chili on the island
fortunately, the flashbacks and longings have subsided. for the most part, i have begrudgingly shelved my tropical island past, where my only obligation was to actually not have any. where dragging your feet was acceptable and drinking cocktails on the beach before lunch was encouraged. but yesterday, a pleasant image of a native i knew only briefly in curacao popped in my head.
his name was chili (but i’m certain that’s not how it was spelled). my conversations with him were limited considering english was not his strong point. but i do recall group discussions where his admissions to 1) never riding a rollercoaster and 2) never seeing snow seemed almost, well, foreign.
one evening of debauchery, chili found himself passed out in someone’s car from an early beginning at happy hour. he lay there in the backseat, windows down of course in 80+ evening heat, while the rest of us went to some island rock show/battle of the bands of sorts.
when we returned to the car, chili had roused himself from his unconscious state, needing a ride home. somewhere in the back woods of the island. yeah, i know, that doesn’t make sense considering there really aren’t woods like we know them in the middle of an island. but, it’s the best way i can describe the journey to his home out in the middle of nowhere.
our designated driver, holland native, youandi (pronounced, yo-WAN-dee, literally spelled, “you and i“, to represent the true hippiness of his parents), took the back roads at accelerated speeds, dropping our stomachs at the bottom of hills, only to regain them moments later at another peak in the road. “its like a rollercoaster,” he cried.
chili: “a what?”
youandi: “a rollercoaster! you know, the rides at amusements parks, where you go like this.” and naturally, youandi tried his best to reenact the body’s movement when riding such a contraption. arms above his head at a high point, lowered again, reciting “wooos” all the while. but the translation was lost on poor chili.
he’s never left the island. all 20 some odd years of his life had been spent in the same location. an island with a square mileage of 171. and a good portion of it is desolate.
i can’t decide if it’s sad that he’s never seen other parts of the world (even the neighbouring islands of aruba and bonaire, or venezuela which is only 50 miles south). or if perhaps i’m somewhat envious that he’s so comfortable in his surroundings, that wanderlust/restlessness has never become an issue.
as for never seeing snow… well, as a life-long midwesterner, i certainly do know the beauty of snow. but as for maneuvering in it for a few weeks/months out of the year, i could live without it. waking up to crashing waves instead of snow plows would be a welcome change.
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originally written 24 february 2005