Lessons from Anguilla on returning after four years away

After a four-year gap due to the COVID pandemic, we eagerly returned to Anguilla for a two-week vacation. We love this tiny Caribbean island and have taken a welcome break from Vermont winter for fifteen years. I have written many posts about lessons from Anguilla gleaned during our visits, and this trip uncovered more.

The trip

For the first time in many years, Celia and I stayed in Anguilla without company. In the past, family members, and Celia’s women friends would join us for a week. But flights were so expensive that we couldn’t afford to bring family, and Celia’s friends couldn’t come for various reasons. The villa where we’d stayed previously was up for sale, so we looked for another place to stay.

We love the East End of the island and found a wonderful Airbnb in Island Harbor. Right on the northern coast, it featured two decks overlooking the North Atlantic, without a speck of land between us and Nova Scotia, 3,000 miles away.

Here’s the view from the large deck outside our apartment.

And here’s the view from the lower deck.

Lessons from Anguilla: Photograph of our deck overlooking the North Atlantic, including the author's feet
The same deck with the author’s feet included

We loved our new accommodations (read below for more reasons) and hope to return there next year.

So, what lessons from Anguilla did I learn on this trip?

Lesson 1—Don’t make assumptions

The third agreement of Don Miguel Ruiz’s classic book “The Four Agreements” is

Don’t make assumptions.

I’ve spent so much time in Anguilla that, understandably, I make assumptions about what a new visit will be like.

I think I’m a little wiser about making assumptions these days. One thing I now know is to not assume that something I’ve experienced in the past under certain circumstances is likely to occur when those circumstances are repeated. Great initial experiences may not be so good the next time.

For example, on our Anguilla vacation, a memorable restaurant could go out of business or somehow lose its allure. Perhaps, a perfect beach is now covered with seaweed. The Nurse Boy Carwash and Thick Madam clothing store are no more. The perfect bartender who knew your names and made the best rum punches left for better pastures.

The day we arrived offered a good example. We’d had some charmingly idiosyncratic meals and good times at a little shack, Lime Keel House, that was within walking distance of our new island home.

Lessons from Anguilla: The former Lime Keel House
The former Lime Keel House

But when I passed it on my morning walk, it was clear that the restaurant was closed. A woman working inside the building told us they were renovating it into a tourist store.

Well, since it had been four years since we’d last been on the island, I assumed that some things that we had loved would be gone. Smart, huh!

Don’t make assumptions!

Over the next two weeks, we found that the vast majority of places and experiences were just as wonderful as we remembered!

Goats still roamed everywhere!

Our favorite restaurants were still around and just as good as ever!

Dining at Blanchards Restaurant
Blanchards Beach Shack
Lessons from Anguilla: Photograph of the menu and serving windows at Blanchards Beach Shack
What do you want to eat?! The menu and serving windows at Blanchards Beach Shack
Small plates at the Sandbar restaurant
Small plates at the Sandbar restaurant
The view from the Sandbar Restaurant in Sandy Ground, Anguilla

Once again, the sunsets did not disappoint.
Lessons from Anguilla: a typical Anguilla sunset

And the beaches were just as gorgeous as we remembered.

Celia in the ocean

OK, the Nurse Boy Carwash and Thick Madam clothing store were, sadly, no more.

But they were pleasant memories, nothing we needed to experience again.

And Ruthy’s Yum-Yum and Fruity Web were still thriving!

Photograph of Ruthy’s Yum-Yum courtesy of anguilla-beaches.com


Lessons from Anguilla: I learned that sometimes the present can turn out to be quite like the enjoyable past.

Lesson 2—Stay open to new possibilities!

We’ve been visiting Anguilla for the last twenty years, so we’re pretty familiar with the island. With an area of just 35 square miles, 16 miles from end to end, and 3.5 miles at its widest, it’s eminently explorable. Over the years, I think we’ve walked or driven down every rocky road. So it was easy for me to assume that there wouldn’t be any major surprises on this trip.

Yeah, I know.

Don’t make assumptions!

The world outside the vacation

Just because you’re on vacation doesn’t mean the outside world can’t come crashing in. We got some unexpected upsetting family news early during our stay. There was not much we could do about it, and we were able to (mostly) let it go. But this was a reminder that vacations aren’t a sealed hermetic pleasure bubble that nothing can penetrate.

Hermit crabs

OK, we were not expecting this. As we walked down the concrete path into our new home, we saw a lot of these guys moving out of our way…
They’re called hermit crabs, and we’d seen them before on the island. What was different, we soon realized, was the sheer quantity of these creatures that lived around the building compared to our previous sightings. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of them. (Later, a local friend told us that island fishermen used to come to the area where we were staying and use the crabs as bait for their lobster traps.)

We quickly became attached to these odd creatures. They move around surrounded by a shell they’ve found that fits their bodies. When they sense potentially dangerous circumstances, like us, they either scurry away from the open or withdraw into their shell. As we walked on the path we could hear the clink of their shells hitting the concrete as they moved or retreated. When the path wasn’t level, their retreat often turned them into a shell ball that rolled entertainingly down the path.

Hermit crabs are omnivores that feed voraciously on anything available. After watching them for a few days, we put out a piece of melon rind and made a 30-second time-lapse video of what happened when we retreated for fifteen minutes. The crabs leave at the end when we approach to retrieve the camera.

Enjoy!

Unexpected weather

We have always visited Anguilla at some time between February – April. The weather is generally delightful. Rain is light and occurs for short periods and rainbows abound. Hurricane season occurs during the fall, so we’ve never experienced bad weather on the island.

Until this trip.

Midway during our stay we experienced two days of torrential rain. All the boat ferries between Anguilla and St Martin had to stop running (which hardly ever happens) and the island was cut off from the outside world except by air.

That was OK; we could stay outside on our large deck, watch the ocean, and stay dry. But when we went out to dinner, it was a different story. Night had fallen, and driving the length of the island turned into a very scary experience. Visibility was so poor it was almost impossible to anticipate the frequent expanses of water of unknown depth that would suddenly appear around a corner. We are used to driving on winding Vermont roads in icy conditions, but our 45-minute drive to dinner and our return were perhaps the most challenging driving we’ve ever done.

Later, our landlord told us that the two days of bad weather were very unusual for February. They were more like hurricane-season weather when a big hurricane goes nearby. (I wrote this post about what happened when Hurricane Irma hit Anguilla in 2017.)

But we made it to dinner and back home safely. The trips became a memorable experience, and we gained a new respect for what it’s like for Anguillians when they live through hurricane season each fall.

Unexpected experiences

Yes, Anguilla is a tropical island so there are coconut trees. While relaxing on Shoal Bay East beach one day, this guy ran up the tree right next to me…
Lessons from Anguilla: A local climbs up a coconut tree…and chopped down a coconut.
Lessons from Anguilla: A local chops down a coconut
He wanted a drink.

Two spots for meditation

This was a small unexpected treat, but regular readers of this blog know that I meditate daily. I can do it anywhere, but it’s nice to be in a supportive and beautiful environment. Imagine our delight when we found our apartment had a little meditation deck (not included in the listing), clearly made with us in mind.

Our lower deck (pictured at the start of this post), surrounded by the ocean and enveloped in the sound of breaking waves, turned out to be a wonderful place to meditate too!

Lessons from Anguilla: I learned that, even though you’re very familiar with a place you love, I can still discover new things there.

Lesson 3—Sometimes things unexpectedly improve

We’ve seen Anguilla beaches change so much between our trips. When we first visited Shoal Bay East Beach, the east end of it featured Gwen’s Reggae Bar and a small resort called Serenity. The beach in front of these properties was beautiful, and our former landlady and many tourists and locals danced to live music at Gwen’s every Sunday at lunchtime.

But over the years the east end of the beach shrank drastically. The palms in front of Gwen’s that once held hammocks fell into the sea and the beach disappeared…

…and Gwen’s had to be abandoned and rebuilt down on the west end of the beach (where it remains to this day).

In 2020, the last time we’d visited Anguilla, right before COVID decimated tourism on the island, walking down to the old Gwen’s from the main Shoal Bay East beach was a slightly perilous undertaking. At high tide, waves could dash you against the rocks. At low tide, you’d certainly get pretty wet. The sea had essentially eaten the small beach at Serenity.

But on this trip, the beach was back! Once again, we could walk the entire length of Shoal Bay East, rounding “proposal point” and enjoying the white sand down to Serenity, which has once again installed beach chairs and umbrellas.

The beach came back!

We’d experienced the resilience of Anguilla after Hurricane Irma but had thought of it as the remarkable resilience of the Anguillian people. But Nature is resilient in surprising ways too, and this was a pleasant lesson to learn during our vacation.

Lessons from Anguilla: Nature can be resilient as well as people. I’m thankful that we live in a world which still has some buffers to the  increasing climate emergency we are now experiencing.

Any other lessons from Anguilla?

These are the three lessons from Anguilla I picked up on this delightful trip. But perhaps you’ve learned more? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

Struggling to meditate daily

meditate daily: A sepia photograph of a back of a person wearing a black shirt and sitting cross-legged in a field, surrounded by trees. Photo attribution: Flickr user wiertz
For three months now, I’ve meditated for twenty minutes every day.

Personally, this is a big deal, as I’ve struggled to maintain a regular meditation practice for decades. I’ve resolved countless times to meditate daily, and fallen off the mindfulness wagon over and over again.

Three years ago, I began attending silent meditation retreats and continue to do so a couple of times a year. These experiences are important and transformational. Each retreat deepened my resolve to start a daily meditation practice. But, despite this increased desire, I was unable to do so.

Until now.

Excuses
Why has it been so hard for me to maintain a daily meditation practice?

One excuse is that my daily schedule is not regular. When I’m home, there is at least the potential to set aside a regular time to meditate. But I travel a lot. I’m just back from a four-week trip that spanned nine time zones, from Italy to the Caribbean, to Las Vegas. I average about two engagements per month that require travel. I might be up at 5 am to catch a flight, arrive late at a destination, and be intensely involved on-site for two or three days. There’s no regular “free” time in my life.

However, my travel for work and pleasure that creates an erratic daily schedule is a choice that I made. It makes it harder but not impossible for me to create a meditation habit.

Another excuse is related to my biorhythms. Over the years I’ve found I do my best creative work in the morning. Meditating early feels like it’s delaying starting my day. At night, my energy level sags and it’s difficult for me to maintain mindful habits. I’m tempted to relax over a drink and a nice dinner.

Finally, my experience of the benefits of regular meditation from retreats quickly fades. I remember that I felt inspired to meditate regularly, but I don’t experience the inspiration. And I lapse…

How have I changed my meditation habit?
I’m sorry. If you’re hoping to learn the secret simple trick that allowed me to finally sustain a daily meditation practice, I’m about to disappoint you.

As I’ve shared previously, the hard work we do that precipitates personal change is largely unconscious.

But here are some clues that might help you.

—At the Vipassana retreats I attend, sitting and walking meditation sessions last for 45 minutes, and there are many such sessions every day. I set myself a far more modest daily goal of a single twenty-minute session. More sessions or a longer time are great but completely optional.

—While meditating with a simple timer, I noticed that my mind started wondering about how much time was left towards the end of the twenty minutes. (Somewhat pathetic, but that’s what I noticed.) So I switched to a free meditation app, InsightTimer, which can be configured to play multiple sounds during meditation. Adding a momentary wood block “click” halfway through tells my thinking mind that there are ten minutes to go, which helps quiet it. This sounds silly, but it’s helpful for me.

—Finally, while vacationing for two weeks in Anguilla last month, I broke through my self-limiting belief that an early morning meditation session would reduce my creative morning time. For the last few years, I’ve started my day there with a (now) forty-minute walk, down to Island Harbor and back. This year I sat on a bench at Falcon Nest and meditated for twenty minutes before returning.

(Here’s the panorama I saw one morning when I opened my eyes. Four island dogs in a neat but respectful oval around me.)

Since then, I’ve been willing and able to meditate for twenty minutes within the first hour I’m up.

What I have noticed since beginning to meditate regularly for the first time in my life
—I have more equanimity in my life. For example, after I rose early for a flight from Boston to Las Vegas last week, it was delayed for four hours due to the weather. I was surprised and pleased at how serene I stayed about this, compared to the persistent annoyance I would have felt in the past. There was plenty of time to meditate at the airport!

—Having said that, I am noticing how easily certain events bend me out of shape. My phone says the Wi-Fi password I’ve entered is incorrect, though I know it isn’t. My new MacBook keyboard switches unexpectedly into ALL CAPS. I fumble several times picking up a heavy piece of wood for the stove.

I’m not doing much better dealing with these surges of irritation, but noticing them is the first and necessary step to change.

—I’m getting better at listening to people. Less likely to jump in with a response before they’ve fully shared. (Yes folks who know me well; there is still plenty of room for improvement. Sigh.)

Celebration!
I am happy that I’ve made this change that has eluded me for so long. Perhaps I will increase my modest meditation time in the future. Regardless, I like the effect on my life daily meditation makes, and this is evidence that I am still able to change my behavior through work and grace.

Photo attribution: Flickr user wiertz

Lessons from Anguilla — Resilience in the Face of Disaster

What does resilience in the face of disaster look like?

resilience in the face of disaster: a weather map showing hurricane Irma over the island of Anguilla

Hurricane Irma

On September 6, 2017, Hurricane Irma tore across the tiny island nation of Anguilla. The hurricane destroyed every power pole. Irma tore the roofs off schools, government buildings, and the hospital. The Category 5 hurricane’s 185 mph winds and driving rain caused severe interior damage and destruction to most buildings on the island. After the storm, fallen poles, trees, and debris blocked every road on the island, and there was no power for weeks. Amazingly, only two people died.

Resilience in the Face of Disaster

Six months later, we are visiting; amazed at the recovery that has taken place in such a short time. Most Caribbean islands, such as neighboring St Maarten, remain heavily damaged. Anguilla’s 13,000 inhabitants have worked their hearts and bodies out to bring life here back to something approaching normal. Power has been restored all over the island, internet and phone is largely back, and the majority of the colorful beach restaurants and shops serving Anguilla’s crucial tourist industry have been completely rebuilt.

The few large resorts on the island will take longer to reopen, but the villa we have been renting for years here survived and from our veranda we continue to enjoy the panoramic view of waves crashing on coral reefs that separate us from 3,000 miles of Atlantic ocean between us and the nearest landmass, the coast of Halifax, Nova Scotia.

We are fortunate to be able to enjoy Anguilla again, but this disaster severely impacted locals’ lives. Tourism income vanished for months while the recovery was underway. Many are still without work while a few large resorts remain closed. Travel into the island is restricted due to serious hurricane damage at the two feeder airports SXM and SJU.

Tourist loyalty

Luckily, Anguilla has built an incredibly loyal tourist base, including people like us who have been vacationing here for decades. The stunning beaches, great restaurants, and friendly locals have driven us to help get this island back on its feet. We and many others have donated to relief efforts and brought needed school supplies in our suitcases. And we’ve donated time while we’re here to volunteer (in our case, in the schools and a community center).

Here are one visitor’s thoughts about what this tiny island means to him:

I am the kind of man who tries to always look at the bright side. It makes me happy to look at the world through positive eyes. I had to learn to look for gratitude in my daily living but it has completely changed my outlook on living and who I am. I start most days thinking of all that I have to be grateful for — but Anguilla is another story!

I am so lucky to get to even come here. I am ever grateful to the people who introduced me to this island thirty years ago and even more grateful to the wonderful warm Anguillans who have welcomed me back over the years. The people of the world could learn some good lessons in how to live their lives from the people of this tiny island.

This is the first day of our last week here! Why am I so sad? How many people get to come to a wonderful place like this in the dead of winter and go on the beach and in the ocean every day for six weeks? I ought to be focusing on that instead of having this mental countdown. I feel like a little kid, sad that the summer is over.

Would I love this place as much if I lived here? Maybe it is because I do leave and go home that makes it so special. My heart will ache when I step on the boat and I will be glancing back over here all the way over to the airport.
—Paul F. Phillips from the Facebook Anguilla For Tourists Group

Island love

There is a synergy at work here. The islanders’ friendliness, openness, acceptance of difficult circumstances, and hard work have led visitors to fall in love with this small, unique Caribbean community. We in turn are doing everything we can to keep Anguilla strong in the face of adversity. Together, we are striving to maintain something that is dynamic, special, and quite rare in this world: a special place for both locals and tourists to enjoy and cherish.

This is resilience in the face of disaster.

More Lessons from Anguilla can be read here.

Lessons from Anguilla: What meeting designers can learn from religious services

 

can meeting designers learn from religious services: photograph of an Anguillan church service courtesy of The AnguillanWhat can meeting designers learn from religious services?

On my daily vacation walk to Island Harbour, I hear singing. As I turn the corner onto Rose Hill Road, the sound swells. It’s 7:30 a.m., but the morning service at St. Andrew’s Anglican Church is in full swing. As I pass, a familiar hymn from my youth washes over me, sung by a hundred enthusiastic voices. And yes, I admit it, as I enjoy the harmonies I hear, I begin to think about religious meeting design. And here’s what meeting designers can learn from religious services

Religious services are probably around 300,000 years old — by far the oldest form of organized meeting created by humans. We know little about prehistory religious services, but the meeting designs used by major world religions today date from the Middle Ages. Over the last thousand years, religious meetings developed some important features in order to maximize the likelihood that people would attend.

What’s interesting is that these features are largely absent from modern secular meetings!

So what can we learn from religious meeting design? I confine my observations to Christian and Jewish services, as they are the faiths familiar to me.

Don’t let any one person talk too long

The most frequent preaching length in Christian churches is 20 to 28 minutes. Although some pastors take more time, their number is decreasing. And in 2014, the Vatican recommended that sermons be limited to eight minutes or less!

While people joke about the length of boring sermons, contrast this relative brevity to modern conferences, where speakers typically speak for an hour. We know that listener attention drops sharply after ten minutes unless a speaker does specific things to maintain it. Religious institutions know this and deliver short bursts of emotional content. Most meetings don’t, and attendee learning suffers as a consequence.

Include lots of communal activities

Singing is one of the most powerful fundamental, communal human activities; right up there with eating together. The oldest written music is a song, the Sumerian Hymn to Creation, dated before 800 B.C. Communal singing likely predates this by tens or hundreds of thousands of years.

Jewish and Christian religious services are full of singing and praying. These are communal activities — each congregant contributes to a common endeavor. Some people have good voices, sing in harmony, and add pleasure to everyone’s experience. Even those who can’t carry a tune very well become part of something, a common endeavor, while they are singing a familiar and often beautiful hymn or prayer.

Communal activities are powerful because they align participants in a common experience: creating something beautiful and uplifting together. When was the last time you did something like that in a meeting?

Breaks aren’t communal activities

Most meeting organizers assume that breaks and socials should provide the majority of human interaction in their meetings. But breaks and socials aren’t communal activities — everyone is doing something different! The post-service Church Suppers and Jewish Kiddish give congregants time to meet socially. This strengthens the communal experience provided by the service. In contrast, modern conferences expect attendees to bond after having primarily listened to lectures.

Keep ’em moving!

People don’t sit still at most religious services. They stand to sing and pray. In some congregations, dance is a normal component of the service. Physical movement during events is important because blood flow to the brain starts to decline within ten minutes of sitting still, leading to decreased attention. Sadly, it’s rare for meeting sessions to include any kind of body movement.

Provide an emotional experience

Whatever opinions you hold about religious services, it’s clear that they are designed to create an emotional experience. Given a choice between emotional and “book learning” experiences, people will invariably choose the former. Religious services offer the kinds of experiences that people prefer, served up in a safe and familiar way. Most conferences offer little emotional experience directly related to their content and purpose; instead such experiences — entertainment and socials — are glued onto the program as unintegrated extras.

Conclusions

What can meeting designers learn from religious services? I’m not suggesting that we turn all our meetings into gospel revivals. But think about it. How would your meetings be improved if they incorporated some of the religious services features I’ve shared here?

Church service photograph courtesy of The Anguillan

Lessons from Anguilla: Learning from what doesn’t change

Can we learn from what doesn’t change?

Yes. Daddy’s First Son’s dogs made me do it.

Every day of my annual visits to Anguilla, right after waking up, I’ve taken a 25-minute walk (red line below).
Learn from what doesn't change

I’ve written about the importance of my morning route.

It’s a feast of the senses. Warm air on my skin. The sweet smell of almond croissants—alarming numbers of calories beckoning, reluctantly resisted—waft from the French bakery. Bass notes thud from several houses, random patterns until I am close enough to hear the melody. I pass trailers cradling gleaming powerboats: Pure Pleasure, Wet Dreamz, Drippin’ Wet, and Royal Seaduction (notice a theme here?) The gentle return uphill gradient calls for a quick dip in our pool. As I cool down I hear the clamor of bananaquits on the veranda railing gobbling up the raw sugar we’ve set out for them.
Connection: A morning walk in Anguilla

But one day last year, with no advance warning, several of Daddy’s First Son’s dogs leaped over the low wall around Son’s house, snarling loudly, and one of them bit my leg (nothing too serious). For the remainder of the stay, I carried a rolled-up newspaper, which I was forced to use, luckily successfully, on a second occasion.

Time to change

On returning this year, I didn’t want to carry a dog-repelling device. Or worry each time passing Son’s house whether today would be the occasion of Attack Number Three.

I reluctantly changed my route.

With no alternative loop available, I chose a destination itinerary: to the tip of Island Harbour’s wharf and back.

Learn from what doesn't change

No more returning home via a pleasant loop, no more glimpses of Royal Seaduction—and, thankfully, no more fierce, territorial, unrestricted dogs.

The new route is longer, 40 minutes. It includes more main road, where occasionally one faces reckless Anguillian drivers speeding a little faster than pedestrians on the narrow verges like.

But there are compensating vistas: for example, the poignant Eduarlin Barber Shop:

Learn from what doesn't change

The Anguilla Sea Salt Company/Miniature Golf/Ice Cream Parlor Anchor Complex (how’s that for synergy?!):

Learn from what doesn't change

Sunny Time Grocery:

Learn from what doesn't change: The Sunny Time Grocery, Island Harbour, Anguilla
2016-02-28 07.41.56

And, of course, the beauty of Island Harbour itself.

2016-02-28 07.29.30

Island Harbour

After a week of these changed morning excursions, I am still discovering new aspects of my path. This is sure to continue.

But what’s most important is my experience and realization of what has not changed.

Learn from what doesn’t change

The Anguillians I meet each day, whether walking past or whizzing by in their cars are still the warm, connecting people they’ve always been.

Almost everyone I see on my walk responds in some way. On foot, the standard greeting is mornin’. The people who drive past me raise a hand in greeting, and sometimes hoot the horn. These are not, usually, people I know or have ever met before, and I may never meet them again. And yet, there’s invariably a moment of connection.

Every day, unexpected responses. The speedy truck driver who takes both hands off the wheel, palms facing me to say hi as I walk towards him, the hedge on my right leaving me no place to go if his steering is not true. The beautiful woman who shoots me a dazzling smile as she leaves her driveway for work. Two locals walking in the same direction who, as I pass with a mornin’, say fast walkin’ admiringly to my back. Nuanced respectful nods from respectable Anguillan lady drivers. The grandmother who pivots from conversation to pipe a melodious good morning. Her granddaughter in cream blouse and green skirt uniform, waiting for her ride to school, murmurs hello as I pass. A businesswoman gripping the top of her steering wheel, fingers flying up like rabbit ears when I wave. The minister, waiting for a ride to preach to his church who lifts his hand and our eyes connect. Then I’m past, turning the corner, moving towards the next meeting.

Such simple moments of connection. So little to give, so much received. Growing warmth. A wonderful way to start any morning.

Sometimes, the lessons we learn from what doesn’t change are the most important lessons of all.

Connection: A morning walk in Anguilla

A map showing my daily Seawalks walk while on vacation in Anguilla, with landmarks along the way labeledIt’s time for my morning walk in Anguilla. I’ve written about it before. Out of bed, a little sleepy, I throw on swim trunks, shirt, socks, and shoes, perch my white Tilly on my head, and I’m off before the sun gets too hot.

A feast of the senses

The warm air on my skin. The sweet smell of almond croissants—alarming numbers of calories beckoning, reluctantly resisted—waft from the French bakery. Bass notes thud from several houses, random patterns until I am close enough to hear the melody. I pass trailers cradling gleaming powerboats: Pure PleasureWet Dreamz, Drippin’ Wet, and Royal Seaduction (notice a theme here?) The gentle return uphill gradient calls for a quick dip in our pool. As I cool down I hear the clamor of bananaquits on the veranda railing gobbling up the raw sugar we’ve set out for them.

The warmth I feel during my walk doesn’t just come from the slanting rays of the morning sun. Every day, another kind of warmth envelopes me; the warmth of the people I meet.

Almost everyone I see on my walk responds in some way. On foot, the standard greeting is mornin’. The people who drive past me raise a hand in greeting and sometimes hoot the horn. These are not, usually, people I know or have ever met before, and I may never meet them again. And yet, there’s invariably a moment of connection.

Every day, unexpected responses

A speedy truck driver takes both hands off the wheel, palms facing me to say hi as I walk towards him, the hedge on my right leaving me no place to go if his steering is not true. A beautiful woman shoots me a dazzling smile as she leaves her driveway for work. Two locals walking in the same direction who, as I pass with a mornin’, say fast walkin’ admiringly to my back. Nuanced respectful nods from respectable Anguillan lady drivers. A grandmother pivots from conversation to pipe a melodious good morning. Her granddaughter in a cream blouse and green skirt uniform, waiting for her ride to school, murmurs hello as I pass. A businesswoman gripping the top of her steering wheel, fingers flying up like rabbit ears when I wave. The minister, waiting for a ride to preach to his church lifts his hand and our eyes connect. Then I’m past, turning the corner, moving towards the next meeting.

My morning walk in Anguilla. Such simple moments of connection. So little to give, so much received. Growing warmth. A wonderful way to start any morning.

Lessons from Anguilla: Getting meeting attendees to connect with one another

Getting meeting attendees to connect: a photograph of a friendly Anguillian. Photo attribution: "The site formerly known as Bob Green's Anguilla News"How can we get meeting attendees to connect with one another?

Walking in Anguilla

Every morning for the last three weeks I’ve been taking a brisk 25-minute walk in Anguilla, a 35 square-mile British Overseas Territory in the Virgin Islands. Today I kept track of interactions on my walk. (Yes, I know this sounds weird but keep reading and you’ll see the point.) Here’s what happened:

——– Interaction type ——–
# passing me Waves Hoots Verbal None
Cars 14 10 3 2
On foot 1 1

Twelve of the fourteen cars that passed me waved or hooted (one driver waved and hooted). I swapped a “morning” with the one guy I passed on foot. The two cars with no interaction were driven by an Anguillian woman and a tourist.

Based on my three weeks’ experience, this is typical in Anguilla. Almost everyone says hello in one way or another. Exceptions? Well, tourists rarely interact as you pass. Most female Anguillian drivers don’t either, but they wave more frequently than tourists, about the same frequency as Caucasian locals. (You can tell an Anguillian local’s car because the license plates start with “P” for personal. Isn’t that fun?)

Friendly culture

The behavior I’ve described is built into Anguillian culture. As native Anguillian Denise Crawford says:

“Anguillians are a friendly lot. To pass someone and not greet him with a wave or a ‘good morning’ whether you know the person or not is considered ill-mannered.”
Leaving Island Life, Denise Crawford

This makes it simple to get to know Anguillians. They will respect your privacy if you don’t want to talk, but otherwise, it’s easy to fall into conversation with them. Anguillians are brought up to be this way.

Can we “Anguillianize” conference attendees?

Although we know that conference attendees crave appropriate connection with their peers at least as much as their desire for appropriate content, most conferences do not supply an environment for easy connection. We’ve all had the experience of being thrust into a room of strangers, wondering how and with whom to strike up a conversation. If most attendees have never grown up in a culture like Anguilla’s, can we at least make it easier for attendees to connect—”Anguillianize” them?

Getting meeting attendees to connect

Though we can’t change the past cultural experience of conference attendees, we can provide an environment that supports and encourages connection. Getting meeting attendees to connect isn’t rocket science. Here are three ways to create such an environment:

Provide opportunities for attendees to connect during conference sessions

Stop hoping that attendees will meet each other during meals, mixers, and socials. That’s the old model, and you’re doing your attendees a disservice if you stick to it. The best way for attendees to connect with each other is via shared experience—and there’s no better place to provide this than the conference sessions themselves.

Use small group and pair work regularly

Attendees do not connect with each other while listening to someone talking at the front of the room. They connect when they are discussing content with one other person, or in small groups of not more than a few people. (They also learn better too; an added plus.) Providing attendees regular opportunities—every ten minutes or so—to work with their peers on a topic of mutual interest turns them into participants in their learning and creates a host of safe places for connections to occur.

Set up small group and pair work to include the exchange of contextual information

Anguillians invariably strike up conversations with tourists with the question “Firs’ timer?” The answer and how it’s communicated leads to further possible questions: why did you come, how long you’ve been coming, where you’re from, etc. We can adopt this approach as well. When designing interactive small group and pair work in conference sessions, incorporate reasons for participants to share appropriately about themselves in the context of the discussion. For example, instead of simply asking participants which course of action they would choose in a given situation, have them share the relevant past experience that leads them to make that choice.

Lessons from Anguilla

I’ve been vacationing in Anguilla for the last twelve years and always seem to learn something during my time on this delightful island. Here are some other Lessons from Anguilla.

Photo attribution: “The site formerly known as Bob Green’s Anguilla News”

Lessons from Anguilla: A good conference is like an island vacation

good conference is like an island vacation: a photograph of the island of Anguilla from above with some of the roads and regions addedA good conference is like an island vacation! As I write this, I’m about to return from a two-week vacation on Anguilla, a tiny rural British West Indies island with some of the most beautiful beaches in the world (you may hate me now). My home is a tiny rural town in Vermont. Still, although the population of the surrounding area is similar to that of Anguilla there’s an interesting difference between my home and island destinations—and I’m not talking about the weather.

At home, there’s no way to know whether someone has a connection to the area. The occupant of a car I see driving on Route 9 near my house might be a businesswoman from upstate New York traveling through Vermont to Maine—or someone who’s been living a mile further down my road for three years who I haven’t yet met.

Commonalities

But in Anguilla, anyone I see has something in common: we are, even temporary visitors like me, residents of an island fifteen miles long and three miles wide. Our individual life stories, no matter how different, all include that we are, at this moment, living on one small island with a unique history and culture. Some of the people I met: the woman who, five years ago, came to work here for a week and decided to stay, the barbecue guy telling us about the tiny mosquitoes that appear at night when there’s no wind, the Danish tourist who collects shells on the beach so the hermit crabs can find new homes—we all have Anguilla to start from, and this gives us a way to connect.

A good conference is like an island vacation; it provides the same opportunities to its attendees. While we are together, we share; not just the conference location, but also the commonality that each of us chose to attend and all this implies, as well as our experiences together. Creating a conference environment where we can easily share these things makes the event richer, engaging, and more memorable. Perhaps, even, as enjoyable as an island vacation…

Anguilla supermarkets and the future of conferences

What do Anguilla supermarkets have in common with the future of conferences? Read on to find out!

This is the third blog post I wrote while vacationing in Anguilla.

A little about Anguilla and its supermarkets

future of conferences: photograph of supermarket shelvesAnguilla is a country of 14,000 people and four supermarkets. I like Anguillan supermarkets. None of them are chains and each has its own character, which makes shopping interesting, rather than the typically predictable American experience.

Nearly everything is imported. When we first started vacationing here, food arrived by ship once a week, usually making Thursday night peak shopping time. As the days passed, popular items like milk and vegetables vanished, only to reappear shortly after the container ships steamed into the harbor at Sandy Ground. Nowadays the shelves are stocked more regularly, but you still never quite know what you may find when you venture inside one of these idiosyncratic stores.

Not all Anguilla supermarkets are the same

Each store has different strengths and weaknesses. One boasts an extensive liquor department but seems to have something against vegetables. Another targets ex-pats, with a fine display of British brand name staples and household knickknacks, while everyday staples are shortchanged. And a third provides the best assortment of local foods, but little in the way of candy for the kids.

What’s interesting is the evolution of these establishments over time. The older supermarkets used to have a monopoly on certain goods; if you wanted cream you had to go to Supermarket A, while Supermarket B was the sole supplier of Pampers. With more sources of supply, the possibilities have multiplied—and the stores have responded in very different ways.

Six years ago, Supermarket C was the most haphazardly stocked of the three we patronized. Its marketing philosophy seemed to be we’ll take anything we can get out hands on, stack it in an aisle, and see if it sells. Their stock gyrated so widely from visit to visit that we avoided shopping there unless we wanted surprises. Not surprisingly, it was rare to see more than a few cars in the parking lot. Meanwhile, Supermarkets A & B relied on their exclusive arrangements to offer, between them, a fairly comprehensive, if somewhat unreliable, selection of useful food and household products.

Fast forward to today

Supermarket C has been transformed. The premises are the same, but the shelves now include a comprehensive range of useful goods. And in addition, unlike competitors A & B, the store is open every day until late. As a result, it’s hard to find a space in the parking lot.

Meanwhile, Supermarkets A & B have rested on their laurels. We don’t have to shop in both places to get what we want anymore. C is now our go-to store. And yet, though their traffic is down, we still notice customers shopping at A & B.

These days, those of us who don’t live on a small island know that failure to keep up with competitors in a commodity-driven retail market invariably leads to swift economic extinction. In Anguilla’s laid-back environment, such change will probably occur more slowly, but eventually, unless they make significant changes, Supermarkets A & B will not survive.

The future of conferences

You’ve probably guessed how this relates to the future of conferences. Think of Supermarkets A & B as set-in-their-ways organizers of traditional conferences. Think of C as progressive event planners who realize that people prefer to attend events that give them what they want rather than going to multiple events to get a piece here and a piece there.

In Anguilla, people’s needs for supermarket goods didn’t change, but improvements in the supply of imported goods into Anguilla allowed Supermarket C to change what it offered to better match what people wanted. Likewise, people’s professional needs for relevant content, meaningful engagement, and networking haven’t changed. But we now have a host of new ways to supply content outside the traditional conference, and a host of new ways to find out what conference attendees want to do while they’re together. Ignore the future of conferences at your peril. See you in the aisles at Supermarket C!

Image attribution: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ame/ / CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Leaving a good conference – Anguilla style

What’s leaving a good conference like?



This is the second of my blog posts written while vacationing in Anguilla.

This morning, the waves in front of Tropical Sunset at Shoal Bay East, Anguilla were just right.

In the water I was hypnotized by the unceasing movement of my body, rising and falling as the blue water swells ran towards me. Their energy rushed at and around me over and over again, and I floated through them, buoyant.

An unknown amount of time passed. Finally, I became aware that I was hungry. Lunch beckoned.

When I turned back to shore, the waves, breaking on the white sand, crashed at my legs and sucked me back towards the sea, saying please, don’t go.

Leaving a good conference is like leaving those waves. You don’t want to go. You don’t want to leave the friends you’ve made, the energy that you felt while you were together.

But it’s time.

The only consolation is that you’ll be back next year.