Carnival is the biggest event of the year in the Caribbean! The island of Saint Martin is no different, and we’re lucky enough to get it twice: once on the French side and once on the Dutch side. Unfortunately, I missed all the festivities on the French side, but I did catch a few things on the Dutch side! My friends and I went to the light parade and Ben and I went to the children’s parade. We also went to the apex of Carnival: the grand Carnival parade!
The parade is filled with elaborate costumes of feathers and glitter. The colors swirled around us and music pulsed in our ears, drawing us in to the heartbeat of the festival.
The parade (and most of Carnival, really) is centered around the sensuality of a woman’s body. With so much focus on sensuality, I felt that the appreciation of people for who they are was lost somewhere behind the sequins and paint. Since this is a family-friendly blog, I want to present a different angle on Carnival than the typical. This post is a study on beauty: not the transient beauty of the revealed body, but the authentic, lifelong beauty of humanity. They say that the eye is the window to the soul, so I have decided to focus this photographic undertaking on the beautiful faces of the people in the parade. I hope that as you look at these beautiful faces, you will reflect on the wonderful miracle that is embodied in each person.
“There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors. This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously – no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption.”
-C.S. Lewis
“So God created human beings in His own image. In His own image He created them, male and female He created them.” -Genesis 1:27
Airplanes, expats, and the missionary life! Kaitlyn Stewart, the author of today’s guest post, grew up in Senegal, a nation in West Africa. I met her during our college years in Arizona. This summer, she is embarking on a long-term missionary journey of her own to Mali.
I sat in the back of the airplane, my ears silenced by the foam squish of the airplane headset. My heart sped up with the deep whir of the propeller, thumping slightly as the wheels bounced over the lumpy concrete. As the wind rushed heavy over the wings and lifted the aircraft high into the Arizona air, my heart lifted, thrown into an excited tempo by the soaring plane. Faster than it seemed possible, the Kodiak left the earth and sped up and away over the dry landscape. Glancing out the window, my view shifted and I imagined the green leaves of lush jungles and the beautiful mountains this plane would soon see. And my heart took flight again, enchanted with the future the Kodiak would see among the rainforests of Papua New Guinea.
These airplanes have been an answer to prayer. With more room both for passengers and luggage, they can travel faster and cover longer distances than other small aircraft. They also use less expensive fuel, making them more cost efficient as well. If needed, these planes can carry a stretcher, turning them into makeshift ambulances. Overall, these planes have been an incredible asset, making it easier to transport supplies and people to the farthest unreached places and people of the world.
Airplanes have always played a significant role in my life. I grew up around them, stepping on an airplane for the first time at four years old, and was always near, in, or around one. To me, the airplane became a way to connect with missionaries that I knew in the villages of Senegal, a way to bring supplies, pets, medicine, and technology to those working to spread the gospel of Christ. I loved the chance to experience the joy of flying and being a part of the missionary work.
It doesn’t always take an airplane ride for someone to be able to share the good news of Jesus Christ with those around them. It can take a simple step outside their front door, a short walk to a neighbor, a car ride to a country that needs help. But for those places that are inaccessible, the airplane provides that opportunity that may not have been otherwise possible. With these new planes, mission work can be redefined, and the gospel of Christ brought to those who may have never before had the chance to hear about the saving grace of Jesus Christ.
Consider the roles these airplanes will have in the years to come. Transporting people, bringing supplies to remote locations, ferrying those who are sick or injured to medical facilities, and most importantly, carrying the good news of Jesus Christ to the lost places of the world.
Consider your own role. Just as the airplane is a thread in the tapestry of God’s overarching sovereign plan for saving this world, so are you. He has equipped you to be a vessel that carries important news to the far reaches of earth- that Christ can forgive sins and pull individuals from the chains of brokenness and death into light and redeeming love. Through the power of Christ, you have the ability to bring healing to a broken world. You have the ability to soar on the wings of eagles and impact this world for Jesus Christ.
As the wheels touched down again on the concrete of the small Arizona airstrip, my mind envisioned a crowd of excited villagers and smiling missionaries crowding around the door to get a glimpse of the plane that would change the course of history in the jungles of PNG. And suddenly, it didn’t matter where I was now, I wanted to someday be a part of a team that worked to bring that good news to those people. We are called to take the good news of Christ to the far reaches of the earth, and with one small airplane ride, my desire to proclaim the name of Jesus to the lost nations flew as high as the planes soaring overhead. The magnificent plane stands ready to do its part in helping save this world- will you join us?
Some days, you just need to forget life and find something weird to do.
Like this diving platform floating in the ocean. You need something like that.
After block week, which is the week leading up to Ben’s big quarter-term med school tests, we sure needed a red floating dock to jump off. Ben and Matt wanted to surf after their tests, but I had hurt my shoulder. So Stacey and I decided to wander around Galion Bay Beach, and this was what we found.
It might seem silly, but this thing was the best medicine for a couple of tired, stressed-out med school spouses. Sometimes, you need to let loose and act like a kid!
How’s your week going? If you’re feeling stressed, maybe it’s time to tap into your inner child and do something weird.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Anywhere you go, there are things you’ll love and hate about the culture. But it’s always an adventure!
My top fears? Finding a dead person in a public restroom, centipedes, and stepping on a sea urchin.
Some say it was Eleanor Roosevelt who said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” Whether or not she coined the saying, I believe that it’s a good one to live by. I don’t think it means that we should always do dangerous or ridiculous things. I think that it means we should slowly widen our comfort zone, one baby step at a time. When we first moved to the Caribbean, I was terrified of sharks. Irrationally so, especially since there has been no shark attack in Sint Maarten for about thirty years. I was shaking during our first snorkel expeditions. Soon, I was able to go further and deeper and enjoy it more. Now, I can happily surf offshore for hours with barely a thought in the back of my mind.
Sea urchins still plague me, though. Ben got some spines in his feet during a tropical storm, when the urchins were washed onto the beach. My friend Jay got a massive urchin sting from barely brushing up against one while floating in a tide pool. The last thing I want is to be stabbed AND stung at the same time!
On Ben’s first day of break from medial school, we decided to explore a few little-known cays off the coast of Le Galion beach. This place is hard to find, but it’s amazing. In the winter, you can watch wales migrate from viewing towers. Year round, you can walk or snorkel to small cays in the shallow water.
Walking through the water to the first couple cays was easy. But the path to the last cay was slightly terrifying. We began to the slow trek through the rocky water, avoiding the little spiky balls of evil that dotted the sandy ocean floor. The water was only about ankle-deep, but the waves breaking on the nearby rock barrier sometimes spilled violently over into the shallow zone, roughening the water and obscuring our view of the rocks, shells, and urchins below. Slowly, we picked our way through the obstacle course. I prayed that I wouldn’t feel a needle-sharp spike shoot through the soft soles of my flip-flops. Why didn’t I wear water shoes?
About halfway across, I couldn’t find a good place to set my foot. I searched carefully beneath the ripples, trying to find a clear spot. All I could see, for yards around, was the minefield of sea urchins. I could hardly breathe for a moment. My whole body froze. So this is what it means to be frozen with fear, I thought, How silly. I guess I can get out of this the same way I got into it. Still, I had an awful vision of slipping on a mossy rock and landing prone on the urchin-covered rocks. Ben stopped picking his way through the water and looked back at me to make sure I was OK. I looked at him, then back at the water. The red centers of the small black urchins glared at me from between the rocks, like wicked red eyes. “I don’t think I can do this,” I said, “There’s literally nowhere to walk.” Ben waded slowly back to me, watching his steps carefully. “Get on my back,” he said, “I’ll carry you.” He turned, and I jumped, clinging to his neck for dear life. He cautiously moved through the rocks, the thick rubber soles of his shoes protecting him from the smaller spikes.
Before long, we reached the island, and Ben deposited me on the dry rocks. We had made it! And it was so worth it. The small island offered a gorgeous view of Saint Martin. Waves beat against the rock on one side, and a brilliant blue tide pool calmly beckoned on the other. A magical, lonely, unspoiled place.
Often, the places most worth going have a scary path. You have to face your fears and step out into an uncertain place to get to the solid mountaintops and peaceful tide pools of life. But you don’t have to do it alone. We need each other to face our fears and support one another. Don’t live in your comfort zone! Get out and do something that scares you, and don’t be ashamed to take a friend along.
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