Muchas Gracias

I don’t think Thanksgiving has ever meant so much to me, until this year. The only reason I’ve really liked it as a holiday in the past, is because I get time off from school or work and I'd usually book a kick-ass trip. Cabo, anyone? And then school is out a few weeks after that.  It’s more of a stepping stone for me to get to Christmas. It makes me think of Jesus’ red-headed stepbrother who hates Indians. It's been baffling me by how mushy and pleasant I’ve been this holiday season, because I currently have the least amount of possessions I’ve ever had, no money in my bank account, and I’m extremely far away from my family and friends. I almost never see my husband, and in case you haven’t noticed, American Thanksgiving is an AMERICAN holiday and we don’t live in America. Hence, no Thanksgiving break. Billy took a few hours off from studying so we could go to dinner at a local resort and then play at the beach after. I had crappy, overpriced pizza and it didn’t feel like Thanksgiving in the slightest. So why do I feel so sappy and appreciative for my life on this year in particular?

Because: no shoes, no shirt, no problems! Everything in life can be tied into a Kenny Chesney song. Everything.

I’m gonna shoot it straight with you now, I absolutely love living in Grenada. A lot of people out here have a really hard time living on this rock, and I try to commiserate with them, but I have fallen madly in love with the place. Sure, it sucks that we don’t get all the modern American amenities. But I think that’s part of the reason I love it so much. My perfect self is not into money and things—I’m into experiences and relationships. (Let’s also keep in mind that my ideal self sails around the world with her family while being a yogi master and living off the land.) But somewhere along the way, I lost those ideals and became a shopaholic. And I feel that I’m getting rid of my selfish materialistic nature little by little here on this island. And learning to live in the moment. There are freakishly hard days where I just want to punch our lovely concrete walls or amputate my limbs because they are infested with bug bites. But most days, I feel so content with who I am and where I am, it’s such a strange feeling. Especially for someone who has been whining for a baby for her whole married life. I’m actually a little bit nervous to go to the States over Christmas break because I’m worried that I’ll revert back to my old ways pretty quickly. I’m also nervous to drive on the right side of the road again. And for temperatures below 75 degrees.

I think our situation before this really set me up to be obsessed with the Grenada. We were lucky enough to live with my parents for a while and then with Billy’s parents after that. They were both amazingly generous to let us mooch off of them while we saved money on rent to save up for med school go on fun trips. By the time we moved out here, I was ecstatic just to have our own place. It doesn't matter that it’s the tiniest apartment out of all the apartments I've seen here. It’s ours! Not that living with the Strongs and Griffiths wasn’t just delightful. My parents were supposed to be empty nesters, but they sacrificed that alone time to go on a lot of double dates. Billy’s parents were also supposed to be empty nesters, but we moved in just in the nick of time to spare them the loneliness of such a fate. It was sort of wonderful to interact with all of our parents as a fellow married couple—it’s a different relationship and I’ll be forever grateful for that time we had with them. And for the money we saved on rent. But after 3 years of mooching, it was high time we grew up and learned how to fork over some rent money and live on our own. Yes, I know, it’s not even our money, it’s all loans, but hey that’s progress for us!

Also, I never bought groceries before this, because I never cooked before this. So, everyone complains about how expensive the groceries are here, but I never knew what things cost before this, so I have nothing to compare it to. Blind gratitude, dude.

Speaking of loans, we are in one of the most unique financial situations we’ll ever find ourselves in. All of our SGU friends without children get the SAME EXACT AMOUNT of money for loans. What other time in our life will we be friends with people with the same amount in their bank account as us? (This may be somewhat of a stretch since we are the least responsible with our money. But at least, we all STARTED with the same amount this term.) I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—these chicas know exactly what I’m going through because, on paper, our lives are the same! It takes out the nasty "Keeping up with the Joneses" comparisons that seems to come second nature to me.

I think what I’m trying to say with these random points is that I’m starting to understand why those in third world countries are the happiest people you’ll ever meet. They don’t have a lot of stuff and so they value what’s important. We had an enrichment activity at the church (guys, I now attend enrichment. WTF) where we had a “bonfire on the beach” (firewood was wet, so we gathered around flashlights at the church) and sang our favorite hymns. In case you ever want to make the whole Relief Society cry, go ahead and plan this same activity. One of the Grenadian sisters told us that her favorite hymn was “Because I Have Been Given Much”. She explained that it spoke to her because she has been given so much through the gospel of Jesus Christ and she felt so privileged with this knowledge. This sister probably had the least amount of belongings in comparison to any of us in the circle. And her favorite hymn was “Because I Have Been Given Much”. If that doesn’t define Thanksgiving, I don’t know what does. I hope I’m as cool as she is when I grow up. And let’s just pretend that I didn’t throw a tantrum the other day because all I wanted was some sour patch kids.

Thanksgiving dinner at La Luna

Post skinny-dipping :)

This Christmas is the first time in our marriage that neither of us have any responsibilities (at the same time) for a whole month. So much free time with this stud. 

St. George's baptismal font. The best kind.

Hippies and Tings

 Somehow, I earned myself a nickname with the locals in our neighborhood. I’m not 100% on what they actually yelled (they speak English, but sometimes that Grenadian accent is a whole other language, son) but I’m pretty sure it was either “hippie” or “yippie”—variation of yuppie? I’m praying it’s hippie, and also hoping it’s because of my clothes (my sister calls my style "eclectic") and not because I never brush my hair. There’s this street corner right by our house with a huge tree, and there are ALWAYS at least 3 local men sitting under the tree. I don’t really understand what they do all day, but who am I to judge when I watch an average of 3 hours of Netflix per day? Today, I was driving my scooter (more about this later) back from my friend Kayla’s house and praising God that the rabid dog that protects the street didn’t chase me again. When all of a sudden, the “tree men”, (this has a double meaning because they were under the tree and also, Grenadians don’t pronounce their h’s when in conjunction with a t, so three sounds like tree, through sounds like true…the pun isn’t as good when you have to explain it) get REALLY excited to see me and start yelling “HIPPIE! HIPPIE! GOOD EVENING!” and throwing their heads back laughing and waving. I know I’m not supposed to support catcalling and it’s sexist but I just couldn’t help but smile. Their enthusiasm was contagious. And why can’t Billy greet me that way every day? 

Here’s proof of the missing H’s.

Yes, you read me correctly earlier, we bought a scooter! It’s not nearly as cool as the red rocket we drove this summer or my personal favorite—the black mamba who owned the summer of 2010. But, it is the white panther of Grenada. AKA: A used, rattly, overpriced scooter. Scootering is no joke around these parts—it’s more like mastering the slaloms in order to avoid the potholes. But it really has been such a lifesaver. We have been hitching rides and taking buses and burdening all our friends who have cars. It’s so nice to be an adult and be able to go where you want when you want to go. Yes mom, I wear a helmet. And it has blue flames—nothing but the most stylish accessories for this trophy wife.

In other news…PINTEREST! I know I’m the last female on earth to start a Pinterest account. I have this aversion to popular things. I boycott them forever and then I realize how awesome they are so I jump on board about 3 years too late. Kind of like when Harry Potter came out in 2^nd grade, but it was too trendy and those kids were nerds, so I didn’t read it until 4^th grade and obviously now I’m obsessed for life.  My fantasy football team is Team Gryffindor. And I did the same exact thing with Twilight. But, back to Pinterest. I have become a cook out here because a girl and her aspiring doctor have gotta eat. After every meal, Billy says, “Who are you and what have you done to my wife?” Even his insults make me weak in the knees.

I’ve made scrumptious meals and not-so-scrumptious meals all thanks to the “recipes with little ingredients” search. As it turns out, nothing is healthy when there aren’t many ingredients. And the budget dinner pages are crap because they act like feta cheese and chicken are so cheap, but they’re obviously shopping at Walmart. Show offs. On a more positive note, I never need to buy salt here! All I have to do is shake my head/pits over the meal I’m cooking because cooking is an Olympic sport around here and makes you sweat in places you didn’t know had sweat glands. There’s not any AC in my kitchen or living room—only in the bedrooms. Combine that with a gas oven, and you’ve got a free sauna for a house. Living in swimsuits ‘round the clock over here, peeps.

And here I go again, ranting about my hectic life when Billy is busier than a mosquito at a nudist colony. It’s just that I like things to always be about me and frankly, Billy’s days are not as lively as mine. I should really stop asking him “How was your day?” if I’m not willing to listen to his responses of all the science and junk he’s learning. It’s not that I’m not interested, but as soon as he starts talking about his classes, my brain shuts itself off. I’m all about the soft sciences and Star Wars, but real science and I don’t mesh well. But I do try my hardest to tone down my love of the island, because he can’t really want to hear about how awesome the snorkeling at Magazine beach was the other day, right?

Regardless of my poor wifely duties, I’ve been so proud of how hard he has been working. He wakes up at 6:30 every morning and I drive him down to the school. I come back to bed for a few hours while he is slaving away. Sometimes I meet him for lunch around noon and then he has classes from 1-5 every day. After that, he comes home to devour a home-cooked meal from his fabulous wife and starts studying again from 6:30 PM until midnight. Then he sleeps and starts the whole thing all over again. I really don’t know how he does it. He did well on his first exams, and now he has a much better idea of what he needs to focus on for midterms (which are in 3 weeks, yikes! When did it get to be the middle of September?). Those who knew us while we were dating would be shocked to see the people we have become. I swear we went boating every single day, because he didn’t have a job and I called in sick to work like twice a week. We sure love to have fun, but fun needs to be funded. I guess.

Here is my life according to my phone and GoPro...as if this post wasn’t random enough.

Facing my fear of sea urchins. It pays to make friends with the locals.

Just chillin' at BBC beach with some nuns. We had to ask them to put their tops back on for the picture.Photo stolen from Erin Anderson :)

Some of us trophy wives went river-tubing on the Balthazar river. Such gorgeous scenery and even better company.

Our guides were great. Definitely a "must-do" in Grenada.

Billy shows off his shark tooth necklace to anyone nice enough to pretend to care. Even interrupting a quality FaceTime sesh with my girlfriend.

Studying himself ragged means he falls asleep while cuddling every night.
I kinda love it though. It's like when a busy toddler will only cuddle when they're sick and moms eat it up.

Budgeting is a lot simpler when all of your money is spent at IGA.

Taking his exams last Monday meant that we had a full day off to spend with each other and some bad ass friends. We even got to eat lunch together. The good life y'all.

We bribe them to be our friends by sharing our private beach. :)

We FaceTime each other from different bedrooms. Not THAT pathetic, right?

Real Housewives of Grenada

I feel like I need to make a formal apology. I always knew that being a housewife was hard work and I’ve always respected the hell out of those mothers that are juggling kids and housework and social lives and personal hygiene. But maybe I just couldn’t relate? Or a small part of me was elevating myself above them because they should just be grateful they can have children and I work full time so I’m actually paying bills? Whatever my subconscious thinks, I’m a real brat when it gets down to it. That’s the 3-year old part of me that has never fully grown up and I apologize for that as well.

When people asked me what I would do with my time while we were in Grenada, I always thought “Good question. What am I gonna do?” I’ve been either working, in school, or both since I was 18. Well, technically since I was 5, but we all know a monkey could pass K-12, especially in Utah.  I can’t legally work on the island because they reserve jobs for the locals unless you have some very specific skill set that others don’t. So a Psychology degree doesn’t really count here. Or anywhere for that matter.

This whole tangent is to shed light on the fact that I have been so busy and I had no idea that not having a job could be this much work! Okay, a lot of it is not technically work. But I have this whole new social life with the other med school wives, it’s kind of amazing. I have yoga class Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday nights. Pool days are on Mondays and Thursdays. Bachelor in Paradise Monday nights. I just barely caught myself saying to Billy “I can’t meet up with the scooter guy tomorrow, 'cause I have Bachelor.” I can’t believe what I’m turning into.

Bingo night is Wednesday, and the Farmer’s market is that morning. And then I have to factor in when I’m going grocery shopping (which can take up a whole afternoon if I’m not careful, plus I have to plan it around the fact that the store gets in new shipments on Thursdays, so good luck finding any milk on a Wednesday). Laundry gets tricky because it can’t be on a rainy day because I have to line dry it or else it smells like BO. I also factor in how much time I need to make dinner, do my daily sweeping of the house (living by the beach is dirty!), explore every inch of Grenada, all while trying to schedule my life around Billy’s free time. Oh and I can’t forget the ceaseless F-bombing the ants as I spray them away from my kitchen. Just kidding, I only say the F word when I’m golfing. 

I also try to devour as many mangoes as I can in one day. Am I the last person on this earth to discover mangoes? I’m obsessed! Anyway, I had no idea how productive/exhausted I could feel just keeping a household for two running! So, I sincerely apologize to everyone that “stays at home”, because I have been subconsciously judging you when I had no idea what it was like. It was ill founded and you are now my heroes. And now I’ll shutup, because I just realized that I wrote a whole blog post about my weekly schedule and that can’t possibly be interesting to anyone else, even my mother. So here are some pictures!

 

At the SGU White Coat Ceremony. Can I keep him?

Obligatory "we dressed up" selfie

 

You can't really see, but our friends gave a local boy a ride up the hill and there was no room in the car, so he hopped on the back hood. Grenada, man.

Grand Anse Farmer's Market. Mangoes and avocadoes and eggplant, oh my! 

Luckily, I made friends with a starfish whisperer and I always happen to be with her when she finds them. My second so far!

And I really wanted to make friends with this kid. He was just floatin' in a life jacket 5 sizes too big, pondering the mysteries of the world.

I was one number away from winning a dinghy. Earlier, I was one number away from winning 4 pigs, but I wasn't too upset about that one.