Mum and I have had a disagreement. Perhaps you can help us resolve it (ie help me win the argument).
A few weeks ago, it was my birthday, and she thinks that I should celebrate on 5 June Sydney time since that’s the time zone that I was born in. I, however, believe that I should celebrate on the date wherever I am in the world (after all, a birthday is the one time in the year when it’s ALL about me), which means that my birthday here starts at around 2pm Sydney time on 5 June. Of course, that makes me 14 hours younger here than in Sydney, which I have no problem with at all.
I spoke to a friend, and they sort of sided with my mother. And I agree that the logic is somewhat confusing. But what do people who move countries permanently do? Surely they just go with the local date? Anyhow, since it was my birthday I figured my rule prevails! (Mum wished me a happy birthday on both dates).
To spoil myself, I headed to St Kitts’ sister island of Nevis and stayed at a rather swanky resort called Nisbet Plantation Inn – on the site of an old sugar plantation right on its own beach. I had a meeting all day on Thursday and Friday, and headed off early on the Friday to catch the 5pm ferry to Nevis, a 45 minute ride on the good vessel “Mark Twain” – cost: EC$25 (around US$10). At the other end, a hire care waited for me and I drove the 20 mins around this small island to my resort.
As part of the fun, on the occasion of my birthday, I swam in the Atlantic (first time ever since all my swims here have been in the Caribbean) and sucked back pina coladas on the beach. I even got a morning hug from the hotel’s maitre’d (hugs from gorgeous men may well be the subject of another post). After a snooze in the afternoon, it was dinner in the hotel restaurant where the staff surprised me with a “Happy Birthday” song and a decorated bread and butter pudding! Yes, it was embarassing, but very sweet.
On the Sunday, I found the most stunning beach ever – long, white sand, perfect water with no reeds or rocks underneath. Simply gorgeous. It’s given me an appetite to hunt out the best beaches in the Caribbean – I hear that the beaches on Antigua, a short 20 min flight away – are stunning.
After the swim, it was back on the ferry home. I embarassed myself by toppling over on the boat (boo) and stood at the back talking to a weird rasta dude with his long dreadlocks wrapped up inside a weird type of hat that the rasta guys wear here.
And here’s a rather nifty view of some Basseterre houses from the water.