Back from Paradise

Little did we guess upon seeing this steep hunk of rock sticking out of the ocean that we were entering paradise. Saba was paradise. The scuba diving was fantastic, as we expected, but we didn’t know this tiny, beachless former volcano would be the most magical place we had ever been.

The people, all 1,400 living there, are friendly and helpful. The pace of life is beyond slow. Life is simple. There are no beaches, there are no bugs, and there are few tourists. The top of the island is rain forest, at about 3,000 feet above sea level, and is the highest point in the Netherlands. We did some hiking, but we didn’t make it all 1,064 steps to the top–we left that for next time.

It was a great break, and I came back full of focus and creative juice. So it’s back to the novel for me.

Island Time and Farm Animals

I can’t think of any predictions or expectations, ambitions or dreams for the upcoming year. I feel numbed from reading the innumerable, estimable 2010 articles. Partly it’s being on this island and feeling removed from the world, and even from time. I got to the boardwalk in Phillipsburg on New Year’s Eve just in time to see the fireworks at midnight. My friends and I got drinks and walked over to the beach. We waited. Someone had 4 minutes until midnight, the other two had 2 minutes. 2 minutes went by and nothing happened. Then another 2 went by and nothing happened. Nobody around us seemed concerned, and nobody was counting down. Then a rocket went spiraling up in the air. “Happy New Year!” I cried, figuring somebody had to call it. “Happy New Year” my friends said. Here even 2010 is on island time.


For New Year’s day, we had a big, fortifying breakfast and went to the beach. The weather was idyllic and I had some supremely Caribbean-themed light reading. Walking back to the car at the end of the day, we saw a baby donkey. It was just standing there, nibbling grass then walking down into the sand. While the island boasts more farm animals than I ever saw growing up in Georgia, a donkey roaming the beach was a whole new thing! We started to take photos when it’s perturbed owner appeared. He called to it and tried to grab its harness, but the donkey gaily trotted away through families of prone French tourists. All the beach-goers were startled, and the owner walked fast to herd (eventually) the donkey into the parking lot and away from the beach. It was very funny and very strange. It’s hard to think seriously about life when you’re laughing at donkeys.


So I’m on island time, distracted and amused by a new place, and, to top it off, hot. It’s very difficult to think when you are hot. While watching the long fireworks show, I felt that I really didn’t care about doing too much–that I was quite happy with things just as they are. I’m like a fat cat being scratched and purring. It’s a little ridiculous, and it certainly won’t last, but I am utterly relaxed. In fact, I might just take a mid-morning cat nap.