On June 25th I had my first anniversary of moving back to Curacao to live. I had resisted it for quite a bit, but that one way ticket, bought with airmiles collected travelling to and from, was me giving it my all to make it work. The three conditions for the move: a good home situation, a fantastic job and quarterly NL trips. No room for negotiation on that, as more that half my heart lives on the other side of the world.
A year ago, I got back on a Tuesday and had told Joris there were a few things I needed to do that week. And one of those things was the Fresh Market at Hòfi Kalabash that first Saturday. I don’t know how long those have been going on before I came back, but in my first week it was one of the definite highlights. I am a green thumbed trained chef, ex-entrepreneur turned green scientist, that believes in supporting local and this was just right up my alley. It was one of those moments, just like my landing my job was, that told me my life on this island was going to be all right. In the time I have been here, I made every market, on the last Saturday of the month. One time I rushed all the way from Savonet in my ranger outfit, just to scrape the bottom of the barrel, as more and more people are discovering my corner of heaven. During the lockdown it was one of the things I missed acutely.
So driving my finally roadworthy car (Alfred) to Hòfi Kalabash yesterday, with my husband of almost 11 years, it was good to take stock. A lot has been lost in this crisis, but even more has been won in this last year.
This has been a weird week, though. In what I would most definitely define
as a weird year. As I am typing this, under normal circumstances I would be
fighting jetlag as I would have just returned from Holland from my quarterly
visit.
In the last few days I have been thinking a lot about what
recharges my batteries. As I was supposed to fly to NL, I had vacation time
scheduled and decided to keep my days off. But whatever I filled my days with, it
did not feel like vacation and for certain did not leave me replenished. The
people who know me, know that my life is filled with work, family (given and
chosen), physical exercise, volunteer work and whatever comes my way. Pelican
needs picking up? Sure (Joris does not even blink an eye anymore). 100 food packages
need to be assembled? Challenge accepted. Rebuilding a bathroom? Buurman en
Buurvrouw at your service.
But somehow it just does not feel right. Everything gets
done, and I enjoy doing it all, but something just feels….off…
So I spend some time soul searching and came to this conclusion,
my batteries are slowly running out. Because all the things that I usually do
to recharge are just not possible right now. These things are:
1. Quality time with my chosen family. It is good
to be close to my given family, that bathroom project was something we have been
wanting to do even before we lived here. Being here when my mom got really sick, was a blessing.
But a huge part of my given family
lives in Tilburg and it physically hurts not to be able to jump in my car and
go there. Also, my chosen family is anywhere but here right now. The Inge, J
&N, Pien, de Vriezen, Ron and Jo, Roos, Martijn, Arjan and Naledi’s of my life are
so sorely missed. Just those evenings of just being, especially with the June
weather, of good food, good wines and good to deteriorating conversations,
ending in the Music Game, and later on with having to hold on the the wall in
bed because of that last drink Bart poured that is was mostly vintage rum and just
some diet coke for the color…festival season, strawberry season. Amsterdamse
Bos, period. Which brings me to nr 2
2. Travel. Just getting in a plane and going. Anywhere.
I think these last 4 months have been the longest I have not travelled in the
last 10 years.
3. Dancing. I have never been the kind to go out to
have a drink and try to shout over the music. When I go out, I go out to dance.
Actually move and sweat and be surprised when the lights come on and we are
sent home. I don’t go out to stand in a corner holding an envelope purse with
heels that hurt my feet and look pretty. I look pretty enough in my shorts and
sweatproof top, with dancing sneakers, thankyouverymuch.
So little of that has been happening in the last few months.
No wonder I can’t seem to catch my stride. Joris, lying on the beach chair next to me just said out
loud: intense reiskriebels. And having typed what I just did, I reply: wth, I
am just typing how depressed I am getting about not being able to travel…as we
are lying on beach chairs, on a tropical island, with excellent music playing (Spotify
radio based on You’re wondering now by the Skatalites), drinking aged rum…
So now I am going to turn over to a more positive spin.
Because, really, even though my batteries are running low, my life is pretty good.
In the last year, I landed a dream job,
build up a fortress household that is mostly
ready to accommodate people at a moments notice,
have had some awesome visits,
did
some great volunteer projects,
saw my Joris find his groove back which restored
some key elements this household was craving,
ran my first 21.1K,
had some
bucketlist items checked off,
cuddled with the NL folks over the end of year
holidays,
bought my dream car and
could pop over to AUA for a wedding.
And all of that before the lockdown.
During the lockdown I used my green thumb and food packaging skills to the utmost and got involved in some cool after lockdown projects.
There are good things ahead, travelling to be done, people to see, places to be. For now, we are good where we are, healthy and paddling in place.
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