My little island in the Caribbean is growing fast. This ridged piece of coral known as Providenciales, in the Turks and Caicos Islands, is not the same, sleepy place it once was.

We have an IGA supermarket now, with radicchio and soy milk, and the government is in the process of converting our potholed two lane road into a four lane highway, complete with turning lanes and rotaries. Where once the locals gathered at just a handful of watering holes, there are now dozens of condominiums and hotels, each with its own ritzy bar and restaurant.

But one thing hasn't changed, and that is the postal service. The postal service is widely regarded as being close to useless, and consequently, is rarely used. I have a post office box, as there is no home delivery service, but I only visit it sporadically mostly to wipe down the dust that accumulates between the odd flyer or optimistically addressed missive from the States. So how do we pay our bills and send out invoices, and why aren't we complaining about the inconvenience of not having an adequate postal service?

We take care of business the old fashioned way down here. We do it in person. I will organize my morning according to the stops I have to make, and out I'll go, stopping here to pay a bill, picking up a check there, dropping off an invoice to a client somewhere else, receiving my monthly bank statement back over there. It's time-consuming, sure, but it is the only way to guarantee that transactions have in fact occurred, that the bill has been paid or the invoice received.

More importantly, however, and the reason why I find this system a pleasure rather than a hindrance, is that it affords us a chance to connect and converse. I don't just pay my bills, stacking up envelopes and dropping them off at the mailbox. My relationship with the power company, insurance agent, water delivery service, and various business clients doesn't end with the sealing of an envelope down here. I stop at various offices, exchange a little gossip, a bit of news, an enquiry into someone's health or new business venture, and thus a sense of community connectedness is maintained.

It takes longer to do business this way, but maybe the business that gets done is better, more personal. The myth of island time is true; speed carries little advantage to us, especially when it is compared to the more important sense of community and fellowship.

I'm looking forward to the completion of the new highway, and I like buying balsamic vinegar and Haagan-Dazs ice cream. But I remain an old fashioned islander and will mourn the day, if it ever comes, when we get a postal home delivery service. The new highway may connect us faster from one end of the island to the other, but the real linkage between us happens at the speed of a conversation, a shared laugh and the reaffirmation that we are all here together to enjoy the day.