Liming

 I woke up too early, but that’s the story of my life.  I reserved a cab via Curb for later this morning since the fare didn’t seem too high.  Although my flight is international (ANA), I check in with United in Terminal 1 and fly out of there.  Check in doesn’t even open until three hours before the flight which is 7:30am.  So I am sitting here drinking coffee at my place contemplating my trip.

I have an aspiration of liming.  I learned about this from a book I read: An Embarrassment of Mangoes: A Caribbean Interlude (p. 165) by Ann Vanderhoof.

Trinis have perfected the art of “liming”—spending time relaxing, laughing, talking, drinking, enjoying music, taking it easy. A lime is any informal gathering for the purpose of having fun. Call it hanging out, or call it a party. “The perfect start to a great lime,” says the advertising for Veni Mangé. “Bona fide fishermen only. No liming here,” reads a sign on the fishing cooperative on the road outside Port of Spain. The etymology of the word is hazy. According to one account, it was coined during World War II, when the nightclubs and dance halls of Port of Spain were frequented by foreign servicemen. The Americans appeared to have endless amounts of money to spend, but the less-well-off British were often forced to listen to the music from outside, watching the Americans inside dance with all the girls. Local schoolboys, who also used to stand outside listening, coined the verb “to lime”—meaning to stand outside a dance hall or party as the “Limeys” were doing. 

According to another story that dates to the same time, the sour taste of limes is behind the term: If you weren’t invited to a party, you would go to the house where it was being held anyway, but just stand outside and feel sour. This was called “sucking lime.” Other friends might join you, and you’d all stand around outside talking. This was called “bussin’ a lime”—which became shortened to “liming.” 

Someone dinghies by, sees us in Receta’s cockpit, detours over, and spends the next half hour hanging on to our stern ladder and chatting. I used to call this wasting time. Now it’s “liming,” an acceptable—even required—part of our day. I’ve learned I don’t have to be frantically, productively busy every waking minute as I once was. I’ve taken to liming with a vengeance.

Of course, for me this is aspirational.  On these trips I usually am working on my photos on my laptop.  After four dives each day, I download, review, edit and categorize my shots which is no small feat.  Then I keep a running list of the distinct nudibranch species seen and post them to the blog.  It’s a lot.

I am looking forward to reading.  I downloaded several books to my Kindle.  I also get excited to watch all the “new” movies.  But usually 10 minutes into a flight movie, I fall asleep.  Which is just fine.  It looks like I have window seats for my whole trip.