Guernsey on My Mind

Spent the weekend swimming, sunning, riding bikes, playing catch and basketball, buying English vines/sea grasses/Black-eyed Susans, having dinner/drinks at the neighbors’ house, going to 5:00 p.m. hangover mass at St. Louis (sorry mom!) and reading. It was all so much better than the angst-riddled week that I allowed myself to wallow in last week. And the sermon that Father Kevin gave was just what I needed: a gentle reminder that God does, indeed, provide.

I also devoured The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society so quickly that I started re-reading it the moment I finished. It was such a great little book that I didn't want it to end. Ever! The backdrop of the story is that of a London-based writer who inadvertently begins to correspond with a number of Guernsey islanders post WWII German occupation. While the book is written as a compilation of letters, they are written so sweetly and with such charm and personality, that I fell in love not only with all of the characters but also with the island itself.

Having lived briefly on Guernsey's sister island, Jersey, I could visualize the landscape well. And now I am craving a visit. I miss the beach, the dunes, the farms, the narrow roads, the beautiful Jersey cows, the sweet little shops in St. Helier, and my wild and wonderful girlfriend Gail. At $900 RT, however, I'm going to have to make do with daydreaming and waiting for the inevitable movie to come out.

So please, please, please do not let the Hollywood powers that be make it into a bland movie with Kate Winslet and Colin Firth. While they might do in a predictable pinch, I'm begging for a captivating lead actress with charisma and spirit. I want to be whisked away. With that said, maybe I can win the sweepstakes (or you can and bring me!*). Please enter! And, by all means, read the book so we have something to chat about on the plane.

Oh and check out this site. GORGEOUS.



*OMG: I just noticed that the sweeps is not open to residents of NYS. Noooooooooooo! Someone please win for me. Please!

Travel Writing

It only took seven months for me to get my act together but I finally submitted my review of our February trip to the Dominican Republic to Trip Advisor. Not sure it was needed because most of the reviews for this hotel were glowing and it's currently ranked #1 of the 55 hotels in Punta Cana but what the hey? Every review helps, right?

I would also offer up my review of my trip last summer to Jersey, Channel Islands in the UK but I think it may frighten most tourists. Unless, of course, they enjoy drinking to excess with girlfriends, smoking cigarettes, and hanging out at surf clubs. We did somehow manage a day of shopping in St. Helier but a) most things were imported from the US and b) I couldn't afford anything anyway. But sightseeing? Hmmm. I guess so in the sense that, as long as you have your eyes open and you're relatively sober, you can't help but sight see.

The island is a gorgeous mix of English countryside, tan cows with long eyelashes, lavender fields, old castles, tiny roads flanked by cobblestone walls, and miles and miles of beaches. All of this seen mainly from the road betwixt pubs. There was time spent at Jersey pottery, a frigidly windy hike up to the lighthouse at Le Hocq and a day spent basking on the beach (with horrific hangovers) at St. Brelade's Bay.

But, the best part, was simply being with friends with a bit of reminiscing thrown in given that I lived there for five months after graduating from college in '86.

One night, as we were sitting outside at a pub in St. Aubin, a homeless-looking young guy walked past. Gail, my girlfriend who lives on the island, immediately said, "I'm a magnet for derelicts." Sure enough, this destitute man with long hair, wearing all camouflage, came in, sat with us, and told us about his boat, life at sea, rich ex-girlfriend and children. Yes, children. And then he began singing a song with the melodious refrain: "life seeds I sow." Just before he peed in his pants all over the floor under our table and we all ran for the next stop on our drinking tour, he said that he sat down with us because he is always drawn to spiritual people. And he pointed at me.

Later, this led to an interesting (and at times heated) discussion about Christianity. One friend was mostly ambivalent about the topic, one took exception to something I had said to her on a prior occasion and the third surprisingly seemed somewhat interested. We agreed, as one does when drinking too much, to go to church on Sunday -- except the ambivalent friend who said, "I'm not stepping foot in a church unless they're serving alcohol."

The next day, as we were driving out of town, we noticed a church that was advertising something akin to a "sermon and cider" series (cider being an alcoholic drink in England). Per usual, I took it as a sign from God. Look! Now we can all go! We all laughed. But alas, twas not meant to be . . .