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It's a good thing you didn't try to swim all the way out. That area has notorious rip tides and currents - a man died swimming (unintentionally) out that way last year. 🙁
Yeah, thanks Julie. I figured it out earlier: for every 100 swimming strokes in, it takes about 250 swimming strokes out. So, the current must be about 1.5 miles per hour or so.
please elaborate a bit more.i do say things short and to the point most times.
Bahn ya is about the identity, the ancestral roots, the status, the acceptance, the culture, the crime, the genetic relationship to the local police force and the local government officials and the local powers, the unspoken privilege to determine the current and the future affairs of STX, the preference status for a job, and the untold (in this discussion forum) pain and suffering of the people who lived on this island for the last 500 years, with most of these years living in slavery.
I have enjoyed your observations of St Croix. The Virgin Islands means different things to different people. Your quote ..."the people who lived on this island for the last 500 years, with most of these living in slavery", .. Is somewhat inaccurate... If you are referring to the slaves who were brought here by the Danes and maybe the French, they were brought here at most 300 years ago and probably less, and have not lived as slaves for over 150 years.. Those people are part of the mix that we have today.
I add an interesting thread that I remember from this forum a decade ago..
Mom, I know you are reading this. Don't worry, I am not starving here. Speee1dy, I know that by watching this pic below, you are salivating like an STX pitbull ready to sink your jaws to the throat of a suspicions Crucian. I am sorry that I didn't have a chance to invite you for dinner.
Your quote ..."the people who lived on this island for the last 500 years, with most of these living in slavery", .. Is somewhat inaccurate... If you are referring to the slaves who were brought here by the Danes and maybe the French, they were brought here at most 300 years ago and probably less, and have not lived as slaves for over 150 years.. Those people are part of the mix that we have today.
I add an interesting thread that I remember from this forum a decade ago..
Thank you very much for the reference. I stand corrected.
Mom, I know you are reading this. Don't worry, I am not starving here. Speee1dy, I know that by watching this pic below, you are salivating like an STX pitbull ready to sink your jaws to the throat of a suspicions Crucian. I am sorry that I didn't have a chance to invite you for dinner.
Sorry this post totally creeped me out.
No I do like baked chicken wings with celery and ranch sauce but the reference to speee1dy comparing her to a salivating pitbull ready to sink her jaws into the throat of a suspicious crucian along with the regret that you did not have the chance to invite her to dinner was creepy.
but the reference to speee1dy comparing her to a salivating pitbull ready to sink her jaws into the throat of a suspicious crucian along with the regret that you did not have the chance to invite her to dinner was creepy.
speee1dy commented before on my "food pics", so I think she understands what I mean. The pitbull reference is something that every STXer would understand. There are very few pets here. The majority of dogs here are kept and trained with a single purpose: protecting the property and the life of the property owners from the intruders. The pedestrians here walk with the sticks, because there are so many abandoned aggressive dogs that they present a clear and present danger. I personally had a close call with being hurt by a pit bull, while walking the streets of Frederiksted. I had described that experience earlier.
Maybe I misunderstood. However there are many "pets" here. In your brief experience on island maybe you have only encountered animals who are kept and trained with the purpose of protecting the property. I do not think that every STXer understands the pitbull reference as many residence of St. Croix have pitbull dogs as pets that they love and are members of their families. They are, however, great watch dogs and protective of their human families. There are abandoned animals here that become aggressive. Probably because they are hungry. I walk with a stick as well to help me up and down the hills and I carry a little food for the starving abandoned animals.
Is it considered allowable here to out someone and post another poster's real name here? If someone hostile to me posted my real name it would also freak me out and I would never come back. This is exactly what someone did here, no? Maybe I missed something and he gave it out earlier? Otherwise I can see why he would bolt from this forum.
LF I'm going more with what ChrisMI said - wanderer didn't seem to care much about people's opinions about his writing, he kept doing it anyway, and there were many who said they enjoyed it. I think it's more likely because someone posted his real name (if that's his name) in a post above on this page.
Will there be an Epilogue?
Oh, the humanity...
He might compare STX's roads with the surface of the moon... and post comparative photographs... then maybe come to the idea that those things are not potholes and are, after all, entrances to underground parking lots...
Or blame the soon to come visit of the least tern in Hovensa grounds for the foul emissions at CHS...
I'm outta here.. best to all..
That sentence about "...this guy as a feral human. He no longer wants to do tricks on command, or to be domesticated, sheltered, fed, played with, or petted..." and the other one about a pitbull directed to a board member were uncalled for... This whole thing was done to bloat his ego...
Mr. Snark Sarcasm-Irony
when walking the line, one occasionally steps to either side.
Obviously the attempt at an edgy metaphor was not well received here; you guys are quite the sensitive lot....
you asked for more creative writing then balk when it's not to your liking, fickle bunch as well!
Damed if you do and damned if you don't!
Epilogue.
It would make a good twist in my chronicles if on my last day on STX I got knifed in one of the housing projects in Frederiksted while buying crack. But it didn't happen. I made it home, safe and sound.
When you return to the United States from a foreign country, and pass a checkpoint in the airport, the U.S. Customs and Immigration officials typically say, "Welcome home!" STX is not a foreign country, so the U.S. Customs and Immigration officials ask instead, "Do you know any people on the island?" I didn't know what to say to that. What does she really want to know? I doubt she understood her question either. So, I simply said, "yes", and that was it. Remember how it was fashionable for the airlines to ask you whether you packed your own bag? They don't do it anymore. It was their institutional way of making a small talk according to the protocol. These days, they ask you, "What is your final destination?" I really wish I knew the answer to that question.
After the attack on the senses on STX, my home in North Carolina feels like a coffin. It's cold, dry, and soundproof. STX made me mellow. My mind became liquid, and it filled all the cavities and the alleys of the brain. I had a sense of totality, wholesomeness. The mind was unfocused, and willing to flow from one part of the brain to another, smoothly and easily. I wondered how long this state would persist after I return home. Here in NC, the reversal process has already begun. The mind is sharpening, the edges are starting to take shape, the mundane matters come into the focus, and the mellow substance inside me has started to harden.
You humans are strangely sensitive to the shape and form. It's enough to simply swap the order of the words in a sentence to either offend you greatly, or to please you immensely. Your language is so primitive that everything is open to interpretation. It makes it very difficult to communicate the substance, because you focus so much on the style and ornamentation. I've just invented a phrase: "Once a Crucian, always a Crucian". There is a million different ways how one can take this phrase. To me, it simply means that I lived like a Crucian, and I became one, in part.
