Whittling down my possessions to the bare minimum really helped me see how much detritus and clutter I had been carrying around. Memories were special. There were occasional little tokens but I was fortunate in that, just as with my reading and listening, lots of my memories were online now. Who needed a physical photo album packed away in an attic when the images could be recalled instantly wherever you were in the world. I also felt this new sense of liberation. I had been so stuck for so long and I didn't even see it. Stuck in a job which just about gave me the bare minimum of professional satisfaction and slightly less than the bare minimum remuneration. I could say the same about my relationships, my living accommodation and my friends.
Shortly before my departure, we gathered together in a pub near my apartment, Terry and his friends and their partners and it dawned on me that even my closest friends were in some way offshoots of my relationship with Terry. I had allowed friendships of my own, particularly from my hometown and college, to wither on the vine. We still checked in on Facebook every now and then and maybe shared a drink at Christmas but that was about it. Everyone was happy for my promotion and I managed to deflect most queries about the details. I didn't feel ready for a barrage of questions about a weird woman-only island where everyone went round in their birthday suits. For once I was grateful that most of my "friends" were bored by my line of work and were generally incurious about this sort of technology, and the world generally.
I was grateful for Tim's deft negotiations. Leaving work was a breeze, not a wrench. It was bittersweet leaving a place that represented such a formative period of my life and saying goodbye to the friends I had met there. We shared a few drinks on that last Friday afternoon and it was nice to be reminded that there were still some good personal connections. It turned out that my closest colleagues, the ones who didn't see me as a useful stepping stone, the ones who bothered to take me for those drinks were all female. But I still felt at a slight remove from them. We had a relationship based on work and small talk. They probably were curious about St. Jeanne and Jeann-Tech but some sort of implicit restraint prevented them from deeper inquiry.
In fact, over the short interregnum period, the closest personal connection I had was with Roni. I felt that we just got each other and we could chat about anything. Of course, she was very helpful in helping me to understand society and etiquette on Les Soeurs. I was aware of the culture of nudity but she reminded me that it was considered very rude to cover yourself up in anyway. I knew that hair should not ever "drape" the breasts and this led to all sorts of creative hairstyles on the islands but I wasn't familiar with the intricacies of how one would sit. Roni told me that nobody crosses her legs when sitting down. It's just not the done thing. Likewise, any sort of stance where ones hands cover one's pudendum or breasts. She reassured me though. These are just instinctive Outremer habits that are not hard to eliminate and people will always be helpful and understanding. Nobody carried large bags, most women on the islands didn't even carry handbags. Shoes were not illegal on the islands but were rarely seen, most women went barefoot everywhere, even to formal occasions. I felt comfortable talking to her, even about intimate things.
"So, Jenny, you'll have an idea by now that we are quite forthright about matters Outremer people consider intimate and private."
"I'm beginning to get the picture."
"As someone from Outremer, it can take a while to adjust to what often seems like a radical loss of privacy. You know we have no clothes on St. Jeanne but you know we don't have curtains, blinds, any kind of frosted glass. The same is true on the other islands for anywhere women live or stay."
"Really?"
"Most women on Les Soeurs shower outside, for women who live in apartments this will usually be on the balcony. Inside showers will usually be fully glazed to the outside. We celebrate the female form and it is bad luck to hide it in anyway."
I guess this would be another cultural habit I would have to adjust to. I imagined soaping myself up in the full gaze of passersby. I pictured appreciative glances and smiles and somehow the sense of second-hand embarrassment was ameliorated.
"You should also be aware that the culture of not allowing hair to conceal our body is not just about hair draped over breasts. Any kind of body hair is frowned upon, especially pubic hair. Women on Les Soeurs remove all body hair as soon as it grows in and laser treatment is almost universal here."
I had noticed the conspicuous lack of body hair in all the photos I had seen so far, even from the otherwise bushy elsewhere 1970s and 1980s.
"Well, you don't need to worry about me on that account. I had laser treatment done a few years back."
One Christmas a few years back Terry bought me a course of laser treatment as a gift though in truth it was more of a gift for himself. He always preferred me completely bare down there and I had to concede that the laser made more sense than frequent shaving. It ensured I was always stubble free and over time it ended up much cheaper than waxing. It was nice to know that this would end up being of benefit to me in a future adventure I had no possible conception of at the time. It was also a nice irony that this self-interested gift from Terry would, in some small part, contribute to facilitating my entry to St. Jeanne society which represented a step away from him.
"That's great to hear. You see, I just know you're going to love it here. You'll fit right in, I can tell. Maybe hidden behind that Outremer exterior there's a born Jeannette there waiting to come out."
"Oh, I don't know about that!."
