Logistics: the Russian Doll

The logistics of moving to the other side of the world were something akin to regressing to pre-school. I arrived on Reunion Island as a 25 year old with the logistical capacities of a toddler. Fortunately I fell into the good hands of Michel Eyquem, an English teacher at one of my high schools. He and his wife, Alice, graciously accepted me into their home, assuming the role of spoon feeding me pureed mangoes and strapping me into my car seat each morning. It was a ride on the total dependence side. They took me everywhere from looking at cars and apartments, to dropping me off at the beach, and showing me the secret back way to the neighborhood patisserie. I could not have done it without them.
In hindsight, my primary problem was that I had arrived on the island mentally under-prepared for the logistical reality of things. I had done virtually nothing to research apartments or living situations and although I had entertained the idea of a car as a fun activity, I did not realize that it was going to be an absolute necessity. The first two weeks were a scramble to recognize needs and figure out how to tackle them--in French. The process can best be described as opening a Russian doll: you identify one need which subsequently sprouts another task or need, then another, and another, until your head is about to explode and you realize that the only thing that will soothe you is playing "Super Bijoux Quete" on your cell phone (a mindless, brain-cell killing waste of life video game).

The other obstacle to settling into life on la Reunion is the pace with which tasks are accomplished. Most stores and businesses are open approximately 20 hours a week (that's being generous!!) and only about 7% of the work force is inclined to exert themselves. It is pulling teeth to get people to take your new bank account, for example, seriously. It's not that people aren't friendly or kind, it's that their enjoyment comes paramount to your logistical need. Bank account = not fun. What's for lunch = fun. I was forced to learn this equation very early on.

After all was said and done, I found an excellent studio apartment looking out over the west coast of La Saline-les-Bains. It's in the downstairs of a house owned by a woman named Elodie who lives there with her two young daughters (who are incidentally star-struck by my presence in their home). I have a breathtaking view of the lagoon and race home each afternoon for the best show of the day: the sunset. With the help of Michel, I also found a sweet little Citroen hot rod, and I am now zipping around the island like there's no tomorrow...