Sleep Before Waking

I hereby acknowledge the raging fail that was my delayed cruise album. Blogging and I haven’t tangoed in a while, which can be entirely blamed on the fact that the blog refuses to go back to our ballroom dancing class because HE thinks the instructor was giving me the eyeballs. Well, whatever blog, if you wanna be that way.

This is St. Lucia.

And this is my future swimming pool. As a part of the “Historic St. Lucia Tour” (which I wouldn’t really recommend) we visited a mountaintop homestead of a transplanted English doctor who had fallen in love with an island beauty and decided to move to be with her. Now the bastard is living in my fucking house. Don’t worry, I’ll just build one that’s better, then fly taunting flags in his general direction.

Anyway, at the man’s house we were treated to a delicious array of Island cuisine, including some shit, some other shit, and some delicious shit dipped in banana ketchup. Who knew that would taste like God’s own saliva? The juice was alright, but it was nothing compared to the fresh passion fruit juice I chugged in the sweltering heat on the Isle of Dominica.

This is my daughter having a freak out over the sweet two way dolly I bought her at a road side vendor. She’s not two way because she bats for both teams you dirty monger, she’s multiple personality. If you flip her skirt she changes outfits, and faces, but that’s beside the point. There are jokes I could make, but I won’t.

The landscape beyond the fence in this shot was quite possibly the most breathtaking landscape I have ever seen. There were colors and hues in the sunlight here that were unlike anything I had ever seen. Truly beautiful.

Which made it entirely all too possible for the following goats to maintain an unprecedented racket over the gathering hordes of tourists.

“Hey look Mommy! Goats of varied gorgeous colors standing over a cliff that frames the heavens. Can I feed them Banana chips that are conveniently for sale at the table directly across the street here?”

How can a mother say no, I ask you?

Trick Question. She can’t.

You try saying no to these goats. They’ll just flash you a gold filigreed Bleet that echoes across the rolling landscape and you’ll cave.

Oh you’ll cave.

Now, St. Lucia didn’t stop there in its pursuits of making me its bitch. Oh no.

After the somewhat (well no, let’s come correct, the completely) disappointing Historical tour, I returned to the ship in time to take my first of several solo excursions. (I’m an Aries, I don’t need backup to start shit, friends. Know this.) I’d been warned that I would end up on a beach in my bathing suit and nothing more, so I decided to leave Sundance (My Nikon D90 for the new readers. For my returnees, you should fucing know by now!) in the cabin and go completely free of material belongings (how spiritually profound of me). I left my camera, my phone, all but my soul, my manners, and my sarcasm back at the ship and headed out for my Horseback Riding Excursion.

Now as you may have caught on, there are no photographs of this day from this point on. I rode along in a bus with the couples and families to the ranch where we would be riding and was assigned a horse named Lessa. The dreadlocked tour guide was stern and intense. He would make you listen with force if need be, but his intentions were good. Be less than jovial, people will fucking listen to you. I was told Lessa would try to test by pulling on the reins three times (three times exactly). I would need to hold strong or she would completely ignore my instructions for the rest of the ride.

She pulled once, twice, three times…then she even tried a fourth because I wasn’t playing. I gave her a pat on the neck and a scratch along the mane. She turned to look at me. I mean really look at me. From then on, we understood each other.

We rode with ease down a dirt road through a banana plantation, listening to the panicked sounds of other riders losing their cool as the cows on leashes wandered into their horses path, causing a bit of a clusterfuck. I rode with a calm horse and a serene outlook and soon found myself on the most perfect beach I could have imagined. It was set away from the rest of the world by high cliffs on either side. There was no way to access this beach by anything other than horseback or boat. We tied the horses to nearby trees and went for a swim.

Then I did the most profoundly awesome thing I have ever done. I rode a horse, bareback, in the ocean. That’s right. Tell me that isn’t one of those ridiculously moving and profound experiences and I’ll call you a dirty fucking liar. The tension you have to keep in your thighs to keep yourself on the horse and to protect your nether regions from bruising on the horses vertebrae is remarkable, and unexpected.

Now, the real clincher of this trip…turned out there WERE people there to watch your stuff at the beach. I could have brought my camera, or my phone, or both if I’d been so inclined. I don’t regret it though. All the more reason to repeat the endeavor on a future cruise. Some experiences are meant to be captured by memory alone. I captured it alright, and it changed me. I will never fear to do anything alone again. The crowd may be off sitting in sulfur baths by an active volcano, which sounds magical in and of itself, but the horses were calling my name. Had I ignored their siren song…I would have more pictures from St. Lucia – but FUCK pictures! Experience trumps pictures here folks. Don’t let anyone tell you different.

So I hereby post a picture to help you enjoy the profound soul changing experience I shared with a horse alone. Well…and a bunch of other tourists with cameras. Whatever. Now, suspend disbelief and just imagine this is a picture of me.

This is exactly what it looked like, except Optimus Prime was riding along the beach beside us.

~ by Caitlin on August 20, 2010.

Posted in Comedy, Inspiring, Life, Photography, Travel, Writing
Tags: Carnival Cruise Lines, Comedy, Life, Photography, St. Lucia, Writing