The Garden Party

Waiting for the Ferry

The ferry from Carriacou pulled into St Georges Harbour on Grenada island late in the afternoon. We were immediately beset by offers of taxis by guys that tried to wrestle our bags from us. ‘No,’ I said, ‘No thanks, someone is meeting us.’ This didn’t seem to deter them…

We’d gone to Grenada to visit a friend but, sadly, her uncle had died suddenly in the UK and she’d had to go there. Her lovely landlady had offered to pick us up, and eventually she spotted us. We’d met briefly a week previously and neither of us could remember what the other looked like. Finally, I saw a woman waving so I held my hand up and the crowd parted for us. Marguerite hugged us. ‘Paul (her husband) came to meet you yesterday,’ she chuckled, ‘I told him he’d got the day wrong but he insisted. He stood here for the longest time – eventually he called out: Is everybody off, now? I’ve lost two white people…’

We laughed and then she introduced a young woman standing with her. ‘Pria has brought your rental car.’

I looked over the little white RAV4 – it was perfect. I handed Pria my credit card. ‘Oh, I didn’t bring my machine – I thought you’d be paying cash... Take the car and you can meet me in the morning to pay.’

The missing couple!

 I drove her home then headed to our hotel. Next morning, we drove to Nick’s Donut World to meet up and pay. Pria was already there and, as we drank coffee, several patrons talked to me. One, Livia, said she had just moved here from London after a long career with the BBC – ‘it’s cheaper and much warmer… …and there’s no traffic.’

‘Grenada is quite a modest place, with a small population – aren’t you worried about access to healthcare?’ I asked

Garden Nook

‘Hey, we all have to die sometime, and I’d rather live out my life in my lovely cottage in a calm, warm country. And the people here are so friendly; it wasn’t always easy being black in UK,’ she said.

At the Garden Party

Driving on the right isn’t the only hang-over from the UK; when we got back to our friend’s house, Marguerite had tickets for a garden party. ‘It’s for charity,’ she said, ‘and you’ll know lots of people there.’ 

‘How is that possible; we haven’t been here 24 hours?’ I said, but we bought our tickets.

The back Garden

The day of the Garden Party came and we followed Paul and Marguerite to the locale. It was a beautiful plantation-style house set in lush grounds looking out onto the sea. Cars were parked on each side of the street as far as the eye could see. It turned out that our absent friend had another couple visiting from Montreal so we brought them with us. Throughout the garden, plants, flowers, seedlings, even trees, were on sale; we walked through small, shaded areas with tables, chairs and statues as we toured. Eventually, we entered the house and picked out sandwiches, cakes and cups of tea, making our way to the veranda.

Carol takes Tea

Marguerite was right – we knew lots of people: Marguerite and her husband Paul, our friend’s guests from Montreal, Livia from the donut shop; Pria was there with her mother, and of course, they introduced us around. ’So, how long have you lived in Grenada?’ seemed to be the commonest question. ‘Just less than a week; we’re just visiting’, was my answer, and yet it seemed we’d been here so much longer… 

What I wanted to say was: ‘We haven’t moved here yet, but we’re thinking about it.’

St Georges Harbour