A sad farewell this morning as I leave Ant at the Miami hotel to go to the Airport – he to go home later (after shopping.....) and me off on my solo travels. I had to take a flight to Antigua to pick up a BA flight to get to Grenada. Long story short, the immigration procedures took so long, even though I was just in transit, that they were calling my name urgently – I had to be escorted through security and then bundled into a golf cart for my solo trip across the tarmac. I felt like a celeb and I guess not too many people get an almost full British Airways 777 held up for them to waft into their 1D seat.....
Grenada seems a sleepy but relaxed place and Grand Anse beach, said to be the best on the island, is just a few minutes’ walk from the Siesta Hotel where I am staying. It’s a nice little hotel with a pool and the rooms set up the hillside with a view of the sea in the distance. A few walks along the beach which is a crescent of pale sand and blue sea about three miles long with St George’s at the far end. But the beach seems really empty – this should be the high season here but it seems they are suffering from the lack of tourists too.
St Georges’, the capital, is a charming ramshackle and workaday place built on the steep hillsides that rise up from the series of deep blue safe harbours. Pastel coloured houses sit higgledepiggledy on the slopes and make a nice picture. The harbours are deep enough to take the huge cruise ships that dock here regularly sometimes five at a time disgorging up to 12000 passengers - no idea where they all fit – the day I was there the narrow streets were clogged with traffic and stalls and markets and people and there wasn’t a cruise ship to be seen.
But when they are in and you see them from the beach as you look towards St George’s they make the small town look like Legoland, It’s Independence Day here next week so the whole town is festooned with flags and bunting in red, yellow and green, the national flag colours and looks really “en fete”. There was also a selection of all sorts of clothes in the same bright colours but I felt that that may be taking nationalism a step too far, and they never were my colours anyway!
I have met some great people here, Liz and Gary who run a grass (just to be clear that's grass for horse feeding and bedding, not ganja that you get offered here....!) business near Stratford. They were taking part in the prestigious SIBT Billfishing tournament here and Liz, even though a first timer, managed to carry off the first prize for best lady angler. And Sue and Taffy who run the hotel restaurant, “Taffy’s”. They run it together with their 16 year old locally adopted son Leslie, who they adopted when he was four years old. He is now a grown up lad of 16. It’s good to meet people who do such good things and really interesting to hear about hurricane Ivan in 2004 which left 90% of the island’s houses in a shambles and devastated the nutmeg and spice business. If you’re reading this Leslie, good luck with the Royal Navy application. We all spent a few evenings together over beers and rum punches and the excellent food that came out of Taffy’s kitchen. If you’re in Grenada, it’s worth a visit!
There’s money here – the billfish tournament has brought flash fishing boats in from all over the world, and sitting on the harbour yesterday I saw even more flash yachts arriving for the regatta that’s due to start here soon. As a person who’s not that keen on boats, perhaps I am in the wrong place!
I haven’t quite yet managed to get away from the collectivo’s that we used all over the place in central America. The same system works here and for about 50p you can get most places on the island – the only thing different is that the door boy is shouting “St Georges” rather than “Dulce”. Oh and they can’t quite pack as many people in here although they try! The average Grenadian is obviously much better fed – each one is probably equivalent to two of the little Guatemalan’s on the collectivo’s there!
But apart from the collectivo’s, Grenada is all very familiar – solid British plugs and sockets that don’t spark alarmingly when you put them in the wall and of course Liz on the banknotes and coins. And driving on the right, i.e. the correct, i.e. the left side of the road! But it does have a very un UK laid back vibe – the most alarming of which is the driving – and the fact that there are no drink driving laws so to go out at night (which I don’t) you need to take great care on the narrow strips of “pavement” on the roads.....
