The Tale of Señor Gonzalo and the Eel Island

Picture a perfectly fine Sunday afternoon. As always, it takes a bit too long to make the journey to the beach but I arrive at the perfect nesting spot, snug out of the way from high trafficking areas attracting encounters. As I close my eyes, my phone rings. Ms. Nomad is on her way to school to pack up the classroom for a looming tropical storm- cue music…

Gonzalo

With a few heavy sighs and a lethargic trudge, I say goodbye to the sand and make my way to Omololu. Ms. Nomad and Mrs. Ting have already made quite a dent in my classroom. We bag up the remainder and head home to prepare for what is to come.

Monday morning, I wake to sunshine, turtledoves chirping and a fresh breeze blowing in the window. I hop in the shower and prepare for another week with Grades 1 and 2. Just after I twist my hair up into a tight turban, I plop onto my bed and discover an email reading: NO SCHOOL TODAY- cue music…

Gonzalo is on his way

In the midst of 10 minutes, my current is gone. Minutes to 7 in the morning and already no power. I spend the next hour and a half moving from back balcony to front, examining cloud formations and wave magnitude. I watch as piles of dark clouds move in on a small patch of blue sky. I contemplate writing, reading, doing schoolwork and what-have-you. Instead, I sit, watch, wait and think of what this will be like and if I can make it through with my furry companion, Sir Oliver Northwest. Can we hold up through- cue music…

Gonzalo

DISCLAIMER: My music is similar to a standard deep-bellied dun dun dunnn followed by a heavy, sexy, Spanish accent, perhaps that of Antonio Banderez, announcing Gonzalo.

And suddenly, my fans begin to turn and the current roars to life. Naturally, I scramble to my electronics for check-ins, charges, storm updates, and a few iTunes purchases for when shit hits the fan. As always, a few good people of Anguilla reach out, offering up shelter for the hours ahead. Timidly, I decline, unable to make peace with the notion of leaving Sir Oliver behind.

Incapable of feeling comfort with my water count, I plop into Mr. BlueJangles and head to the grocery store. I stockpile treats: gummies, goldfish, cookies, chocolate- most of which will not last the night.

Back at the homestead, I discover uncomfortable information: Señor Gonzalo has moved up to hurricane status and is moving much closer to our tiny eel of an island than expected.

Now I know I claim to have balls of steel and all but when it comes to Mother Nature, those balls shrivel up. I don’t mess around when it comes to the wild beast, Mama N. And now, as much as I love sitting on a balcony snapping selfies of a turquoise ocean view, that view quickly turns into snapshots of tsunamis and fears of floods.

At about 2:30 pm, the rosé pops and my glass fills. I have turned into a weather zombie, incapable of doing much more than tracking cloud cover, wind speed, precipitation level, and wave strength.

4:30 comes. I check the progress of my iTunes download to discover 2 measly episodes complete. As I grab the TV remote, the current goes, and the day begins to take a turn- cue music…

Here comes Gonzalo

Winds quickly pick up and I realize the 10:00 pm expectancy was a bit off. Gonzalo has come early and the gap between him and Anguilla has closed. He’s coming… right for us… and his mighty eye is looking out for AXA.

The storm spans for hours. Winds shriek outside of the window, testing the glass of my bedroom windows. They rattle, as if on the brink of shattering. I peel off my sheets and relocate to the front bedroom, prepping the first of two 52-minute episodes that will serve as my entertainment for the hours ahead. The crash of the waves intensifies. I close my eyes and attempt a nap to save my television indulgences for the worst yet to come. It’s useless. The wind is relentless and the science unit on natural disasters has me popping up to peer out the front door every few minutes to check for tsunami formations.  The hours pass and the sky darkens making it difficult to determine the status of the storm beyond shrieks, crashes, and rattles. Gonzalo rages on. I line towels along the floor catching the leaks of the apartment.

Around 8:00, there is a shift. The winds have changed direction and pound upon the front bedroom windows. Streams of rainwater race down the walls. The shrieks outside grow louder and I’m sure a window will burst. The eye has reached the island and is looking down on the West End. Sir Oliver is still camped out under the bed and refuses to budge until about 10:30, when he finally joins me to cower in bed. With that, I press replay and prepare to watch episode number 1… yet again.

Not too long after, the shrieks shush to a whisper and the windows begin to still. I lie on the bed, questioning whether or not we’ve reached the end. Many a moment passes and my eyes begin to close. I drift in and out as the candle flickers next to me and the episode comes to an end.  Just as I head into a dreamland, BOOM! Thunder cracks the sky in half and pierces through me, rattling my eardrum. Rain, lightening, and thunder rage on as I pour myself another glass of wine and click repeat.

With 2 bottles of wine, 2 episodes of Shameless, and 2 melatonin tablets, I finally fall into a sleep. When I next wake, a crisp morning breeze, unfamiliar to my days on the island, greets my body. Turtledoves sing along the cable lines and the sun shines as a voice booms through my apartment. I quickly cover my booty shorts and shout out ...HELLO?  Landlady Jessica responds, Oh oh, I tried callin’ yuh. Came to look at the damages. Yuh didn’t get to sleep till late?

…Jessica is quite a character. She is a native Anguillian and very laidback woman who has become my buddy since my move. We’ve had quite a few bonding sessions, particularly those of her coming to collect rent where she proceeds to sit on my uncomfortable wicker furniture as I search for small talk.  She’s yet to mention the signing of the lease that’s sat beside my television since January. Early on in my days on island, I mentioned my need to go toaster oven shopping to her, remarking on it being my favorite of kitchen appliances. In typical fashion, Jessica responded Oh… okay to me. Two days later, I gasped walking into my apartment, finding a brand new toaster oven sitting on the counter.  Though it took a bit of adjusting to, especially as a New Yorker, I began to recognize the ease of having Jessica swing by for repairs while I teach.

I shimmy my shorts down and roll over, relishing in the breeze while it lasts as Jessica accesses the leaks. Nope. Go ahead and look. I drift back into a deep sleep. 

The days to come were filled with love, support, generosity, and thoughtfulness mixed with restlessness, cabin fever, sweat, and sheer insanity. I received endless support, from a parent popping in with a plate of snapper and a phone to call home with to strangers by the name of “Trouble” offering beers while I wrote and he worked along the beach; from neighbors stretching out drop chords to generators and filling up water buckets for showers and flushing to friends providing warm showers, wine, and wasabi rolls with miso soup. Those around me showered me in kindness as I bathed in bucketed water, dumped frozen fries and putrid prawns into the garbage bin. Dirty towels collected along the floor, full of rainwater and dirt. Phone signals bounced in and out as T9 messages struggled to send and credit dwindled. School remained closed for three days. Peanut butter and jelly grew agonizing as my body craved cold water, fruits, and vegetables. The air grew stale with lingering scents from a stinky fridge. The dishes piled, begging to be washed. I continued to flick on fans, hoping for a sign of power. The heat sat within the apartment and I did my best to take refuge from sweat-inducing areas. I scheduled showers around the island and borrowed Disney DVDs from students.

By the sixth day, I had started to loose it, missing contact with home and internet for school planning. I had had it with the stickiness of my skin and inability to shower on my on terms. I longed for a return to normalcy.

With word of another four days without power in my area spreading, a parent reached out and invited me in to the luxurious apartment below her home, equipped with A.C., internet, jet bathtub, cozy couch, gym, and swan bath towels. From rags to riches, I spent my final two powerless nights sipping Elephant brews out of a jet-powered bath, while browsing the remaining episodes of Shameless from my failed downloads, with the understanding that I would have power restored just in time to wash my dishes and head to St. Maarten for a flight to New York. It was a whirlwind of a week and a half, all thanks to- cue music..

Gonzalo