I think we're all a little guilty....
Posted: Fri Jul 23, 2010 11:17 am
Please bear with me for this long post as I've got a lot swimming around in this scatterbrained head of mine and will try my best to articulate what I am thinking.
After reading some of the recent threads and having various discussions with folks on and off line, I have come to the conclusion that some of the VI traveling veterans should feel a little guilty.
I especially feel this way after reading about what some new visitors have written about their first time experiences and I, for one, want to accept some responsibility.
For many of us who are frequent, long time visitors, STJ and the other Vrigins clearly have a hold on our hearts and souls. And just like anything that you fall in love with, you can fall prey to overlooking the flaws.
Like my beloved teddy bear that's lost an ear and an eye and most of its fur or my recollections of a high school romance, I tend to look with my heart and not always with my common sense or brain.
After all, someone else may look at my childhood bear and think, "What the hell?" It stinks, and looks like it's been through a meat grinder. Twice.
But I look at it and am flooded with all of my childhood memories. I like the fact that he's broken in and soft and cuddly. Who cares if he's missng an eye?
I remembered some threads from a year or so ago when people who had researched their trips extensively on this forum came back and could not understand why anyone in their right mind would think Skinny Legs or Vie's would be worth a visit. They complained about the flies, the smell, the goats, the service, and the food.
Have I experienced any or all of these things/concerns at Skinny's or Vie's? Sure. Does it make a difference about whether or not I return? Hell no.
Perhaps too many of us romanticize our relationship with STJ. We focus on what we love about this very special place. And overlook what any reasonable person would see as a major problem/not pretty/not comfortable.
We look past the junk and the giant pigs eating out of dumpsters, the rotten smells of the mangroves as we drive past Love City mini mart, the drug dealers on the corner in Cruz Bay, the slow service at restaurants, the overpriced groceries, the mosquitos that pratically eat you alive, the chickens roaming around on the beach, the condition of the roads, the heat and humidity, the torrential rains, the sometimes junky rental cars from which you are not allowed to remove the top, having to take short showers to conserve water, and the fact that every local doesn't look happy all the time.
Instead, we focus on what is unique and interesting to us and what keeps drawing us back to STJ. Most of which is the natural beauty and uniqueness of the place. The feeling that you are on an adventure and discovering something for the first time on your own.
The fact that things are not perfect and Disnified; that the locals are salty and interesting; that I'm OK with my burger taking an hour to make because I'm am enjoying watching the people and scenery around me; and that I am out of my comfort zone (literally and figuratively).
In trying to find another analogy, I am reminded of shopping for the fabric for my wedding dress (12 years ago this month thankyouverymuch).
Going to the fabric store and facing bolt after bolt of shiny, polished fabric and taffeta I was immediately drawn to the bolts of raw silk.
To me, the shiny stuff all looked the same. It was engineered to look the same throughout the entire bolt of fabric. If you made a mistake working with it the mistakes would be glaring because the fabric was so perfect. Overall, these fabrics were flashy and were perfect for someone, but were not for me.
The raw silk on the other hand, felt more natural in my hands, covered in natural flaws and was different from one inch to the next.
It was literally a reflection of my life and who I am and who I hoped to be. From a distance looking subtley polished, but up close a full on hot mess. I knew working with the raw silk was more forgiving, flaws would blend in overall but would still be noticable. The dress would never look "perfect" and I was OK with that.
The end result was not perfection, but one that held a natural beauty for me and made me feel comfortable in my own skin.
I shouldn't be hurt when someone looks at that dress and thinks that it's ugly. It's just not for them. And there's nothing that I can do to change their minds.
So, in a roundabout way I think we're all a little guilty of romanticizing STJ and the VI's by looking at them through Jimmy Buffett and Kenny Chesney designer rose colored glasses. We're "selling" taffeta when what we really should be selling raw silk.
But I want folks to know that it's coming from the same genuine place that drew me to the raw silk over the taffeta. That allows me to see my teddy the same way that I saw him when he was brand new. To still think that my high school sweatheart has a full head of hair and doesn't weigh 400lbs.
STJ and the VI's at times can be a hot mess and not for everyone. And perhaps we can all do a better job of explaining and talking about the imperfect stuff a little more often. I know I try to when I write my trip reports. But the romantic in me always seeps through.
I guess what I'm saying is that I think we all need to remember that everything that's real has flaws. And that's not always a bad thing.
After reading some of the recent threads and having various discussions with folks on and off line, I have come to the conclusion that some of the VI traveling veterans should feel a little guilty.
I especially feel this way after reading about what some new visitors have written about their first time experiences and I, for one, want to accept some responsibility.
For many of us who are frequent, long time visitors, STJ and the other Vrigins clearly have a hold on our hearts and souls. And just like anything that you fall in love with, you can fall prey to overlooking the flaws.
Like my beloved teddy bear that's lost an ear and an eye and most of its fur or my recollections of a high school romance, I tend to look with my heart and not always with my common sense or brain.
After all, someone else may look at my childhood bear and think, "What the hell?" It stinks, and looks like it's been through a meat grinder. Twice.
But I look at it and am flooded with all of my childhood memories. I like the fact that he's broken in and soft and cuddly. Who cares if he's missng an eye?
I remembered some threads from a year or so ago when people who had researched their trips extensively on this forum came back and could not understand why anyone in their right mind would think Skinny Legs or Vie's would be worth a visit. They complained about the flies, the smell, the goats, the service, and the food.
Have I experienced any or all of these things/concerns at Skinny's or Vie's? Sure. Does it make a difference about whether or not I return? Hell no.
Perhaps too many of us romanticize our relationship with STJ. We focus on what we love about this very special place. And overlook what any reasonable person would see as a major problem/not pretty/not comfortable.
We look past the junk and the giant pigs eating out of dumpsters, the rotten smells of the mangroves as we drive past Love City mini mart, the drug dealers on the corner in Cruz Bay, the slow service at restaurants, the overpriced groceries, the mosquitos that pratically eat you alive, the chickens roaming around on the beach, the condition of the roads, the heat and humidity, the torrential rains, the sometimes junky rental cars from which you are not allowed to remove the top, having to take short showers to conserve water, and the fact that every local doesn't look happy all the time.
Instead, we focus on what is unique and interesting to us and what keeps drawing us back to STJ. Most of which is the natural beauty and uniqueness of the place. The feeling that you are on an adventure and discovering something for the first time on your own.
The fact that things are not perfect and Disnified; that the locals are salty and interesting; that I'm OK with my burger taking an hour to make because I'm am enjoying watching the people and scenery around me; and that I am out of my comfort zone (literally and figuratively).
In trying to find another analogy, I am reminded of shopping for the fabric for my wedding dress (12 years ago this month thankyouverymuch).
Going to the fabric store and facing bolt after bolt of shiny, polished fabric and taffeta I was immediately drawn to the bolts of raw silk.
To me, the shiny stuff all looked the same. It was engineered to look the same throughout the entire bolt of fabric. If you made a mistake working with it the mistakes would be glaring because the fabric was so perfect. Overall, these fabrics were flashy and were perfect for someone, but were not for me.
The raw silk on the other hand, felt more natural in my hands, covered in natural flaws and was different from one inch to the next.
It was literally a reflection of my life and who I am and who I hoped to be. From a distance looking subtley polished, but up close a full on hot mess. I knew working with the raw silk was more forgiving, flaws would blend in overall but would still be noticable. The dress would never look "perfect" and I was OK with that.
The end result was not perfection, but one that held a natural beauty for me and made me feel comfortable in my own skin.
I shouldn't be hurt when someone looks at that dress and thinks that it's ugly. It's just not for them. And there's nothing that I can do to change their minds.
So, in a roundabout way I think we're all a little guilty of romanticizing STJ and the VI's by looking at them through Jimmy Buffett and Kenny Chesney designer rose colored glasses. We're "selling" taffeta when what we really should be selling raw silk.
But I want folks to know that it's coming from the same genuine place that drew me to the raw silk over the taffeta. That allows me to see my teddy the same way that I saw him when he was brand new. To still think that my high school sweatheart has a full head of hair and doesn't weigh 400lbs.
STJ and the VI's at times can be a hot mess and not for everyone. And perhaps we can all do a better job of explaining and talking about the imperfect stuff a little more often. I know I try to when I write my trip reports. But the romantic in me always seeps through.
I guess what I'm saying is that I think we all need to remember that everything that's real has flaws. And that's not always a bad thing.