GRENADA

“The smells we encounter on the road probably rate as our most intense—and lingering—travel experiences, though we tend to disregard them…. In search of that ever elusive sense of place, we travelers often skip over the one quality that couldn’t be more essential to it…. Smell is the outlier of our five senses, primal but powerful, but evanescent….What smell denies us in the moment of experience, however, it returns a hundredfold in the long run….That is the big difference between photographs and smells: one reminds you of where you’ve been, the other returns you there.”
—Daisann McLane (National Geographic Traveler, April 2011)

ITS HISTORY

Columbus (on his third voyage) in 1498, was the first European to set eyes on this island. The Caribs (a fiercely independent race) considered it their home. But what chance did they have pitting their small numbers and Stone Age weaponry against hordes of invading British and French? Cornered at last in 1651, after a century and a half, rather than leave their beloved island, the last surviving Caribs (men, women, and children) leaped off precipitous cliffs to their deaths

The nation of Grenada (the southernmost tip of the Windward Islands) is in size 120 square miles (21 by 12 miles), and consists of three islands: Grenada, Carriacou, and Petite Martinique; 90% of the approximately 100,000 population lives in Grenada.

After bickering over the islands for over a century and a half, the British (no small thanks to the Treaty of Paris in 1783) finally took full possession. In 1877, it became a Crown Colony; in 1974 it became an independent nation. But its post-independence road has been anything but smooth. It entered the U.S. history books on October 25, 1983, when Reagan invaded it; in the process, 70 Cubans, 42 Americans, and 170 Grenadians died. Indeed it was the long arm of Fidel Castro that caused Washington to step in.

REACTIONS

Today this lovely mountainous island, graced by rainforests and waterfalls and 45 white sand beaches, attracts 400,000 visitors a year, 285,000 disembarking from cruise ships such as ours. Fully one-sixth of the island has been set aside in parks and wildlife sanctuaries.

Coffee time on the veranda

We awoke at 6 a.m., with still no land in sight. About half an hour later, a knock on the door; it was Tondi (our butler), smiling as always, with his wake-up goodies (croissants, butter, jellies, Danish rolls, orange juice, and steaming hot coffee), who, after spreading a spotless white tablecloth on our veranda table and napkining us, left us reveling in luxury and the sound of the waves breaking against the ship. Now this was really living! Afterwards, we trekked to the rear of the ship for our real breakfast. 🙂

Shortly after we returned to our room, Grenada began to loom ever larger out of the mists. And later yet, we saw ahead of us the picturesque capital city of St. George, one of the loveliest port cities of the Caribbean.

As we came into port, slowly nosing into position next to the just arrived Princess Cruise Line’s Emerald of the Sea, I was jolted by an epiphany: Only feet away, in matching cubby holes, were men and women, a number still in bathrobes. They were watching us as intently as we were watching them—out of these few seconds came this unsolicited epiphany: In each matching cubicle across from us are others just like us. Each, like us, with kindred dreams, yearnings, hopes, aspirations. Like us, they’ve come here hoping to learn, to grow, to make the most of whatever life is left to them. Each of them is perhaps wondering the same thoughts about us!

As a result of those sudden insights, people I’d never even met before suddenly seemed like friends I’d like to know.

Chenille plant

Then, at 8:12, a voice over the intercom: “Time to disembark!” Today, Bob and Ed were taking the Estange Rain Forest tour with me, and Lucy and Jo taking the Spice tour with Connie. And speaking of spice, for good reason, Grenada is known around the world as “The Spice Island,” growing one-third of the world’s nutmeg and mace (second only to Indonesia); also growing cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and cacao (chocolate). A blind person would have known where we were by the fragrance: Daisann McLane was writing about just such a place as this. For the rest of our lives, the smell of nutmeg, mace, and cinnamon would transport us back to Grenada.

Netfishing

Since it was raining, we raced for our bus (#100/600); our genial guide’s name was Roger. Grenada receives 60 inches of rain a year, but the rainforest where we were headed, much more—up to 200 inches! First we experienced city streets, followed by narrow scenic roads along the coast. Then up, up, up, into the mountainous rainforest. We stopped at a spice plantation. Fascinating! Roger educated us in spice lore (specifically spices, cacao, cinnamon, bay-leaf, nutmeg, etc). How cinnamon is merely a stick off a tree, with a strong fragrance. Cloves – always reminds me of unfond memories in dental offices. Pain too—especially during my growing-up years. Observing other groups led by noncommunicative guides, we felt blessed. Farther on, Roger would stop periodically so we could see the kind of tree each spice grew on. We were now up to around two thousand feet; here and there we passed rivers, creeks, and waterfalls.

Nutmeg drying

Headdress on woman outside rainforest museum

Listening to Roger, I was struck again by how pathetically eager he (like our guides in sister islands) was that we come away from this all-too-short visit to the island with a deep appreciation of its uniqueness, its beauty, its friendly people—most important of all: That we’d come back! Oh there’s so much insecurity in our world—reminding me of Thoreau’s timeless observation that, around the world, the average person lives a life of “quiet desperation.”

Grenada certainly lives up to its beautiful namesake in Spain.

Then that poignant moment, back on the Constellation, when we joined hundreds of other passengers on the top deck, then watched for the lines to be cast off, the smoke begin to rise from the smokestack, the waving at passengers in Emerald of the Seas (next to leave the harbor), the mournful blast of our horn echoing across the water, and then the slowly receding city—and finally the island itself. No matter how many times I experience such a leaving, it never fails to move me deeply. Especially when I wonder, Lord, how many more such leavings are left to me?

Next week: Netherlands Antilles

Southern Caribbean Cruise

ANTICIPATION, BOARDING, SETTLING, SAILING

Each time we venture out of our squirrel cage and explore places we’ve never seen before, we change—or ought to. Last January, Connie and I joined our faithful travel buddies, Bob and Lucy Earp on a cruise to the Southern Caribbean, in order to celebrate together one of Lucy’s most special birthdays. Joining us on the cruise were Ed and Jo Riffel of Glasgow, Kentucky. We first became acquainted with Riffels on a cruise to the Mexican Riviera six years ago. Never will we forget that first dinner! It was a table for ten, and none of us knew the other six. Before long, introductions were made, and to Connie’s and my consternation, we discovered that all three couples came from Kentucky; since Bob was born in Kentucky, it was instant Old Home Week! To say we bonded would be the wildest sort of understatement. We’ve met as a group several times since at resorts or restaurants. Well, Ed and Jo Riffel were one of those twosomes. Afterwards, they joined the Zane Grey’s West Society, thus cementing our friendship even more. At any rate, we were able to convince the Riffels to cruise with us, thus bringing the birthday celebrants up to six.

FORT LAUDERDALE HARBOR


During recent years, Fort Lauderdale, Florida has become one of the world’s great cruise ship harbors. And it was a perfect—and blessedly cool—afternoon when we hugged our son Greg good-bye, cleared the milling cattlepens that process so many thousands (methodically and efficiently assigning and tagging and passporting and shipcreditcarding and roomassigning and dinnerassigning) each of the somewhat bewildered wannabe cruisers.

Eventually, we were ushered to our room, the door to our home for the next two weeks opened, and to our delight, the room was as perfectly prepared for us—including fresh fruit and fresh-cut flowers—as though we were royalty. First things we did after the door closed was to rush to our veranda, one of the very best things about cruising. Couldn’t even imagine booking an inside cabin—we’d get claustrophobic for sure!

For a time we sat there and looked out at the other cruise ships around us, each a beehive of activity just like ours. Then the Earps and Riffels logged in, so we evacuated and proceeded to explore our new home from prow to stern, lowest deck to highest. Afterwards, we returned to our room to await a process that seems like Russian Roulette: Will all pieces of our luggage be making the same trip we are? It is no idle worry, for unscrambling those thousands of multi-tagged suitcases clogging up a vast area of the terminal was not for the faint-of-heart. Every once in a while we’d be regaled by stories dealing with how much “fun” it was to sail out sans luggage. Happened on this cruise too, someone’s luggage ended up on another cruise ship—eventually, the baggage caught up with them. As somewhat seasoned travelers, we’ve learned to always carry on one case each, with enough clothing for a couple of days (toilet articles, meds, etc.), just in case. Several hours passed before we could breathe giant sighs of relief, when outside in the hall docked those precious arks containing our clothing and “stuff.”

Then it was time to separate his from hers and commandeer cupboard, closet, and shelf space for the coming two weeks. Finally, everything distributed and housed, we shoved the suitcases under the bed, and were ready for our journey to begin. This is one of the beauties of cruising: not having to repack suitcases each morning and evening.
When the time neared for sailing out we all climbed up to the top deck. Quickly we noted the usual separation between the physically fit and the lethargic: one took the stairs and the other waited in lines that were often long for elevators.
Up on top, we could look out at all the other cruise ships, also teeming with passengers on top in order to take photos of the sailings. Among our Fort Everglades Harbor sister ships were the Queen Mary 2, Crown Princess, Navigator of the Seas, and the talk of the cruising world, the new mega ship, Oasis of the Seas (a veritable floating city with probably 7,500 – 9,000 people, including crew) on board. Other ships were moored further away. As each ship cast off its ropy tentacles, smoke poured out of the smoke stacks, and it slowly eased out into the main channel. It was a never-to-be-forgotten sight as each ship, each as beautiful as its designers and builders could dream up, sailed out to sea, each one mantled with all the radiant colors of a tropical sunset.

AT SEA

Then we six made our way to the aft dining room, and were seated at the windowside Table 79, where we’d dine together each evening. Several hours later we returned to our rooms, and more tired than we’d realized, decided to forego any of the ship’s entertainment, instead opting to just sit out on the veranda and revel in the sounds, sights, and odors of the sea. And after a time—the luminosity of a rising room.

We retired, left the veranda door open a little so we could hear the waves breaking out from the prow and forward section of the ship, and an occasional seabird. As we encountered the full force of the Atlantic Ocean, the turbulence proportionally increased. I held my woman for a while, before she dropped off to a light sleep from which she’d awaken periodically; my thoughts, unlike hers, reveled in the oceanic turbulence, and I blissfully dropped off into a disgustingly deep [to Connie] sleep. My last conscious thoughts having to do with, How will this cruise change me?

* * * * *

Judging by the responses coming in to us, our blog-readers appear to really enjoy and appreciate our “on the road” blogs, vicariously traveling along with us. In weeks to come, we will be stopping at St. Maarten, Antigua, Saint Lucia, Barbados, Grenada, Aruba, Curacao, and Bonaire.

It will be great to have you along.