30.... Year 30

For our 30th Anniversary, Ian decided he'd rather be in another country. He spent the month of May in Kingston, Jamaica for work, living in a furnished apartment that was devoid of any personality, with spotty internet, eating poor fruit and drinking Red Stripe. He also had a view of the mountains and the ocean, got to fly out of three strips on the island, and ate fresh caught fish for breakfast.

So I went there for a weekend, because -- why would we each be alone if he's on a Caribbean island nation during this amazing milestone?

I flew there on Friday and returned on Monday. In the middle Ian and I spent the weekend at Goldeneye, the resort developed by Ian Fleming and where he wrote the 007 novels.  Ian is a huge James Bond fan, (even if the novels and movies reflect the sexist, racist times) so getting to lay on the beach, snorkel, swim in the lagoon, and eat yummy food just put him in a happy place.  Every cabin was unique and our beachside home had a classic mosquito net draped bed, outdoor shower, and full kitchen. 

It takes a bit to get from Harrisburg to Kingston, including an all day stop in Atlanta, which works out great for us with Becca and Max a short hop from the ATL airport. In all, my trip was actually three trips: a visit with Becca, time with Ian, a visit with Becca. 

Jamaica was Jamaica.  A super late arrival, a two+-hour terrifying drive to the north side of the island on pitch black twisty mountain highway with a driver who did not care about potholes, talking on the phone, getting pulled over by the cops and paying a bribe to avoid a speeding ticket, passing into oncoming traffic thereby forcing the oncoming traffic to PULL OVER, and crunching over detritus all over the road from a head-on crash that had just happened and being more annoyed with the delay and having to drive over the sidewalk than the fact that someone was just in a horrible crash probably due to speeding into oncoming traffic and swerving to avoid a pothole.

The resort is unmarked. The exterior wall is broken only by a wrought-iron fence that says "Private Property" and opens to a windy one-lane drive to a small open-air welcome building lighted by oil flame torches.  Ian Fleming's books are featured prominently, along with pictures and news articles of at his home which still exists on the property.  At one point, the home was open to tours when it wasn't in use, but unfortunately that stopped a few years ago.  Down the main road a bit is Bond Beach, where the first James Bond film has the famous bond girl rise up out of the ocean. The nearby airstrip is also Ian Fleming airport.  When Ian got home one of his comments was that everyone he met seemed to have no issue with his name, never even asking for spelling.  I wonder why. 

One of the phone calls the driver had received was from the hotel asking us whether we wanted a dinner waiting for us.  Dinner at the resort ended at 9:30pm and we expected to arrive close to 11pm, so dinner wasn't really a focus, however when we entered our room there was a plate of fruit ready to snack on which was so welcome.

Saturday was our full day at GoldenEye and we spent the day just enjoying the perfect weather, the water, and the food. We discovered that snorkeling without prescription goggles is a challenge, and that swimming in the lagoon was delightful. Dinner was a barbeque out by one of the pools with live music. GoldenEye isn't an all-inclusive like many of the resorts on the western coast of the island, but it didn't matter.  You only hit 30-years married once so the weekend was meant to be an indulgence. 

The next morning the hotel had a driver take us to Ian Fleming airport where and instructor had parked the Cessna that Ian flew the weekend prior.  Rather than take that terrifying highway back, Ian flew us 20 minutes back to Kingston, a turn over the ocean and through the mountain passes. It was gorgeous.  I will never be a calm flyer, but he had a such a delight in flying, and the fact that he could fly in Jamaica and earn hours towards his license was so perfect for his month away.

Because the fact is that a month is a long time for us.  We made it through his year in Baghdad with visits home every few months, but we also had told each other we wouldn't do that again.  Yes, a month is a long time. I had too many people ask me why I didn't go with him.  My job is remote, I could have easily, in theory.  And whenever I gave my answer I got the same level of confusion mixed with disbelief and a chuckle.  We have fish. Tanks need care, and we didn't figure that all out in order for me to go to Kingston with him.  Even a week or two would have made the whole thing better for both of us, and we know that now.  Like most things since moving to Lebanon, we're figuring things out, seeing what works, and what doesn't. Kind of like my garden - survival of the fittest and the rabbits have moved in.

At 10 years we went to Las Vegas for the perfect amount of kitch.

At 20 years the Maldives was a bucket list check.

At 25 years Lake Tahoe provided all 4 seasons in a day. 

Now at 30 we have GoldenEye.

Ideas for 35?  I've already suggested Antarctica.  Guess we'll see.