I arrived in St. Barts two days ago to begin working for a new Parisian family as their nounou chic. In other words, I am a fancy nanny. And despite having had 48 hours or so to let sink in the reality that I am on one of the most exclusive isles of the French West Indies, I'm still rather incredulous.
St. Barths is beautiful, with humidity thicker than my throat holding back tears. The water beats back to shore, the sand worn down from the relentless violence of waves. Yet all is tranquil, secluded. The villas give way to the chatter of the small aircraft which shuttle between here and St. Martin, with white gates to guard privileged French privacy. And so this is how the other half lives...
Though I have been brought here by my new family, I feel like an intruder, peering into another realm to which I know I do not belong. I feel as if I know a secret which I could never convey, a secret that would die with me. But I must say...all of this would probably one day make good fodder for a novel.
We shall see.