Groundhog Day; or, It's Déjà Vu All Over Again

My three guys---Windmill Beach, opening weekend post-Sandy, December 2012

Windmill Beach, again---one month later

Last week, someone who has been here three years (and is now leaving) jokingly told me beware because "every day on Gitmo is kind of like Groundhog Day." (The movie, not the actual holiday. . . It's the dead of winter and 87 today. Tomorrow will be within 4 degrees of that. . . and the same the next day. . . and the next. . . for 365 days). 

It does really seem like you run into the same people in the NEX, you see the same people when you eat at the Galley, you drop off kids at school the same time as a small group of parents who you also see at all the student/parent functions. Also: I can predict the Commissary will be out of either a)bread, b)plain yogurt, c)sour cream, and/or d)bacon this week. I will take my grocery buggy down the narrow aisles and upon seeing that there is no bread, I will run into at least one person who, upon seeing no bread, will the say the same 2-3 curse words as I (maybe even in unison). 

I will also see at least 4 curly-tailed lizards when I go back to work Tuesday morning, and the iguanas, who are very territorial, will be in the same 3-4 places on the roadside during the morning commute. My neighbor's cat, Reggie, will be on the car when I leave for work, and will be stretched in the driveway when I try to park the car. 

No matter how much it is stateside, gas will still be over $4/gallon next week. Nothing at the Commissary or NEX will ring up as the price on the shelves (it is usually cheaper). The same 5-6 songs will play on the way to and from school over one of the three local radio stations (usually Katie Perry or Rihanna---kill me now). Even the menu for most the restaurants will be the same weekly rotation. 

Every electric clock in my house will, inexplicably, lose 5 minutes or more this week. Does time really stand still here at Gitmo? We'll never know. 

There's that ugly, poisonous toad that took up with the plumeria in my backyard that I thought I discouraged from coming back when I moved the plant to the front yard. Want to guess who now lives in the front yard? 

And then, there are the little surprises. For only the second time since we've been here, there have been donuts at the Commissary. Nope, we don't get donuts here, so when we do. . . wowza. 

We found another great place to eat---a group of Jamaicans grill every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night on a hill near the Lyceum. It's not a restaurant---just a group of guys grilling, and for a donation, you can get a plate to go (or sit on the hill and listen to some reggae while eating). We got grilled fish with okra and Scotch bonnet peppers, Jamaican flat bread and rice and beans---and it was the best fish I've had in forever. 

There's the book I found at the base library I've been wanting to read forever---and for the first time in a long time, I've been sucked into that vortex of a great book, where you don't want to eat or sleep or socialize if it interrupts with reading time. 

There was the decision of Happy Hour or Yoga (you can guess which one I chose), and there was the thrill of doing something different on a Friday night (and having a great time meeting new people and sharing many laughs with people I already know). 

There was also the thrill for the youngest son of seeing, for the first time here, a tiny eel in a tide pool when we went to Windmill Beach yesterday. 

Every other Tuesday brings new merchandise on the barge, and as silly as it seems, leaving work as early as possible and seeing what's new is a sport in itself. The aisles are crowded, half of our neighborhood is in the store, and we share our knowledge of what's new and its location before it sells out (usually by Wednesday). 

So there's the familiar ad naseum, but then there are the little things that more than make up for it.

As I've said before, I hate the question of where I'm from, but the question of where I'm going is a whole other thing. 

The answer is. . . who knows? 

Life was not always easy before we moved here, and living here has its difficulties (no bread, limited/mega-expensive flights off island, isolation), but there are SO many pluses to consider, it is easy to forget the negatives. Twice in one day last week, I was asked the same question: "Are you happy you made the decision to come here?" It was not an easy decision, but as of this weekend, the 3 month anniversary of moving here, I am most definitely thinking "yes." 

In regards to where I (we) are going. . . I will probably be here for at least 3 years with my job. Then we may be able to transfer to another military base somewhere else in the world---with all the budget cuts and military base closures, there was a recent announcement that there will be no transfer round this year. 

Does this really affect me right here and now? Not at all. I can't wrap my head around the idea of leaving here because I am still trying to figure out the place. Unbelievably, there are still a few (two, I think) roads I haven't traveled on in this tiny area. There is the Bay to kayak and ski. There are manatees and sharks and turtles and rays to find. Once I get well, there is diving! (I am still sick with the Gitmo crud---three weeks and counting). There is bowling, 5Ks, hiking, lots of festivals and parties and fun events. There is so much to see and adventures to take, I can't imagine doing all of it in three years. 

There is also getting everything unpacked. One month after 15,000 lbs of our fine quality junk made it, we are still going through each and every box, and going through the mentally and physically (and sometimes, emotionally) exhausting task of dividing up what we want to keep, to give away, or to throw away. And now that the "keep" pile is a bit much for our very small house, we are going back through cabinets and closets and drawers and doing more weeding. I was hoping it would be done in a month, but more damn shoes and books keep showing up. I think they are multiplying over night. 

I also can't even consider leaving my job here when I have so much to learn, so much to do. I have two offices, which means two desks, two computers, two storage areas, two sets of records, two sets of book processing supplies, two collections to maintain. And what do I do at work for much of the day? The same--- the arduous task of figuring out what to keep, to give away, or to throw away---as at home. 

So I guess that does make my life, at the present, very Groundhog Day after all.