I feel I haven’t had much new information to share. Although things continue to happen each day I am simply more accustom to them now. They do not seem as extreme as they did at the beginning.
As I stood at the bus stop I watched the sunrise over the Atlantic and saw the children in their freshly pressed uniforms walking to school. Everyone greets me like anyone else; I am becoming a part of this community. As I sat at the stop the time ticked by and realizing it was past 7am I knew the bus had left without me. He chose not to come down the hill to all the stops, for whatever reason. I seized the moment and continued talking to the two gentlemen next to me. One was an elderly man and the other was younger and visiting from Martinique. The elder talked about the way the community used to be and Jamie compared Dominica to Martinique. He is adamant about me seeing “his” island too. They often shifted completely to French in which I was no longer in the conversation only sitting back to pick out the words I knew. Jamie brought out a piece of fruit from the local tree to give me a taste. He was unsure of the English name for it but the elder recalled it being Soupsa (or something along those lines). The fruit was oddly shaped, green and full of wart-looking bumps. Inside it was white and extremely juicy. The texture was closest to a mango, if I had to say and it tasted very sweet but like no other fruit I’ve ever had. It wasn’t my favorite; the one piece was enough for me.
I decided there was no longer a bus so I said farewell and walked up the hill. I had no plan in mind. I could not walk the whole way and expect to be on time. I walked alongside a teacher going to school but my stop would be another 5-6 miles past hers. My thoughts were positive that I would get a ride somehow. Sure enough after 15minutes of walking a local bus driver picked the two of us up and took us to our stops! People here are so generous and seem to help out anyone whenever they can.