Caribbean Living Lifestyle Blog - Your Favourite Post

Frigid Air

nospam@example.com () — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 06:12:27 -0500

Can a refrigerator be possessed by a demon? One wonders. Especially if you met my fridge. It came with the new old home, I moved into a few months ago. From the outside it looks new and big. But when you open it up, it is woefully small. A carton of dozen eggs barely fits across the skinny shelf.

Instead of nice thick wired shelves typical of most fridges, it has clear flimsy plastic shelves. It appears to be missing shelves and a few bottom drawers. I bought some plastic baskets to make up for this short coming. One shelf is partially busted down the side and no matter where we put it, it seems like it doesn't belong to this model fridge. I also had to install my own freezer shelf. For some reason, everywhere I have lived, I have had to install a freezer shelf. Refrigerators here are always sold missing parts it seems. I have no idea why. I had an old vinyl coated wire shelf, so one day we measured and a friend and I sat down and hack-sawed it off to fit, and installed that in the freezer.

But the refrigerator is possessed! Some days it plays tag with me. The door will pop open when you aren't looking and you turn around then suddenly, the fridge is wide open. So I shut the door, only to have it pop open again ,when I am not looking. It often does this in the middle of the night! Then sometimes when I shut the door, it glues itself shut. Matter of fact, it holds the food hostage for the next ten or so minutes while I fight with the seal and the handle to try to make the fridge open up because I want my lunch out of it. It has done this to friends of mine who are used to helping themselves to iced tea or water in the fridge.

They stand they tugging and pulling with all their might then ask me in winded breath "How do you open this?" I come over and pull and tug and finally after breaking into a good sweat, the fridge will reluctantly open.

Then it throws up when you least expect it. Yep, it's done it to me and now I have a witness. My house mate went shopping and came home to stock the fridge. She carefully put everything away, packing it carefully since there is so little room to start with. Then she shut the door. It popped back open, so she shut it again.

She turned around to do something and heard this awful noise like an avalanche, and turned around to watch the fridge door pop open, and all her groceries tumble out onto the floor with a great deal of noise. So round two ding ding she repacks the refrigerator, gets the door to stay shut and then she begins cooking. Realizing she put something away that she needed, she tried to open the fridge.

It wouldn't budge. Nope. It was holding the food hostage and for the next few minutes she had to fight and plead with it to open up. I came home about that time and she said incredulously "What is wrong with this fridge? I stocked it full of groceries, and it threw them back at me! Now it refuses to open at all!" I smiled at her knowingly and said "It's possessed."

So last night, I wake up at 2 or 3 am, I am very thirsty and I know there is some tasty mango juice in the fridge, calling my name. I walk in and as I reach for the handle I feel very cold air. I see the freezer door is open about a 1/4 inch. I open it up to see my house mate had purchased 2 tubs of ice cream, which are melting away with the open door. I try to shut it again, and it pops open. So I rearrange the bottom freezer shelf, take out the 7 ice cube trays, put the ice cream in the back, stack up 3 of the ice trays and see from the way the tub budges outward towards the top, that maybe the rest of the ice trays should remain out and not in. I shut the freezer door firmly.

On the top shelf of the freezer, (Which I swear I did not touch!) is frozen food from a friend's boat. She had to go to Canada and threw all her freezer food in my freezer and told me to eat whatever, but save her the pork tenderloin for a party when she came back.

I open the refrigerator door and am just reaching for the coveted mango juice when all of a sudden the freezer door bursts open, smacks me in the head and tosses the pork tenderloin (solid as a brick) onto my left toes. I screamed! It hurt so badly. I cried, I limped, I muttered things under my breath. I hopped around on one leg yelling "OW OW OW!"

I picked up the pork tenderloin and hurled it back in the freezer, and slammed the door with an admonishment to STAY SHUT and hobbled off whimpering back to bed, with my mango juice. Oh my goodness, my foot and toes throbbed, they turned pink, then red, then blue and now this morning my toes are black and purple. I can barely walk. I have soaked my tosies in icy cold water many times during the night.

The kitties kept vigil, I stuck my toes into icy cold water and they immediately came over to drink my cold toe water. Now these are the same guys that insist I give them a fresh bowl of water, 2-3 times a day. But something is special about my toe water. They line up and take turns to drink from it, while my throbbing toes soak.

After I am sure my toes are nearly numb, I try to lay down and sleep. But every hour or so I would wake up in horrific pain and have to soak my toes again in icy water. This morning I am grouchy with a long list of things to do, and all I can think is PAIN.

I'm hungry and dying to make breakfast, but trying to figure out how to do that, without opening the fridge. I am so MAD at this fridge.

My house mate woke up, heard my tale of woe, looked at my ugly blurple toes, looked me in the eye and solemnly said "I think it's time we consider having the fridge exorcised. "

We commiserated that while the rest of the home is carefree and happy with no influence from evil spirits, there is definitely something very unhappy and it's living in MY fridge. An invisible miserable spirit has taken up residence in there.

We stared at it with awe, expecting it to open and throw up again. So far it's just sitting there in the corner, both doors firmly shut, holding my breakfast hostage.

If anyone has any ideas how to coax this evil spirit out of the fridge (and off the property!) let me know! Generally I am good at chasing evil spirits off and finding myself entertained by good spirits. But this one, is being a bit of a pest, and holing up in my fridge.

Warm and Sunny Regards,
DearMissMermaid.com

Carnival in the Caribees

nospam@example.com () — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 13:13:27 -0500

A million and more words have been written about the festival season of Carnival, so bringing something new to the page could be tricky, but sometimes the brevity of space and a straight to the point type of style can enlighten a few of the wondrous blog readers out there who have never been to a street party.

Carnival literally means ‘farewell to the flesh’ but the origin of the word is still disputed. Some believe it comes from the Latin carrus navalis (“ship cart”) or a float in a religious parade. Others proffer that it comes from the Italian carne levare or similar, meaning to “remove meat” as meat is prohibited through Lent. If the event is linked to a church belief or gathering the scheduled time of the year is pre-Lenten, usually through February and March leading up to Ash Wednesday. But there are other times within the year that are used as a landmark, such as the completion of a local harvest or a centuries old paganish rite that has been revived for the sake of a community knees-up that may lighten up a gloomy winter time in the more northern countries.

When Carnival is mentioned globally, people invariably think of the excitement, colour and party hi-jinx that is Mardi Gras – known as Shrove Tuesday in some Catholic countries, or the last day of a carnival – taking place in Rio, New Orleans and Trinidad & Tobago. Indeed, these are in the big league when it comes to a ‘money no object’ mix of glitz and spectacle that takes over the respective day to day happenings for at least three weeks, sometimes a month.

Continue reading "Carnival in the Caribees"

Abandoned Band in the Sand

nospam@example.com () — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 07:34:41 -0500

Weather is here, winds are slight, guess the promised strong winds are still yet to arrive. Maybe late today, the seas and winds will be up. But it's the Caribbean, they'll probably arrive late. Nothing starts on time here anyhow.

Like the Music Fest, they lay out this elaborate schedule, then they throw the clocks away. The main attraction is put on late, say 10pm, but rarely gets going before 2am, kind of frustrating. Of course each band starts later and later, for some reason they think it fashionable to be late, but it's unprofessional. In certain circles, you would be banned. Try playing a gig an hour or two late in Vegas, you'll be run out of town.

Years back, a friend of mine was lucky enough to finally achieve status quo and be offered a month long gig in Las Vegas. His band pooled every cent they could, pawned and sold everything they didn't need, begged, borrowed, stole, you name it, to buy the band a bus. They loaded up the bus with their clothes, and their equipment, and headed cross country for what they thought would be their limelight, the gig that would launch them, put them on the map, get them in the recording studios and so on.

They planned to take turns driving and sleeping on the bus. Occasionally they would stop at a rest area and let the bus engine take a break. They had no money for hotels, and they mostly made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to save money. But it was worth it, as soon they would be living in a nice hotel, playing a steady gig for a solid month and it came with perks, like free buffets and discounted drinks. Late at night, the pools and Jacuzzi's are often full of the musicians and showgirls, a fun late night, wind down party.

I know because once while in Las Vegas, I had grown tired of gambling (imagine that!) and it was 3am and I was wide awake. I put on my bathing suit, tossed on the hotel robe and headed 34 floors down, for the outdoor Jacuzzi. I was all alone. Every few minutes, I had to hop out and push the button to make the Jacuzzi run again, it had this annoyingly short timer on it and you couldn't reach it from the tub.

About the 4th time out to hit the timer, I had just settled back down, when this backdoor burst open and about two dozen drop dead gorgeous bodies came out in teeny tiny G-strings and the women in itsy bitsy tops. Most crowded into the Jacuzzi with me and a few dove into the pool and swam. I found out they had just completed the last show for the night and wanted to work off their aches in the water.

They were as surprised to find me alone in the Jacuzzi, as I was to meet them at this odd hour. Most people are either in bed or gambling at that hour, not sitting in the dark in a Jacuzzi. A half hour later, and several bands showed up, they too having finished their last gig for th enight, and were headed for the water. My room overlooked the pool, and it sat empty all day, but late at night, in the wee hours, it came alive.

Well, back to the band bus...

Right in the middle of the desert, hundreds of miles from nowhere, the old bus caught on fire in the middle of the night, and the band barely escaped with their lives. So there stood the band next to the ruins of their bus, even the tires had melted from the extreme heat, all their instruments and sound equipment just burnt to a crisp and reduced to unrecognizable rubble. Their clothes gone, the cooler of food destroyed, even the peanut butter jar was shattered and black.

It was hours before a car came along, going the wrong way (east) and offered a ride, but he only had room for ONE. So that is how the band split up. They each caught a ride one by one every few hours, some heading west, others heading back east. My friend tells me he was the last to leave, has never seen any of the guys since, has no idea whatever happened to them. But that was the end of that band.

written by Miss Mermaid

20/20 21st Century

nospam@example.com () — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 13:00:40 -0600

The whoosh! And thwack! Of leather upon willow ‘could very well be a cricket phrase attributed to Somerset Maugham many years ago; a little twee perhaps, but I wonder if he could have envisaged the path that the game - enjoyed by so many English speaking countries and fanatically followed in India, Pakistan and Sri Lanka – would take early into the new millennium. From the traditional 5 day Test Match format, through the introduction of the One Day/Limited Overs set-up, a la Australian entrepeneur Kerry Packer, arriving at the present day and the emergence of the short - game 20/20 spectacle.

In the Caribbean, the recently concluded R. Allen Stanford 20/20 tournament played in Antigua, has set the region alight with a passion and patriotic fervour not often seen in inter island cricket sorties. For the Antiguan economy, it is becoming an important money-spinner; for West Indian cricket, the vast prizes – a million $US for the winning team, $500,000US for the runner up and financial sweetners for outstanding players through the tournament – will ensure that the very best local athletic talent finds its way back into cricket, rather than following the lucrative soccer and basketball route that has seemed to be the norm of late.

Of course, besides the pay outs, another reason for the huge success of 20/20 – i.e. twenty overs of bowling per team for conclusion – is the brevity of the match. 3 to 4 hours usually secures a result and if this is played in an evening session, our hardy supporter does not have to broker a day off work or miss out on mowing the lawn at the weekend. Most of all, it’s obviously action, action, action from the first ball, so the players and spectators get revved up in tandem – from the TV cameraman’s viewpoint, the national flags of each team often block out the vibrant costumes of avid visitors from exotic locations such as Barbados, Guyana, Jamaica and Trinidad to name a few, but nothing can diminish the party atmosphere that remains long after the final run has been logged.

On the downside, the cricket purist will wax lyrically about the lack of batting strategy employed in a ‘go for everything’ attitude; it’s a very valid point. Some gifted young ones in the sport and on the way up, but not taking onboard the subtleties and nuances of the 5 day match, could find themselves boxed into the ‘slug it and see’ side of the game; notwithstanding, never achieving the Test stamina required for hours at the crease facing fast, medium pace and spin bowling.

From this, it’s quite possible to conclude that international cricket will be made up of Test and One Day teams plus an alternative 20/20 squad that specialize in agility and a quasi baseball mentality. What do you think?

Pineapples in Paradise

nospam@example.com () — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 08:37:48 -0600

Love is like a pineapple “ sweet and indefinable" (anon)

Ananas cosmosus is to the botanist, what simple pineapples are to you and me.

Anana, in fact is an old Caribbean word meaning "excellent fruit." This fruit is devoured with relish universally, though only grown in abundance throughout the tropical regions.

Most of the world views the pineapple, unfortunately, in a can as slices or chunks wallowing in its own juice, whereas the West Indians and their tourists alike get to taste the real, fresh product that comes straight up, or as a component in many attractive dishes.

A native of Brazil, this aristocratic plant was domesticated in what is now northern Paraguay and spread into the Caribbean with the migratory tract of Guarani and Carib Indians; the ensuing commerce between the tribes and various local peoples resulted in the pineapple being harvested on almost every island in the region. It flourishes so well here, not just because of the ideal cultivable climate, but more so because of its resistance to the hurricanes that traditionally ravage banana and papaya crops. Its armour-like shell, rotund shape and ground level growing position make it as hardy as any plant in the Caribbean.

Pineapples growing wild have always been considered inedible, so through the centuries, with sublime husbandry, great strides have been made to get the fruit “ taste wise that is at to where it's at today." Indeed, in 1820 a shipment of ananas from Jamaica were sent to the Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew where the plants were cross bred and "tweaked" to improve the sweetness, subsequently the new hybrids were returned to various Caribbean locations.

In many facets of life, rivalry between the islands is commonplace and pineapple superiority is no exception, with each territory claiming to have the most succulent product and appetizing allure. From the Dominican Republic to Guyana, the colour, size and lush tropical sweetness of the ripe fruit can be so different, that coming to a preference for one or another becomes a personal thing.

There are many varieties world wide, but just a few dominate the market. As far as the Caribbean is concerned, the Red Spanish is the most common type. This has a square-like shape, a weight of 3 to 5 pounds and has acquired indigenous names such as the Antiguan Black renowned for its unique taste the Dominican Green and Guyana Joe,etc. The Cayenne is another popular version.

A good pineapple should be fragrant when sniffed at the stem end and bruise free. After picking, the fruit merely ages, never developing more sweetness or juice â€“ it will get softer if left at room temperature for a day or two before serving.

Your Caribbean vacation would be nothing without the ubiquitous pina colada, plus many other in-house pineapple concoctions. If you fancy something a little different try this:

Take a large pineapple, cut off the top and bottom. With a long sharp knife, vertically cut around the fruit core, without damaging the shell. Push out the whole core and cut into thin rounds. Put the rounds back into the shell, place in a bowl and pour your measure of Cointreau and/or Grand Marnier over the fruit and let it trickle through. Put in the refrigerator. Pour residue from the bowl over slices every two hours. Guaranteed scrumptious!

Cosmetic Trips to the Horizon: The Green Flash

nospam@example.com () — Sat, 09 Feb 2008 07:15:06 -0600

Posting an image of a calm sea, a sinking sun, a palm tree at a 90-ish degrees lean to the water, an imminent Green Flash in the offing - with your property digitally photographed in the foreground and duly uploaded to the appropriate website - could be considered as a dream shot for any real estate agents portfolio. The sea, the Sun, even the angled palm tree can be conjured up most anywhere in the Caribbean but El Rayo Verde? The Flasho Greeno? Now here's the tricky component in the mix. I have lived in the West Indies for 20 years and can truthfully say I've seen no more than nine meaningful sunrise or sunset Green Flashes in that time “ probably because I've not been looking that hard; out there I mean. Usually it's the wrong time, right place and vice versa. But unabashed, I thought it prudent and curious to investigate the phenomenon a little further.

Evidently, as most tuned in school-kids can attest to, the Green Flash is enmeshed in a refraction of light - aka as a prism - in the atmosphere: light, presumably, moves more slowly through the lower, denser air than through the thinner air above, so sunlight rays follow paths that curve slightly in the same direction as the curvature of the Earth “ still with me? Higher frequency light “ green and blue "curves more than lower frequency light " red and orange "so green and blue rays from the setting Suns upper limbs remain visible after the red rays are obstructed by the curvature of the Earth. I'm told a Green Flash is more likely to be seen in clear air, when more of the light of the setting Sun reaches the observer without being scattered.

Having said that - from my experience - what lays immediately above that far off imaginary horizon line, such as thin banded cloud, even pinkish wisps, can lessen the green hue effect greatly; even to a zilch amount, leaving our picture-less avid photo buff with a 24 hour layover to the next dusky event. And with the miniscule amount of time available to capture the picture, it's wise to set your duty free mega pixel camera to a continuous advance setting that can take about 15 frames in rapid succession, covering the whole scenario, thereby ensuring that your wait has not been in vain.

As a gentle conclusion, the notion that a Green Flash denotes a human soul returning to Earth is an interesting digestion for you alone suffice to say may your God go with you.

Introducing our blog Chef Randy

nospam@example.com () — Sat, 02 Feb 2008 05:41:39 -0600

Introducing Randy Williams owner of Randies Restaurant in Wesley, N. East Dominica

Randy has volunteered to be our in house bon appetit chef; indulging with us a sliver of his mouth watering recipes to savour and possibly emulate, allowing us a treasured insight into the secrets of Caribbean cuisine.

Randy was born in the Commonwealth of Dominica somewhere in the early eighties and moved to the US Virgin Island of St. Thomas where he became a prep cook he was soon promoted to a sous chef status working in the renowned Romanos restaurant.

Eventually,the opportunity arose for Randy to work in the USA; here, with a complete differend abandonment, he discovered he had another talent - lithe and postulating - hence becoming a limbo dancer, which he really enjoyed and had a great time travelling around the States.

His passion for cooking never deserted him and soon Randy became a restaurant manager for Burger King and later for Buston Chicken. These jobs enabled Randy to travel widely; in fact, to over 30 states in the USA. It gave him the chance to sample lots of different food styles, a different life in general, and basically making people happy.

On his return to Dominica he opened his own restaurant and realised a dream that had become a reality through hard work and dedication. The restaurant is called "Randy's" and has become a favourite place to dine daytime or evening. There is live entertainment on certain evenings.

I have eaten there on several occasions and love the atmosphere, it feels like a home away from home, a very friendly inviting restaurant.

Recipe of the day

Randy's Tomaletaloo Salad

Tomatoe, Lettuce, Calaloo
Dressing:-
Quarter of a Maggi stock cube (chicken)
Juice of half a grapefruit
Half a cup of olive oil or to taste
1 teaspoon of sugar

Method:- whisk all dressing ingredients together, then pour over the salad, toss

Bats: The unwanted or desired house guest

nospam@example.com () — Thu, 31 Jan 2008 22:30:07 -0600

Putting together a blog article that is just a reflection of other peoples thoughts and experiences sometimes doesn't seem to be that great of a task, but when the subject theme/problem is already on your doorstep - or in this case akimbo in your roof - the text essence takes on a more thoughtful and delicate approach.

Yes, we have bats; non paying guests that have a daily and nocturnal social calendar that varies little: Out at 5.45pm Dominican time in at 5.0am, give or take a flutter. As yet, there is no unpleasant odour or undue noise to cope with, but expert battlers (my term), suggest that although they do not pose a health hazard or are dangerous to humans in any way, they should be removed humanely and safely using environmentally sound methods.

Whilst mulling over this for a while, I decided to do a little research to establish easily understandable pros. & cons for this complex radar-borne creature:

Most people do not recognize how important bats are to a balanced ecology - they control many night flying insects including many crop and garden eating pests as well as mosquitoes. They also pollinate hundreds on native plants such as calabash, cactus, vine pear, neem and many others. Bats also disburse seeds throughout the islands, helping to keep our region healthy and diverse - a quote from the Cayman Wildlife Connection, read more at www.caymanwildlife.org/wildlife.html#bats On the other side of the coin it appears that the only downside in sharing space with our furry flyers is of a cosmetic or smelly nature. With this in mind, knowledgeable battlers have embarked on numerous projects involving purpose built bat houses that create an environment that is totally bat-friendly and away from the main human living area.

An interesting fact: Bats have to find new roosts on their own. At this time, there are no proven lures or attractants that can be inserted or applied to a bat house. Bats will investigate new roosting opportunities whilst foraging at night. - a quote from Bat House Research Project, you can check more at www.batcon.org/bhra/attracting.html

From a potential property buyers point of view - discovering that his or her new home in the Caribbean contains a number of friendly gatecrashers - it would be wise to understand the methodology of removal and containment of the above, rather than to accept the squatters rights of a misunderstood night-time partygoer that can see you many seconds before you can see it.

As for me, until the pungent aroma hits me it can stay!

FIX DE TYRE

nospam@example.com () — Mon, 14 Jan 2008 11:20:11 -0600

I went out to drop off laundry yesterday during what I thought was a dry spell, and the heavens opened up like the levees up above had burst forth. The little laundry man was at work and would have liked for me to spend a day chatting with him, but much as I wanted to, I could not, things kept happening that needed my attention.

To top it off, I had another flat tire. Thankfully I had one last lone rusty can of fix-a-flat, I put that into the tire, and it pumped it right up, and sealed the leak. As of this morning, 24 hours later, the tire is still fully inflated. I have always driven with a can or 2 or 3 of this in my heap of a jeep, and let me tell you, it has saved me numerous times.

I will get to the tire repair mon soon, who will mutter under his breath (the stuff stinks when you go to repair the tire properly) but who on earth wants to change a tire in the pouring down rain, especially when the one and same is wearing a short dress with freshly painted finger nails?

I once ran across an elderly English couple who had a flat and they were on that awful muddy rutty road from Smuglers Cove Beach. I was returning from the beach, covered in sea salt and sand. I pulled over and offered them my can of Fix-A-Flat. THey kept trying to politely decline, yet they were all dressed up and they thought I was wildly out of my mind if I thought some can of junk was going to fix that flat tire and it was indeed sitting on the rim. Somehow I convinced them to let me give it a try, afterall, I was dressed for the beach and they were dressed for church or somewhere fancy. I looked over the tire to see if I could find anything offending like a nail to pull out, and sure enough, there was a screw, I pulled that out, stuck the fix-a-flat in the valve and in about 2 minutes the tire was plump as brand new. I wiped the mud off their disbelieving chins (which had largely dropped in awe) and informed them they had to drive IMMEDIATELY and sedately for about a mile or so , then they could resume driving normally. I then hopped in my heap and drove away, yelling at them "Go! Go! Go! You have to DRIVE to make the stuff spin around the tire so it will stick right!"

A week later, I recived an unsual voice mail. THis couple had asked half the island until they found out WHO owned the trusty rusty red heap of a jeep, that had saved their tire that fateful day. I was invited to their home for high tea and a complimentary can of fix-a-flat. Turns out their tire held up fine for days until they finally got it fixed properly. Sometimes that stuff works for months. But it's recomended you get to the tire repair place eventually.

Written by Miss Mermaid

The Real Estate Agent, The Buyer, The Music?

nospam@example.com () — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 06:26:59 -0600

Even in the Caribbean, it's a well known ploy - should you be selling your pied-a-terre, your house or your homely sanctuary - that when your potential buyers arrive, you should have the kind of aromas wafting through the rafters that they are accustomed to, for instance: freshly ground coffee, bread in the oven and maybe a quality furniture polish fragrance cascading et al. But think of this: some suitable listings on a real estate agents website can be miles apart, depending on island size and demographics, so if the eager property advisor has arranged to take the possible buyers as usually couples - on a well thought out itinerary, maybe the ploy should come a bit sooner. A little of the right background music over the miles in the agent's car may inspire a feeling of well-being and induce a graceful fast-forward to the future parting of a spondoolies colloquially known as CASH! .Read on.

Try to keep the audio volume below conversation level, avoid instrumental tracks and make sure the lyrical content of your chosen songs is completely lucid and understandable, as a well written line to some is a subtle brainwash to others. Pass on the emotive stuff like 'New York, New York,' I Love Paris, and Chicago, and China Girl, Country Roadside and Dvorak Going Home blah-blah! Totally counter productive; think more along the lines of Rally around the West Indies a la David Rudder on form, originally penned for the cricket fraternity, an anthem no less Our House a ground breaking ska-linked ditty by Madness, Sting Fields of Barley and if you are in St Lucia or Grenada, at Sugar, Sugar from the Archies, if St Kitts is your location; 'Blue Bayou the Roy Orbison/Linda Ronstadt definitive laid back blood pressure curative as if you're exploring Antigua & Barbuda. As for Dominica as well, 'Up a Lazy River conjures up its own kind of magic - as does 'River of Dreams, Billy Joel well crafted musical missive. Stephen Bishop came up with a great number for Jamaica, On and On that captures the very essence of sun, sand and see what I've just bought! And indeed it does go on. Of course the whole tune-filled library could be linked up as a continuous loop, ensuring that your nest egg or investor type prey eventually gets the message.
The urge to put reggae, pan music or calypso material through your speakers on this trip - albeit indigenous should be shelved as it surely will be construed as an obvious ploy; your smart visitor will pick up quickly that you're trying to make him/her/they so much at home even though they haven't bought one yet.

The subject is broad but subjective; if there are wondrous readers out there with their own tongue in cheek choice of material for potential buyers wishing for a piece of the rock in the Caribees lets hear about it!

Written by Laurie Stevens

Bringing in 2008

nospam@example.com () — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 14:52:46 -0600

I would like to wish all of our readers a very Happy New Year.

We hope that many of you who are looking to buy the property of your dreams or your future find exactly what you are looking for and hope that we at Caribbean Land and Property can assist you with your choice.

I have chosen to start the New Year with a Miss Mermaid story of a puppy dog that was staying on her yachtâ€¦â€¦â€¦â€¦â€¦â€¦..

The story is poignant for me, as we nearly lost our dog who was run over by a speeding car just after Christmas. Mindy who is a BWI mix - British West Indian 57 varieties - survived through her grit and determination and the magnetism of luck that certain souls have; so when the tyre ran over her little body nothing was broken or squished, a true miracle.

Hodges Creek 'Puppy Love'

nospam@example.com () — Tue, 01 Jan 2008 14:24:57 -0600

I used to anchor here before there was a marina. One night found me, a friend and a new puppy, anchored in this then peaceful anchorage. I made Tuna Sushi Rolls for dinner. We were dining on deck. We both loved Wasabi, that spicy green Japanese horseradish that offers up a sharp tasty bite (as well as known to instantly clear the sinuses.) Some soy sauce and pickled ginger complimented our tuna-seaweed-rice dinner.

At each meal, we tried to teach the puppy not to bother our food, and not to hang around and beg. We usually fed her at the same time so she would ignore our food, but she was a puppy, and would wolf her food down hurriedly, so she could stand by our table and beg. We were trying to stop this behavior, and thus far we had been careful to guard our food and make sure she didn't steal any.

We had just got comfy and maybe tasted one or two tuna sushi rolls, dipped in soy sauce and smeared with a bit of Wasabi, chased down by pickled ginger, when we heard the call for help. A fisherman, in a dinghy, had somehow become entangled on something, and his little boat was stuck out in the harbor. The engine wouldn't start and paddling was getting him nowhere.

We jumped in the dinghy and ran over to assist. His engine had tangled with a frayed hidden mooring line, we used a knife to set it free again. We returned to our boat, looking forward to eating the rest of our dinner. But alas, the young puppy had beat us to it! All the sushi was gone including the huge blob of bright green Wasabi.

Puppy stood there with her eyes as big as saucers, her bright green tongue hanging out, her nose running, her eyes watery and she had drank her water bowl dry and still looked to be in shock. We couldn't stop laughing, the look on her face was hilarious! That amount of Wasabi must have burned her tongue and throat and made the poor thing wonder what on earth had hit her. Water doesn't cure the Wasabi heat, as most folks eat Wasabi in tiny amounts, not huge globs like this puppy had. Something starchy, like the rice in sushi tempers the burn.

We fetched her water and more dry kibble, to try to ease the burn. I will never forget those huge glassy eyes of horror on that little puppy's face, when we returned to the boat. And that was the First and the Last time, that puppy ever stole people food. Talk about a lesson learned!!!

Written by Miss Mermaid.

Christmas Greetings

nospam@example.com () — Mon, 24 Dec 2007 08:37:55 -0600

Happy Christmas and a Happy New Year to all our readers.

We hope that the next year brings a lot more people to our Caribbean shores whether just to visit or to invest in property. We are here to help and advise. We have only just started our blog on the website and hope that we get a lot of in put from our readers in the year ahead.

It is my husband and my first Christmas in Dominica, we are looking forward to celebrating with a lot of the friends we have made throughout the year. We also have a puppy that we bred called Tipe, Tippy for short, whose first Christmas on Earth it is, so celebrations all the way around.

We are putting in a photo of 'Tippy'.

Introducing a new writer for our Blog - Jen Miller

nospam@example.com () — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 12:58:24 -0600

Jen Miller, da-dah! - who, with her husband Roger - aka Wizard the Fixer - moved to Dominica two and a half years ago.

Jen thought her life in Dominica would be lying back and enjoying the leisurely pursuits; a lot of reading and relaxing with the said Wizard, and erstwhile family member, Chester the dog.... well, no not really.......read on:

This colourful couple have had their lives upended pretty drastically; they lost their beloved property Witts End through a landslide caused by Hurricane Dean, they're still battling to get compensation for that whilst simultaneously, trying to find a new place to build their cottage. During this cabal it seems, they've still found time to help folks wishing to re-locate to Dominica by writing their e book entitled Living Dominica; read it, it's self explanatory. You can also tap into her own blog:- livingdominica.blogspot.com

Amazingly, Jen still finds time to tell many stories, even now with the addition of her new puppy, Miss Lily - seen below - pride of the premises, keeping Jenny, Roger and Chester company, their Dominican bred beewee dog.

Simple Life

nospam@example.com () — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 12:51:13 -0600

We met a couple yesterday who are considering a move to Dominica. Although American, they lived in Haiti for 5 years, and they find Dominica really posh compared to living in Haiti! They are very nice people and we are hoping they come to join us.

Anyway, we spent a long time talking about why it is better to live in a developing country like Dominica or Haiti. And it is always good for me to revisit the reasons we came to Dominica and the reasons we stay.

Life is truly better with less stuff and less choices. Last year when I went to Puerto Rico shopping I experienced again the feeding frenzy that attractive merchandising and promotion creates in me. I wanted everything I saw! All of the choices and all of the variety of goods create a hunger for MORE in me that I don't like. Here, I buy what I need and grumble about what I can't get, but it is a liberating experience to not have the constant tug of slick merchandising whispering that "you really should try this new product..."In the US shopping is a hobby for a lot of folks, and I would sometimes join the "shop 'til you drop" cult. I did not devote my life to it, but I would indulge in the odd mall crawl. And I still have a ton of things that got hauled down here from those times. I was a big fan of the discount places like T.J Maxx, and it was sooo hard for me to pass up the bargains on really cunning things...

Anyway, down here there is not much recreational shopping. I shop when I must, and for what we need, not what we want. All of that hunger for the newest and most admired new gadget has gone, and with it a sense of liberation from the greedy tyrant inside has come. I don't have to do battle as much with that spoiled child who wants it all since I live here.

I do occasionally look at goods online, but once I add all of the shipping, VAT and duty to import things, they rarely get ordered. We still buy books, and replace clothes as they wear out, but that is pretty much it. I enjoy having the few nice things I brought with me, but I don't feel the need for more. I no longer have that inner restlessness of a void needing to be filled by another purchase.

Of course all that purchasing power came with indentures. We traded years of our life to buy things we did not need and later found we did not want very much. It makes me sad to look back at some of the choices we made. Sigh...

Last evening we had a marvelous electrical storm, and we sat watching the wind, rain and flashes of lightening. It approached from the West, so we could watch it coming from far out in the Caribbean. Our power was out, so after the entertainment of the storm passed, we crawled under the bed net and read by flashlight, enjoying the night sounds, the cool breezes and the rising moon through our bedroom window. Life doesn't get better than that.

Written by Jen Miller