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Baby octopus on Bird Island. Photo credit: Greg Berke

Since my twice-daily drive to town taking the kids back and forth to school gets grindingly dull as I pass the same stunningly beautiful scenery time and time again .. azure seas, white sand beaches, verdant forest, ho hum … I frequently offer lifts to neighbors waiting for busses, and although ensuing conversations too often consist of tedious discussions of the three most popular topics here — a limited range of weather (all tropical), fish (also tropical), or sex (not as steamy as you’d think) — occasionally something gets me thinking.

My passenger this afternoon was an octopus diver, which is to say he puts food on the table by hunting, then selling, octopi for the tables of others. Since Sam has recently started snorkeling, we’ve been on the hunt ourselves for a sight of an eight-armed wonder, but they’re bloody hard to find.

Having access to an expert, I sought some advice, but ended up getting more questions than I asked. Knowing that I spend much of my time online, he asked if I could do a bit of research on the tasty cephalopods, then report back.

Asking about the lifespan of an octopus started the wondering, since Stephen has no idea if the creature he finds, stabs in the eye, then pots has been around for five months of fifty years.

Turns out, the fifty year thing isn’t possible. According to the octowiki, these amazingly intelligent, bilaterally symmetric dudes aren’t around for long at all … and they can blame that on sex (which we knew we’d get around to eventually).

Octopuses have a relatively short life expectancy, and some species live for as little as six months. Larger species, such as the North Pacific Giant Octopus, may live for up to five years under suitable circumstances. However, reproduction is a cause of death: males can only live for a few months after mating, and females die shortly after their eggs hatch. They neglect to eat during the (roughly) one month period spent taking care of their unhatched eggs, but they don’t die of starvation. Endocrine secretions from the two optic glands are the cause of genetically-programmed death.

According to the octopus hunter in my car, there are plenty of octopuses that are hard as hell to find, and since they breed by the zillions and don’t last long, I’m not too fussed about the occasional curry I enjoy.

I am, however, a bit bothered about dining on someone so much smarter than a cow.

Octopuses are highly intelligent, likely more so than any other order of invertebrates. The exact extent of their intelligence and learning capability is much debated among biologists, but maze and problem-solving experiments have shown that they do have both short- and long-term memory.

In laboratory experiments, octopuses can be readily trained to distinguish between different shapes and patterns. They have been reported to practice observational learning, although the validity of these findings is widely contested on a number of grounds. Octopuses have also been observed in what some have described as play: repeatedly releasing bottles or toys into a circular current in their aquariums and then catching them. Octopuses often break out of their aquariums and sometimes into others in search of food. They have even boarded fishing boats and opened holds to eat crabs.

Thanks to my car companion du jour, I now have a bit of an idea where to start looking for an octopus to share with Sam in the sea instead of over dinner, and I can’t wait until he catches sight of his first as it suddenly appears, moves, settles, then disappears in the flash of color morph that perfectly mimics its new spot.

Side note: a sack of dead octopuses is a pulsating bag of color … fascinating and sad, but when I come across the option I usually buy one for dinner.

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Deb's farewell "Sunset White Party at Lounge 8" ... she's a classy lassy ...There are many differences between life on a small tropical island and life just about anywhere else, or in what those of us here refer to as the “real world”.

Some of those differences are annoying, like a slow and sporadic Internet connection, unpredictable shortages of things you never expect a whole country to run out of … potatoes and toilet paper, for example … and the ridiculously high price in time and money of going anywhere.

Some are great. The climate, the beaches, the pristine water, clean air, lack of crowds, mass media, marketing blitz and glitz in general all contribute to the positive aspects of Seychelles life.

(In completely classic timing, the electricity just cut off … again … so it may be hours before I can actually post this.)

A double-edged sword, as is so much in life, taking the good with the bad is a daily practice.

On an important up note, inhabitants finding like-thinking, fun others learn quickly not to take anyone for granted. Friendships are founded fast and furious, and with so few entertainment options available, social interactions … meals, beaching, dives, hikes, mutual veranda confabs and such … happen regularly to the enjoyment of all.

The downside is that all but a handful of these like-thinking, fun others are only here for a short time. Work contracts usually run for a couple of years; a long enough time to get attached, dependent on the entertainment value of the said fun other, and accustomed to their presence.

The first few years of life here saw me avoiding any closeness with expats. Goodbyes were much harder for me then, and it seemed a set up to allow myself to get close enough to temporary islanders to face suffering the predictable loss of them after only a year or so.

I’m over that now that I’ve learned the payoff; not only are there fab times while we’re rock-bound together, the result of them moving along is a wide and global scattering of people I adore. Even with island Internet and its issues, we stay in touch over the years between visits, and there’s no shortage of holiday ops in some of the most interesting places on the planet.

As of this coming Thursday, another treasured wonder bites the dust: our own Miss Kinky Black, Deb Wilson, is buggering off after two and a half years of keeping people here smiling, drinking and generally well amused.

As is tradition, a farewell is conducted with appropriate amounts of booze, food and conversation. In Deb’s case, classy woman that she is, it happened at Lounge 8 with everyone decked out in white to best offset the fabulous sunset that arrived on cue to thunderous camera clicks bent on immortalizing the occasion.
As a departing gift, a book compiled of our individual memories concerning Deb was printed. Titled appropriately “Paradise My Arse” … a phrase trotted out by Ms Wilson on more than one occasion … and emblazoned with a photographic representation of her making that point so well, it’s bound to be a gift she’ll keep handy throughout her life for ease of reference to this rock, her time here and those of us who will still be missing her.

New, wonderful, funny people will show up, though, and we’ll let them into our lives, enjoy them while they’re here, then think up leaving gifts special to them when it’s time for them to head back to the real world. That’s just how it works …

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Guess what I found in my post office box today. No. Really … guess.

(Take some time … )

Okay. Spilling now …

Today, the 28th of September, 2009, I open my PO Box to find … ta daaaaaa!!!! … my absentee ballot that starts out like this:

Dear Voter,
Your Vote by Mail Ballot for the November 4, 2008 General Election is enclosed.

You are designated as an Overseas Federal Voter. Your voter registration form indicates that you are living out of the country indefinitely. As a federal voter you are only entitled to vote for federal candidates in the following offices:
President, Vice President, US Senator and members of the House of Representatives. (And so on …)

Gee. Thanks.

I’ll assume that “only entitled to vote for” can be interpreted as ENTITLED to vote, which may be a bit tough since my ballot reached me almost one full year late.

Although Seychelles is on the other side of the world, it is actually ON this planet, and … hey! … we have a postal service that connects to other countries. My address on the envelope (no postmark to indicate when it was sent, by the way) is correct, and with “OFFICIAL ABSENTEE BALLOTING MATERIAL – FIRST CLASS MAIL” writ large across the front, it seems that slow-boat-round-the-horn was not to be an option for getting this into my hands.

I was in Sacramento, site of the return address, just a couple of months ago, so know that it has not vanished for one hundred years, a la Brigadoon. and that planes still fly from California toward the rest of the world, many carrying post.

Were I the conspiracy-minded sort, I may suspect that my declaration of Democrat on the application might have slowed down the process a bit, but … well … okay, that did run across the corners of my mind and felt no less far-fetched than the idea that I’m either living in a time warp or on some far-flung planet.

Imagine how pissed off I’d be if Obama hadn’t won …

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Sam and Cj on and adventure with Gay and Carlos

Sam and Cj on and adventure with Gay and Carlos

Ooooh, lookie here … a brief window in the pickle that’s been gerkin me around lately, taking up my thyme, so how about a little ketchup?

We’re enjoying the last week of the holiday, as Sam and Cj start school again on Monday. Sam will be in Year 2 and Cj in what’s called Reception 2, and both are looking forward to getting back in the education saddle.

We’ve not done a heck of a lot over the couple of months they’ve been free from schedules, but have hit the beach more than usual and enjoyed leisurely breakfasts at The Pirate’s Arms … which is not the same as IN A pirate’s arms.

Irina, a lovely Russian friend, took Sam to Praslin and LaDigue, and Gay has invited both kids to adventure and hyake (That’s hike and kayak on the same day … sounds much better than saying they kiked.) a few times.

With guests here — Carlos, Kim, Cade — excuses to be out and about were easily available, so we took advantage and showed the sites of Victoria, both of them, which managed to fill a couple of 15 minute slots that would have otherwise been spent sitting on the veranda gazing at the sea.

Party fun with Violeta, Mel and Lio ...

Party fun with Violeta, Mel and Lio ...

I’ve had many laughs at great parties lately. Sadly, some of my favorite friends here are coming to the end of their Seychelles time and are soon to move along, but that no longer stops any of us from enjoying what we have while we do, and staying in touch no matter the distance in future.

Diversion has been good for me. I’m okay most of the time now, but do get sideswiped by sadness on a regular basis. Some days are better than others, but even on the bad days now there is comfort in the fact that this hole I live with in my heart will refuse to heal; I don’t want it to scar over, not ever.

Ernesto, me and Carola in Basel in July

Ernesto, me and Carola in Basel in July

Ernesto is headed to Seychelles at the end of the month for a five week stay, and I’ve been laying the groundwork for him to play here … a lot. He’ll be doing guitar workshops for the National Arts Council, giving group lessons for music students at the French School and performing.

We’re all looking forward to having him around for quite a while, and Sam is working on his Spanish in order to expand a repertoire of mutual banter that is presently limited to little more than pollo loco.

So, life is what it is, and as the summer from hell draws to an end I’m not sorry to see it fade into past. 2010 looms and I have hopes that arbitrary designation contains more happiness sandwiched between its bun than its predecessors 2008/2009.

Pass the mustard …

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It’s time to take a break from outrage and post some bits of life here on this island for those of you who actually like sharing my life with me.

I’ve written before about the wonderful people with whom I’m blessed to spend time … a smart, funny, lovely and international gang … and as it goes here, new people join in as others move along.

Going away get-togethers are a bittersweet aspect of Seychelles living, and I’ve been to a few lately. The other night was such an event … Violeta is leaving for some months … so a dinner at Sam’s Pizzeria was on the plate.

As always, many countries were represented, and if the UN could do half the job around the table at creating global warm fuzzies as we do the world would be a much better place.

Check out the smiling faces …

Me and Sam ... that's the US, Seychelles and Cambodia

Me and Sam ... that's the US, Seychelles and Cambodia

Deb ... a Yorkshire lass ... and Cj

Deb ... a Yorkshire lass ... and Cj

Violeta, from Serbia

Violeta, from Serbia

Laura is Italian

Nathalie is from Lebanon

Nathalie is from Lebanon

Lio and Carlos ... that's France listening to Spain

Lio and Carlos ... that's France listening to Spain

Photo credits: Sam Benoiton

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Saying goodbye to Julie

Saying goodbye to Julie

I’ve been writing a lot lately about friends … new, old, near, distant, physical, virtual … the value of all and the fact that I welcome them into my life with gratitude.

One advantage of life on a tiny island in the middle of the Indian Ocean is the diversity of friends and the fact that with so few people here, I usually end up meeting a lot of those with common interests that come to Seychelles and stay a while.

People come from all over to work or play, and as the shots I posted of more recent additions on the “people I’m fond of” list shows … eleven countries represented in twelve photos … my friends are from all over the world.

That is, indeed, a lovely aspect of island life. Conversations are fascinating, parties are a hoot and the bottom line always ends up under what what we share, not how we differ.

What is not, however, quite so lovely is the fact that most of these lovely friends also go.

Holidays are short and work contracts usually last only a year or two. Getting close to people comes with the caveat: This will not last for long.

My first few years here had me ducking-and-covering to a great extent, careful to keep myself a bit aloof, forgoing close bonding with those I knew would move along long before I would be ready to say goodbye.

That, however, is not a natural posture for me … my tendency is to give my heart, care much, share all, and I’ve learned to enjoy while I can.

The Internet has helped immensely, of course. I can now see people off at the airport knowing that we’ll be chatting on facebook in a few hours. This is not the same as having them in arms’ reach, but it does make a difference.

There are many, many people I miss daily and desperately, but I would not give up the time we did have together for anything, no matter how big a hole is left when they go.

The up-side is that I have friends all over the world, and although I don’t travel as much as I would like to these days, the biggest issue when thinking about going somewhere is deciding who I’m going to visit.

I spent some of yesterday with a family I’ll be waving adios to tomorrow night … Jakob, Lisa and Julie.

Jakob is from Denmark, Lisa is Swedish and Julie is 10-months-old and a heart-stealer. They going to Stockholm, and although I most certainly hope to share space with them again someday, there is no guarantee that will ever happen.

Although we didn’t spend a lot of their year here together, their departure will leave a blank space in Seychelles and I will miss them.

Thankfully, Lisa keeps a blog … today’s post is full of photos of me and Julie (Thank you, Lisa!) … so I will be able to watch a little darling grow, if from a great distance, and follow their lives as well as Bablefish allows me to understand Swedish.

Friends come and friends go, and I’m thankful.

As that great sage Anon once said,

“You meet people who forget you. You forget people you meet. But sometimes you meet those people you can’t forget. Those are your ‘friends.’”

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Magnar and Calina ... beauties both

Magnar and Calina ... beauties both

One thing I can say for not having a husband in the house anymore … it sure leaves room, and time, for friends.

Over the past week I’ve had Calina staying with me, and Magnar most days and nights, as well, and it’s been great. Relaxed and easy, it’s felt a bit like an extended episode of The Waltons, only with different accents, Calina being French and English and Magnar, Norwegian, so very little of West Virginia happening vocally here.

Goodnight, Calina!
Goodnight, Sam!
Goodnight, Cj!
Goodnight, Magnar!
Goodnight, Sandra!

Last night the kids went to Grandma’s house and we big kids went to a Christmas Party at our friend Deb’s house, and, yes, there are photos …

The three of us ...

The three of us ...

Sleeping Beauty ... the nap before the party

Sleeping Beauty ... the nap before the party

Note: Calina really is Sleeping Beauty, or was … at Disneyland Paris. Just imagine her in a blond wig and you get the picture. Smile and wave … smile and wave …

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When it comes to news sources, I use many. From the Huffington Post (a fabulous online publication with the good sense to employ my brilliant niece), to the Adoption Institute, from the the BBC to CNN and back again, there’s a world of info at our fingertips, and anything that must be known can … with a good salt shaker in hand, some common sense and a willingness to learn and listen carefully.

That said, I must admit that one of my daily “must reads” has little to do with learning, but everything to do with a shaker full and common sense.

Yes, that would be The Onion … the premier site for satire dressed in news clothing, and every bit as biting as such an animal should be.

Take, for example, this article, titled: Study: 38 Percent Of People Not Actually Entitled To Their Opinion.

Now if it’s not a sticky bit from my own brain extrapolated out into three paragraphs of undiluted poetic slap-upside-the-head-with-a-sackfull-of-nickels!

In a surprising refutation of the conventional wisdom on opinion entitlement, a study conducted by the University of Chicago’s School for Behavioral Science concluded that more than one-third of the U.S. population is neither entitled nor qualified to have opinions.

Well … yeah …

Living internationally, as I do, I personally wouldn’t limit the “study results” to Americans, but since The Onion is US based, I’ll leave them to it.

Read it and weep … and laugh … and question just about everything about the world making any sense at all.

And … when you’re done … eat a piece of my history with this vid of the Byrds, recalled with fondness — the moment I saw it can be placed in context — doing a TV version of bible verses with “Turn Turn Turn”.

Enjoy …

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I got my new car today.

That may sound like an easy thing to those who don’t live on an island in the middle of nowhere, but here it’s quite the feat. Won’t go into details and tremendous costs for a vehicle that in the rest of the world would be considered reasonable, but will say that I like it.

One biggie about it is that it represents another severing from Mark. We no longer have a car as bait for bitching. He has the company car … a French piece of shit with windows that pop out and wing mirrors that haven’t worked for 3 years … so less shit to toss at me as ammo.

I now have a cute little zippy number that is all mine.

Plus, it has a great music system that lets me blast out “low down, cheatin’, lyin’ man” country music at full blast … and I’m belting out tunes all the way up La Misere and down Les Canelles. (Rock on, Reba. Take it, Tammy!)

Goodie.

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So, sure, we break out in spontaneous parties, have fab friends, lovely weather and azure-blue seas, but anyone getting the idea that life on a tiny island in the Indian Ocean is all sunshine and lollypops was clearly not around the past couple of days.

Thursday: Just after 6pm, when I’d just finishing the agonizingly slow process of uploading a photo to this blog, the Internet crapped out. Phone call to Internet Service Provider prompted.

You must understand that the term “ISP” in this part of the world is misleading in that they often do NOT Provide any Service, and since I’m such a raging bitch I call whenever my connection fails. (Keep in mind that this is how I make much of my living, so live and die with my connectivity.) All the guys at Kokonet … my “I” not quite “S” and flaky “P” … know me too well, and answer any call with a number of mine they recognize with a roll of the eyes I can hear and a consigned-to-their-fate “Hi, Sandra” that carries the same tone conveyed by a 10-year-old whose mother just caught them smoking … crack.

Here’s the conversation from Thursday, 6:20pm:

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ad nauseam (and this is the HOTLINE number) which doesn’t daunt me one single bit.

“Hello … ”

me: Who am I speaking to?

Richard … Hi, Sandra …

me: So …

him: Routine maintenance. We sent out an email.

me: Funny, but I didn’t get any email.

him: Well, we sent one.

me: Not to me.

him: Not my job …

me: Fine … so when are we back on?

him: Eight.

me: Really?

him: Well, around 8 …

me: sputter, sputter, doubt, sputter …

him: Maybe before.

me: Yeah, right. You do realize that every time you all do maintenance the system craps out?

him: intentionally obtuse blah, blah, blah …

me: So … 8 …

him: Definitely …

Of course, 8:00 comes … and goes …

By 9 I’m back on the phone …

him: Hi, Sandra …

me: Well … ?

him: Just heard that it will be another 45 minutes.

me: And then … ?

him: blah, blah, blah …

But, miraculous as it may be, 45 minutes later we’re reconnected and I’m working away … only to have the bloody thing die in 15 minute chunks every half hour or so.

So … I dial the hotline again, and … no answer, ever.

So … at 1:30am I call the mobile number of another guy who works at Kokonet, Selwyn.

Here’s that dialog:

Selwyn, sleepy sounding: Hi, Sandra …

me: What the feck is going on tonight … rant, rave, rant, rave ….

him: I have no idea what you’re on about. It was working fine when I left the office …

me: Well, it’s not working at all now.

him: Why is it always you?

me: Tell me!!!

him: I left my computer at work so I can’t check if the problem goes further than your place …

me: Selwyn, what DO you do for a living? You left your feckin’ computer at work?

him: Yeah … forgot it.

me: How bloody comforting. Now, give me some hope, please …

him: I’ll get into the office early tomorrow and sort this out … I promise.

After trying like crazy to get him to give me his bosses private number … “You know I can’t do that, Sandra. I’ll get sacked if I do,” … I give up, turn music up loud and do my nightly stretching exercises that spring my unstrung springs. (I am VERY bendy … even at this advanced age. Former dancer, you know … )

So … Friday dawns to … no feckin’ Internet.

Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring …

Selwyn: Hi, Sandra …

me: And, so …

him: Big problem. I have no idea what’s wrong. Basically, though, we’re screwed.

And that’s were it stayed until half an hour ago.

One aside, that’s is SO more than an aside, but will sit there for blog purposes …

When I woke up this morning, not only did I not have Internet, my freezer had defrosted and my 50 bags of frozen bananas … along with everything else … had defrosted. Ever seen bags of thawed out frozen bananas? Well, they leak sweet, sticky black gunk. (It’s lovely warmed up on ice cream, actually, and in smoothies, which is why I had 50 bags of bananas in my freezer. When my bananas are ripe, there are hundreds of the buggers.) These had leaked the black gunk down every shelf and out the bottom of the fridge door all over my kitchen.

We have no such things as refrigerator repair people here. None. And there are no spare parts even if we did have someone who could diagnose the problem and tell me which parts were needed.

In other words, I’m screwed.

But, at least I can write about it.

(I must, however, throw in the NaBloPoMo towel for the month, as I missed a day, and that’s a no-go.)

Feck!!!!!!

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