"Whoah!" Our diver swerves the small, two-door car around the roadkill on the pavement. From afar it looked like a large squirrel or raccoon. It's an iguana.
"Those suckers used to be huge," he continues, darting around the curves of St. Thomas' roads. Our driver takes us from the airport to the house where Gabriela and I will be staying for a few nights, a beautiful home on a cliff overlooking the deep blue of the West Indies.
After settling in for a bit, our host for this leg of the trip, a good friend from college named Tyler, meets us at the house. We climb into his car after some big hugs and he almost burns a frilly rearview mirror ornament as he lights a stick of incense to honor the beginning of our trip.
"You know, I have so many ideas for you Avatars," he says while resting his elbow out the open window as reggae from the passing street stalls fluctuates in and out. "I even started writing them all out. Then I remembered Water and the importance of Flow. So we'll trust the island and let your time here unfold as it may."
After a delicious Trinidadian vegetable dish at a waterfront restaurant, I close my eyes to immerse myself in this moment, the tropical night-time breeze, the soft lapping of the waves and the rhythms of the live jazz band playing on the small stage.
I open my eyes. Jazz jams are rooted in Flow. I am here to listen to Water. I should record a session. Within the minute I'm exchanging numbers with band manager who shakes my hand excitedly. How fluidly ideas take shape into reality on this island.
I think I'll like it here.
BY: Tomás Quiñonez-Riegos