Getting Used To The Tropics

Getting Used To The Tropics

“And so you’ve come to the Tropics, and heard all you had to do, was sit in the shade of a coconut glade while the pesos roll into you…”

                       From “The Tropics” – Bertie Higgins/Sonny Limbo 1982

Well the pesos aren’t exactly rolling in. The only thing rolling in is the tide. And that suits me just fine. For a northern boy there’s a lot to get used to. Punishing sun that’s rough on people and machinery, salt air that’s corrosive and disfiguring, and humidity so intense that you break into a shirt ruining sweat just thinking too hard. There’s wildlife that’s quiet, and in some cases would like to kill you for no other reason than you’re alive. Some of it comes in glorious colors, like the iguanas in neon green. I’m used to wildlife that only picks a beef with you if you scare it, or get between mama and the cubs.

Here it lies in wait.There are the little lizards that you find in the drawers, on the walls, underfoot, under a door handle, or in your bed. I am not going to stoop so low about commenting on lizards in my bed in any other context.  That would be crass.

Speaking of neon green iguanas, I got a fright when I walked out of the Radio Shack up at the K-Mart mall. I just walked out the door and there was a four foot neon green iguana with spikes on its back suddenly running across my path. It had been sunning itself and I wasn’t looking where I was opening the door. That was a quick lesson in always looking where your next step lands.

The birds are vastly different. Graceful Great White Herons, curved bill White Ibis’s, Pelicans, Ospreys, and Vultures all make appearances over my new office chair. I consider a visit from the Pelican a real treat. In flight they remind me of old flying boats. I can spend an hour watching the Great White Heron hunting in the water in front of me. I had an Osprey explode out of the pine tree next to my office chair. Like an arrow it flew straight to its prey about 70 feet offshore in the shallows. Frightening and majestic at the same time. Seagulls are one third the size they are at home. The Vultures you will often see soaring over the roadways, looking for the easy meal. They usually don’t have to wait long.

I have yet to see any of the deadlier creatures. I am hoping to make it to the end of my time here as sighting free as possible. Though they are cutting back a bunch of overgrowth out by the highway so there may be some displaced critters slithering around somewhere.

The people have a whole different system of marking time. The morning means the afternoon, the afternoon means tomorrow, and tomorrow means eventually. It’s frustrating to be at the mercy of a different temporal marking system. Now don’t think I’m picking on these folks, I’m not. It’s the way they are, and eventually you get used to it. Heavy emphasis on eventually. And even at that you don’t understand until you yourself realize that you have occasionally lost hours at a time just “being”. Time seems to move according to a coconut clock.

That’s the only term for it. I have no deadlines here, either real or imagined. Getting lost in the sun dappled sea, staring at the small mangrove islands just off the coast of where I’m staying is commonplace. I never intend to lose time, it just happens. It’s somewhat like taking an unexpected nap, except when you wake up you know you haven’t been sleeping. I no longer find it strange that more “alien abduction” stories come out of the south. I’m not really a believer; I’m only putting forth an alternate explanation.

Getting used to the tropics also means getting used to looking at other worlds. Except when the moon is full, the skies are so clear you can see back in time just by staring at the sky. The great line from 2001: A Space Odyssey always comes to mind, “My God, it’s full of stars!” As a city dweller at home I can see some stars, the really bright ones, but the grand landscape of space is denied us mostly due to light pollution. It’s hard to inspire your kids to great explorations when you can’t expose them to the true size of a universe sized landscape. It’s no wonder they find greater inspiration in a TV and a hand controller.

Driving poses some challenges. There are three kinds of drivers in my neck of the Tropics, the ones in a whole hell of a hurry to kill themselves, and those who are in no hell of a hurry at all. The third kind, like me, are trying not to have any contact with the other two. The first kind are usually in large domestic pickup trucks, the second kind usually in full size domestic cars. Both kinds usually wear a hat. I was heading up “the stretch” to Florida City one afternoon when a whole line of us was passed, on the right, by a guy in a big black Dodge pickup. We were all doing about 65 in a 55 zone. Now to understand this you must realize that “the stretch” is only two lanes wide with a grass shoulder and a turquoise concrete median. Did I mention the pickup had the guy’s business name, number, and logo on it? And to top it off we all got to the first stoplight at the same time. In fact his lane choices were so poor in town that I passed him when he got stuck behind some folks turning right. I think they were turning right, nobody uses turn signals.

I like the short hand they use for directions. Oceanside or Bay side? It’s like being in Hawaii, Diamond Head or Ewa? The whole Mile Marker thing is a godsend to tell people where you are, and so you know where you are. The first two digits in an address are the Mile Marker, and the last three digits the address within the mile. Simplicity itself, so long as you know which direction is ascending and descending.

The clouds here are spectacular. They are the clouds of childhood. Well, not my childhood. I grew up on the west coast where clouds come in flat, thick gray sheets and hang around for weeks on end. Here you can see never ending shapes and textures. At sunrise and sunset they come alive with colour and drama. The sky changes every few minutes. If you don’t like it now, wait 10 minutes and a whole new tableau will open up before you.

You get used to expecting less, and expectations in general get modified. I don’t expect to watch TV because I don’t get TV here. There’s no cable where I’m staying, and I'm too far from a major city to pick up anything off air. So it’s the local radio station with its mix of 60’s and 70’s “oldies”, whatever's on the iPod, or the mix of silence with ocean sounds and breezes keeping time in the background. 

Internet is expensive. I’m using a $70 4G LTE box and buying 10GB of data at $90 a pop. There is regular internet in people’s houses, just not where I’m staying. So I manage with less because I expect less. Less being vastly relative when you’re used to 400GB a month for $75.

I’m so busy getting lost in time I actually don’t miss my old ways of information gathering. Though to be totally honest I gave up on TV news delivery about a year and a half ago. There isn’t really a need to catch the news here. The news I care about involves the weather, fishing, and diving reports. Every day here is timeless, but it also goes by too soon. So to spend any of that time at the “content whim” of corporate media driven more by a tiresome consultant’s “suggestions” for content with a negative emotional hook, would be wasteful in the extreme. I’ll take the local radio with music I can sing to and that revives mostly pleasant memories, the iPod with its personality of the eclectic shuffle, and the stars.

I’ve had to give up some of my old dietary ways. I have had to convert to eating more fish because it’s cheap and fresh here. Or the sandwiches from Chad’s that are the same size as a Prius. For snacks it’s fresh apples, strawberries, or cut veggies. There’s a pizza place I really like though their small size is 12 inches as opposed to 10 inches at home. So a “small” pizza is good for two meals. However there is also a great BBQ place that has the best ribs this side of Corky’s in Memphis! Beer is much cheaper. There's a mostly local beer called Key West Sunset Ale that has captured my affection, though my legendary love for Landshark lager is also indulged. Every night involves a sundown ceremony of a Boodle’s martini and red, orange, and gold clouds. Can’t get Boodle’s at home, and so my home is the lesser for it.

I’m getting used to being isolated. I’m in a very quiet and gated community. A lot of people here use electric golf carts to get around. Everybody waves at you as you drive past them. I’m not used to that. I’m used to the car horns of morons who can’t read the Yield sign at the roundabout in front of my apartment, or the terminally deaf motorcyclists who seem to think that their demonstrated virility rests solely on the noise coming out of a muffler. So I’m trying to get used to the sounds of gentle and soft. 

It’s an adjustment. One that takes a while. One that takes understanding. One that is not entirely unwanted, and not overly difficult to make.

And so I’ve come to the Tropics…