Back in the RSA

The boys and I are back in Johannesburg after spending a couple of days in New York and a lot of flying. We've been pretty low-key since we've been back, with both boys and I sleeping a lot. I managed almost 24 hours of sleep on Saturday, not all to do with jetlag but more like 'life' lag.

It's all a bit overwhelming. Boys started getting excited about escalators in Puerto Rico (having not seen any for 2 years) so you can only imagine what New York was like. Our hotel was one block off Time Square and we certainly crunched quite a bit in: Empire State Building, Metropolitan, Central Park, Chinatown and not forgetting Toys R Us which James declared "torture".

We were more than ready for our 15.5 hour flight back however and boys only fell asleep after watching every kiddie movie there was and playing all the games. We arrived back on Thursday and have just being hanging out, seeing friends and literally re-acclimatizing ourselves to a mild Highveld winter albeit very dry and at 2000 metres above sea level.

This is the boys first time back in three years and I'm watching them trying to assimilate what 'here' is and what 'there' is. The island really feels like a shimmering chimasscura far, far away.  It is something they are going to have to get use to as they will continue with their senior schooling here and we will be an African/West Indian family in the true sense.

We have almost 6 whole weeks here, something that I've certainly never had - and so the time stretches out in front of us quite languorously - though it will go quickly. We have many opticians appointments and ear specialists and other mundane school holiday things to get on with, as well as trips down to Cape Town and back up to Joburg and KwaZulu Natal.

The week before we travelled

Boys, Flora, Tyler. Sunday 4pm at Smugglers Cove

Hmm, you will be thinking to yourself, as I whinge on about what a crap week it has been. Believe me when I say we really NEED the scene above after just one week of island living. Then it makes it all worthwhile and we shut up for a few minutes.

And then it's Monday again.

I really do love living on an island. So do the boys. Tyler most especially does. He is so 'home' it's not even funny but I'm just ready for a vacation now.  In fact if it does not happen in 72 hours time, I will simply implode and end up being a messy bloody pile of bones and bile next to three very bewildered boys.

In just one week, here is how wonderful our island is:

• Tyler took the boys to see Man of Iron at our fabulous repossessed cine complex. Someone got the showing time wrong in the newspaper. No movie. Very unhappy boys (all four of 'em). "No problem" says UP's "we have an empty cinema" and ran the movie just for my 4 boys. True story. This week.
• I cannot find star anise in the supermarket. "No problem" says little Spanish Raffealla the shelf packer and produces some from her handbag and then insists on giving it to me.
• James sails a whole weekend, meeting kids from all over the Caribbean. Every single thing is catered for. Free. My child is one happy, confident and privileged young man.
• I hang out with some mama's on the beach. Kids run up and down. Kayaking. Boogey-boarding. Jumping off jetty's. Paddling over to the other side of the bay and back again. They stay in the water for over 5 hours, only coming out to grab some sandwiches and cooldrink. Teenagers, tweenies and others come and go. Girls do handstands in the water, waving their little brown legs at us. Mama's carry on chatting keeping an idle eye on the free range kids.  We drive the 5 minutes home, blissfully warmed with sun and friends. This was Tuesday.
• We discover that 2 days before travelling to the States and South Africa, that the boys UK passports have expired. This means that we cannot travel to the US Mainland as the boys do not have a visa waiver.  Our connecting flights are from JFK. Big Oops.  I have a near meltdown. "This is the last bloody straw" I scream, seeing my holiday dissolve in front of me. Tyler is trembling. "No problem" says the Royal BVI Police: "We can give you a waiver in their BVI passports" and on the same day (today) organized it for us with lovely Miss Frett working overtime on a Friday evening to personally glue the visas into the passports. With a smile. She even gave us the renewal forms for when we get home (including the fedex bag they need to go in). Service and beyond.

As happy as I am here, I'm looking forward to wearing some closed shoes again. Not being bitten to death by bugs. No driving of trucks in 4x4 the whole time. No palm trees or rum cocktails for a whole 6 weeks. I'm looking forward to highways, manicured lawns, handing over the ironing along with a bit of grime and some city anonymity. Most of all we cannot wait to be with family and friends again.

So we leave on Sunday with 3 days in New York en route and then South Africa for 5 weeks - God, airlines, ferries and the US Border Agency willing. Boys have not been to SA for 3 years and are very excited. It's going to be wonderful

Just need to get through the next 72 hours. Bakeries. Banking. Ferries. Taxis. Flights. More flights. Even more flights and then New York early Monday morning.

Hey ho and off we go.

Better and better

Boys with legend England footballer John Barnes

Week Two of our Summer Holidays and I have to admit to liking this fulltime mum business. The perks are especially good, although I'm not sure yet if I'm on holiday too. I do get to go to the beach more which makes up for about 3 hours spent in the car everyday, but I seem to be a Dishwasher Jockey churning out loads of Boy Food. The other day after Fish & Chips (it felt like about an hour frying chips) James was still hungry and proceeded to have a chicken mayonnaise sandwich followed by 2 cold sausages. Just as well we own a bakery.

Anyway one more week to go till the Big Trip. Lots to do, but nothing killer. James is racing in his first crewed regatta The Premiers Cup for Team Tortola  this weekend and gets to sleep at the village as well. Boy heaven. We'll get to sit with binoculars going 'where are they?" no doubt.

Team Anguilla

On the up

We've cheered up enormously since last weekend and it's not entirely due to having successfully booked our tickets, either. Tyler is now well enough to get stronger and has been prescribed steroids and cortisone to help him on his way. He has started to walk without a stick now for the first time in weeks (months).

The kids had a lovely first week of Summer holidays with a couple of days sailing and a few days on the beach, with me going along. It dawned on me that I had never been able to do this before as I had always been working. This really cheered me up.  It's the future.

Then I was so cheerful I spent most of yesterday doing a 'deep' clean of our kitchen, which always makes me mysteriously happy. We also got out all our winter clothes which had been put away 3 years ago and which all looked a bit mothbally. And small. I need two very concerted weeks at the gym and buckets of bee pollen.

Last night we had oodles of sticky ribs for supper and watched the new series of Top Gear where Jeremy Clarkson races America Cup's Team Oracle on their 45" racing catamaran (we are big fans as we know one of the sailors) which was hugely entertaining and then we watched Graham Norton and laughed our heads off.

Today has been pouring with rain for most of the day, so we didn't even feel guilty about sitting indoors watching the Wimbledon Men's Finals which was an absolutely brilliant game with Andy Murray winning. I was so happy, I cried.

Now I'm surfing the internet - happily planning our 6 week trip to Africa whilst Tyler is gripped with a good page-turner which he can't put down.

I'm back to loving life again.

Banking in the BVI

You would think that if one lived in the Offshore Capital of the World, that the local (high street) banks would be quite good. 

Ur, no.

Not even close.

The local economy is still basically a cash one, we write cheques here for crying out loud. I hadn't had a cheque book for about 10 years before I came here. We do not have a local central bank clearing house so one cannot transfer money between banks, only within your own bank.  accounts in the same bank. So there's no EFT just wire transfer which costs about $80 as they go via New York, so one 'walks the money' - you literally have to take the physical cash and walk to the next bank and deposit it.

This is a true story of what happened with us trying to pay for our airplane tickets:

I think Caribbean retail banks must have YYY ratings from Moody's. They seem to be at the top of the risk calculator or bottom of the banking pile, whichever way one chooses to look at it. Probably all that money laundering supposedly. Unlike Switzerland, of course.

Even though we have been here almost 3 years, we still only have debit cards that masquerade as credit cards ie you deposit $100 cash in order to spend $100 on your 'credit' card. All very well until you need to make a $$$$ payment for airline tickets back to South Africa.

So off you go to your bank (yes, physically) and queue for a minimum of 30 minutes and transfer the $$$$ from your cheque account to your 'credit' card account in order to pay online, after days spent trolling the internet looking for anything that costs slightly less than a reasonably priced family saloon car.

"We've had to freeze you credit card account" the teller informs you briskly just as you have transferred your life savings into it.

"WTF" you say to the teller (except you don't, you'd be arrested) so you say "I'm sorry I don't understand? What have I done wrong?"  You just know the tickets have gone up another $95 per person (multiply by 5) as you try to be gracious. 

"You've over paid" says the Teller rather sternly, "you are not allowed to do this. Your 'credit' limit is only $ and if you overpay, since this is not allowed, we freeze everything over your $ limit".

No mention of any of this as you were actually doing the transfer.

"Gosh" you say (no you don't) "This is a unique concept that I am not acquainted with (anywhere in the world in fact). I have 'over paid'  my credit card and you have frozen my money? How do I unfreeze this and get my money back right now?" you hiss.

The long queue behind one shuffles. Cell phones ring . CNN drones in the background.

The teller consults with The Manager on Duty.  The 30 people behind you in the queue  (mentally) suck their teeth. One cannot blame them. Their tickets to St Vincent are probably also going up in multiples as I try to fathom BVI banking rules.

"I would like my money back" you say to the Manager on Duty, "Please unfreeze it  now.".

"I'm sorry" says the Manager on Duty "we cannot do that, as it is frozen. You tried to over pay your credit card, and this is not allowed".

One counts to 10. The air tickets go up another $95 per person. Times five.

"OK" you say. "I'm going to my Other-Bank-Across-the-Road. I have a Visa Debit card there. They will let me do it" and you cash a cheque for $$$$ which is then duly handed over in $10 bills. It fills one's entire bag. One appreciates how heavy and expensive Transatlantic air travel is these days. You run across the road to the Other Bank and queue for 30 minutes.

"What is the source of funds please?" asks the new teller as you try and deposit your bag of S10 bills. "Bank X" you say "wouldn't let me use my credit card blah blah blah". The Other Bank looks faintly sympathetic. "That won't be a problem" says Other Bank and one duly deposits all the $10 bills into your credit card account and then hotfoots it home back onto Expedia to find that your tickets have all gone up by $200 per person. A cool $1000 more.

"Damn" you say to yourself. Except you most definitely do not say this. Not even faintly. "I need to get out of here" and you pay the extra thousand bucks more and finally push the Complete button.

Lo & Behold the internet says "Sorry we have a problem with you credit card". What a surprise. Not. The transaction is refused.

"Damn" you say to yourself "damn damn damn" (except of course you most definitely do not say this). One needs a triple Brandy & Coke with a shot of Valium, on the side by this stage.

The phone rings. It's some lady in Barbados or Puerto Rico or somewhere to ask you if you've just tried to do a $$$$ transaction?

"Yes," you say "It is I. The money is there. I've just physically put it there. Is there a problem?"
\
"Yes" says Polite Call Centre Lady "Other Bank is only authorized by the Federal Government to make transactions up to $X amount and you have exceeded this so we cannot authorize this".

"BUT" you say faintly hysterically "the money is there. I WALKED IT OVER. Why was I never told this? I really need to pay for these tickets" you beg pathetically, almost in tears.

"I'm sorry" say Polite Call Centre Lady (and she actually sounds genuinely upset - clearly very good call centre training) but "your bank is not authorized to make payments of this size. Ever. I'm very sorry".

"Blimey, that's a new one"  you think to yourself. Your bank is refused.  Can't really argue with that one.

Back you get into your car. Back to Other Bank (30 minutes in the queue) to draw out the $$$$ (this time in $20 bills) and back you run to original Bank A and stand in the queue again for 30 minutes.  More CNN. More crazeee cell phone ringtones of every description.

You ask to speak to your Bank Account Manager, through gritted teeth. The teller is trying not to smirk. You sob the whole long story to him. He looks vaguely sympathetic. He agrees to "unfreeze" you own money in your 'credit' card and allow a Once-Off payment. You offer him chocolate brownies for an entire year, you are that grateful.

The 'once-off transaction with a frozen account'  involves a cast of thousands from Toronto to Barbados with our poor Account Manager actually sitting at home online waiting for the transaction (the price had miraculously gone down by $100 per person by the time we paid) in order to manually authorize the payment.

Yebo. This is a true story. Happened yesterday.

Bet you'll appreciate Standard Bank a little bit more after this.

A day in the kitchen

Nothing like a day cooking to calm the soul and feel slightly virtuous. Today is Territory Day and we've been busy in our Carrot Bay Kitchen. Mango (from our garden) smoothies and crepes for breakfast, lots of preserved lemons, fragrant-smelling pesto, tons of hummus and then a lovely 'braai' of ribs.

Very happy boys!

Treading Water

Blogs, by their very social media definition - have to be upbeat. They don't show the mess in ones home, the unpaid bills, the car that has been sitting in the garage for 8 months, the tax return that hasn't been filed, the crashed PC (with the company accounts on it ) or the despair in ones heart. 

Unfortunately last weeks outing to St Thomas was just a little bit too much excitement (and bumpy) for Tyler and he has been back in bed most of this week. He is in agony with his back and cannot walk without a stick.

The kids finished up school this week - with William and Georgie starting out their new homeschooling adventure, which frankly fills me with dread right now - as I cannot see my way to taking on another thing, let alone find the energy to order textbooks and teach myself Grade 5 maths. I will find my enthusiasm for it again, no doubt.

Our holiday plans have by necessity been put on hold, but we are hoping to have this resolved in the next day or two. There is so much to be done here anyway - as the bakery plans have also slipped and we have been treading water just to get through this all.

I wont tell a lie when I say that these are dark days and there are times that I simply want to give up. It's not like I can run away to a tropical island, either. 

We'll get through this, I know. We have everything in our favour, just not the present. The bakery is doing well, the boys are happy and healthy and we have a roof over our head. We have a lot more, besides.

I also feel that this blog, which I sincerely enjoy writing - has to reflect reality just a little bit, without sounding too pitiful - so as you can see, this has not been a very good week and we could all do with  a bit of a break.