Cheek Pinchin' Moments II

Earlier this year I made this blog post. Inspired by the various tumblrs "What should we call..." such as these Med School & Med School Spouses.

As I sit here, merely days away from kissing this all goodbye, I decided it was time for:

The Grenada Experience in GIFs

Term 1:
You are totally excited to get to Grenada! It is Paradise after all right?! You've heard about lots of volunteering experiences, the beautiful beach, and maybe you can even try your hand at all things domestic! So you get settled in, maybe start making friends, and your anxiety of the unknown subsides.

But if you are anything like me, the dream fades. You start to realize that Grenada is a hot, sweaty, lonely experience filled with frustrations that you are doing pretty okay shaking off.

Three months in you hit a brick wall:



All of a sudden "We aren't going home at all in the two years!" or "We aren't going home til next summer." Is obviously the wrong. You break the piggy bank, and find ways to sell your soul to get home to the U.S.A. just to set foot inside a Super Target.

Term 2:
When Term 2 starts, you start to feel like you have a handle on things, that has to mean things will be easier right?! You've heard that Term 2 isn't as bad as Term 1. And you will buy in to that lie all you want. People from home are noticing that you are still gone. Maybe they chat with you about what Grenada is like and how lucky you are.

"You live in the Caribbean?! You live in Paradise"

And you're like:



Once the first month is over and the easy courses finish for your spouse, things start getting tough again. The groceries at IGA are still sparse, you are still missing buses, and your $6 USD bunch of cilantro is still somehow always rotten when you go to use it. You may find yourself indoors more often, less likely to have the motivation to do all those super awesome volunteer projects you were so excited for just months earlier. Because, you know, they require pants:



SUMMER:
You some how, as if by magic, make it to the glorious summer. Summer summer summer! In America. The land of capitalism, cheap goods, burgers, and customer service. At some point though, you have to call American Airlines. You may not even know why. A changed itinerary? A cancelled flight? Bringing a pet? Bringing extra bags? It is inevitable. So you call, and after transfers, holds and talking to the next available agent, you might just hang up fuming"




Term 3:
Maybe you come back late for Term 3/4, like a sane human being. I had a lot of friends saying how much they missed the island. How happy they were to be coming back. I didn't get it. I remember riding home from the airport with Ross and his friend. It was this weird feeling. It was dark outside, and the hot sticky air was settling in on my skin. Like it or not, I was back. The 10 month countdown silently began.

Term 3 isn't too bad. But the whole time you just have this dark storm cloud of Hellacious 4th term looming over you:



Term 4:
Term 4 starts and you are totally psyched in to the evil. That is when a bunch of brand new smiling people enter the island for the first time. Your already entropic trip to IGA has been interrupted by everyone else who needs the same bread, milk, cereal, and chicken:



Term 4 is some how not as terrible as you thought - it is a hundred times worse.

It's like you can see this Titanic headed straight for the iceberg. Being a Leo fan, you know exaclty what is going to happen:



As 4th term is wrapping up and you are still not sure you will make it, you realize that the relief of summer after 2nd term was nothing.

Term 5:
You have a wonderful break. Maybe in Grenada, maybe in the U.S. Term 5 is next. You never thought you would see the day. But you leave the island in just a few months now! Somehow time drags on. You remember that although nothing could be as bad as Term 4. This is still medical school, and not that much ever really changes:



The talk always seems to turn to the next step. That is, studying for The Step and where you move next. Everyone is all abuzz with the most important question:

"Where do you want to go for rotations?":




And then the countdown begins:

#5daysforme!

Leaving Grenada GIFs

As my time in Grenada draws to a close I've been a bit obsessed with tumblrs like "what we should call caribbean med school."

I might marry gifs if I could. But for now I will just post a compilation of some of my favorites with a narrative.

When I asked my brother if he had seen the preview for "Pompeii" And he responded that that movie came out LAST YEAR in the U.S.



Maybe when I return to The Land Of Plenty I can see a movie within a few years of it coming out. Maybe in a movie theater, but I really don't want to push it.

When people ask me how I feel about leaving Greanda:



Then I break out into tears:



Except I do know what I am upset about. And that can be answered in so. many. ways.

When people invite me to playgroup (because they think I am that bored):



Or when people try to encourage me to go to another Girl's Night or SO activity.



When SOs see me daring to leave the island with only a mild tan.



But that's okay. Pretty soon I get to roll that pretty little suitcase into the airport and feel like:



Only to know the baggage handlers at American Airlines be like:



But that's okay because I'm going to be back in AMERICA:



So things will be okay for now.

Life in the Fishbowl

From the social media level, one might think that life in Grenada is FAN-freaking-TASTIC!! Pina coladas, girls nights, hanging by the pool, walks along the beach, beautiful sunsets.

And that can be true, but like anything posted on social media there is a deeper darker side of the Grenada Experience. It's one that is only talked about in the depths and secrecy of your own soul, maybe a one-on-one with your closest friend. Maybe midnight tears with your mom on the phone, stolen texts to your BFF.



I'm not convinced that everyone feels this way, but if I thought I was the only soul on this island that felt this way, I wouldn't be writing this. 

The thing about the Grenada Experience,

is that we live in a fish bowl.

With the added "benefit" of all forms of social media, everyone (every SO) can see every angle and detail if your life, or the ones we choose to share anyways.

When I first got to Grenada I was overwhelmed with how friendly the SOs (Significant Others) were. It felt like I was entering a new family of friends that I just hadn't met yet. But like all shiny things in life, that faded. I realized an important ugly truth in life:

Everything I needed to know about life, I learned in High School.

I'm not talking about the Pythagorean Theorem. I am not talking about a plethora of literary devices. I'm not talking about the dates of important historic events.

I'm talking about the fact that cliques and drama will always be present. The uglier truth is that on a tiny island you CANNOT. ESCAPE. IT.

It can be terribly depressing and frustrating. You can feel alienated and alone.



It has puzzled me. Instead of lifting one another up and commiserating together, it can feel very dog eat dog down here. Sorry for the cannibalistic deserted island stereotype. #notsorry

Maybe this is what "true" married life is like. A huge contest of who is the best wife. 

Who's losing their baby weight the quickest, who's having the most adventures, who's husband is the smartest, who's swimsuit is cutest, who's getting better deals at the corner fruit stand, who's baking the best celebration dessert.

One of the best things anyone ever told me was, "Kristen, it's not a contest." 

You know why that is great advice? Because it's NOT a contest. We're not comparing (or the point is, we shouldn't be).

Part Two of this ever-growing post is called:

"No Place for an Introvert."

Life and friendship in Grenada is a constant and concerted effort to make and maintain friendships. Because the pond from which to fish for friends is so small, friendships can tend to be awkward and forced. Take a second to imagine what a nightmare this would be for an introvert like myself. If you don't edge your way into a clique right off the bat, you have to spend the next two years floating in the ether.

What is worse, you are absolutely replaceable. Said "pond" is depleted and replenished every term. New SOs enter for a swim and others dry off and leave. A new SO comes in that has kids more your age or more of an interest in babysitting? Replaced. A new SO comes in that likes the same team as your hubby? Replaced. A new SO comes in that has a car and is liberal with rides? Replaced. You couldn't make it to the girl's night? Replaced. You don't like to gossip? Replaced.



The concept is simple enough. And it wouldn't even be a big deal except, as mentioned, you cannot escape people on this island. If you have a falling out with someone, if you are involved in shunning or drama, you get to "bump" into them everywhere. You'll get to hear about all the adventures everyone is having. You'll get to hear about how authentic and genuine everyone is.



Replaced. 

So there is your S.O. warning. It's not much different from life in general.
You take things for what they are, and just try to be the best person you can be.

PACO!? Tu Cuarto....!

As the days dwindle, so does my stuff. My junk.

This brings me ultimate JOY. I'm kind of a pack rat. I blame it on never having much money, so I tend to hold on to things I have already acquired/ purchased. This results is lots of used, abused, and old items. But here in Grenada I get to ditch it all. It can be frustrating trying to sell it all, and arrange to meet people, but ultimately, the end feeling of being "free" really trumps it all.

I am the world's worst packer. I hate moving and it tends to cause lots of drama in my little home. Knowing this, I made myself start very early this time. 

This is a fancy way of saying "I destroyed the apartment by pulling everything out of corners and drawers and closets and threw them around."
But it is just all part of the process:

I'm currently in the red/orange phase.

If you don't get the reference, and you never had the privilege of this beauty in high school.

So watch this video from (this time) 2:07. 

In high school we rarely had the luxury of watching the videos, but every unit had a photo-strip version of the story. The last frame was always super dramatic. I am pretty sure the last frame looked pretty much exactly like my photo collage above. Since some many of us Widdison kids read the same hilarious re-occuring antics of crazy Paco, it became a joke. And before long "Paco! Tu cuarto es un desastre!" became a household phrase.

The past week has been filled with attending many of the "yard sales" SGU organizations hold. 5th term sales, SO sales, etc. Thank goodness for Ross who, despite his busy schedule, has hauled the stuff on and off buses, across campus, and so on. He sat at the 5th term sale for about 5 hours and sold a bunch of our stuff. What a stud! Tuesday was the SO sale, and we tried our best to get rid of everything! Even giving a lot of it away for free. All I knew was that I was not going to bring that back to the apartment.

Patty definitely had all the best stuff to sell. Everyone flocked to her items! I snapped a photo.

Ross and I have gathered some pretty priceless stories from our hours of sitting trying to hustle our stuff.

Story #1
A man walked by and I greeted him.

Me: *gesturing my sale items* Do you see anything that you like?
Man: *laughs* Yes, but *gestures to Ross* I think ya boyfriend would be vexed if I said! 

It took a minute to process that he was hitting on me. I was laughing pretty hard and turned pretty red. Never a dull moment.

The next two come from Ross.

Story #2
This woman comes by our table and looks at this sports bra we were selling. This thing is tiny. I mean, it didn't even fit me. Ross says that the woman in general was twice my size and had ginormous boobs. She picks up the bra, asks the price. At first I figured she was probably buying for a daughter or friend or something. But then she says, "This would be perfect for exercising!" and buys it. I'm not sure she knows you buy one for both, not one for each.

Story #3
When you buy cell phones down here you often get cheap "swag." Like bandanas, bags, or water bottles.  We had a water bottle we figured we could try and sell for maybe $2 EC. That is approximately 74 cents. So a lady picks up the bottle and talks to Ross:

Lady: How much for the bottle? $1?
Ross: Well, $2.
Lady: (absolutely disgusted, throws the bottle down) I COULD GET THIS FOR FREE!!!

So why would you ask to pay $1 in the first place?! Haha. So funny. I swear some people just want to mess with you.

Story #4 
This story is the opposite of Story #3 and for that reason, it is that much more funny. By this point I am ready to just run away and leave my pile in the middle of the field. This lady picks up some Dollar Tree-esque item:

Lady: $1!
Me: Sure.
Lady: (looks at me disgusted) REALLY?!
Me: Yes. 

 Luckily I sold a lot of my stuff to my co-workers and besides that we don't have much to get rid of. Ross and I are both at peace with what we have sold. There is a certain amount of loss that you have to expect, and it isn't a big deal. Certainly not something to lose sleep over. Here's to 10 DAYS!

Music Monday #8: Tell Your Folks!

Amongst my love of ska and punk rock music, I love folk music. It's random. But like most things, I like to blame it on my parents. They raised me on the blues folk music of the 70's. Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Janis Jopin, to name a few. While in college I discovered a local folk artist, Joshua James.

His music is beautiful.

In the past years I have gotten in the habit of listening to him when I need to calm down, or fall asleep. The music is very soothing and relaxing.

I called upon his magical powers this morning while I had a furious, depressing, stressful meltdown less than an hour in to my work shift. Wiping the tears away and taking a deep breathe because the shift must go on, I plugged into the ipod and beheld the Joshua James shuffle option.

Christmas 2012 Santa surprised me with a digital download of his album From the Top of Willamette Mountain. Santa might have regretted it afterwards because on the rainy, cloudy, dreary day, I listened to that album about 10 times all the way through. That album is my favorite, but in true Kristen fashion, i'm going to highlight a song from a different album.

"Lawn Full of Marigolds" is from his second album, "Build Me This."

I'm not going to break down the song bit by bit this time. I feel like his songs are so filled with emotion and meaning, darkness and hope, that it is better to get from it what you need.

I'll just leave you with my favorite bit:

"To death: I'm dying,

to love: I'm trying,

to God: I'm lying again.

And to my ma: I've failed you, 

to my pa: well I've blamed you, 

and to God: I have shamed you again."

I love the raw human emotions. I think many of us have felt at least one of these emotions.

What music genre do you like that would surprise people?

Happy Birthday Krystle!

August 2013: 
I met Krystle at a Significant Others Organization Opening Social. I'm not much one for huge social gatherings, but for some reason I decided to go. After I got my food, I grabbed a seat on a curb out of everyone's way. After a little bit I struck up a conversation with an SO next to me, who was new to the island. That SO was Krystle, and I never could have guessed we would have so much fun and be so close in the following months.

Krystle is a fantastic friend for many reasons. One of which is that she is very chill. She gets me. Life here in Grenada, and as a med student spouse can be tiring and frustrating. It is amazing to be able to hang out with her and just have all those frustrations melt away.

She accepts me for who I am, mistakes and all. She doesn't "forgive" me because she never thinks it was an issue in the first place. I bet you are wondering what that means. Yes, there is a specific story for this one.

Story Time (fast-forward to present day):

I told Krystle I would make a treat for her birthday. After pestering her she finally gave in and said something with peanut butter and chocolate would be great, but I surely didn't have to make anything for her. Well, I totally botched it. Take a look:

It was a marshmallow brownie with peanut butter chips. I am so embarrassed I can't even include the original recipe link. Being me, I figured frosting always makes things better right?



Not so much. Due to the Grand Canyon quality of crevices on the brownie pie, the frosting sunk and fell. Haha. Do you think Krystle cared or made a big deal about it? No way! That is what I love about her. Not only is she very kind, but she appreciates you. Krystle is one of those friends who I have only known a little while, but I feel like we have been friends forever. I always feel like I can 100% be myself around her.

For her birthday we hung out at the Radisson hotel pool, then later grabbed some ice cream at Options with her husband (see what I did there? Garrett is the awkward third wheel in this relationship!).

Krystle is making leaving Grenada very bittersweet. I am really really going to miss her and her easy-going demeanor. I'll miss our pool days, our deep conversations, are funny conversations. I'll miss walking to her place for exactly 1 stalk of celery and 1 pickle.

But I know that the fiery flames of Grenada forge strong friendships that distance cannot break. 

 Also, she knows too much. So I have to keep her close.

Have a wonderful year Krystle!

Know that I am always here for you, and that this isn't goodbye forever. I still need to visit the Jersey shore!

Smoothies for Dinner

It is hot. 

Holly Hannah Montana, it is hotter than two cats dancing on a hot dutch oven (right dad?). I step outside and I am exhausted. I take two steps and I feel like I am going to faint. Last week I rode the bus and as the rushing wind was coming through the window, sweat was just trickling down my temples, my hair was a sticky sweaty mess. DOES NO ONE ELSE ON THIS BUS FEEL THE SAME?

Anyways, I feel as a result of the recent uptick in temperatures I have somewhat lost my appetite. Usually I cannot stop eating food, so this is very strange for me. When it came time for dinner not only was I feeling incredibly lazy, but I also wasn't very hungry.

Enter: Smoothies for dinner!

In a valiant effort to clear out the freezer and pantry, I lined up the possibilities. 

Ross tends to be the mix master, and whipped up some options.

I have to ask. Does anyone else HATE that disgusting end of the banana that is always chalky and gross? Ross calls it the ban-anus. I don't eat no bananuses.

I'm not usually a huge fan tropical fruits, but one fruit I have discovered and become obsessed with is soursop. Through extensive research I found that I can find this wonder in the U.S. God bless the melting pot of America!

It is a pretty weird looking fruit.

Here they sell it in these magnificent smoothie-ready packets. Ross tends to add stuff anyways, but it is brilliant. I am a bit disappointed I have only discovered these packets now.



So for tonight it was soursop smoothies. Drinking up every ounce of our last moments in Grenada, in a non-alcoholic sense.