Paradise Island Ghetto Life
every year around this time i think of something to make your christmas-merry go not so round . . .
i just half-watched a commercial about vacationing in Italy that the TV at my in-laws that never shut up plays. it showed the splendid side of every beauty available with Mediterranean villages that seamlessly creep onto white beaches, but every place has its ‘dark’ places.
so does the island i’ve lived on and off for 2 1/2 years now.
drug addiction, abuse, and all the other fun stuff is as present as anywhere else in this world. maybe it is a bit more noticeably, because the space is so small and executes some self-entitled degree of ‘policing’.
in and around the big cities it seems the ‘dark’ sides are either an unwanted factor you have to adapt to, or people erect gates and heavy fencing to keep out the type, who tried to sell a group of 12 year old girls a bunch of psychedelics apparently not able to assume the reaction of the infuriated fathers – which was one of the reason why he eventually left the island for good.
the same dude holds the record of ditching the most vehicles within a couple of years and is oftentimes so drunk he doesn’t even remember what exactly happened. this spring – for example – he stumbled into me at the beer store and asked me to pull him out of the ditch, while he hadn’t noticed the concrete block he had ripped out of the ground when he ran over a large traffic sign.
the drunken-driving on this pretty island has sparked people to say stuff like
so many people drive drunk on this island, it’s safer to drink and drive yourself, than – responsibly – walking home in the dark hoping not to get run over by a wasted person.a not-so-drunk on island driver
when i came to the island, one of the first friendly people here was a buddy of the unfortunate driver – mentioned above – who invited me over to his place.
the rental they were completely wearing and tearing to shit was littered with waste and dog shit piles, i tried not to step on while marveling at the damage abuse has done to a place that greets arriving tourists and locals as soon as they get off the ferry.
first hand stories of abuse, violence and harsh upbringing were told, while the shadwoing pain is drowned in liquor and drugs.
trips to the hospital to return diagnosed with a fatal condition, torture for years, with blood in your shit and vomit, but why even quitting to drink? my early island friends failed the system and the system failed them the moment they became part of a society that expects every dysfunctional to be functional.
second hand abuse goes towards the ever pooping army of little companions, no one takes care of, because no one in the room can’t take care of themselves
people often work together and / or against each other, badmouthing is always in season and one of the most refreshing stories was shared on the local facebook page not very long ago, about the couple, that came home to find their main waterline apparently cut of the water supply down by the road. at first seemingly a ‘hate-crime’ against two dudes living their pre-retirement Vancouver-designer-scene-life here it turned out just to be another questionable move by a club of older folks, who volunteer for the water district and who regularly clash with builders, home owners etc. because they have a decal on their vehicles and a yellow siren on the roof.
a great picture of how the self-policing in a small world can go out of control, by people living the illusion of assuming authority when they simply don’t have it.
but word travels fast and reputation changes like the weather on these island:
[Olympus Mju-II / Kodak Gold 400]