Finding My Religion

I am learning to paddleboard and it is amazing. Gliding just above the water, I find a peace of mind I have not felt before. To leave the land with just a paddle in hand, I am transported to a place and time void of the people, places and things that seem to clutter my mind too often. It is hard to balance oneself on a board only as stable as the water below and the body above. I have fallen many times, humbling and silly in my awkward beginnings but I am learning and I forgive myself these stumbling moments. I have canoed and kayaked and sailed but this is so different. The perspective is beautiful. I stand on top of the water and listen to the quiet lap of the board against the waves. I watch turtles swim to the surface and pelicans dive into the depths around me. The shoreline fades into the distance along with the chatter of tourists soaking in the tropical beach playground. This is my idea of a religion. Taking time out of the day to go to a place that inspires you. My god is the space around me and within me when I feel at peace, when I see the beauty of the world I live in and when I enter that place of quiet solitude.

Making Lemonade

Just about one month ago I joined the masses of unemployed Americans. The story of what happened that led to my exit is not something I need to go into right now. It’s a long and whiny tale of men behaving badly in the work place. And it is not the first time I had to deal with that type of situation but it is the first time that I decided not to put up with it, with no Plan B in place of what I was to do next. A little scary, to take that step but also very freeing. I have always had a job, through school and all of my adulthood. If I were in New York right now and in the same situation, my anxiety would be on high alert. But I am on a tropical island, living a pretty simple life these days and mostly content with doing nothing. I am getting in touch with my inner beach bum. It is strange to have nowhere to go each day, no clocking in at work, waking up early, hurrying around between work hours to get everything else done. The 15 minute breakfast on my porch has turned into a lingering peaceful meditation, as I gaze out over the ocean and contemplate the waves.

It has been an enjoyable study for me, the art of doing nothing. It has also been a struggle to just relax into it. My thoughts can’t help but return to the job question. What the fuck am I going to do? What the hell do I want to do? Do I stay and take a job with another company? Do I go back to the states and work in or near an urban environment in a service center? Another question is, and I was surprised by this one, do I walk away from watchmaking and do something completely different? I have banked about 15 years in this industry, endless training with multiple brands and some amazing experiences along the way. I have always been passionate about watchmaking. I love the mechanics of it and working with my hands. The quiet hours of contemplating miniature puzzles and solving them has always been satisfying. It is everything else around it that has me feeling disillusioned. The luxury goods industry is all numbers, profit margins and efficiency graphs. The artist inside me cringes at this. Unfortunately, being a watchmaker these days and needing a job to survive means having to be a cog in that wheel. But I don’t have to be, if I choose to do something else. There is the option of trading in my tweezers and screwdrivers for wooden spoons and marble slabs, if I join my sister’s chocolate empire. Making chocolate is an art form and I do have an eye for detail. And there is something very appealing about working as a partner with my sister.

It is clear that I still have no idea what I am going to do. I think I am still reeling from the fact that I had to leave a job that was supposed to be a dream come true. I know the future is spread out in front of me with roads heading off in every direction. I just need to decide if I stay my course, change direction or ditch the roads for uncharted territory. Part of me keeps thinking that I will wake up one morning and the answer will be right there. In the mean time, I feel very fortunate to have time to consider my options and enjoy a much needed break after years of work. The lemon in my life makes a mighty fine lemonade.

Hello darkness my old friend

Hurricane Earl passed just to the north of St Thomas as a category 3 hurricane. That happened on Monday. I am now on day 5 of no power and water at my house. It’s kind of like camping but more complicated and forced. Camping in a house gets messy fast. And usually when you go camping you don’t have to get dressed up and go to work every morning. I know I shouldn't complain with the amount of natural disasters that have made their way across the globe recently, killing and uprooting mass populations. So I won’t.

I have found new and creative ways of bathing and cooking. I have fallen in love with candlelight all over again. I have heard wind so powerful, it sounds like a jet engine hovering overhead. I have an overturned tree outside my bedroom that is now the home to 6 iguanas. I have a view from my porch at night free from the artificial glow of houses and street lamps. And the nights are brilliant. A sea of darkness embracing the tropical landscape and the ocean below. And I do believe the island creature choir is louder this week. In my mind, all of the frogs and crickets, parrots and various sized jumping, crawling, climbing, flying little guys out there are basking in the new darkness, celebrating their wild becoming wilder. I’m rooting for their team, the home team; this land is more theirs than ours. They live by the land, they are hard working and they reuse and recycle everything. This past week of my life makes me want to get all “fight club” on the world. Shut the power off, turn down our noise and listen.

My friend Earl

Wherever you choose to live there is always a balance of elements. In a city, you have access to culture and diversity, museums and fine dining but you have to put up with overcrowding, noise and crime. In the north country, you have long, harsh winters matched with pristine mountain landscapes, cool summers and crisp autumn days rich with a tapestry of color blanketing the hillsides. In the Caribbean, you have warm climates, breathtaking sunsets and an ocean playground coupled with seasonal tropical storms and hurricanes.

Today, we have the threat of Hurricane Earl lurking off to the east. Over the past 24 hours there has been a shift in the energy on the island. People reaching out and stopping by, checking in on neighbors and friends. People I have just met offer to help me prepare for my first hurricane. There is a lot of talk of what to do, where to go and how to deal. And during these conversations the direction always turns back to hurricanes of the past. I see a change in the faces as they recount their experiences. They know each one by name and refer to them as if they are talking about an old friend who died a tragic death, shaking their heads and looking towards the ground. A humbled silence in the words they speak. It's powerful to see the concern and fear build around me. I try to imagine what it will be like. Will I be alone, sitting in my bathtub with cushions piled around and flashlight in hand? That seems a bit extreme and lonely but it's very real. I think I will take up a friend's offer to ride out the storm at his place. He's been through many a hurricane and his house is sound. My house is probably sound too but I am perched up on a hillside, a beautiful spot normally but exposed and vulnerable when 100mph winds are knocking at my door.

I look around me and take an inventory of my belongings. What do I want to protect most? My computer, guitar, photographs? It would be nice to have these things protected, have everything weather the storm OK but it is just stuff. What I really care about right now is me. Fingers and toes, heart and soul, save myself. A coworker said it best, "when it hits, all bets are off, save your own ass and forget about everything else." If I had a family here, a child, it would be such a different feeling. I would be terrified for the safety of the ones I love. To run and hide alone is easy. To carry your family to safety is hard.

I have survived my own storms over the years. The family storm, a tornado that ripped apart our farm, killing my father and putting my mother in the hospital for months. My personal storm, a devastating divorce and having to start over from scratch at 30 years old. Blizzards, car crashes, the death of loved ones too early in life, 9/11. Storms take on all shapes and sizes, sometimes you are fortunate enough to have the time to prepare, to see it coming. And I will do my best to be ready for Earl when he comes knocking.

Island Jam

When I first thought about moving to this Island, I imagined myself riding a bike or scooter along meandering paths into town, to work, the store, the beach. It would be the best way to get around. This is what I thought. The men that hired me laughed and cringed when I told them my preferred mode of transportation. "A bike, are you crazy? Even if you were the best cyclist in the world, I wouldn't recommend riding around on St Thomas, fastest way to get yourself killed."

The lay of the land:

The roads, when they are paved, are rough and steep with rarely a guard rail protecting you from the cliff on one side and the mountain on the other. You drive on the left here, even though the cars are from the states. One benefit of this is you have a great view of how close you can get to the edge of the road, when another car is sprawled out and approaching fast. I have seen some bad accidents since I have arrived. Driving here is similar to navigating an obstacle course. The locals use the term "island handshake" for the inevitable occurrence of side view mirrors smashing together as cars whiz by each other. I have come close several times to experiencing the island handshake and lately I have left my passenger side mirror rotated in.

Road Rules:

1. Driving while using your phone and you will get pulled over by the police or in my opinion, you will have an accident. 2. Driving without a seatbelt and you will get pulled over. That's a no-brainer. 3. If you are out at a restaurant or bar and you have been drinking and you have not finished your drink, you can grab a convenient plastic to go cup by the door and take it with you. Drinking and driving is totally acceptable here. I'm sorry, what? This makes no sense to me. Of course, if you cause an accident and you are over the legal alcohol limit, you will get a DUI. But if you are just driving drunk and STILL drinking while you are driving drunk, this is totally fine. This takes the obstacle course to a whole new level. Now, some people have said that because the roads are so winding and steep that you really can't go that fast. "How much damage can be done going 25mph while intoxicated?" Well, I don't have a radar gun but I am sure people are driving faster than 25mph. I would say the average speed is around 40mph, which is still on the slow side of the speedometer. But any moving vehicle, no matter the speed, can do damage if used while being stupid. And if that is not enough, I have met some crazy fools that brag about getting their car or better yet, their motorcycle, up to 120mph here. No good can come of that. Yet another reason why Hull Bay is so appealing to me. It's off the beaten path. It's made of old school locals, families and surfers. People who are too cautious, too mellow or too stoned to drive like maniacs.

My work commute usually takes about 12 minutes, hardly long enough to get my NPR fill. On the way into town, over the crest and down the main road, there is always a delay. A line of cars creeping slowly along, the island traffic jam. This isn't because of congestion or overpopulation. It is because of a woman named Lamencia. Every day she stands on the side of the main road and sells newspapers to the commuters. I have even seen her out there in a torrential downpour, newspapers piled in trash bags and Lamencia in a plastic suit. There is no horn honking while we wait in line, just another example of “island time” and the relaxed nature of the people here. Every morning we say hello as I slowly drive by. I would buy a newspaper from her but I am really trying to cut back on my paper consumption. Recycling has yet to be introduced to this island.

Return to Paradise

Returning to St Thomas was a surreal experience. I had almost forgotten that I live here now. It definitely has taken a while to get back into the island rhythm. The service center is still under construction. All of the equipment is being shipped from the US and Switzerland and we hope to have everything delivered and installed by October. My new home is covered in a layer of island dust and all of my free time has been spent scrubbing my home back into a livable condition. And I do love my new home. I am perched up on a hillside above the green blue waters of Hull Bay. My morning routine consists of coffee and breakfast on my porch. At night, I play my guitar as green parrots flutter about and the sun sets in a stream of color behind the scattered islands. I am still unpacking and cleaning and arranging my new life but I am finally feeling back in step with the island. Though, at least once a day, I have to remind myself that this is where I live now. I have left city life, all that I know and the people that I love. It doesn't scare me, but it does give me pause.

Sunset from my porch

Favorite sushi place, Watahoshi. Located in Hull Bay out of reach of most tourists. Traditional sushi, divine in taste and presentation.

Some of the old Danish warehouses downtown still show the original stone facade. I have been told that sand and molasses were used as the mortar.

Breitling Training

I had to save my Breitling training for last. The training was epic, 5 weeks! I really got to know the company and the people during that time. I was so impressed with Breitling’s dedication to after-sales service. The training program they have in place is by far the best I have seen. And the staff, trainers, managers are all very dedicated and passionate about the program and the company. It was an amazing experience.

Breitling Uunderground passage

I spent my first week of training in polishing. The second week was a solo program in which I spent a day in each department of the after-sales service facility. The remaining three weeks were level 1 and 2 training, which covers a majority of the Breitling watch calibers on the market. The program was harder than I expected, we were graded on everything. Our trainer, Stefan Kuonen, scrutinized our work to a painful degree and he really pushed us to improve at every stage of the training. I have to admit, I had a couple meltdowns, some bad days when I felt all my watch skills had left my body and I couldn't do anything right. I don't know if it was the grading that started to get to me or the exhaustion that comes from travelling and living in a hotel for too long or the fact that I was also having to work on the island service center project at night. But all excuses aside, what the program did accomplish for me personally was to wake up my mind to watchmaking again. After 12 years, I'll admit I had gotten lazy. I had gone through the motions for so long and stopped questioning them or remembering why I do what I do. I'm happy to have had this experience. I'm really happy that I passed! And I feel that I am still waking up to my watch world. Questioning it in ways that I haven't in a long time. Taking it apart and figuring out what about it I really like and what about it I need to fix. This is a good thing.

Polishing training group

Level 1 & 2 training group