Same old Nut

Beach Rescue

Clean Machete, No Waiting.

My education in coconut consumption has begun.  How far we've come from sugary Angel branded flakes marketed by Baker in the1960's.  In addition to the now readily available dried or fresh meat, I've had the delicious experience of identifying a few other coconut options here in the Caribbean.                                                                                          When coconut is still green, a Young Coconut, the white meat is delightfully soft.  You can eat it with a spoon, literally.  In an even younger nuts, Jelly Coconut, a sweet, smooshy jelly forms on the inside cavity.  The water inside a coconut is always refreshing, although the machetes that do the whacking aren't always clean.

If a coconut falls in the grove and no one is there to eat it, is it still delicious?

Future Fuel

Orchestra sets Sail

Cruise ship "Orchestra" departing Castries at sunset

 St. Lucia is home to many of the embassies that serve the West Indies.  I counted 25 consulates here in Castries, the capital.  Because of Venezuela's interest in exporting the El Sistema method of music education, the Venezuelan embassy is often involved in the music school's events.  One of my violin students is a South American ambassador's wife.

Mingling in the Green Room

On Tuesday night, three embassies came together to create an event to celebrate International Women's Day at the National Cultural Center in Castries. The Chamber Orchestra was invited to perform. When I scoured the music library for repertoire composed by women, I found a single work by Doris Gazda, an american orchestra teacher and the composer of Stringtown Stroll.  We were grateful to have an appropriate piece, but shocked by the shortage of female composers!

My first performance with these high school and college students was well received! The Chamber Orchestra was the sole music ensemble in a program composed mostly of singers, dancers and actors.   The students impressed me not only with the high level of performance, but also with maturity beyond their years and the care and interest they shared with each other.

Tough Sell

On our way to the Sulphur Springs Saturday, we pass through the small, coastal town of Canaries.  Located above the village featuring fantastic views sits Plas Kassav.  This family run establishment was featured on Paula Deen's TV show last year and is now a celebrated, local tourist destination. 

Cassava is a long, narrow root vegetable.  To make these flavored cakes, the family starts peeling at dawn and then grates and presses the root and mixes the result with farina.  I had a ginger flavored bread that was tough and doughy, but sweet and very, very gingery.  You can taste the chips of root, like grated coconut.  By the time I was done chewing, I was as full as if I had just eaten a hamburger.

Cassava is also used to make a sweet syrup for browning meats and an alcoholic punch that tastes and feels like egg nog.  Yum!

It's a Gas

Saturday is girls day out.  We pack in the SUV and drive south to the picturesque town of Soufriere. Nestled in a valley at the base of the Pitons, the area has perfect views of sunsets, mountains and beach.  In the picture on the left, you can see where we are headed:  the area past the settlement and over the first mountain range. 

 As we cross the ridge,  the air gets eggy with sulphur and then we know we are nearing the hot springs that bubble up through a hole in a volcanic crater.  Soufriere is French for sulphur, and the volcanic gases include sulphur dioxide, hydrogen sulphide and carbon monoxide.

The locals believe that sulphur has curative powers and the relaxation one feels after bathing is proof that that the experience is beneficial to health. Another interpretation might be that the toxicity of the fumes is causing fatigue and malaise.

Regardless, the springs were a lovely way to relax together in nature.

Frenemies

When I was planning my trip to St. Lucia, I ping-ponged between viewing idyllic vacation videos and horrific crime clips on YouTube.  The local police here seem to maintain a unique position with the locals: Frenemies.  In this picture of graffiti in downtown Castries, you can see the unique position the local criminals hold.  The illegal post praises the local police force while blatantly opposing civil order.

In one of the crime clips, I watched Soufriere gang members threaten the police in an ISIS style video in which their identities are concealed under hoods.  I guess, since everyone here is family, the police are often friends and also enemies.

In the second picture we see a St. Lucia School of Music faculty pianist rehearsing Suite for Flute and Jazz Piano with a local policeman and flautist.  Can't we all just get along?

Wheels on the Bus

 To drive or not to drive.  For thirty years I’ve been behind the steering wheel suffering long commutes and road trips. After much deliberation, I decided to let go in St. Lucia and let myself be driven.

So far so good!  The “buses” are really just minivans that seat a dozen large passengers three across.  Reggae music is the soundtrack for a sweaty ride through the city and up the hill. Since most of my travels are limited to a small northwest section of the island, the bus works fine for me.  I get to meet people and watch the scenery through a gritty window before attempting to navigate on my own; driving on the left and maneuvering over a circuitous and steep network of coastal roads.

Unlike most public transport, these bus drivers don’t seem bound by any specific timetable.  The 2pm bus may leave at 1:45 or 2:15 depending on the whim of the driver or persistence of the passengers.  Bus stops and routes are improvised, and vehicle maintenance seems arbitrary.  

How can you go someplace new, if you know where you’re going?

Dog Days

The St. Lucia School of Music is is located in a quiet residential neighborhood called Tapion.  This area features a hospital, a beach, an old lighthouse and dozens of dogs. Most Lucians keep dogs as a security system, not as pets.   When I walk around the neighborhood, a cascade of barking follows me all the way down the hill to the water.  The animals are kept on short chains in front yards and their ribs poke out as they frantically attack front gates and fence.  On one of these walks I met my new neighbors, a couple from Alberta, walking on leash their three, rather large, friendly dogs.

As we pass thru the front door of their recently purchased rambler, the three dogs turn into nine.  Six puppies!  Not only has this enterprising Canadian couple found their dream home on a cliff over the sea, but they adopted a pregnant local dog and found themselves drawn to becoming passionate agents for the disenfranchised island canines.  SLAPS, the unfortunate acronym for The St. Lucia Animal Protection Society, appears to be a growing group of individuals who lobby on behalf of neutering and adoption for stray.  Less than 20-years old, SLAPS works for animal welfare without the support of government or corporations.

A Sound Post

       On my third day in St. Lucia, the sound post inside my cello went down.  As my body was acclimatizing to the heat and humidity,  so was my instrument. The sound post is a vertical dowel with angled ends that connects the back of the cello to the front.  It's set in place with a sound post setter, an angled metal bar that stabs into the dowel.  With infinite patience and a flashlight, one can insert the dowel into the cello and set it upright. An experienced luthier can dramatically change the sound of the instrument by moving the post location in one direction or another.  I've reset my sound post four times in the last two weeks.  It's completely annoying.                                                                                          So, in this blogpost I celebrate an enterprising 17-year old cellist named Runley.  Maintaining a wooden instrument near the equator requires vigilance and determination, and, as of yet, there are no luthiers on St. Lucia.  Perhaps that will change soon, but until then, I've adopted Runley as my luthier apprentice.   

       Runley came to the St. Lucia School of Music five years ago when there were funds to support a music immersion program in the Marchand ghetto.  This inspiring program targeted youth at risk and saved the lives of a dozen or so young musicians.  Without music Runley would most certainly have gotten involved in gang activity, and, perhaps, wouldn't be here today.

        Here you see Runley proudly displaying a cello in which he has just set a sound post.  Not only did he set the post, but he also measured and cut it to fit with a serrated kitchen knife.   Runley is also training as a plumber and performs both Bach and Mingus effortlessly.

Trash Talk

Of course, not all here is a paradise.  After a storm, the gorgeous beaches morph into trash piles.  Those pesky water bottles of every shape size and color predominate.  Coconuts and almond tree leaves mix in with every kind of plastic you can imagine.  If you saw the documentary, Tapped, you know that this problem isn't going away and without intervention will only get worse.

The St. Lucians are well aware that 60% of the island revenue is from tourism, and there is immense incentive to keep the island clean and welcoming.  The government sends squadrons of workers out weekdays to rake and remove pile after pile of washed up waste.  Like California, the waterfront is available to everyone, and beachfront resorts are vigilant about maintaining their beach access.

Yet on a Sunday afternoon, you'll see entire families walk away and leave their picnics in place behind them.  Styrofoam plates, chicken bones and water bottles still set on the picnic table or scraped into a pile under tree.

Sunrise, Sunset

I’ve been asked what a "typical" workday is like. Typical hasn’t happened yet, but I’m starting to get a sense of what may become routine, after my jaw stops dropping at the scenery, that is.

When the sun rises, the birds and I begin to rustle and connect with the new day.  My back porch addresses a ravine planted with fruit trees, so I watch bleary eyed as the sun breaks thru the branches, and the finches chatter and stab at pommecythere fruit.

A cup of tea, blogging and fresh mango take me thru the first hour  of communing with nature.  Then, a short walk to the beach for a dip and stroll along the tideline.  I’m usually in solitude at the shore, but as I depart, the Rastas are making their whimsical way, and we fist bump and exchange greetings.

After a cool shower and breakfast I practice cello each morning for a couple of hours before dressing, food prep and head to school.  Sometimes I travel with my neighbor, the Russian pianist, or I make my way alone by bus to the city of Castries.  In order to change buses, I cross the sprawling outdoor market bartering for supplies along the way. 

After another brief bus ride, I’m at work.  All is peaceful.  This building serves most students after their school day, so  there  is often time to set up my room and administrate.  When the students do arrive the school is humming.  Children are everywhere.  Practicing, rehearsing, chatting at the picnic table. Somewhere along the way the sun drops into the water outside my window and the peepers pipe up.  Cruise ship horns let us know they are sailing to Martinique or Barbados and then the harbor is still.

Around 7pm, the other teachers and I pack up, lock the doors, and ride back home by car. Students are still jamming in the pavilion, but

I’m usually exhausted and deeply in need of another shower.  Could be worse!

A Moving Melody

Party Preparations

Yesterday, we celebrated the success of one of the high school students, appropriately named Melody, in the Chamber Orchestra.  She leaves the island and her Chamber Family this weekend to pursue future musical training in Venezuela and then onto Community College in Los Angeles.  Will she return?  Most locals with advanced degree holders don't return to live.  That's why I'm here!

Arch of Bows

Melody is a shining example of the phenomenal potential of the Caribbean youth.

A well-mannered, soft spoken, exceptionally hard working 17-year old, she has eased my transition into the Strings Department at the St. Lucia School of Music and improved the lives of those around her.  Fortunately for me, she has a younger brother who is equally gifted as a cellist and will become the new Strings Dept. Assistant.  

Kwéyòl

A new country poses new challenges, such as different currency, customs, driving patterns, etc.  I was grateful that, at the least, I was moving to a country where English is the national language. Phew!  Communicating should be easy.  I couldn't have been more wrong. 

The locals speak a dialect called Kwéyòl.  Think Creole without the R.  Just kwazy!

Like the Creoles in New Orleans, many St. Lucians may be descended from the French colonizers, who battled back and forth with the British to lay claim to beautiful St. Lucia.  The language is not English, and it's not French. Words are unlikely mutations of French. For example: peas are pwas, boys are gasons, and the number 4 is kat.

To further confuse communication, two new hires at the music school are graduates of the El Systema program in Venezuela.  The trumpet and percussion teachers emerged successfully from this world renowned social immersion program in music, that, unfortunately for me, did not include English lessons.

So, as we prepare for our Friday night symphony rehearsal, a wedding gig, or faculty meeting, among the personnel are Google Translate on the ipad and the  Kwéyòl Dictionary.

Women on Top

Priscilla at the Castries Market

Something I find rather fascinating about this island, that I've never experienced before, is the unique power balance between men and women. Saint Lucia is third among the 106 countries studied where a majority of  businesses are women owned and managed (link to Washington Post article at the bottom). 

Mahlin Hanging Out

Women here run the show!  I notice this as I walk down the beach, and a local affectionately refers to me as, "Boss Woman".  Or, an enterprising local offers to be my "housewife".  Men of all ages roost at the waters edge smoking and playing dominoes while women hustle in the markets selling vegetables and crafts while managing babies and toddlers. You just don't see that many local women hanging out during the week. 

In the Spice Islands people are spicy.  Flagrant use of sexual innuendo is rampant, even in the workplace.  I know his intentions are good, but why is a 20-something flirting with me?  Well, he's not necessarily. Most often a flirt or inappropriate comment is by way of a compliment or light banter.  The local women may use the opportunity to put the guy down with a humorous jab.  Me? I redirect the conversation. Anywhere else is fine! 
Happy Women's Day.

 https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2015/01/13/the-three-countries-where-your-boss-is-more-likely-to-be-a-woman/

Just Beachy

Choc Beach facing East 

Anyone who knows me knows that I love to swim.  Any kind of water is just fine, as long as I can get wet and can move around. One summer I traveled West to East across Canada jumping in any swimming hole I could find.  So, it's perfect that I landed in St. Lucia, a 3-minute walk from Choc Beach.  Pronounced "shock", this bay is perfectly calm.  Clear, azure water and smooth, squishy sand.  A wonderful place to finish out my last two-weeks of recovery from surgery, treading water safely each morning and walking the length of the tideline feeling the sand stretch and work my feet and calves in new and delicious ways.

Choc Beach facing West

Of course, I'm not the only one to love this bay. Sandals Resort has set up camp on one end. The rest of the beach is lovingly maintained by a lackadaisical group of Rastafari government employees.  We greet as I arrive each morning. The ganja-scented workers sweep huge manchineel leaves and picnic leftovers into piles in between smoke breaks. Otherwise, I'm the only one enjoying this piece of paradise!

In the image below you can see the sun hit the Caribbean sea behind Rat Island off Choc Beach.  No, really, it's called Rat Island on Google maps.  

Hot Tomatoes

It's tomato season!  All over the port city of Castries you'll see little, metal wagons packed with clear plastic bags of red, red, ripe tomatoes.  Not much grows well in the volcanic soil, but tomatoes seem to turn out o.k .and are small, sweet and delicious.


The downtown market, is packed mostly with local crafts and spices.  Woven baskets, differently sized rolls of cinnamon bark and clusters of nutmeg seeds wrapped with mace.  The West Indies is also known as the Spice Islands for multiple reasons.  Walking down the side streets one gets a sense of all the different meanings of the word "spice." 

Another shopping experience is the Mega-J. Like Sam's club this store sells oversize packages of imported items.  And, most items here are imported.  In this picture, I am proudly displaying my make-shift grocery bag which is really a sarong tied in several places and filled with cheese, papaya and a bottle of local rum.

Pirates of the Caribbean

Friday night all the students gather for symphony practice.  You might think a teenager would rather be texting or at the mall, but these young St. Lucians are right where they want to be.  Having spent the week practicing their individual parts and preparing in instrumental lessons, they are eager to put it all together.

What is the repertoire tonight?  Tchaikovsky dances, Porgy and Bess, and.... Pirates of the Caribbean. Yes, I brought the movie music.  My last orchestra hadn't had a chance to learn it, and the title seems providential.  Turns out these students like the movie as much as any others.                     

      

The sun sets on the beach down across the hill, and the sounds of the Nutcracker fill the air.  After rehearsal many of the students pack up, but there are a dozen or so who move into a spontaneous jam including steel pan, electric cello and trombone!  Kids are having fun, being innovative, and really connecting with each  other.  Yes.  

It's a Jungle out There

I found out today that I'm not the only one entranced by the hummingbirds each morning.  I sit with a mug of mango scented green tea on the balcony below a huge Moringa  tree and watch as perhaps a dozen Antillean Crested Hummingbirds zip from flower to flower. My landlord's house cat, Snowball, likes hummers, too!  As though trying to blend in with the white flowers, she squats like a sphinx at the fork in the tree,  ready, watching the show. Not once does she try to swipe at the little critters that seem to hover and taunt just within reach.  

Perhaps she knows, that like Tweety bird, they will outmaneuver her 

again and again. The hummers outmaneuver me, too.  The above jpg is the first shot I've got where you can actually see the teeny bird at about 1 o'clock.  Snowball  sits lower at in the tree, hiding behind some palm fronds and clearly doesn't like having her  picture taken.  

The Good, the Big, and the Ugly

    What do these three fruits have in common?  Of course they are Caribbean fruit. Being a locavore has never been so good.  All three types grow within 100 paces of my front door. 

Tiny mandarins are in season now. Tart, sweet, and packed with more fiber than you might imagine, fresh mandarins are a distant cousin from canned version I loved as a kid. These cute, little guys were a welcome gift from my land lord.  

     

The Noni fruit tastes as bad as it is ugly.  Islanders have used it as a cure-all for centuries.  Maybe just surviving the taste, gives one a renewed interest in life?  I'm going to try to make a juice by soaking it in water for a few days and see what happens.  If you don't see any more posts, you can imagine that it didn't end well. 

And, of course the gorgeous papaya comes in all sizes.  I posed my hand behind this hefty specimen so that you could get an idea of the weight.  Think concrete football. The pentagonal center reminds me of the 5-cornered , pink starfish resting on the ocean bottom at Choc Beach.   Locals eat the peppery seeds as a digestive, or dry and crush them for seasoning.

Harmonious Landscape

 

 St. Lucia School of Music rests high on a hill overlooking the harbor of Castries.  Cruise ships and barges come and go all day below.  I'm surprised when I look up from my desk and see out the window the landscape transformed by a massive vessel with concrete mixers and shipping containers strapped atop it.          Sailboats and water taxis zip and flit here and there.  The water is clear and the sky has been blue and the air a steady 80-something degrees since I arrived.
   If you were to head down the hill to visit the beachfront below you might still hear a tenor saxophonist practicing scales,  the sweet sound blending with the keening of the wind.  Brown boobies soar overhead, unrestrained by the blustery breeze pummeling the bluff.
     It's easy to let the shoulders go and breathe deeply the Butterfly Jasmine and tennis shoe size Yellow Bells that adorn the entrance to the school.  Yes, it's time to get to work.

Sound of Freedom

     Monday I met with the Chamber Orchestra students.  About a dozen teenagers arrived, helped set up chairs, copy music and chatted amiably while waiting for class.  These young people seem mature beyond their years and love music for all the right reasons: communication, building community, expressing emotions, creating confidence and applying focus.  

    The students were well-mannered, positive, collegial, and very eager to learn.  Their music has a passion that only comes with persistence and belief combined with vulnerability and power.  I wonder what it was like to be born of the first generation of independent St. Lucians? 

     A young country, only 37 years free from colonization, the inhabitants are dedicated to peace. Listen as the  chamber orchestra performs the St. Lucia National Anthem from memory: