Tag Archives: culture

French Food and Fashion in Marigot

Where in the Americas can you find France? The Caribbean, of course! The French side of the island Saint Martin is definitely tropical, but there are pieces and pockets that feel just like a part of Paris. This afternoon, my girlfriends and I went for lunch and fashion in the capitol town, Marigot.

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There are a lot of places to get a croissant and coffee in Marigot, and all of them are delicious. This is France, after all. I never liked pastries all that much until I moved here, where real pastries are made. The most popular shops are the touristy ones by the port, but within the winding streets of Marigot, you can find even better treasures.

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We stopped at The Coffee Shop Club, where we were greeted by brightly-colored walls and kind faces. Seriously, the people who work here are some of the friendliest I’ve met on the island. I’ll go back just because of the people. All I got was a tea, but the other girls ordered smoothies and lunch. It was delicious! I know, because I sampled a little of other people’s food. We were lucky to have Aqiyla with us, because she is the only one of our group who speaks French fluently. The rest of us needed a little help with the French menus.


St Maarten Shore Excursion: Beaches and Shopping in Marigot

from: Viator

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What’s an afternoon in France without a little fashion? We went shopping at some of the more affordable boutiques in the area, and they reminded us of the familiar mall stores back home.

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Jennyfer has a lot of sweet, trendy styles that I hadn’t seen yet because I haven’t been shopping for clothes since I visited the States a few months ago. I have to say that classy must be making a comeback, and I actually liked most of the clothes here. I wanted to buy a dress I loved, but then I thought of our mounting med school debt and the closet full of dresses I have at home.

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Pimkie is pretty much the clothing store version of Pinterest with a tribal flair. I loved browsing through and looking at all the sayings on the shirts. One of them said, “The Dream is Dedication: Dedication is Expensive.” I think that shirt should be the official medical school uniform! My favorite tank was based on a quote from the book Peter Pan. When Peter Pan is wounded and left to die on a rock in the ocean, he says bravely, “To die will be an awfully big adventure.” The shirt was a bit more inspirational: “To live will be an awfully big adventure.” I might go back and buy that one.

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We stopped for a while at Z Boutique on Rue du Republique, but most of the men’s clothes were in an odd size and I didn’t see anything that I wanted. I also forgot to take a photo, because I was so eager to get to Roland Richarson’s art gallery!

signing the guest book at an art gallery

Roland’s wife, Laura, was at the gallery when we arrived. Stacey and I have been to the gallery often, and we introduced our friends to her. She let us wander the grounds, and we showed everyone the paintings of me and Stacey that Roland has done.

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All of these ladies with me are fellow Caribbean med school spouses, Canadian and American expats in the Caribbean. Being an expat is bittersweet, because your heart is divided into pieces, and “home” has many definitions. There are a lot of things we miss about home, but I think that when we return, we’ll miss times like today. These days are short and precious.

10 Things I Learned While Living in Sint Maarten

Let’s just say that learning to exist cross-culturally is not easy. Neither is it bad! It’s a challenge and an adventure. For me, living the Caribbean has taught me to be less uptight and stressed out. One of my longtime friends who’s known me since middle school came to visit last month, and she kept commenting, “You’re so chill!” I guess I am a lot more chill. I like that change.

Riselle, who writes one of my favorite blogs TheTravelingIslandGirl.Com, wrote a great post today: “11 Things I Learned While Living in the Caribbean.” Riselle is from Sint Maarten and spent some time living in the Netherlands. She wrote about her cross-cultural experiences and the differences between SXM and the Netherlands. At risk of being a disgusting copy-cat, I decided to write a post in the style of her article, but from a different perspective!

Want to know about my experience adapting to cultural changes from Phoenix to St. Maarten? Read on!

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Phoenix, Arizona, U.S.A.
Almost anything goes on the roads. This is probably the weirdest thing to me. In fact, I lived here five months before I dared drive a car! In Phoenix, we used six-to eight-lane freeways to get around. We drove 75 mph and were comfortable with that. On the streets, we had stoplights in every corner and were mad if we had to drive below 30 mph. You couldn’t park on the sidewalk. You can’t stop in a travel lane. You can’t play sardines (well, you can try, but you might get a fine). You can’t walk where there is not a crosswalk and walk signal. If you jaywalk, you risk getting run over. Technically, you can’t even drive barefoot or in flip-flops. And you certainly may not drive if you have been drinking alcohol!

On Sint Maarten, anything goes. I was incredibly freaked out when I saw people driving around while drinking beer. You don’t have to wear a seat belt, you can cram as many people as possible in your car, and you can block traffic going both ways if you feel like having a conversation with the driver of a passing car. Some of this is nice– I’m happy to be able to walk across the road wherever I want without causing in accident– but sometimes it can get annoying! I do love round-a-bouts and catching a bus from anywhere, though.

Read more on my post about roads here.

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Sint Maarten, Caribbean

Time is not that important. Somehow, my American brain just simply cannot wrap around this idea. To me, you either are on time or you aren’t. I’ve been shut out of classrooms for being 30 seconds late, and people get fired for arriving late too many times in the U.S. Being polite means being there five minutes early. My bad habit of being five minutes late to non-mandatory events was a BAD habit. In the Caribbean, stuff starts whenever you’re ready. It’s like Africa: If something starts at ten, show up at noon to help set up. I made the mistake of arriving at a parade fifteen minutes before it started. An hour and half later, the first troupe made their appearance as the local crowds and smart expats began to arrive. Now I’m a pro! I start packing to go when the event supposedly begins.

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Greetings are much more formal. I thought people were so rude when I first moved here. Nobody greeted me when I walked into a place of business. People gave me irritated looks when I said “hello.” The friendly island? Hmmm.

Then I learned that I was actually the one being rude. When you walk into a room on Sint Maarten, you are one who greets the people already inside. And you don’t say, “What’s up.” You say “Good afternoon,” depending on the time of day. Now that I know what to do, I always get friendly smiles.

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You can talk to strangers. Phoenix is weird. We all pretend that others do not exist. People in their yards are surrounded by an invisible barrier. You don’t talk to your neighbors unless they are on the sidewalk and return eye contact. You don’t say hi to random people, and if you do, they’ll either look at you like you’re a creeper or smile with delighted surprise! On Sint Maarten, you can talk to anybody. Neighbors actually know each other. People sit for hours chatting at the lottery shops, fruit stands, and bars. I love this. I wish it was like this everywhere.

Nude beaches. In the States, you do not go out in public without clothes on. Ever.

Rain. Yup. That’s right. It doesn’t really rain in Phoenix. You can’t drive safely in Phoenix when it’s raining, because everyone freaks out that water is falling from the sky and starts driving like a bunch of half-blind lawn gnomes. It’s a rare and wonderful event! The first rain we had here, I looked outside to see who was throwing gravel.

With the rain also comes humidity. We used to have to run a humidifier in our house in the winter; now we run the AC to dry the air out! With the humidity comes the mold, and I still haven’t come to terms with that.

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Dining is casual. People spend forever sitting and talking over meals. You can buy inexpensive and delicious street food almost anywhere. At restaurants, it’s up to you when you want to pay and leave. We once spent an hour waiting for a check before we found out that you have to go ask for it yourself.

Casinos are everywhere. Casinos are illegal in Arizona, except on the Native American Reservations. On Sint Maarten, casinos are everywhere! We live next door to one and we go there all the time… to use the ATM. It’s the one machine we’re sure to get money out of, ha ha.

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Dogs are welcome. I get to take my puppy into the grocery store. I love that. Nobody picks up dog poop. I do not love that. People are fine with dogs here! They roam around off leash, they hang out at the beaches, they go everywhere with their owners.

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Empty houses and cars and boats are all over the place. This is generally because of hurricanes and other weather issues. It’s often not worth the cost to remodel or fix, so people just abandon or replace. In Phoenix, hardly anything is left unused. Somebody will take it over, the city will sell it, or it will be destroyed. I like the empty places. There’s something pretty about old cars overgrown with pink flowers.

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Anywhere you go, there are things you’ll love and hate about the culture. But it’s always an adventure!

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Eight Things TCKs Want from Their Friends

Do you have a friend who grew up overseas in an expat family? Have you ever wondered how you can better connect with them? Often, Third Culture Kids can be difficult to get close to. They’ve had drastically different experiences than people who grew up in their home culture. They get asked the same questions a thousand times and have developed rote answers. They don’t expect most people to understand their perspective and experience, so they avoid the frustration and don’t often try to explain it. Instead of asking the same old questions, try this instead.

  1. Ask them about their life journey, not where they’re from. And be interested in the answer. Don’t ask where they’re from and expect a single answer. They don’t have an answer to this question! This week, someone asked this question to my husband, Ben, who is a TCK. His answer? “That’s a good question.” Ben will usually answer this question based on the person’s apparent interest level. To casual inquirers, he says “Phoenix,” which is where we lived in the U.S. To people he’ll see again, he usually tells them he grew up in Africa. To people who really seem interested, he will explain that he was born in Burundi, grew up in Tanzania, went to high school in Kenya, and lived in Phoenix for college.

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    Ben and his friends in Tanzania
  2. Ask thoughtful questions. I wonder how many times TCKs have been asked if they rode elephants to school. Or if they speak African. Or if they had a pet lion. Or if they know someone’s cousins friend’s sister, who lives somewhere on the same continent. Nothing will shut down a conversation like a thoughtless question. Instead, ask a meaningful question about the TCKs life abroad: Where did you go for family vacation? What was your favorite sport when you were a kid? What did you do in your free time?

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    Stevie at the source of the Nile
  3. Accept their life stories. When you’re sharing stories about childhood pets, and your TCK friend starts talking about the pet monkey or monitor lizard, just listen. Don’t make a snide remark about being shown up by your friend’s story. Don’t suggest that they’re bragging. They might be, but probably not. Remember that all they have are stories about cross-cultural life. While your normal was a suburban home, two cats, a dog, and a basketball hoop in the driveway, their normal was a cinder-block one-bedroom, a parrot and a herd of goats, and bilingual soccer games with a plastic-bag ball in the shadow of Mount Kilimanjaro.

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    Lizzie feeding a giraffe
  4. Be patient with cultural nuances. TCKs have grown up with a variety of cultural expectations, and although they’ve become adept at being cultural chameleons, they don’t always know exactly what expectation belongs where. That funny pronunciation, the way they use their fork, the avoidance of eye contact with the opposite sex, the different concept of time… all of that can be attributed to culture. Don’t make fun of it or act like it’s stupid. Roll with it. Or, if you feel it should be corrected and you’re in a position to do so, explain it with respect.

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    Zach on safari
  5. Make them your most trusted news source. TCKs get annoyed by Western media’s botched coverage of issues in their adopted countries. They get even more annoyed by people who trust the media more than their own experiences. Listen to your TCK friend explain the realities of their world, and believe them. You could never understand the issues better than they do simply by watching TV and reading a few articles.

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    Ruthie and a Burundian drum
  6. Let them teach you to think globally. Culture is so pervasive that we often fail to recognize our own cultural tendencies. Be open minded to the global perspective of your TCK friend. At times, he or she will challenge your Western attitudes, philosophies, and perspectives.

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    Crossing the river
  7. Recognize that they have deeper experiences than you do. Your TCK friend is likely multilingual, has lived in three or more cultures, and has seen things you’ve only ever heard of. Bilingualism means they can communicate with more people, and with a greater framework for thought. Multiculturalism means that they have a more well-rounded view of the world. More varied experiences means they’ve seen much of the world, experienced social studies in real life, and likely have gone through some sort of trauma that you cannot identify with.

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    Maiden voyage on Lake Tanganyika
  8. Be the friend that sticks around. TCKs are familiar with good-byes. They’re used to people coming in and out of their lives, and they certainly don’t believe you when you say you’ll stay in touch. People rarely do. Be the friend who follows through. Write letters. Ask how they’re doing. Set up Skype dates.
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    Ben’s zebra selfie

    Third culture kids, did I get it right? What else are you looking for in friendships?

Grocery Shopping in French

“Ground beef. Like, beef– cow meat– but it’s all ground up in little bits.” I did my best unofficial international sign language to accompany my explanation.

“Ah! Bœuf haché?” The grocery store employee led me to the freezer and pointed at the package of meat, eyebrows raised. “This?” He asked. It didn’t look exactly like the ground beef at Walmart, but it appeared to be ground beef nonetheless. I smiled and thanked him, placing the package in my cart.

There are only a handful of affordable grocery stores on the island of Sint Maarten, and my options are to pay $170 a trip to shop in English or $102.75 to shop in French. I choose the language barrier and saving seventy bucks.

I spend a lot of time staring at labels, trying to make out what this can or that box holds. I’ve become pretty good at guessing, and I’ve even picked up some French in the process (although don’t ask me to try to pronounce it). Whenever I learn to speak French, I’ll have a head start. I will know the word for every single food item ever invented.

Some of the labels are easy. I babysat for a bilingual family, and their kids called milk lait at all times. The cow on the front also helps.

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Others aren’t so easy. I always thought fromage was just the word for “cheese,” but apparently it’s the word for every single dairy product on the planet.

This is not cheese. It’s yogurt. When I bought it, I needed yogurt, but it looked like it could be  cottage cheese or whipped cream. I decided that the risk was worth it. Ben hoped it would be whipped cream, so he was disappointed.

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This does not say fromage, but it IS cheese. Thank goodness this bag is see-through, or I would have been even more confused than I already was.

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The hardest products to find are the ones I don’t know the French word for, can’t see through the packaging, and don’t even recognize the packaging. It took me a few trips and some asking around to find baking soda. I was looking for the small orange box, but apparently Arm and Hammer doesn’t do French.

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I suspect the packaging issue is why I still can’t find baking powder. My friend Aqiyla went shopping with me yesterday, and she couldn’t find it either, although she speaks French. You don’t realize how powerful branding is until you’re dropped in the middle of unrecognizable foreign brands.

One thing that is not hard for me to locate, however, is Nutella! I think I have a Nutella radar built into my brain. I’m OK with becoming more European, if it involves chocolate for breakfast. Yes, please!

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I have encouraging moments, too. I’m getting to the point where I can read a lot of French words, even if I couldn’t use a single one in conversation. I can understand most French signage around town, and I can tell the difference between all-purpose flour and pastry flour. I can even scan package ingredients for allergens and be fairly confident that I won’t send anyone into anaphylactic shock.

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I never thought I’d say this, but there are days that I really miss Walmart. But at the same time, I’m glad I have the chance to make shopping a bilingual adventure. After all, I never quite know what I’m going to come home with…

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Goodies from Secnarf’s Place

Today on Foodie Tuesdays, we are going to meet a local food wizard and learn to make sweet potato pudding.

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Meet Frances! Born and raised on St. Kitts, Frances moved to Saint Martin 30 years ago with her husband, who relocated for work. She can work wonders in the kitchen. I met Francis at a local event, where she was selling delicious meat patties, pies, puddings, and cakes.  She calls her business “Secnarf’s Place,” and you can find her at almost any public trade show or market event.

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As you can see, Frances loves to cook. Before she retired, she worked in a store nearby. Now, she spends a lot of her time in the kitchen, baking for her family or preparing for an event. She told me that she stayed up all night to make fresh-baked goodies for her booth. She doesn’t mind the work, though, because she loves what she does. “I like to use my hands,” she says, “It’s like a work of art.”

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Frances’ culinary skills aren’t limited to the oven. She also makes her own all-natural fruit and vegetable juices. All she adds is a little bit of sugar for flavor, if it’s not quite sweet enough. Passion fruit is her best seller. “It’s so much better than what you can buy in the stores,” she says. No preservatives, no shipping. Just natural goodness!

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I asked Frances what her favorite food is. She thought for a moment before answering, “Sweet potato pudding.” The pudding is actually what sparked Frances’ interest in cooking. When she was a girl, her mother would make sweet potato pudding every year as a special Christmas dessert. As she got older, Frances would help. The rest is history.

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Here is how you can make sweet potato pudding, as described on Jamaican Caribbean Favorites. You can visit their site to learn how to make many more awesome Caribbean dishes!

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Sweet Potato Pudding:

Ingredients:

  • 2 lbs sweet potato, grated
  • 4 green bananas, grated
  • 1/2 cup flour
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1/2 cup grated coconut trash
  • 4 cups coconut milk
  • 3 tsp vanilla
  • 1/2 tsp nutmeg
  • 1/2 tsp mixed spice
  • salt to taste
  • 1 tsp baking powder
  • raisins
  • rum to taste
  • 2 oz melted butter
  • Greased 9 inch pan

Directions:

  1. Mix grated potato, banana, coconut trash, raisins, flour and baking powder.
  2. Combine coconut milk, vanilla, sugar, butter, rum, salt, nutmeg and mixed spice.
  3. Add milk mixture into potato mixture and batter until smooth.
  4. Pour mixture into greased tin and let sit for 30 – 45 minutes.
  5. Bake at 350 degrees F (175 degrees C) for about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
  6. Serve hot or cold.

A Woman’s Heartbeat

Never before have I been brought to tears by a drum solo. I am brought to tears by newborn babies, adoption stories, and my sister’s piano pieces. Never by the banging of drums. But this day was different, and this drummer was different.

It was the kind of day where time slips away silently and unnoticed. I was at Sint Maarten’s annual Art in the Park trade show, surrounded by art and some of my favorite people. As at every public event, Youmay Dormoy brought his New Generation Drum Band to perform and collect donations for operating costs.  Cool, I like drums as much as anyone, and I was excited to see it. The kids and youth marched forward in their colorful, traditional island garb. Little shoulders supported big white drums, older boys placed expert fingers on trumpet keys; I even caught a glimpse of a musical conch shell in someone’s hand.

The drumming was great, all of it. It really was amazing to see twenty musicians keep themselves in step and in rhythm. I enjoyed it and took some photos. But nothing struck an emotional chord in me, until one young woman came forward to solo on the bass drum.

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There was something about her poise, her confidence, her posture that made me stop to stare. There was something about the resonating boom of her bass drum that complemented perfectly the delicacy of her lace hem. She was a picture of feminine strength and beauty. I felt tears well up behind my eyelashes.

Is it sunscreen in my eyes, I wondered? No, it was this woman, this living embodiment of beauty and strength. In the twenty seconds of spotlight she had, she became an icon to me.

If we are honest, every women wants to be strong and beautiful. In the deepest cores of our feminine hearts, we want to awe the world with deep strength and captivating beauty. It is innate in our souls.

I wonder how often we unknowingly bring others to tears with a show of the strong and beautiful. I wonder how many times we unconsciously step into our twenty seconds to play to the beat of our hearts. I wonder how many of us walk through life believing we are nothing, yet capturing the eyes of others with a life of inspiring womanhood.

Don’t despair, beautiful friend. You are strong. You are beautiful. You were created that way, and you will show the world in your way, in your time.