How is this my fifth blog post and only my second day in Saba?

From yesterday:  S and I find the road.  The road!  We are high fiving like we won the lottery, which is sort of true.  Because who wants to be stranded on a cliff overnight with black racer snakes?  These are things running through my head as I finally see a car.  We head down the road toward The Queens Hotel.  We decide we shall celebrate with something cold!

As we walk in, this beautiful girl points us to the bar.  We need to be at Steak Night at 6, for reservations with J, my new best friend on this island.  The two of us going over and over our last three hours! The bartender tries to call us a cab, but they are all at the airport, so S. and I must hitchhike to Windwardside.  We start walking, and put out our thumb.

This girl drives up–the girl from the hotel.  A man is driving.  Both of these humans are amazingly stunning.  They pick us up, and it turns out that he is the Island Secretary.  She is his daughter.  And because truth is stranger than fiction, just like that, we have our personal escort who tells the story of how he came to Saba with his beautiful family.  He takes us on a tour of the whole island, in which we do finally get to see “beaches for women” on Well’s Bay.  Simply. Gorgeous.  (Photo cred to my friend S, as I did not have my phone, remember?)

How is it that I am eating the best steak ever grilled?  I am on Diet Coke and Steak, in a bar with license plates from all over the world.  I eat. Every bite.  I sleep.  Deliciously.

Finally…it is day 3 on Saba.

I wake with this thought:  How could today top yesterday?

I sit here overlooking the Caribbean Sean and wonder how I ever missed this place?  How did I not know this place existed?  Then, I realize how many other places I am missing.  Today is Monday, and yesterday was the most interesting and wonderful day.  I am eating everything, but am filled with delight.

When I get back, there will be time for diets and workouts, but today is homemade yoghurt, and a massage and snorkeling and the pool, and an anonymous meeting. Or maybe the massage will have to wait (it did). I don’t think I can judge what will happen.

This homemade yoghurt with granola and honey is divine.  I am enjoying every bite.  The juice is some type of orange-pineapple. The little slices of fruit and the table all my own.  So peaceful.  But.  More coffee, and More coffee.  I am reading Wild today. I walk downtown and hear the new cover of Country Roads. And I realize I have not played music.  Not one time.  Me. A lover of all genres, and my phone has been silent.  But. The incessant chickens are music enough, I guess.  And I am getting used to the quiet.

Every day I should love all the way.  Blow through my entire reserve of love.

This is my thought and prayer for the day.  Saba is finding the way back to who I used to be.  I want to go shop, but I cannot imagine having to walk up and then go down The Road again.

I meet more Dutch people who want to know the names:  Plooy.  Vermeuelen.  I spell them out on my journal page for my new cottage neighbors who again ask me about my Dutch heritage (I’m not!) But. I give in.  Then this.

The Dutch! The Dutch!  I cannot miss my old life in Ripon, but I am flooded of memories of when I loved it there.  When I was raising babies.  And I have selective recall, but I am feeling love.  LOVE of a place that I ran from three years ago.

Cheryl writes:  I was ravenous for love.

I listen finally to U2 Joshua Tree, and am back in 1981 with my first husband. Where the streets have no name.  With or without you. I can’t live.

Today, I snorkel and swim with a sea turtle and a barracuda, who eyes me suspiciously.  I meet divers who come from all over the world to dive here.  I am tired, but filled.

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