After six years as an Island Girl, I thought I had pretty much experienced everything unique to the Caribbean. Bugs the size of VWs? Check. Months without applying makeup? Been there, done that. Visits to six government offices to take care of a single task? Please, show me something new.
But yesterday something new did happen to me. Something, I dare say, that I truly never expected. Not even on this crazy rock in the middle of the sea. And it happened in the sanctuary of my own house.
The tile flooring in our bedroom exploded. Literally under my feet.
Imagine yourself balancing at the top of a tall ladder, power drill in hand, trying to hang some artwork on the wall. (No, this incident could not happen when I was doing something mundane like making the bed.) When suddenly you hear an ominous cracking sound beneath you and look down to see the entire floor rising up underneath and all around said ladder. Immediately followed by tiles cracking into bits.
Disconcerting to say the least.
I jumped off the ladder (I imagine I accomplished this in a very sleek and graceful manner, like a feline…but probably I appeared more like a lumbering hippopotamus. An agile hippo to be sure, but a hippo nonetheless), and scurried to the other side of the room. When all was said and done, a fault line appeared across the entire far side of the bedroom. Sort of like a mini-volcano forming a new island. If Hawaii was my rock of choice, this could have been a viable explanation. But here on Bonaire? No active fault lines that I know of.
Island Boy assures me this is a fairly common occurrence in the tropics, what with all the heat, humidity and shoddy workmanship. Hmm…I do not feel better with this knowledge (especially since our entire house has identical tile floors, presumably installed by the same person).
And now our bedroom floor looks like the aftermath from an early scene of the movie 2012 (man I love me some John Cusack). Sort of glad we rent at the moment.
Oh, and then there’s this. I’ve had this song playing over and over in my head since yesterday. (Now you will, too. You’re welcome.) Good thing I like Carole King.
I’m a writer living on the Dutch Caribbean island of Bonaire. Originally from the U.S., I followed my heart to the tropics in 2011 at the wizened age of 43. Since then, I’ve been blogging to inspire and entertain. I love kitesurfing, a good gin & tonic, and corgis.
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