!

Day to day pours forth speech,

And night to night reveals knowledge.

Jason couldn’t even complain about the speed we were going or the fact that we caught air going over a few of the waves, because I had no choice but to follow our guide up ahead.

There is no speech, nor are there words;

Their voice is not heard.

Their line has gone out through all the earth,

And their utterances to the end of the world.

We went all down the coast, picking out tiny deserted beaches where we said we’d build our fantasy house and never wear shoes again.

Rain showers rolled over as we approached the Pitons.

The guide had us stop and we drifted for a few minutes to take selfies in front of the peaks.

Then he led us partway back up the coast to the snorkel site in a lovely little bay.

It may or may not have taken me five minutes to figure out how to park parallel to the guide boat without breaking anything, and I may or may not have ended up with our boat parked backwards, but we got close enough in the end and everyone probably felt better when I cut the motor.

Jason found this cool flounder rippling along the seabed, both of his Picasso eyes facing up.

I found this icky, pokey worm thing blending in with the branches of this coral.

Below, a polka-dotted sea snake, or, I suppose, an eel, winding its way between the rocks.

He squiggled on the bottom just like a regular snake does on land.

These guys looked just like the silver fish in Finding Nemo.

I wasn’t sure if this was the same kind of flounder (if they can change color, like chameleons and cuttlefish) or a different kind, tossing up sand on the rock.

In them He has placed a tent for the sun,

Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber;

It rejoices as a strong man to run his course.

We were back from our boating/snorkeling adventure in time for a late lunch, during which it was at first beautiful,

and then let loose and poured again before we even got our bread course.

Not eager to go out in the rain, we stretched lunch out with dessert.

Then we stayed and visited with this little guy who seemed to know when we were done and was eager to clean up our crumbs.

Its rising is from one end of the heavens,

And its circuit to the other end of them;

And there is nothing hidden from its heat.

Rainbow just before dinner

Frustratingly, it spent the afternoon raining, again. We did have lots of fun at our Japanese steakhouse dinner, and afterwards we found a hidden-away hammock on the clifftop that had miraculously stayed dry.

The rain persisted all evening so we found a sheltered place to play billiards next to the pool, within earshot of a well-populated indoor bar. The entertainer could sing and play the piano passably well, and the crowd, probably relieved to have a dry place to be, was uproariously appreciative.