The day finally arrived. I was strapped in with the large aircraft rolling down the runway and gently going up. The blue ocean and “my beach” was visible through the window. Familiar landmarks appeared below me. Yet the reality that I was truly leaving all this behind still did not sink in. It still feels that I will soon be waking up in my familiar bed, look at my bright yellow curtains. Go through my familiar morning routine of making my coffee and settling into my chair for my quiet time, while looking out to palm trees and blue sky.

But the truth is, this is now someone else's view. I have begun the journey of a major crossroad in my life. It is now time for new rituals and routines. It is a time of change. There is a time in life to leave behind that which is good to reach something better. It is a little scary and very exciting at the same time.

The last few weeks preparing for my departure has been very hectic. The fact that I felt disconnected from the reality that I am really leaving helped me cope. Funny enough my dear friends all felt that same disconnect with reality. Nobody really believed I was leaving. Even as I was doling out the contents of my apartment and shipping luggage home. It may have had something to do with the fact that I have been talking about my plans for so long that, well it seemed like some vague distant event related to some distant future time.

I have been quite a little diva the last few weeks – a lady with a full dance card. Between packing up my life I had my days mapped out around lunch with so and so, dinner with another. I have been trying to spend a little bit of time with all of those near and dear to me. And of course, I had to cram in all those touristy things one never get's around to when you live somewhere.

From St Maarten one can see five other islands if you drove around the island. Anguilla, Saba, Stacia, St Kitts, St Barts. It continues to amaze me that despite their close proximity each island is very different from the next. Some hilly and green, some flat and dry. Different languages, cultures, architecture and atmosphere. All just inviting you over to explore its unique characteristics.






So with a group of friends visiting St Maarten I sailed over to the anchorages around Prickley Pear with their kaleidoscope of blues and amazing beaches in Anguila. On another day we zipped over to Saba in the high speed ferry to savour the beauty of the mountains and rain forests. We started our day with a hike up the mountain, then lunch at the eco lodge nestled in the forest. Even the taxi ride there and back was a memorable. The hills are dotted with little villages, all with quaint red roofed homes and buildings. And naturally from that elevated position the ocean vistas are amazing. Saba stole my heart, and I hope to come back for a more extended visit some day.

Once I saw my friends off I was immediately immersed back in the reality of packing up and giving away – with the emphasis on the latter. I arrived with nothing but a backpack nearly two years ago. Now, I had gone as far as buying a set of suitcases on wheels. Growing up? Nahhh. Just too much stuff. Quite an unthinkable thing for a gypsy girl. Perhaps a sign of a desire to hang up those gypsy boots and put roots down? Certainly. But ironically a lot more travel is needed for that to be possible.

And being in my jet setting diva mode, I squeezed a down island sail in my busy calendar between all that packing. So off I set to Grenada and further island explorations. Over the next few days I sailed through the Grenadines with a good friend. It felt good to take a break away from my hectic attempts at reducing my life to as little as possible. Maarten. I felt relaxed and slept well, finally shutting off the the milling thoughts of logistics still needed in wrapping things up before my departure. I woke up in a different anchorage every morning. We set about to explore the different islands with taxi rides in the country side, strolling through colorful markets and lunching and dining on local cuisine – often with fabulous views.



Naturally, all good things must come to an end, and in the blink of an eye I was back in my own little rat race. But little by little all the pieces of the puzzle came together. My apartment emptied out and my suitcases filled up. Reality slowly caught up, despite the fact that I still felt no connection to it. All to soon after the last kisses and hugs I was alone in my airplane seat, watching my island home disappear from view.

And now I am sitting in the transit lounge in Paris sipping an overpriced latte. Waiting on my connecting flight home. The next year in my life will be a transit lounge. An in between, a crossroad. I have plans of where I intend to head as I near the next junction. But I fully accept that life sometimes takes a different course from the one we planned. And sometimes, those deviations are far better than the plans we made . . . .