House Hunters International Lies

After the euphoria of arriving on our tropical island wore off, reality set in. We have a week to find a condo, take a driver's test, buy a car, and open a bank account. In addition, I'm attending orientation half days. Whoa. It's been challenging. First off, everyone here operates on "island time." They even will differentiate for you, "Your orientation is at 8:30 ENGLISH time." You wanna look at a property? I'll pick you up at 2pm ISLAND time. "Island time" is the equivalent of Evan's "ish" time. For example, Ev will tell me, "Be home at 1- ish" That translates to an additional hour added to the time discussed. I will need to get used to "island time," because it's not going anywhere. This is how it's done. I'm struggling to stay calm when I have a list of 5 things to get done in 4 hours, everyone is running an hour behind, and everything closes at 5. I clench my jaw, repeatedly look at my watch, check my cell phone, and basically induce hypertension....while everyone around me is blissful and unaware. Hmmm...I want to be blissfully unaware. I'm going to need to work on accepting "island time" in order to survive on this island.

We've looked at about 10 properties. One of the schools I'm based out of is waaaaay at the top of the island in West Bay - away from everything. We could live in West Bay and have a beautiful condo with an amazing ocean view; however, we wouldn't be within walking distance to any restaurants, bars, or beaches. It's quite secluded. On the other hand, we can have a condo within walking distance to the renowned Seven Mile Beach and all the greatest restaurants, bars, and nightlife - but...of course there's a but...the interior of the condo is reminiscent of something I lived in when I was 21. That being said, I had a lot of fun when I was 21 - you know, swinging from the chandeliers and such. I had pretty low standards of living in my early 20's. Unfortunately, my standards have risen slightly.

Ev and I have always dreamed that someday we would be like one of those couples on House Hunters International - faced with the gloriously wonderful dilemma of choosing a home on a tropical paradise. Sadly, this experience was much more stressful than delightful. Hot, sweaty, tired, and hungry, Ev and I straggled through $2300 (US) apartment after apartment with green shag carpet, broken doors, and dodgy shower curtains. Upon returning back to "Sunshine Suites," we were not greeted with sunshine as one of the guests informed us angrily that our dog "barked the entire time you were gone." Dundee? Bob Barker? Ugh. Likewise, Biloxi, the cat, is also not feeling the sunshine and spends the nights wandering the tiny hotel suite yelling, "OWWWWWWW." In addition, I have 7 suitcases strewn about a tiny hotel room and I can't find my underwear. Did I even pack underwear? Where the hell are all my panties? Why are the people on House Hunters International always so cool, calm, and happy? Lies. All lies. Just sayin'

Presently, Evan and I are under rested and overwhelmed. But you know what? We watch the sunset over the Caribbean in the evening while our dog frolics in the ocean. We eat dinner outside in the warm tropical breeze, as Bob Marley plays in the background. We will settle in. We were told this time would be very challenging, so now we're feeling it, and trying to roll with the punches on "island time."

This does NOT suck

Bob Barker has a beer named after him!

Action shot! Ev rinses off