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50 States, Day 256

  St. Thomas,  Cruise Day 4

"Until one is committed, there is hesitancy."
~Goethe



St. Thomas is a smaller island, and completely dedicated to tourism. The island has no other industries of which to boast. Being from Las Vegas, our city has struggled to find other markets to lure wealth there, as a one hit wonder can be devastating; i.e. if the one hit becomes a miss, it's a big one. Yet St. Thomas draws tourists in cruise ship infested droves. 



We trundled up hills in our oversized 27 passenger van, following other vans like a sled dog team. And I became what I've reviled during this trip! We've toured national parks and such and seen tour busses pull up, the people leap out like rats from a sinking ship, hit the restrooms, take ten photos and jump back in and launch. And they've 'seen' Yellowstone. Or wherever. Yet today we would stop and the driver would tell us, "One half an hour," and we'd run from one bright shiny thing to another, cameras clicking. The busses wrestled for positions in parking lots and tourists lined up to buy stuff at the gift shops. Then boom, we're out of there. 

However, being on the bus instead of watching, I got a better perspective. We did get a nice overview of St. Thomas, and enjoyed lovely vistas. I could do without the gift shops, but then no women would go on the tours, so no men would go and tourism would evaporate. 



At the top we visited a house that has been reincarnated as a restaurant with botanical gardens. This Caribbean climate causes anything to grow, and anything grows well. Lush, green verdant gardens reached to the sky, with streams running through them. Once  again there seems to be no middle ground; great wealth or abject poverty. And I don't get their economics. Three t-shirts for $5, and $200 a yard for cement. Doesn't the guy who sells t-shirts need to buy cement to build a house (or buy a house built with cement)? How can one afford to live here?



After cruising the island, the bus dropped us downtown, where the men and women of our group separated. We walked the city to see no less than fifty jewelry shops, sometimes as many as ten in a row. Yet each shop held court to a half dozen or more shoppers. 

And where am I on my search to 'find my beach'? Oh, I'll never find it jumping on and off the vans and busses, watching the clock to avoid holding up the group, standing in line to get to the railing to click a shot before others wriggle in for their shot. However, after returning to the ship, I sat on the deck in a comfy chair and read a great book. Took three tiny naps. Relaxed. Ahhh.


I may have found my beach, as tomorrow we'll be at sea all day, so it could be meals, reading, hot tub, shows and relaxing. But tonight, after the ventriloquist's show, the beach evaporated.

Time for an iPad Rant. 

Tonight, when downloading today's photos, the iPad decided to skip the prompt 'Skip Duplicates?' After trying numerous ways to outsmart it, I surrendered and it's downloading the third and fourth copies of 90% of the memory card. Yes, whenever it saves photos, it saves them in two places. Can't figure that one out, either. Then I end up needing more iCloud storage, and now have as much storage as the Department of Defense. And I'll wait for an hour for the download to finish. And wave goodby to my beach!

Oh, there's a band playing and people are having a good time. And I can work on other writing projects, so I'll call the beach back. Finding your beach sometimes can be done in spite of circumstances. 
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