I’ve never been sea-sick; frankly, I may have silently chuckled at those afflicted, even blaming them for their plight... Our journey had started well enough. We’d flown in late in the afternoon and been met at the airport by our longtime friend who’d just moved to the main island of Grenada. Early next morning, her landlord and his wife had driven us to our ferry for the 2-hour journey north to Carriacou.
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| The Carriacou Ferry |
We’d decided to spend a week on the bustling main island visiting with our friends, but first we’d celebrate our wedding anniversary on the quiet island of Carriacou.
I have to say we were warned. When I’d bought the ferry tickets on-line it had said that the journey through the Caribbean was often rough; it recommended sea sickness pills. I’d dismissed it as scaremongering. Then, as soon as we’d found our seats, the crew had handed out sick bags to all those who were clearly not locals…
The voyage started smoothly as we left St George’s harbor – I stood aloft and chatted to Christie, a woman from Toronto – good thing I did. I took my seat and the boat started to plunge and rise, rolling from side to side as it went. As a greyness came over me I stood up and went to the front of the cabin, holding a rail, focusing on the horizon, and clutching my sick bag. Immediately I felt better… but it didn’t last. I looked at my watch and realized we had another hour to go.
As I felt the blood drain from my head, I ran back to my seat and vomited into the bag, again and again. Christie had seen my plight and rushed over with a Gravol: ‘I read the warning so I took one before we got on.’ I took it and tried to keep it down. All it did was make me tired and I fell asleep trying to keep my focus on the horizon. I did notice a greenish tinged local woman sat opposite me. When we got up to leave she said, ‘Watching you, I almost threw up myself.’ I thanked her for her support!
We arrived at the dock – it was calm blue sea without a cloud in the sky. Lincoln, our greeter, met us and loaded us into his VW bus. He drove us away from the town to our villa halfway up the hill. Nurleen and Vanessa were waiting to show us around – how to light the gas stove, put on the mosquito net, etc. The villa is extremely airy; with all the doors and windows open, you are essentially sitting outside. I asked her if we should lock all the doors and windows up when we went out?
‘Oh, we never lock anything up here. There’s no crime on Carriacou – we just leave everything open.’
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| Carol relaxes ‘inside' the villa |
As we spoke, Aaron drove up in a jeep and came in: ‘I’m here to take you for your rental.’ As I walked up to the vehicle.’ Vanessa asked me if I could give her a lift into town. ‘Sure’, I said, but I wondered why she’d asked me, instead Aaron. Aaron drove through the town, dropping Vanessa off, then headed straight to the police station. The only door that was open was the Charge Room. An older woman in a uniform sat beside a large sign stating: You have the Right to Call your Lawyer. ‘What are you doin’ on my island?’ she snapped.
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| Looking out on Our Patio |
‘Just visiting…’ I replied.
‘Welcome,’ she laughed. I filled in a form, handed over US$24, and got my 3-month Grenada driver’s license.
Aaron drove me to Wayne’s Auto Repairs, Rentals and Bar. He left the keys in the car and took me into the Bar, and I mean behind it, to meet a woman who filled in the rental papers. It was then I realized that the jeep Aaron had been driving was my rental.
I drove back to the villa and we sat out on the patio, in the afternoon sun, cracking open the bottle of wine we’d brought with us, as we looked out across the Caribbean; the only sound was the occasional dog bark. Heaven.
Later we drove into town and parked. I looked around to make sure no-one was watching as I locked the jeep door. It felt like I was betraying their trust… …more so since there was nothing we owned inside the jeep.
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| The View from our Patio |
