tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73903414555706096512024-03-05T01:48:14.348-08:00Sail AwayI started this blog as a chronicle of my anticipated adventure of 'hitch-hike sailing'. The plan was to meet up with the captain of a 46' catamaran in Florida, fly to Guatemala where the boat was, and do charter sails around the Caribbean. Nothing went as planned. So instead, this is a blog about my MISadventures. Hopefully it will lead to a Caribbean sunset, rum and coke in hand, on the deck of a sailboat... eventually.Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.comBlogger333125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-55376662798626849472015-04-19T23:20:00.002-07:002015-04-19T23:31:15.274-07:00I LOVE FLIP FLOPSIn the ongoing attempt to make my mountain home feel more like a beach cottage, I made a summery wreath to hang on the gate at the entrance to my place.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYIhQFOPyVBeJb_RXnZAt30G_WdkSNWxqj8YWuTdnNDx2QhmxaZfthcY6Lpbt7QKNae1uW-GlRjkTFWntOnmYAVz51xG_XjuMZgct4ZNF899wW3p-8-LT99_cd7kpBaa3s8PpFxckz1Qu/s1600/IMG_6578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYIhQFOPyVBeJb_RXnZAt30G_WdkSNWxqj8YWuTdnNDx2QhmxaZfthcY6Lpbt7QKNae1uW-GlRjkTFWntOnmYAVz51xG_XjuMZgct4ZNF899wW3p-8-LT99_cd7kpBaa3s8PpFxckz1Qu/s1600/IMG_6578.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have since trimmed the big gerbera daisies down to the size of the other ones and it looks much better. I love the splash of colour it gives to an otherwise fairly monochromatic (green) scene.Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-41078264904055931072015-01-13T09:10:00.001-08:002015-01-13T09:10:13.376-08:00I NEED YOUR FEEDBACKI just returned from a month in the Dominican Republic. It was a very interesting trip, not what I had anticipated.<br />
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I want to blog about it in the upcoming days, but as anyone who blogs knows, it is very time consuming. I am wondering if it is worth the time as I am not sure that I have enough interest or readership to devote the hours that it will require. <br />
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So I am asking you all.... are you interested in how the trip went and the things I learned along the way (I also made a very big purchase that I would be detailing)?<br />
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Know that your replies will definitely be what motivates me to continue with this blog because, really, if I don't blog this trip - I won't be blogging future ones either and so this will most likely end here.<br />
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Thanks to you all!!! I look forward to hearing from you.<br />
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-35608470083863075162014-12-03T16:59:00.000-08:002014-12-03T17:59:32.971-08:00MY BEACHY HIDEAWAY IN THE RAINFORESTBeing that I am an admitted Beach Bum and being that I prefer the white sands of the Caribbean, I have restyled my little abode from a rather dark Mexican Hacienda look to a breezy Caribbean beach cottage look. Because I can't be in the Caribbean at a fabulous beach ALL of the time, I wanted to bring the beach to me.<br />
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There are a few projects yet to be done, and I think I will always have to live with the terracotta tile floors (unless you can lay wood floors overtop, but there are pesky accent tiles here and there that stick up above the others so I foresee an issue) but for the most part, it's all done.<br />
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Here are the before pics:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCw3nfm4jQPQ7S70GsYA8m0ekMgtzgIG-9xNtahxYJ22e8Tu05MeEZlK-ZfnI22stV9QHkv3dm77vFtUBYGJ4I8qk5s9kRvSA92usn8FNM-hDQYzXsRI_efgv362V9YmaN_CztVvy1JBK/s1600/IMG_0976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCw3nfm4jQPQ7S70GsYA8m0ekMgtzgIG-9xNtahxYJ22e8Tu05MeEZlK-ZfnI22stV9QHkv3dm77vFtUBYGJ4I8qk5s9kRvSA92usn8FNM-hDQYzXsRI_efgv362V9YmaN_CztVvy1JBK/s1600/IMG_0976.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Looking towards the entrance and kitchen area.</i></div>
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<i>Looking to living area from entrance/kitchen. </i></div>
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<i>Note the windows on the far wall.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hnt2fWNWt0iJKVug7vzcf0P9xLnhuP00QCHomXMve_EyrqBNwZxu1cXcv2E57trYnnnwWKYZcTJG-TYAdx8eU9Exr66sBRxsYchH7B7hmuJLgtSr3wM-_G9R8dSwgWCR6uXpML_1fc4u/s1600/IMG_0980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hnt2fWNWt0iJKVug7vzcf0P9xLnhuP00QCHomXMve_EyrqBNwZxu1cXcv2E57trYnnnwWKYZcTJG-TYAdx8eU9Exr66sBRxsYchH7B7hmuJLgtSr3wM-_G9R8dSwgWCR6uXpML_1fc4u/s1600/IMG_0980.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The bed in the middle that hangs from the ceiling.</i></div>
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<i>The curtains behind the bed have no window.</i></div>
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<i>Fireplace and TV cabinet.</i></div>
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Yes it is a studio suite. I love it as I feel snug as a bug here and it takes me no time at all to clean it.<br />
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Unfortunately, I never got a photo of the rest of the wall that the TV is on as it had the strangest adobe style open closet, only about three feet wide. Also painted dark blue, same as the fireplace.<br />
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Now here it is today, with cabinets I designed and the landlord built, new windows, and a whole lot more! (Click on pictures to enlarge and see details)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1xpEx715gZmbKG4vVFab4AYYhOtTegze96VcF0cSfpYeZCN0laz3jdpFdCvlHnKAaNqxW0FEfNHxcc026VRDlWtndpcen9RGeJYazJmb0VwyFnxHG1uYw-tCcPzadrxZf57SbZyxlE_Z/s1600/IMG_5581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1xpEx715gZmbKG4vVFab4AYYhOtTegze96VcF0cSfpYeZCN0laz3jdpFdCvlHnKAaNqxW0FEfNHxcc026VRDlWtndpcen9RGeJYazJmb0VwyFnxHG1uYw-tCcPzadrxZf57SbZyxlE_Z/s1600/IMG_5581.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Fireplace, white now with new tiled hearth - installed today. </i></div>
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<i>I used some shells and beach glass from the Caribbean in with smashed</i></div>
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<i>travertine tiles to make a mosaic that looks like the beach with large</i></div>
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<i>sand colored tiles in front to look like ... sand of course.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mr3nvY6Gke-Ao-JpKDMRv0LP2HleB9gTu_21sdUKTditgQd0a-HyoTrXnl6GXiKmFNsgT-O3sumhZtJCaF7genZkmTgYIqVwMrQU3oYHFnn2a6L3HGLQPiMDBmojRRz8lePM0gPMadJq/s1600/IMG_5582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_mr3nvY6Gke-Ao-JpKDMRv0LP2HleB9gTu_21sdUKTditgQd0a-HyoTrXnl6GXiKmFNsgT-O3sumhZtJCaF7genZkmTgYIqVwMrQU3oYHFnn2a6L3HGLQPiMDBmojRRz8lePM0gPMadJq/s1600/IMG_5582.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Note the nice new BIG windows.</i></div>
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<i>Also note I haven't finished whitewashing the wood</i></div>
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<i>of the couch - put my back out in the middle of doing it and haven't</i></div>
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<i>had time to finish since my back got better. A new couch is in the future anyway.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0XWPuxHuN-NaiuiKMwhDNKobGVehOmo1vEdvEdQxxWPFDusfEjB81SuSaMyhFZMBSsMkoeTEXrDqmZ3tNAcvw8lf1OzCE_F8I1aSS-UHrJRtiH1RJPXQjpGw3r5_GZYGrv_2W83DvtxC/s1600/IMG_5583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga0XWPuxHuN-NaiuiKMwhDNKobGVehOmo1vEdvEdQxxWPFDusfEjB81SuSaMyhFZMBSsMkoeTEXrDqmZ3tNAcvw8lf1OzCE_F8I1aSS-UHrJRtiH1RJPXQjpGw3r5_GZYGrv_2W83DvtxC/s1600/IMG_5583.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>New built-ins that I designed. On the far left is the</i></div>
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<i>washer and dryer cupboard, then my closet, then a</i></div>
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<i>shoe cubpoard, then a glass door nick-nack cupboard with</i></div>
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<i>drawers underneath, then storage, then the TV with more</i></div>
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<i>drawers. LOVE THIS. It has totally changed my life in this place.</i></div>
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<i>The bed pre-headboard whitewash and pre BVI pic above.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJQlV6XR_e66tF-dGNEnn9PprflkKMTA0okwHA-3Ia-WmCkhLjD1-CQi5_u695AEA4nMaJ5C9F8KBA-9AnVXSfqEm0HD93BlrFJ_aEhKAB0vgNQXb52b3s5tawa7v8yK2qCjh0cAwLEzp/s1600/IMG_4213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsJQlV6XR_e66tF-dGNEnn9PprflkKMTA0okwHA-3Ia-WmCkhLjD1-CQi5_u695AEA4nMaJ5C9F8KBA-9AnVXSfqEm0HD93BlrFJ_aEhKAB0vgNQXb52b3s5tawa7v8yK2qCjh0cAwLEzp/s1600/IMG_4213.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Bed post-whitewash and pic.</i></div>
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And here are some details close up:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFed2AmJ2ByrqsnXlgWnb5AkwcOyeimP5R6idbPz-ip2GpxC6TJTv5SpYYM_Iq0SkihbYAUGeEY5csk3t5HhEGopgG1MYL2kY30Z01oiBSggTrhsXZ4XqnLC-6IPK3CKffgHBK_50VhNPN/s1600/IMG_4496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFed2AmJ2ByrqsnXlgWnb5AkwcOyeimP5R6idbPz-ip2GpxC6TJTv5SpYYM_Iq0SkihbYAUGeEY5csk3t5HhEGopgG1MYL2kY30Z01oiBSggTrhsXZ4XqnLC-6IPK3CKffgHBK_50VhNPN/s1600/IMG_4496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_A6PHwYyax0yDRVhFhWpl57j3_EoZO6NZOBRkF6oeMQ5wFLKdrv39gG1kLJ06FawVTHYmnojXRkx0lyhzNxh34ERoJIIYFWcILT3_AddjQnhJsXwY3tziuGXnSkBJPytwD0dJdn3qloDc/s1600/IMG_5485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_A6PHwYyax0yDRVhFhWpl57j3_EoZO6NZOBRkF6oeMQ5wFLKdrv39gG1kLJ06FawVTHYmnojXRkx0lyhzNxh34ERoJIIYFWcILT3_AddjQnhJsXwY3tziuGXnSkBJPytwD0dJdn3qloDc/s1600/IMG_5485.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkydfNO60P5mXPmUpJbFq-qKKmheW9cAtWAzYC7vhFuZAvryg7cVdG0Z0hUM3dWf9h54B-8U215QPxDRyb5SV84uc64B8DJ9G1CuDQTF5y6sYnTDyO6ETgMEw6BT9cJnld0nxatgQeLIf/s1600/IMG_5490.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkydfNO60P5mXPmUpJbFq-qKKmheW9cAtWAzYC7vhFuZAvryg7cVdG0Z0hUM3dWf9h54B-8U215QPxDRyb5SV84uc64B8DJ9G1CuDQTF5y6sYnTDyO6ETgMEw6BT9cJnld0nxatgQeLIf/s1600/IMG_5490.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDddjbGL-gIXRG_H6CZW9bGts40-7Ur39N9k4UErByerLZfKzMn2Rhf-BgE54b6X1QIA1-lahCOqOBGOqvQP2neSm4z1e1ysbzh1Ft64oEzcuuffxAmgaxLXtcsHS9A_47R8tDGzV19IjC/s1600/IMG_4513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDddjbGL-gIXRG_H6CZW9bGts40-7Ur39N9k4UErByerLZfKzMn2Rhf-BgE54b6X1QIA1-lahCOqOBGOqvQP2neSm4z1e1ysbzh1Ft64oEzcuuffxAmgaxLXtcsHS9A_47R8tDGzV19IjC/s1600/IMG_4513.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCDLQ0q8zoUyGUQuQpJyJ-07a3TXdCJ9jW45wextuD-WKlgvSonNqMRluD_LyWwqLzmjwTccfrtBsjX_bZS11VjJzDN2gCMoBmjDlKeUJK2uJ8XNQvNAJh_gK4j4rHRgRkjWWuo_lSUut/s1600/IMG_5491.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCDLQ0q8zoUyGUQuQpJyJ-07a3TXdCJ9jW45wextuD-WKlgvSonNqMRluD_LyWwqLzmjwTccfrtBsjX_bZS11VjJzDN2gCMoBmjDlKeUJK2uJ8XNQvNAJh_gK4j4rHRgRkjWWuo_lSUut/s1600/IMG_5491.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFed2AmJ2ByrqsnXlgWnb5AkwcOyeimP5R6idbPz-ip2GpxC6TJTv5SpYYM_Iq0SkihbYAUGeEY5csk3t5HhEGopgG1MYL2kY30Z01oiBSggTrhsXZ4XqnLC-6IPK3CKffgHBK_50VhNPN/s1600/IMG_4496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFed2AmJ2ByrqsnXlgWnb5AkwcOyeimP5R6idbPz-ip2GpxC6TJTv5SpYYM_Iq0SkihbYAUGeEY5csk3t5HhEGopgG1MYL2kY30Z01oiBSggTrhsXZ4XqnLC-6IPK3CKffgHBK_50VhNPN/s1600/IMG_4496.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIh115Y2y67S9q6GHi88nHJVOvko-PuyNRZRNw1Enme8ptinRSUzx7784e-Uxd34-vcmUGIyZb7rHlDFQn4IZqFPVdUjmGtHzziRehLtjpMMkNvQk3Xnt-AtSimU0cPOud3aVAwCwjyOCy/s1600/IMG_4503.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIh115Y2y67S9q6GHi88nHJVOvko-PuyNRZRNw1Enme8ptinRSUzx7784e-Uxd34-vcmUGIyZb7rHlDFQn4IZqFPVdUjmGtHzziRehLtjpMMkNvQk3Xnt-AtSimU0cPOud3aVAwCwjyOCy/s1600/IMG_4503.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
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And yet, as beachy as indoors may be, there is NO denying it - I live in a rainforest. As you can see as soon as you step outside.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0e6DkX98c8j7u_i5PoodrVWy-U8ZGESwaB0j0gghPiVjd2DCE-jIIClDP9N6GPJvY9xh_RQfagwm3WqMzupiVZEzImZBeJBFRIil9pXTTD06x1rz-_FFTILsJLNoIKMxSXuH__NrFJoa/s1600/IMG_4745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu0e6DkX98c8j7u_i5PoodrVWy-U8ZGESwaB0j0gghPiVjd2DCE-jIIClDP9N6GPJvY9xh_RQfagwm3WqMzupiVZEzImZBeJBFRIil9pXTTD06x1rz-_FFTILsJLNoIKMxSXuH__NrFJoa/s1600/IMG_4745.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5k6yKnRETN7WdeBc-EwWdJs3Oa9RujQOy-d8Nyz5ZDvfyCvCMIrXIvG6yM976x4DDbO1gtTawEE2O5zEbDr9eCWDFoanE73zP5EjnU407wy2lYkcKvhsLGkVmSJBqtmztDbvfwx8lLrC0/s1600/IMG_4752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5k6yKnRETN7WdeBc-EwWdJs3Oa9RujQOy-d8Nyz5ZDvfyCvCMIrXIvG6yM976x4DDbO1gtTawEE2O5zEbDr9eCWDFoanE73zP5EjnU407wy2lYkcKvhsLGkVmSJBqtmztDbvfwx8lLrC0/s1600/IMG_4752.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I love my little place.</div>
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I still need to take care of this though:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqepsdF7YN1c-eksaWUYUIp7zxkLjG5ZEJsWmFRwUEr4lz986pND8f-qAgF6hfHO-gZfpmY2ddUd2mfvbFXOizseUsrSpOBNt2c-zhVs-zN-WelMxq5PU0qe3sc9tl4Gn8HADx-_vx2UhF/s1600/IMG_0983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqepsdF7YN1c-eksaWUYUIp7zxkLjG5ZEJsWmFRwUEr4lz986pND8f-qAgF6hfHO-gZfpmY2ddUd2mfvbFXOizseUsrSpOBNt2c-zhVs-zN-WelMxq5PU0qe3sc9tl4Gn8HADx-_vx2UhF/s1600/IMG_0983.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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That's the bathroom vanity. Ugh. And the kitchen counters have the same tiles. I need to change these... next year, hopefully. I also want to hang a small crystal pendant light over the coffee table in place of the ugly iron-work chandelier that is there presently, but I haven't been able to find just the right one yet.</div>
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What do you think of my place? Have you tried to bring the beach to your house? If so, share how... I'd love to hear it.</div>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-5GMspK5FvBs%2FVH-mjBj1E6I%2FAAAAAAAAC4M%2FHJCvdD2BzZQ%2Fs1600%2FIMG_4496.JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFed2AmJ2ByrqsnXlgWnb5AkwcOyeimP5R6idbPz-ip2GpxC6TJTv5SpYYM_Iq0SkihbYAUGeEY5csk3t5HhEGopgG1MYL2kY30Z01oiBSggTrhsXZ4XqnLC-6IPK3CKffgHBK_50VhNPN/s1600/IMG_4496.JPG" -->Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-6019330345771478312014-11-30T00:27:00.002-08:002014-11-30T00:37:43.547-08:00BAGGAGE HANDLERS<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/VOP9fwnE4yY?list=PLD_iQKdChdyBrejcbGWF9fUd_nu3MXxT5" width="640"></iframe><br />
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It's videos like that which make me want to travel with carry-on only. <a href="http://sailornot.blogspot.ca/2011/03/field-test-is-success.html" target="_blank">I have done so in the past... once for a 5 week trip</a>. I managed quite well with what I took, actually. But this time I want to check a bag with my snorkeling gear (doesn't all fit in carry on), my liquids (sun lotions, hair products, bug repellents, perfume etc), and the 8 rolls of McVites digestive cookies I am taking (don't ask). As well as some clothing... whatever won't fit in my carry-on.<br />
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Also, I recently purchased the most beautiful set of luggage I've ever laid my eyes on. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_pRlsRAcj3v5gMMRSI_YIY1DS5V5ml3Do17PoSf-MLInA5_ytnIWl2UkegiHkmxZeRyAGtSaTWUbBG9CgkTidaQmADUg8U2wbUq5JefINQ7y9L-ISNC0jEn4sScI4OZY5CkEfyv6ukcR/s1600/Crescent_set_aqua_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_pRlsRAcj3v5gMMRSI_YIY1DS5V5ml3Do17PoSf-MLInA5_ytnIWl2UkegiHkmxZeRyAGtSaTWUbBG9CgkTidaQmADUg8U2wbUq5JefINQ7y9L-ISNC0jEn4sScI4OZY5CkEfyv6ukcR/s1600/Crescent_set_aqua_large.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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I mean, can you stand it? I saw it from across the store at WINNERS when I was in Kelowna this summer helping my daughter paint her new condo. I HAD to have them. I didn't buy the big one because I tend to go overweight if packing a big bag and I am done...DONE... spending hundreds of dollars on an extra 10lbs of stuff, but I walked out of there with the other two and a huge...HUGE...smile on my face.</div>
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I didn't just buy new luggage because I couldn't resist the colour (although who could blame me if that was the reason?!) in fact, the last time I dragged a heavy bag on two wheels through miles of airport, the stupid thing sometimes twisting off the wheels and wrenching my arm, I watched others blithely stroll by with their 'spinner' bags, upright, just gliding along beside them. I determined then and there that I would have bags with FOUR wheels on my next trip. </div>
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And now I will.</div>
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But I don't want that gorgeous finish to get scratched, dented or *gasp* cracked. And if the baggage handlers treat it like the bags in above video, or pitch it down 20 feet or so to the tarmac below like in another video I saw, then my gorgeous bags might not survive (not to mention what would happen to the aforementioned biscuits packed inside!!).</div>
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So what to do? </div>
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How about a little 'sucking up' to the baggage handlers? Let them know that they are appreciated. It couldn't hurt, right? </div>
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This is what I came up with:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGX4nw3H9UmI4NG941mj75YfbH7meJbuMQnGNeU8CSAzVt0LvIKt4rj-Clk2r6yWDxICbwGgp4V2qwBh1muhPbL6Pwu-aaSZTCpUv9cfNfC2idYpUzrChkceIrJEJWTEoP1-5dPqMEYcl/s1600/IMG_5558.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGGX4nw3H9UmI4NG941mj75YfbH7meJbuMQnGNeU8CSAzVt0LvIKt4rj-Clk2r6yWDxICbwGgp4V2qwBh1muhPbL6Pwu-aaSZTCpUv9cfNfC2idYpUzrChkceIrJEJWTEoP1-5dPqMEYcl/s1600/IMG_5558.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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On both sides of the bag.</div>
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Let's hope it works and that I don't end up with something like this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE9wBb3DqbWastvW4jp6ztvFP6Q7dZ7ub1wZWf83sMgoqiy9liMScIhdwyyd-RjHCXiOfMoWwyODi7sfHjL8Z0JVsrRtnGD_veNQxm8yjl-e_G0RbpfcHtp5X6Kko-R4JkUUSgAFKglbC/s1600/8969014579_51a4d1db2f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE9wBb3DqbWastvW4jp6ztvFP6Q7dZ7ub1wZWf83sMgoqiy9liMScIhdwyyd-RjHCXiOfMoWwyODi7sfHjL8Z0JVsrRtnGD_veNQxm8yjl-e_G0RbpfcHtp5X6Kko-R4JkUUSgAFKglbC/s1600/8969014579_51a4d1db2f.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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But get something more like this instead:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeeNXKRGq8p1VCRhzCgkGAjR_wRVnQouYqWMs-Z3cBYGu8cTHYe0We5b7Z5GBVd0IM1BPMcW9Irxd3DECTgKU4WRksHTMMpFcR0UsaVaTi3F-u1m-zusZ8rkqxPPew-v8BYT6Td0nV0u6/s1600/love+you+too.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeeNXKRGq8p1VCRhzCgkGAjR_wRVnQouYqWMs-Z3cBYGu8cTHYe0We5b7Z5GBVd0IM1BPMcW9Irxd3DECTgKU4WRksHTMMpFcR0UsaVaTi3F-u1m-zusZ8rkqxPPew-v8BYT6Td0nV0u6/s1600/love+you+too.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Well...without the 'HEAVY BAG' tag, and the poor spelling.</div>
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Here are some tips on how to get your bag safely to your destination:</div>
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<div class="listItem noThumb" height="208" id="item_0" style="background-color: white; border-bottom-color: rgb(226, 226, 226); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova, 'arial sans-serif'; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; margin: 10px 0px; padding: 10px 0px; width: 640px;" width="640">
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Buy a four-wheeled bag.</strong></td></tr>
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<i>(CHECK!!!!)</i></div>
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With a four-wheeled bag, the only time your luggage will be airborne is after takeoff.</div>
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"When we load a plane, we have to slide that bag along ... the cargo floor," Henry said.</div>
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"With four wheels, they can just roll that bag," he continued. "Now if it doesn't have the wheels, they'll throw it, kick it, toss it."</div>
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<span class="count" style="color: #999999; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 48px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.1em; margin: -5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">2.</strong></span><br />
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Pack your items in a sturdy bag.</strong></td></tr>
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<i>(Let's hope this gorgeous new bag is sturdy)</i></div>
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Make sure your bag won't crumble under pressure.</div>
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When shopping for luggage, look for bags made out of strong material. There are even bags available for purchase made out of the same material that the NFL uses for its shoulder pads.</div>
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"You should assume that this bag is going to be handled in the worst way," Henry said.</div>
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<span class="count" style="color: #999999; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 48px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.1em; margin: -5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">3.</strong></span><br />
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Don't check in for your flight too early.<br />
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: proxima-nova, 'arial sans-serif'; font-size: 15px; font-weight: normal;"><i>(I am bad for this... part of my nervous traveler thing.)</i></span></strong></td></tr>
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Ironically, to ensure your bag's on-time arrival, don't check in too early.</div>
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"If you do it more than two hours early, they don't even have things set up for your flight yet," Cigelske said.</div>
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Your bag could get lost in the shuffle if it's set aside.</div>
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<span class="count" style="color: #999999; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 48px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.1em; margin: -5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">4.</strong></span><br />
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Skip the curbside check-in.</strong></td></tr>
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<i>(Never done this)</i></div>
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Even if you're rushing to catch your flight, avoid checking in at the curb.</div>
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"It does add one more layer to the process, more people to the equation," Cigelske said. "More hands, more things, means more things could go wrong."</div>
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Instead, head to the ticket counter, especially if you're past the cutoff time to check your bag in.</div>
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"You can ask the ticket-taker to have the baggage handlers come and make one more run," Cigelske said.</div>
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<span class="count" style="color: #999999; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 48px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.1em; margin: -5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">5.</strong></span><br />
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Buy traveler's insurance.</strong></td></tr>
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<i>(I have it through my Credit Card. I DID have it with the first insurance I bought for this trip but don't have that anymore!!!)</i></div>
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Airlines are only liable for $3,400 for loss, delay or damage to luggage. Some airlines don't even cover certain items, such as electronics or jewelry.</div>
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Travelers agree to this contract automatically when they purchase their flight ticket. Purchasing traveler's insurance can protect the contents of your bag in the event it is lost, stolen or damaged.</div>
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<span class="count" style="color: #999999; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 48px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.1em; margin: -5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">6.</strong></span><br />
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Buy a bag with anti-theft technology.</strong></td></tr>
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<i>(Ooops. Gorgeous luggage has zippers)</i></div>
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Even if your bag is locked, a person can still get into your luggage by cutting the zipper open.</div>
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Luggage without zippers can help deter would-be thieves immediately, as people will be unable to easily use scissors or knives to cut it open.</div>
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<span class="count" style="color: #999999; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 48px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.1em; margin: -5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">7.</strong></span><br />
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Invest in a tracking device.</strong></td></tr>
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<i>(Hmmmm...tracking device huh? I do always pack my info and itinerary inside, along with a list of everything the bag contains and a note saying I have a copy of the list with me)</i></div>
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Be sure to remove old routing stickers from your luggage. In case your bag goes astray, add a tag to the outside with your information, and pack an itinerary inside.</div>
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If your bag does indeed get lost, it might help if you have a tracking device. Certain devices can message you the location of your bag once it's landed.</div>
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<span class="count" style="color: #999999; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 48px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: lighter; line-height: 1.1em; margin: -5px 10px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; text-transform: uppercase;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">8.</strong></span><br />
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<tr style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><td class="title" style="font-family: proxima-nova, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: bold; line-height: 23px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px 0px 0px; vertical-align: middle;"><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">Use a carry-on bag.</strong></td></tr>
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<i>(Right. See above.)</i></div>
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It's recommended not checking any bags.</div>
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And if you are forced to check your carry-on at the boarding gate, remember to remove your valuables before handing it over.</div>
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-78673122946576961222014-11-27T21:02:00.002-08:002014-11-28T23:11:56.413-08:00IS IT JUST ME... OR DO YOU TOO FIND INCOMPETENCE EVERYWHERE?I decided I was fed up with the back and forth phone calls about the missing travel insurance policy and the "we can't refund your money until we find the policy" nonsense. <a href="http://sailornot.blogspot.ca/2011/03/disaster-averted.html" target="_blank"> SO ... I did what worked so well for me once before.</a><br />
<br />
My friend, when reading the story (linked to in above paragraph) of how I got AA to find my daughter's lost luggage PRONTO, commented that I sure was one "can-do broad". I liked that. I decided it was time to bring out the "can-do broad" in me once again. <br />
<br />
I start searching online for the name of someone in authority in either sales or customer relations at Allianz in the Ontario office. It takes a long time, like well over an hour. It is information that is really buried but I end up finding a woman on Linked In who is the head of Customer Service in Ontario. I can't see any contact information for her as she is not connected to me in any way and there is only a first name and a last initial. So I Google her name with the initial and ALLIANZ, and I find a link back to Linked In with her whole name. I still can't see any contact info but... the personal email of the agent I have been talking to was his first name - dot - his last name and then @alianz-assistance.ca I had seen online another person's email at the company and it was his first and last name with the same ending so I start an email to her and type in her name etc and hope it works. I detail everything that has occurred to this point, ask her to intervene for a resolution, and hit send. Heading off to bed (at close to 4am) I hope I wake to good news.<br />
<br />
I do... it worked!!!! And she has replied to say she has some people looking into it. Actually what I wake to is a phone call from Shawn, the agent, to say that they are going to refund me the money. THEN I go check my email and see she wrote to me three hours ago (time difference) to say that she has some people looking into it. WOW. So it worked. Go to the top and you get speedy results. I am ecstatic.<br />
<br />
That done, it is now time to select some seats with more leg room on the longer legs of my flights to and from the Dominican Republic. I pull up my flight itinerary on American Airlines website and... hellooo... what is this now? My flights home have changed. Now instead of Miami to LA then home, I fly from Miami to Dallas. Excuse me? Especially seeing how this means I fly out of Miami two hours earlier than the previous plan, did no one think this might be information important for me to have? <br />
<br />
So I call AA. The woman on the other end tells me that it is the responsibility of the sales company - in this case Flight Hub - to let me know. AA sends an alert of changes to the company I bought tickets from and they then are to contact me and alert me. I know she is telling me the truth because that is how it has always worked. That is how it worked on the flights I had to cancel already (because the changes did not work for me). As it happens, these changes I can live with - I no longer have a long lay over waiting for the flight to Vancouver so I am getting in four hours earlier. But that is not the point. She is rather surprised that I have not received notification and so takes all my information so that if there are any more changes, they can contact me directly. <br />
<br />
I then call Flight Hub, ready to tear a strip off of them as the changes were made over TWO WEEKS ago. Again, had I not wanted to upgrade my seats, I would have had NO idea that this had occurred.<br />
<br />
The woman on the other end tells me they never got the alert from AA, thus they had no idea the flights had changed.<br />
<br />
Sigh. Typical blame game... NO ONE is responsible. Right.<br />
<br />
Whatever. I now have my new itinerary printed out. I will be checking AA's site daily to see if there are any more changes as I don't trust anyone now.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I purchased additional travel insurance through my union's provider to pad out what I already had with them.<br />
<br />
I don't have trip cancellation insurance now, which I thought I had before. I also don't have baggage loss insurance... just what I get with the credit card for charging the trip with them.<br />
<br />
It is astounding to me how much incompetence there is everywhere. Astounding.<br />
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-33569263871841765432014-11-22T15:52:00.000-08:002014-11-22T17:59:28.833-08:00PRE-TRIP TROUBLESSo in my last post, I wasn't quite forthcoming about how I ended up choosing Sosua as the destination for my upcoming trip to the Dominican Republic. Yes I had looked at property there online and yes, I wanted to make it part of my trip. But my initial searches for accommodation on Airbnb had lead me to a small enclave to the west of Puerto Plata named Costambar. From the descriptions I first read it sounded very pleasant; a small gated community of mostly expats from Canada with a lovely beach, a few restaurants and a couple of small grocery shops. Perfect.<br />
<br />
I selected a nice little apartment in a complex with a pool and proceeded to book it for the month long stay at $780 US. Not bad at all. The furniture in the place was a little heavy and dark, but I liked the look of the pool and it was a very short walk of about 50 yards to the beach.<br />
<br />
Then, as time permitted, between setups on my show, I started to research Costambar a little more. I began to discover that it was rather isolated, was near a big power processing plant, had unpaved roads that turned to mud in the rain, and was not advised to walk alone at night even a short distance from the restaurants to the apartment. I really did not like the sounds of this.<br />
<br />
I made some enquiries on a Trip Advisor forum as to if it was a good place for a single woman to stay and got some assurance that I 'should' be alright. One fellow replied that I must take a few trips to Sosua as the main street was closed to traffic each evening to allow the restaurants to put tables and chairs out on the street for outdoor dining with live music. It sounded lovely and festive. As I researched things to do and excursions from Costambar, I learned that there were sailing trips to what was called a gorgeous beach perfect for snorkeling in Sosua. I began to wonder why I wasn't staying there instead.<br />
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<br />
Once you book what is considered a 'long stay' at an Airbnb location (a month or more) there are no refunds offered with the site. It is only at the graciousness of the host that a refund may be obtained. I found the place I wanted to stay in Sosua and checked with the host for dates and if she would hold it for a few days while I sorted out my reservation in Costambar. She agreed to do that and then I contacted the first host and, much to my relief, she readily issued me a refund.<br />
<br />
Once I booked my room in Sosua, I then turned my research efforts in that direction. It didn't take long for me to start to freak out a little bit and wonder if I'd made a huge mistake.<br />
<br />
Why you ask?<br />
<br />
Because Sosua is renowned for it's sex trade business. That's right, it is the red light district for all of the Dominican Republic!! Men from all over North America travel there just for the young women they can buy. I was horrified. Horrified. What had I done?!? <br />
<br />
More panicked research uncovered a YouTube video from a guy called Cuba Dave who has sort of a internet travel show on that site for men travelling for sex. In this video, he was advising men to stay away from Sosua as it was no longer the playground it once had been. A little more research revealed that apparently the city fathers had decided they'd had enough of this rather appalling reputation and were going to clean up their town. So they closed all of the brothels and strip joints, closed in the clubs (no windows, no outdoor seating) and cracked down on the street girls. They began the task of encouraging a more family friendly, couple friendly environment.<br />
<br />
Somewhat reassured, I decided to keep things as they were and hopefully all would be good. We shall see I guess.<br />
<br />
About three weeks after I booked my flights, I received notification from Ticket Pilot that my reservations had been changed and when I took a look at how, the changes were unacceptable to me. I called them and said I wanted to cancel. They contacted the airline, United, and in a three way call it was explained that because the new flights changed arrival to a destination by more than two hours, I could cancel without penalty. I had just upgraded the seats a few days prior but was assured that I would be reimbursed for the cost of that at the same time. When I later checked my credit card, I was refunded the cost of the flights but not the upgrades. Another call to the airline rectified this and the refund showed up a few days later.<br />
<br />
I booked new flights with American Airlines through Flight Hub. I was pleased to no longer be connecting through Newark as weather conditions there in winter had me somewhat concerned about possible delayed or cancelled flights. Now I was connecting through Los Angeles and, back to two connections instead of just one, Miami - on both the trip there and the trip back. I had a 14 hour overnight wait for my flight out of Miami on the trip home so decided I would go to South Beach and get a hotel for the night. <a href="http://sailornot.blogspot.ca/2009/05/age-is-just-number.html" target="_blank">I had spent only an hour or so there on my way through from Tarpon Springs to Key Largo back in '09</a> and loved it so the idea of an evening there was very welcome. I'd look for a hotel once the show was over and I had some time to think. Also, to get flights I wanted, my trip was now extended by two days.<br />
<br />
Having flights confirmed, a place to stay, and trip insurance paid for at the time I booked the first flights there was nothing much more to do until the show wrapped and I had some time to devote to the rest of the planning. I would need to contact the insurance provider to extend my coverage the two extra days and I needed to look at upgrading my seats on the long flights. But that could be done once I had more time.<br />
<br />
Now that the show is wrapped, and my two grand babies have arrived (did I fail to mention that my son and his wife and my daughter and her husband were both expecting boys within days of each other?!) I finally have that time.<br />
<br />
I set about looking for a hotel in Miami first and after much searching, pretty much settle on a beachfront place at the exorbitant rate of $375 US for the night. As I contemplate this, I suddenly have an epiphany. I won't be arriving at the hotel until sometime around 7pm. I will want to go for dinner and stroll Ocean Drive, maybe stop at a place or two for a drink and soak in the atmosphere. My flight in the morning leaves at 7am so I'll have to be out of my hotel by 4am or so. I'll probably be spending less than 4 hours in my hotel. That will amount to $100 an hour! Why spend the money on a hotel? Why not stay up all night and enjoy what Miami Beach has to offer in the way of people watching etc as I am sure it is open all night long on a Friday night?! What a great idea! So that is what I decide I am going to do.<br />
<br />
That all figured out, I call up the insurance agency - Allianz Global Assistance - to set about extending my coverage. I have paperwork in hand with the policy number and when I give the agent on the line the information he astounds me by saying they have no such policy registered with that number. He asks me to check my credit card statement to see if I have indeed been charged and if so, was it the Ontario office or a US office listed. I know I have been charged and find the statement with no problem and it was the Ontario office. He is stumped by this as he was sure it was because it was a US policy, which would have to be cancelled and a new Canadian one issued. He clicks about on his keyboard a bit more and puts me on hold. When he returns he tells me that he has informed his superior of this anomaly and that he will call me at 3pm my time to update me as to what they find. He asks me to send him a copy of my credit card statement with the charge and gives me an email address to send it to.<br />
<br />
I hang up feeling very unsettled about this turn of events as I send off the PDF of my statement. What if I had never had to extend my insurance? What if I had an issue while in the DR and needed medical attention and THEN it became apparent that there was no policy with that number? I could only imagine the horror that would ensue for me in that scenario. I decide that, should they find the policy or not, I am cancelling it. I have medical insurance now with my union, thanks to the show that just wrapped, and I can get baggage and trip delay insurance through BCAA. That is what I usually do and I wish I had done it this time but I foolishly decided to use the insurance presented at the time of buying the first set of tickets because I thought it would save me some hassle. <br />
<br />
He never calls me back as promised.<br />
<br />
So I call again the next day. I of course get a different agent, I ask for Shawn and am told he is on another call but will call me as soon as he is off. He calls a few minutes later. I ask why he did not call me as he promised and he said because he never received the credit card statement. I am aghast at this. I assure him I did indeed send it and it did not bounce back, therefore he must have gotten it. And if he didn't, why on earth would he not call to alert me so I could resend it? He replies that the email address he gave me is a general one that gets thousands of emails a day and so it must have been buried. He then proceeds to give me his personal work email. Exasperated, I ask why he didn't give me that one in the first place and he replies that he isn't allowed to give it out. I respond with, 'well you're giving it to me now so that can't be true'. He gets testy with me so I drop it and he never does explain why he wouldn't have called me to let me know about this. I resend it to him while he is on the line to make sure he gets it this time and he does. I tell him that now that he can see I did get charged, I want to cancel the policy and be refunded. He proceeds to tell me that they can't refund me until they find the policy. WHAT?!? I am starting to lose it a little at this point and get rather testy myself. I tell him that I have paid for something that I don't have, he has proof I have paid, and I want a refund. Now. He refuses, telling me that they can't do that until the policy is located. He assures me it will be located and that there is lots of time before I leave to sort this out. That they <i>will</i> refund me once they find the policy. I then recall that the credit card I used is no longer active due to fraudulent activity and I will need to give him the new card number and tell him as much. He tells me that I can have it refunded to any card I want and that he will call me for that information as soon as they have located the policy.<br />
<br />
After hanging up, I don't like this at all but I have no more time to think about it as I am due at my daughters to help out for a few hours. <br />
<br />
Next Installment: My 'can do broad' comes out, and more issues.Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-32587417867873465532014-11-21T14:05:00.000-08:002014-11-22T15:53:21.321-08:00NEXT TRIP: DOMINICAN REPUBLICTravel fever has hit again and hit hard. <br />
<br />
I worked on a tv series this past summer for almost 5 months. It was a great show, and I loved that we were in one location the entire time, mostly indoors. But what that meant was, I never saw much of the great summer we had this year in Vancouver as I was indoors in dark studios 14 hours a day (except for the 45 min lunch break where I'd step out into blinding sunshine and stumble my way to the catering truck with the rest of the crew who were shading their eyes and grasping for sunglasses). I don't even think I went to the beach once. Maybe once right before the show started... I can't really recall. The show itself was really challenging for me, being that it was 75% CGI (computer generated) so lots of green screen work. Shooting on a green screen stage is very different from practical sets and so that challenge, coupled with a big cast and SO MUCH CONTINUITY to follow (injuries galore - along with bandages and braces, a couple of props that appeared in many scenes but kept changing either their ownership [a magic ring] or their physical appearance [a rope weapon that sometimes had a weight on the end and sometimes didn't]) wore me right out. The physical fatigue of 14 hour work days plus a two hour commute was matched only by the mental fatigue of keeping up with and keeping track of all the many many MANY details over 13 episodes of a linear storyline. Basically a 13 hour movie!!<br />
<br />
SO.... in September I decided I deserved a trip somewhere warm when it was all over - to get the summer I never had and to get some much needed R&R. I wanted to go for a month but preferred to keep it to $2000 or so on the flight and accommodations. Quite the challenge. After looking at Mexico, the BVI and the Bahamas and ruling all out because of the cost, I turned to the Dominican Republic - somewhere that has been on my radar due to wishful searches for real estate in the Caribbean and discovering that you can get a lovely condo there for a shockingly low price. I had, during said searches, decided that a discovery trip to the DR should be in my future to see if it was somewhere I could live for 6 months of the year, come retirement time. I suddenly recalled this in my search for a budget conscious trip, and VOILA...<br />
<br />
The condos I had found that I liked were in a small town on the north coast called Sosua. I knew nothing of the place but eventually decided that was where I would stay so I could take a look at the real estate. A quick search online revealed that the town has a lovely beach, many restaurants, and is popular with North Americans for both travel and relocation. It is a short 20 minute cab ride from Puerto Plata and the international airport there, which was perfect, so I booked my flight(s). <br />
<br />
Flights to the DR from Vancouver are surprisingly cheap. All in I paid $760. What I really liked was that it took just one connection (instead of the usual two to the Caribbean) flying from Vancouver to Newark to Puerto Plata. <br />
<br />
I decided to try Airbnb for accommodations, as I have had friends who have gone that route and had nothing but good things to report, not the least being the great prices. After some searching, I ended up settling on a lovely place right in the center of Sosua owned by a couple from Sweden. They have three suites with separate entries off of a large porch overlooking the main street and, bonus!! - there is a bakery downstairs. The couple live at the rear of the building. There were glowing reviews from previous guests so I booked it at $730 for the month! A bargain.<br />
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My room in Sosua</div>
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Looking towards the entrance to my room in Sosua</div>
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My lovely bathroom in Sosua</div>
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-30804402511175766772014-01-09T17:02:00.002-08:002014-06-29T18:17:41.424-07:00WHY I HATE SCHOOL<i>I am deviating from my usual posts about the Caribbean for today, I spent all morning writing the following piece for a book I am writing and then, incredibly, came across a video on a friends FaceBook page (you can view it at the end of this piece). The serendipity of it caused me to want to use the piece as a blog post today - not what it is ultimately planned for, but here it is:</i><br />
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I come from a long line of school haters and I hated school
as a kid. Not at first. I actually begged… BEGGED… my mother to let me go to
school a full year before I was supposed to. I turned four in April and I had
been reading for over a year. I devoured books, something I still do to this
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pleaded with my mother all summer
to get me into school early until she finally went to the school authorities
and suddenly we were off to the shops for my school uniform (this was in
England where all kids wore uniforms), new shoes, and a navy blue satchel to
wear on my back and carry my stuff. I was giddy with excitement that first day,
walking fast so my little legs could keep up with my mothers strides, satchel
bouncing on my back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember walking
into the classroom, a blend of scents filling my head that I’d never
experienced before – floor polish, pencil shavings, old books – and seeing a
wall full of kids books that I had not yet read. Oh the joy!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I had all of those books read before Christmas, and in the
new year they let me go into the classroom of the next form (grade) up to start
working my way through their shelves. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But there was a huge problem that had never entered my mind
before walking into the classroom that first day; I wasn’t there to just read.
There was other stuff I had to learn. I could already print but I was a lousy
speller. This mystified my teachers for years, as they all knew I read way
beyond my grade (tests showed I was reading at a second year college level in
grade seven). So how could someone who read so much not know how to spell the
words she was reading? I had no idea at the time, all I knew was I could not
spell and memorizing spelling was painful for me. I have come to believe that I
read so fast - I was not sounding out words - that I wasn’t paying any
attention to the spelling of the word, I just sped right through them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grade three teacher was exasperated with my
poor spelling and seemed to take great joy in calling me out in front of the
class over it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shriveled up with
humiliation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And spelling was the least of my problems. Arithmetic. It
was my kryptonite. I absolutely and completely hated it and did not understand
anything beyond addition. Even then I would sometimes get confused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Multiplication? Division?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LONG division???<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absolutely hopeless. The teacher might as
well have been speaking Latin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
completely confused and efforts to explain it to me just confused me all the
more. And if it was painful memorizing the spelling list for the week, the
times table was pure torture. At least spelling was about words, something I
understood and loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Math was a big
black hole of mystery and that hole stayed black my entire education.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did manage to have a weak grasp of the
basics by the end of grade four but grade five was a complete disaster. That
was when fractions were introduced and I was in a classroom that was completely
out of control. The teacher was a really nice guy but he had no idea how to
reign kids in and so the kids were loud and disruptive and I remember straining
to hear him over the din. And thus it was in his classroom that my already
fragile foundation of basic math, that foundation upon which all future knowledge of
math would build, began to start missing key elements, and in no small part because I
could not hear what was being said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From
that point on, it was hopeless until finally, in grade eight, I failed math
because it was all algebra. I barely understood how numbers worked together and
now that the alphabet was added into the mix I was utterly lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Failing math led to a torturous
correspondence course, which was supposed to last the summer but took two years
and I never finished it. Meanwhile I passed Math 10 because it was geometry and
that made some sense to me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I did fine in science, I actually really enjoyed it, until
Chemistry 10 where we learned to balance equations only I never understood how
to do that because it involved math skills I had not grasped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I managed to pas Chem 10, however, but only
passed Chem 11 by promising not to take Chem 12, which I needed to fulfill my
life-long desire to be a nurse and so, along with failing Math 11, that dream
died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Don't even get me started on social studies and history. How I hated history; just a teacher droning on and on and on about people and dates and it was so incredibly boring. Turns out, I'm a history buff. Who knew?! Certainly not my history teachers, judging by my grades. I love British history and am rather knowledgeable on the topic, if I do say so myself. I even considered, for a short moment, going to university in my 30's to get a degree in it. It is beyond me, utterly incomprehensible, how anyone can make history boring. But most teachers manage it. And it is truly a crime against humanity.</span></div>
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I remember a few years ago, talking to an uncle about trying to learn math in school, and he
used a metaphor to describe how it felt in his head that was the EXACT same
metaphor I had used when trying to describe to a teacher how it felt. This teacher
really wanted me to pass Math 11 and devoted all of his spare time at school to
helping me. He told me to come in at lunch hour, after school and on my study
blocks and he would tutor me one on one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There were times while working with him that I actually understood what
he was saying and then it would be gone. It was just as my uncle had described;
like being in a pitch black cellar, not even being able to see your hand in
front of your face and then, overhead, a trap door would begin to open ever so
slowly and the light would start to come in; just a haze at first and then
growing slowly brighter and brighter until the sunlight flooded in and it was
amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, without warning, just as
you had moved to let the sun hit your face, the door slammed shut and it was
pitch black again. Worst of all, for the door to open again - which was rare, I would have to start back at square one and it would repeat the first performance, slamming shut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was supremely frustrating
to actually have clarity, to understand the concept before you for a few
awesome seconds, then have it vaporize, vanish, poof, gone. Just like that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So all that to say, I became another school hater in a long
line of school haters. I recall one aunt telling me that when she first went to school she had
no idea why she was there and figured that it was to get her out of the house
to give her mother time to get some housework done! Every one of my mother’s
brothers and sisters (seven in all, well – there was eight but one died as an
infant) are or were incredibly creative people, and I don’t believe your
average school caters one whit to creatives. One of my aunts could draw any
airplane from world war two in a manner that would be worthy of a history book.
She was a plane spotter in the war, so really knew her airplanes. An uncle
could replicate any drawing or painting he saw. He was an artist worthy of a
job at Disney, his flowers and animals were exactly the same as what you see in
all of the animated movies. He loved to copy Monet’s works and had a couple
hanging in his home that were gorgeous. My mother was a cake decorator and her
cakes were truly works of art. I recall a wedding cake she made with bouquets
of flowers on each layer that were all hand made with sugar. When the reception was over and friends and
family were removing things to take home for safe-keeping, someone asked if
anyone wanted to take any of the flowers from the cake as they would just wilt
and die if left there – they completely thought they were real. She never went
into it as a full time career though, she taught a few night school classes and
made cakes now and then for friends and charged a pittance. The only sibling that actually went to
college and got a degree and made a living with his artistic abilities was my youngest
uncle who studied art and, after much success in various companies, became a
designer for Motorola and was the person who came up with the flip phone. He was sketching out the idea when his boss
came by and asked what it was. When he explained, the boss told him to take the
drawing to the technology department immediately, and thus the flip phone was
born!</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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My only respite in school was art class and creative
writing. All others, even English, I despised. I hated learning about sentence
structure, nouns, verbs, adverbs… blah blah blah. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just give me a book and let me get on with
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hated that, once I had finished the
required book, I then had to dissect it for subtext, premise, analogies, etc.
Once I finished a good book, I just wanted to savour the story for an hour or
so and then move on to the next. I regularly read three books a week in high
school, aside from required reading. <o:p></o:p></div>
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This aversion to dissecting writing still lives within me
today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I sit down to write, I have
an idea – usually consisting of a topic or a vague story line – but nothing
more than that. I don’t first do an outline. I don’t consider the story arc. I can’t
bear to consider act breaks when writing a script.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just sit down with my idea and start
writing. This probably explains why I have about a dozen unfinished works in my
computer files.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just tell a story but
I have no idea how to end it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of my
stories come from my life and it’s not over yet so how do I know how those
stories will end?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, once that
end is a reality, I won’t be here to finish them. It’s a mess, really.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I did take a creative writing course offered by the local
college when I was in my 30’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
about how to write comedy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recall really enjoying it and writing some good stuff but now I don’t
remember a single thing from that class. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Looking at this from the point of view of a woman who raised
three really good kids, two of them bordering on brilliant, and now has an
amazing granddaughter (she just turned two and has been fully conversant for
over six months and she recognizes and can name every letter of the alphabet
but two – J and Z for some reason elude her) it is heartbreaking that the
school system and how it operates can take an eager, knowledge-hungry four year
old and turned her into a school loathing child by grade three.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is something truly heartbreaking about
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see my granddaughter, so smart and
such a little sponge, and wonder if she will have the same anguish over numbers
that I had and her mother had and if so, how will her teachers handle it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recall my daughter coming home from a day
in grade four, bursting into tears and when I asked her why, telling me that
her teacher yelled at her for asking too many questions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was having a hard time understanding
fractions and had <i><b>too many questions!!!</b></i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will that happen to my granddaughter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Will that eager wonderful little person be crushed by a school system
that caters only to the middle of the road so that those who are struggling to
understand and those little geniuses get left to themselves?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so they end up get yelled at for asking
too many questions or being so bored out of their skulls they either act out
or, as in the case of my son, blank out and go somewhere else in their heads.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a young mother, I hated school even more than when I was a kid, if that is possible, because
it was wrecking my kids, not to mention how from the first day of kindergarten for my son, the eldest, I hated being apart from them for so much of their lives, I
hated having to be on someone else’s schedule as a family, I hated how much
homework they had each night – far far too much at an early age, I hated the never ending notices and paperwork the school sent home to litter my
desk, I hated how some teachers treated my daughter with disdain or impatience
because she wasn’t as quick to learn as others, I hated the peer pressure they
were experiencing and the bullying they sometimes suffered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just despised the whole concept of school
and how it impacted our lives. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I ended up homeschooling my kids as a result of that grade four incident with my
daughter, that and my son getting straight A’s at the middle school purely because
he was well behaved and polite (that is the explanation his guidance counsellor gave me), and my youngest in grade two getting no new
knowledge at all, because she was in a grade one and two split where she was at
the top of the class so was put in a quad of desks with three kids in grade one
who weren’t even performing at a kindergarten level so that she could teach
them and help them with their work!!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Homeschooling was hard on me, let me tell you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I won’t go into all of the why but suffice to
say that at first I did too much and became overwhelmed and then, later, did
too little and let them learn on their own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fortunately, they were all so intelligent that they learned a lot and
have all gone on to very successful careers, one (the one that cried that day, no less!) getting into a college that
did not want to accept her due to being homeschooled with no formal records; they
let her take an entrance exam, accepted her, and she graduated at the top of
her class.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I really hope that it turns out different for my
grandchildren and we can break the history of school-haters in my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope school has come a long way since it
turned me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But somehow, I have this
terrible sinking feeling that it has actually gotten worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Way worse.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/h11u3vtcpaY" width="640"></iframe><br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-19334776334647984922013-10-31T23:08:00.000-07:002014-02-02T12:28:38.600-08:00HOME AGAINUp at 4:30am. UGH!<br />
<br />
Joe, the great taxi driver, is picking me up at 5:30 to get me to the airport by 6 as I have an 8am flight.<br />
<br />
I hate the check-in process and this time I have good reason; I just know my bag will be overweight. Sure enough, it's 6lbs over. So I unlock it and pull out the zip lock bag full of toiletries. The agent looks at me aghast. "Oh you can't take those on the plane, those are all liquids or aerosol." "Yes I know," I say, "they are going in the garbage can." "Oh!" she says, quite shocked. Well, what else am I supposed to do? My carry on bag is rather full and a couple of pairs of socks that I might be able to squash in there won't help the weight any! It's still 3lbs over and she scowls and shakes her head so I take out a couple of things and jam them into my purse. That gets it down to 52lbs, 2lbs over and she nods, much to my relief. As I walk over to the trash to drop the bag of toiletries into it, I am wishing I had left them behind for the housekeeping staff.<br />
<br />
It looks like today is going to be a sunny day on Grenada. Rats. I wish this weather had happened yesterday. I was quite sad not to have a last swim and lie out in the hot sunshine.<br />
<br />
My flights are somewhat uneventful except that, on the longest leg, I have a 300lb, 6'8" guy in a stained white t-shirt sitting in the seat in front of me and he puts the seat back in recline before we are even off the ground. It stays that way the whole flight. And every time I go into the pocket or even tap the back of his seat it with my foot when I cross my legs, he looks over his shoulder towards me. What I'd like to do is ram my feet in the back of it over and over. Why? Well for one, he keeps pushing back in the seat like he wants it to go further back, and with his weight it does move back a few inches each time. For another he scratches the back of his head every 10 minutes and I get to watch dandruff drift down onto my tray. So gross! He also gets up at one point and stands fully on my foot, while I am sleeping, jarring me painfully awake. I have an isle seat so that I can stretch my leg with the bad knee out to keep it from seizing up. He doesn't even acknowledge that he did it, let alone apologize. The big lug.<br />
<br />
On the last flight, there is an old couple beside me, both tiny and wiry. They look like they used to be hippies back in the day. They are from Colorado and are taking their first trip to BC. They are very sweet but at one point she puts on these huge headphones, cranks her tunes on an iPod, and starts bopping about in her seat, right beside me. So annoying.<br />
<br />
I can't recall a time I have ever been happier to get off a plane.<br />
<br />
I take the skytrain and then the Seabus back to Vancouver where my daughter meets me and drives me home. It feels good to be back.<br />
<br />
A few days later, I see my granddaughter and she loves the few things I bought for her; the Caribbean doll, the t-shirt, and a lovely illustrated children's book about kids in the Caribbean.<br />
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It is so great to see her again, I have missed her so so very much. And she is very excited to see me. Ashleigh tells me that yesterday, she went to the door and stood there insisting that she go to 'Nan's'. She also tells me that Malia had talked frequently about me the past week so it was like she knew I was coming home when she stood at the door. So cute! </div>
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The whole nutmeg, bagged jerk seasoning, chocolate bars, and hot chocolate balls were a hit with Ashleigh as well. <br /><br />Now to do about 5 loads of laundry. Everything, worn or not, needs to go through the wash. The humidity of the Caribbean gets into everything and needs to be washed and dried out before putting things away.</div>
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Hmmm... maybe that is why my bags are always heavier coming back than going, even when I don't buy much and give lots away while gone. And I always assumed it was the scales at the check in that were out!</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-39336300400547372672013-10-30T22:08:00.000-07:002014-04-18T20:28:16.968-07:00LAST DAY ON GRENADAUp too early again. <br />
<br />
I see a cruise ship come in at about 7:30 am, the first one of the season.<br />
<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>First cruise ship of the season</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
It was raining when I first got up and for a while after but now it has stopped and started to look promising so off to the beach for one last day of sun, sand, and swimming. I want to commit it all to memory today, all the senses, so that I can recall it in the coming days of winter back home.<br />
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<i>Didn't look too promising when I first got up</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
I'm not there five minutes and it starts to rain, and rain hard. I pull my lounge up under the tree, right to the trunk, and put a towel over my head and continue to read the book I am into, hoping it will pass soon. After 20 minutes or so, the rain starts to drip from the towel, which is soaked through, onto my Kindle so I give up. I am walking to the Allemanda lobby with the towel over my head when I hear my name being called. I look out from under the towel and see Amy and John sitting out of the rain at the restaurant by the pool so I go join them and we sit there for about two hours while we wait it out. We have a good conversation, getting to know more about each other. They both work for the post office, and that is where they met. I tell them my dad used to work for the Royal Mail as well, when we lived in England.<br />
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<i>Rotten rain, ruining my last day here</i></div>
<br />
At 1:30, with no sign of the rain letting up, they decide to go to their room and I decide to have lunch at the restaurant. I order a pita wrap which is delicious and served with lovely crunchy fries - under $7 Canadian, a very good deal. I am the only person at the restaurant and have only seen one other group dining here the entire time I've been walking back and forth to the beach for the past 10 days. I don't know how they stay in business. The food is really good so maybe they will get busy once the season starts, next month.<br />
<br />
After delaying as long as I possibly can, I finally walk back to my hotel in the drizzle carrying two very heavy, soaked through towels along with my usual bag of stuff. Exhausting!<br />
<br />
When I get there, the cleaning staff is just finishing up and I call Alison over, the girl who was getting my room ready the day I arrived here. I thank her for everything and give her all the EC cash I have left (about $25 and change) and also give her the pop-up floaty I brought with me but didn't use - I will have NO room for that in my bag on the trip home. She says her daughter will love it. I can't believe she is a mom, I thought she was about 17 but turns out she's a lot older and married! We hug and say good-bye and she says she is sad to see me go and hopes I come back one day.<br />
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<i>Lovely Alison</i></div>
<br />
There's nothing much to do but take a shower, and then lay on the bed and read till it is time to get ready for dinner. It is dark by 6:30 when Amy and John pick me up in their rental jeep, and we head off to <a href="http://www.lepharebleu.com/" target="_blank">La Phare Bleu</a>, about half an hour away, for the Friendship Table dinner.<br />
<br />
There are more people at the dinner than last week. And tonight the meal will be served family style - bowls of steaming food to pass around. When we are seated, a couple sit across from us and they have some other people with them. We introduce ourselves and they are Jana and Dieter. We find out half way through the meal that they are the owners of Le Phare Bleu, which is more than just a restaurant, it is a gorgeous resort that they built from the ground up. They are originally from Switzerland and the rest of their group is family over for a visit. She delights in telling us how, one Sunday a month, the resort holds what they call a Dinghy Concert, out in the bay, where the cruisers come in their dinghies, raft together, and live music is played by various musicians set up on a floating stage. I have heard of these concerts from Mike Sweeny, who is a cruiser and spends summers in Grenada. I've seen pictures of it on his blog and it looks like a lot of fun. She gets her husband, Dieter, to put a CD of one of the concerts on the TV over the bar. We watch and it really looks like a very good time.<br />
<br />
The food tonight is Mexican and it is very good. Jana tells us how they are losing their staff and some of their chefs to the new and huge Sandals resort that is almost completed, not far away. She said it is proving to be a big issue for many of the more established resorts as they need so many staff at Sandals and are actively poaching all the hotels and resorts. She is worried that they won't be able to keep everything operating properly. Again I think, if I was trained in hotel services, or bartending, I could get a job in a snap here. But then again, I am really looking forward to getting home and seeing my family. I especially miss my little granddaughter. She has completely wrecked the whole notion of me ever living in the Caribbean, at least for more than a few months at a time.<br />
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<i>Amy and John, my new beach friends</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
When we get back to my hotel, I say goodbye to my new friends and promise to keep in touch. Once in my room, I set about getting the rest of my things packed up. I just know I am going to have overweight luggage tomorrow and debate leaving most of my toiletries behind for either the maid to take or toss out. It's about $30 worth of stuff but if I am overweight, it will be $50 US. I decide to leave my shampoo and conditioner, a couple of other cheaper items, and put the rest into a large zip lock bag right at the top of my luggage. That way, if I need to, I can get at it easily.<br />
<br />
One thing I won't miss around here and that is the noisy people next door. Seriously!<br />
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-90235897256831005022013-10-29T21:18:00.000-07:002014-01-29T11:28:37.096-08:00UNEVENTFUL DAYUp at 6am - another very short night.<br />
<br />
I sat out on my balcony for a while reading a Dick Frances book I picked up at the Allemanda at their book swap shelf. Really good read!<br />
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<i>My morning view</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
I've started to pack. Lawd my bag is so heavy already and I haven't put half of my clothes or any toiletries in there yet. Not good!!!!<br />
<br />
I head down to the beach to spend some time reading on the sand. I sit in direct sunlight for the first time and it is HOT! I usually sit in the shade of a sea grape tree.<br />
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<i>Another gorgeous day at the beach</i></div>
<br />
I walk down to SAVVY for the chicken roti again but this time ask them for a bigger version of the small side salad I had last time - the nutmeg dressing is to die for. After lunch I relax on a big circular lounger for a bit right outside the restaurant on the sand. Heaven.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGnWGhcfE72Y7ejDhZN4kuMKnNLTrHU-0_oM1y42HbMyQ_t4IbTAMksVYlCgnUo3uyIWzNOJ2azI5UBbfbmRyW-jeqSq_YVFtmCwabRJknPVbx52UtvJio7D3mYxniUodkdrkwwtbYQuu/s1600/IMG_4171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGnWGhcfE72Y7ejDhZN4kuMKnNLTrHU-0_oM1y42HbMyQ_t4IbTAMksVYlCgnUo3uyIWzNOJ2azI5UBbfbmRyW-jeqSq_YVFtmCwabRJknPVbx52UtvJio7D3mYxniUodkdrkwwtbYQuu/s1600/IMG_4171.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lunch view at the SAVVY</i></div>
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I get back to my lounge chair at the Allemanda just in time for huge clouds to roll down off of the mountain and then <b>rain!!</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQDYZVa297uifDtbhA6OhgMtLxOOt-ejE1sV8nBsLYJXp8knFbcbxk_KsqP8EhBl6JjUWcKAoBQkA95MX5mUc93GCEjYqE2Vuvtl7xfKrpuCHz9YItTsjPm00sxvSTHvEouuFlEbv56rk/s1600/IMG_4172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQDYZVa297uifDtbhA6OhgMtLxOOt-ejE1sV8nBsLYJXp8knFbcbxk_KsqP8EhBl6JjUWcKAoBQkA95MX5mUc93GCEjYqE2Vuvtl7xfKrpuCHz9YItTsjPm00sxvSTHvEouuFlEbv56rk/s1600/IMG_4172.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Here comes the clouds</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qjzMcxBJ24aEIKCndZRN68ay0vb4-WW7QfcbfMUi5HWIt3aqdTI5uNf9xbyrRwF8hY5a_lHACBAde70v3GXcZx_9RLQ8WQ2SemWJ_PqBDOPVKgRgaPGfRihs13uj2rZ8sjEOgOI6fjOv/s1600/IMG_4175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qjzMcxBJ24aEIKCndZRN68ay0vb4-WW7QfcbfMUi5HWIt3aqdTI5uNf9xbyrRwF8hY5a_lHACBAde70v3GXcZx_9RLQ8WQ2SemWJ_PqBDOPVKgRgaPGfRihs13uj2rZ8sjEOgOI6fjOv/s1600/IMG_4175.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>And here is the rain</i></div>
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I wait it out in the lobby and then head over to the mall for some drinks then back to my hotel.<br />
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A rather uneventful day other than chatting with the couple on the beach again, Amy and John, and they offer to give me a lift to the friendship table dinner at Le Phare Bleu tomorrow night. I was telling them about it and they want to go. It will be nice to finally go to dinner with someone. It should be fun, and a nice way to end the trip.<br />
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Still full from lunch, I don't go out for dinner - rather I read and munch on some gingersnaps.<br />
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I found out from the front desk that my neighbours are Venezuelan. They are noisy again tonight, despite the manager asking them to keep it down. I don't get to turn off the light till after 11. <br />
<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-40312871335032903722013-10-28T22:04:00.000-07:002014-01-24T15:35:51.843-08:00NEW BEACH, NEW FRIEND, AND MORE PIZZAUp at 6:30 - ugh, short night.<br />
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Yesterday Michael offered to take me to a different beach today, Morne Rouge. It is just over the hill from the end of Grand Anse but he picks me up at the hotel in the same friend's car as yesterday. There's lots of bread to be delivered in the car and I haven't had breakfast so the aroma is mouth watering.<br />
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It is so hot out today. We get to the beach and I walk the length of it looking for sea glass but there isn't even one piece. There are a few really nice small shells, however.<br />
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If I want a beach chair here, I will have to pay for it - $10 EC for the day. I decide to go to hotel on the beach, Kalinago Resort, for breakfast. There's a lovely restaurant/bar right on the beach. There's no one there but one server. I order the potato waffle. I haven't had one of those ever so am intrigued. It comes with a plate of fruit to start. One of them is a guava. I haven't had that before either, and it's not bad. Sort of like a small pear with a lot of hard but edible seeds. When the potato waffle comes, it doesn't taste at all like I imagined, going off the long list of local spices listed on the menu that should be in it; it is rather bland. So I hit it with salt and pepper and ketchup. Disappointing.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-S2Oi4uHvVVGw4MUkjUu8NUIWRJUyCsNVr31-w3vjHd0gVMvvGyy9orhtHXxEEjkLATAQ3iGcFxaG8gHJXM7RmDMbnoeFBDFJ1mvGG-uGTUONR5vC5f-c5YniEdzefjM3pCSTTpHkRiw/s1600/IMG_4136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-S2Oi4uHvVVGw4MUkjUu8NUIWRJUyCsNVr31-w3vjHd0gVMvvGyy9orhtHXxEEjkLATAQ3iGcFxaG8gHJXM7RmDMbnoeFBDFJ1mvGG-uGTUONR5vC5f-c5YniEdzefjM3pCSTTpHkRiw/s1600/IMG_4136.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Nice beach bar for breakfast at Kalinago</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp24MEod4oiBs2zR_l2GVzbDR1lmJ2vEAHAGF2h-8Iq6DjuVcqwoFRzFV_JOB7-Uje0w9PqI9FT8IYYBOkQuUnx0Vbp-bVNJYm8jWuK0Okkbn7iTHIvImCb-gfmqKxMxPnJ0S-9k44kCWH/s1600/IMG_4135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp24MEod4oiBs2zR_l2GVzbDR1lmJ2vEAHAGF2h-8Iq6DjuVcqwoFRzFV_JOB7-Uje0w9PqI9FT8IYYBOkQuUnx0Vbp-bVNJYm8jWuK0Okkbn7iTHIvImCb-gfmqKxMxPnJ0S-9k44kCWH/s1600/IMG_4135.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Fruit plate with guava</i></div><br />
Mike wants to leave the beach, he was hoping to meet up with some musician friends, he has brought his djembe in hopes of jamming with them, but they don't show up. I am fine with leaving as there's not much here but I know it is going to be a very hot walk back so buy a Ting for the trip.<br />
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I nearly die.<br />
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Ok, I nearly pass out. It is so incredibly hot and there's not much shade along the road. Getting to the beach nearly did me in but the walk on the sand to the Allemanda nearly killed me. SO SO hot and incredibly dificult to walk on the soft sand when this exhausted. Why I don't stop for a swim - I just don't know really. I think it is knowing my thighs will chap when wet, having to walk so far and also, I am really so exhausted from the heat, all I want to do is collapse onto a lounge. When we get to the Allemanda, it takes me 20 minutes of sitting in the shade, unable to even speak, to recover.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-AdOTcw32oXAAszi6crsJK-yfZ-CcoA0uJlmWk3sNW7hr1lv617dm110YHFifS2d3qqj5zAD6PW8P57u4S4yaZFyvTSIXT_fsxhfkHw79ckh4_k0_UdaJTKtKzkgdgAnj0q3iCJleT6i3/s1600/IMG_4144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-AdOTcw32oXAAszi6crsJK-yfZ-CcoA0uJlmWk3sNW7hr1lv617dm110YHFifS2d3qqj5zAD6PW8P57u4S4yaZFyvTSIXT_fsxhfkHw79ckh4_k0_UdaJTKtKzkgdgAnj0q3iCJleT6i3/s1600/IMG_4144.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Cool cabin on the way back</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDpT6X0fIoiVS9Tl2b6M1fJTRTTWUOa4XmGJk7f_3BemVPbqmqv4U2nKI12Kwh8VQSdwfYAow7qSYWGvridjPpP-ZKD1c7PVFd6jlUdd-evl8PWft4IbvKDLB8OD5lAecLMXzeelmsRaTe/s1600/IMG_4146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDpT6X0fIoiVS9Tl2b6M1fJTRTTWUOa4XmGJk7f_3BemVPbqmqv4U2nKI12Kwh8VQSdwfYAow7qSYWGvridjPpP-ZKD1c7PVFd6jlUdd-evl8PWft4IbvKDLB8OD5lAecLMXzeelmsRaTe/s1600/IMG_4146.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Gorgeous view down to Grand Anse from up here</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfmFZXawE9kTolX77DRG5o0gCNMCRMMA2e5sUM6Ft9Lm6D-4hyphenhyphen5kv7RtthXybM0dH54UDa2rcyY-VWltEy4zh9UaKv-_rXl6vl-MXzlCvnhdCSWpu0jwP-SxPW4xeCheYRAtRPZMdFt4t/s1600/IMG_4147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfmFZXawE9kTolX77DRG5o0gCNMCRMMA2e5sUM6Ft9Lm6D-4hyphenhyphen5kv7RtthXybM0dH54UDa2rcyY-VWltEy4zh9UaKv-_rXl6vl-MXzlCvnhdCSWpu0jwP-SxPW4xeCheYRAtRPZMdFt4t/s1600/IMG_4147.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Caribbean colours at The Flamboyant</i></div><br />
It suddenly begins to storm, starting with waves coming in on the beach getting bigger and bigger each passing minute until they are much bigger than usual. The rain starts and comes down hard so we take shelter at Ali Baba restaurant at the Allemanda for a drink and I order us some hummus. Mike talks a lot about his friendship and relationship with Rick.<br />
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The rain finally stops so we go back to the beach and in for a swim. The water is so incredibly warm!<br />
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It starts to look like rain again and, sure enough, starts while we pack up. I decide to stay at the Allemanda in the lobby and read for a bit until it lets up. Mike wants to go so we say goodbye and I, knowing I won't see him again, feel a little sad.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzCfahKY-upKnRvkZpsf65tL0XIEYh9wo8EhJ9s9n4mmJuDc-ejmbq3NfUOHvCo0RKfJ6-qAW7jzOvBShTD1eNt17N59mdJ3kJWbZmIUH-QfFUBQpz2fDYmMlVPttNsDq0RqFERVNvqEJ/s1600/IMG_4148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSzCfahKY-upKnRvkZpsf65tL0XIEYh9wo8EhJ9s9n4mmJuDc-ejmbq3NfUOHvCo0RKfJ6-qAW7jzOvBShTD1eNt17N59mdJ3kJWbZmIUH-QfFUBQpz2fDYmMlVPttNsDq0RqFERVNvqEJ/s1600/IMG_4148.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Bye, Mike</i></div><br />
After a bit, I walk to my hotel in drizzling rain. Something is going on again at the grounds by the roundabout and this time it is all kids in school uniforms and there is very loud Caribbean music. Really loud. I can even hear it from my hotel room.<br />
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/VSGT2mhcxFg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
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I change, freshen up, and walk back to the mall to get some Ting. I've been out of something to drink for two days. There is actually a traffic jam on the road because they've make the beach side a one way while this thing is going on at the grounds.<br />
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I buy some bubble wrap to protect some stuff I have bought to take back. Note to self: next trip, PACK SOME!! As if I don't have enough of it at home - sheesh!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63_BRU48JZOAiJHqUyica65EoWBVCZIwZZHc7zQ35Y26ApjHztDF35KHHLuXrdCGLP_I0klqE46RzuS4BcPdWcpe8dk-nvwjOpzeWvQxQ2K6o_f7SrzE-hgcoMGSFUsJq7jQauYSsWC_6/s1600/IMG_4150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63_BRU48JZOAiJHqUyica65EoWBVCZIwZZHc7zQ35Y26ApjHztDF35KHHLuXrdCGLP_I0klqE46RzuS4BcPdWcpe8dk-nvwjOpzeWvQxQ2K6o_f7SrzE-hgcoMGSFUsJq7jQauYSsWC_6/s1600/IMG_4150.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Christmas has, apparently, arrived at the mall</i></div><br />
I call Joe, the taxi driver that Mike Sweeney recommended, to take me to Prickly Bay Marina for dinner - I must have pizza there one last time. It takes several tries to connect - I can hear the line is live but he never replies to me. A ride there with him is $70 EC return. Seems steep but it's worth it for the peace of mind as he is so professional.<br />
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No one I know is at Prickly but I get talking to a guy beside me at the bar, Joe from Maine originally but now he lives on St.Thomas yet is in Grenada indefinitely on his boat. He is a very young self-made millionaire - bought and sold marinas. I have a nice time chatting with him and watching the boating crowd. A bit more upscale than the Hog Island crowd, but still not my scene.<br />
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The sunset is spectacular.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi281t8NcBh1fI7aY9lU8wLWtFZdfziI_GpnZiGIQ6k1hMWa2oSNKw5S-3XAp-HxHeF8LADfif3JBLqSeBE-Y8LwO9OWL3j-vv-nFeb7glS9TFT5YGfzgGlZcvkEJKqn1Lvf5n349uci9g6/s1600/IMG_4154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi281t8NcBh1fI7aY9lU8wLWtFZdfziI_GpnZiGIQ6k1hMWa2oSNKw5S-3XAp-HxHeF8LADfif3JBLqSeBE-Y8LwO9OWL3j-vv-nFeb7glS9TFT5YGfzgGlZcvkEJKqn1Lvf5n349uci9g6/s1600/IMG_4154.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Joe from Maine</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWx3-QL_tk9WXpkvJ2TFXL8LHE39K_qUTyzxX_ymsVQ5cZE9zlYdSL3gvrKxpc8iExUITQu9q_fkX6smxTBFBYpxWa6hKuGIFABQI1xuZE9LRF4mu9frlxMjiyB_PxqlPFknNKevGXZC9/s1600/IMG_4155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWx3-QL_tk9WXpkvJ2TFXL8LHE39K_qUTyzxX_ymsVQ5cZE9zlYdSL3gvrKxpc8iExUITQu9q_fkX6smxTBFBYpxWa6hKuGIFABQI1xuZE9LRF4mu9frlxMjiyB_PxqlPFknNKevGXZC9/s1600/IMG_4155.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>With Joe from Maine</i></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1Cu09lAeu8XDdvlZDeqmD1MNOlImF9cnDYykN9lFtb3Yfl39quWHamTGKlmZl7VH-d5I3QS_P92GrD0zbqgCu4EOGO_GH1_RVO8hp7T2m_11rx7AmrLwY_Jv10nKHWDSlsJ_98pBq9IN/s1600/P1020722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn1Cu09lAeu8XDdvlZDeqmD1MNOlImF9cnDYykN9lFtb3Yfl39quWHamTGKlmZl7VH-d5I3QS_P92GrD0zbqgCu4EOGO_GH1_RVO8hp7T2m_11rx7AmrLwY_Jv10nKHWDSlsJ_98pBq9IN/s1600/P1020722.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Gorgeous sunset over Prickly Bay</i></div><br />
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I am back at my hotel by 9:00 to loud and inconsiderate Italian (or whatever) neighbours.<br />
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I want to go over there and scream at them. My British reserve and/or Canadian politeness keeps me in my room.Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-58778510169753889712013-10-27T22:30:00.000-07:002014-01-23T16:39:02.936-08:00BEACH DAY AND ROGERS BAR AGAINUp early again, went down to the restaurant and had the apple fritters. Not what I expected but they were very good. Not sure what I expected, really, as I haven't had fritters before.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcA5Nf6S-dmlp9SK5F4pFvdo-oosQgbBmOIKoAqKIxrFqKF_I2sLIwq4hyphenhyphenxJM9CwFgTQGMdZlZVdh2sVy6pbEIHEpkF0h-5cclOnnljAMdNQG-_wdPTTJ7GSea5IwCyN-WADsdGU19obD/s1600/IMG_4126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcA5Nf6S-dmlp9SK5F4pFvdo-oosQgbBmOIKoAqKIxrFqKF_I2sLIwq4hyphenhyphenxJM9CwFgTQGMdZlZVdh2sVy6pbEIHEpkF0h-5cclOnnljAMdNQG-_wdPTTJ7GSea5IwCyN-WADsdGU19obD/s1600/IMG_4126.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Apple fritters</i></div>
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I walked over to the Allemanda to the beach and this time I spoke to the couple that have been there every day. Turns out they are from England, although she is originally from Grenada. They have travelled all over the world and they come here every year. They tell me, once they find out I am from British Columbia, that their trip through Alberta and B.C. was the best holiday they have ever had. Given how many places they've been to, that is saying something!<br />
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I ask them if I can leave my beach bag in their safe-keeping and then walk down the beach, back to find more beach glass and I get another nice haul. It's a gorgeous day and I stop along the way to swim in the beautiful clear water. Nothing but sand on the bottom and it's glorious. I love how so many local people come down here on the weekend to enjoy the water too. You don't see a lot of that in the BVI - I even met some locals there who hadn't been to the beach in two or three years. Boggles my mind. Here, at least this time of year, there are more locals than tourists.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-ISSx4GCh6SYmc3Ix-EzpGHX-wTGDdegSEW-1Z61xIgH6eoHcw61DeAtWiMAVNda0WYIQLRpS8sGuMRbgm0arKLMylPszlg7dqCJruhTXFmLKU4TDGznaZw3CT6OlSWIUfgRToOz9uis/s1600/IMG_4133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX-ISSx4GCh6SYmc3Ix-EzpGHX-wTGDdegSEW-1Z61xIgH6eoHcw61DeAtWiMAVNda0WYIQLRpS8sGuMRbgm0arKLMylPszlg7dqCJruhTXFmLKU4TDGznaZw3CT6OlSWIUfgRToOz9uis/s1600/IMG_4133.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Today's glass haul</i></div>
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I just nicely get back to my chair when Michael shows up, thinking I am some other woman he met on the beach yesterday. There is some confusion with this as I do know him from when I met him with Rick and we had pizza and burgers together at Prickly Bay but at first I didn't realize who he was because he was wearing sunglasses. I got him to take them off then I recognized him and told him I wasn't who he thought I was but we had met. He was embarrassed at his mistake but I laughed it off; no big deal.<br />
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<i>Michael, surprisingly shy for the camera</i></div>
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He offers to take me over to the dock to be picked up by Rick for the BBQ at Rogers on Hog Island. I accept and, after hanging out on the beach a bit, he makes a call and we head off to his friend's car. His friend delivers bread for a local bakery and has some in the vehicle and it smells divine. <br />
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<i>Waiting at the dock for Rick to pick us up</i></div>
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<i>Black sand beach, lots of garbage... we waited quite a while for</i></div>
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<i>Rick and I was wishing I had a garbage bag</i></div>
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This time, for the meal, I ask for it without the meat as the chicken is all legs and I prefer white meat. Roger's wife heaps the plate with her fabulous potato salad and charges me $5 less. It is delicious!! However, my afternoon at Rogers decides it for me. Not to offend anybody, but this is just far too strange a crowd for my tastes and there's lots of locals there today and they are definitely keeping to themselves so it doesn't make for a good atmosphere. I really anticipated that the cruising crowd here would be the same sort of bunch you find cruising in BC waters but they're nothing alike. It seems to me that those who really cruise have left for the northern islands already and these guys are the ones who never actually get out and sail. They're not very friendly to strangers either. I try to say hi and talk to a few but they'd rather go back and talk to the people they know. Even the ones who come and sit down at our table to talk to Rick completely ignore me.<br />
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<i>Rogers Bar</i></div>
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<i>Capt. Rick and Lucky - who I find out is a girl after </i></div>
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<i>thinking she was a he for 10 days!</i></div>
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I leave with Mike before dark as he isn't into it either, and catch a ride back with the same friend. I give him $20 for gas. <br />
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I get back to my hotel room to discover that a bunch of very loud Italians have moved in to the room next to me. It sounds like at least half a dozen of them. I can hear every word, bump and scrape. I have four more nights here. If these guys are here for the entire time, I think I might go insane. The lovely peace of this place has been completely shattered.<br />
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There's no way I can sleep while they are up so I don't get to turn out the light until well after midnight.Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-2777883765175615172013-10-26T20:41:00.000-07:002014-01-30T18:09:26.856-08:00FORT GEORGE AND THE MARKETI have been using the aloe vera before bed and it is amazing to wake up and see that the blisters from the night before are no longer there. Amazing. The downside is, I go to bed every night smelling like the most disgusting curry dish.<br />
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I'm up early and farting about on the computer when I suddenly realize that it is Saturday and I have to be down at reception to meet my tour bus at 8:30 to go to the market. I scramble to get ready and make it down there with a few minutes to spare.<br />
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When the van arrives, it is a different driver/guide than a few days ago and also a much bigger van - almost a small bus and it is not full so I climb in the back, get seated, say hi to everyone and then realize that one of the couples from the tour I took two days ago is across the aisle from me. We laugh and are happy to see each other.<br />
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We head to Fort George, up high on a hill overlooking the Carenage. I thought we were just going to the market, I didn't realize this tour included the fort. Bonus!!<br />
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The sky is thick with clouds and just as we arrive at the fort and get out of the van, it starts to drizzle. We climb some well worn stone steps up to the fort. The view from up here is amazing and I am loving that the ruins of the fort have been left alone - original doors are laying where they fell off of their hinges, worn shutters still hang precariously at the windows. <br />
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<i>View down into the town where you can see roofs</i></div>
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<i>still missing from Hurricane Ivan's fury in 2004</i></div>
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<i>Here you can see the church that was devastated in the hurricane</i></div>
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<i>still stands, in ruins.</i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'MS sans serif'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.328125px;">In September of 2004, Hurricane Ivan swept the Caribbean taking 80 per cent of Grenada’s infrastructure with it and devastating the spice and tourist industries. It killed</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'MS sans serif'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.328125px;"> 39 of the tiny nation’s 103,000 people and left 90 per cent of the nation’s 28,000 houses in shambles. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif, 'MS sans serif'; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17.328125px;">Most of the nutmeg trees which made Grenada the world’s second-largest producer, were uprooted by Ivan. Read more <a href="http://www.un.org/events/tenstories/06/story.asp?storyID=1700" target="_blank">HERE</a>.</span></div>
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<i>Fort George</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigX_cJZIf93Db2jk5AqrsbqEvzhq4In5BuVkFc5oox1Uxhm0YIk0q6cnXwLcvlZXdXrHphK91FJdWBdihMVJ0OoNvN64J0Zsnh_4X0CNf0sB397xkrXIRLCsdRGwlVc7Q_6UMMAIyCy1oG/s1600/IMG_4119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigX_cJZIf93Db2jk5AqrsbqEvzhq4In5BuVkFc5oox1Uxhm0YIk0q6cnXwLcvlZXdXrHphK91FJdWBdihMVJ0OoNvN64J0Zsnh_4X0CNf0sB397xkrXIRLCsdRGwlVc7Q_6UMMAIyCy1oG/s1600/IMG_4119.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The Cannons of Fort George</i></div>
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<i>The wall where Prime Minister Maurice Bishop and 16 of</i></div>
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<i>his cabinet were lined up and assassinated</i></div>
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Part of the fort is now used as the police academy and a class is in session while we are there.</div>
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The rain stops during our tour, thankfully, and we head back down to the van to continue on to the market.</div>
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We park in the cruise ship terminal lot, there are no cruise ships in yet as the season has not started, and we are left to wander on our own and are instructed to be back in 90 minutes or the van will leave without us. We all check our phones for the time, I set the alarm on mine for 80 minutes from now, and head off to explore. The couple I know asked if I wanted to go with them and I gratefully accept. We head into the cruise ship terminal where there are several shops that cater to the cruisers. We check them out and then head outside where the market is set up just across the street. We stand at the traffic light, waiting for it to change and talking about which direction we will head in first, as the market is spread out over several streets, when a local guy walks up to us and asks if we've been to the market before. We say no and he says he will give us the tour and so we follow him as he leads us into the crowd.</div>
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<i>Our impromptu guide to the market, in the white hat </i></div>
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<i>(I never got his name)</i></div>
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<i>Locally grown bounty in the outdoor stalls</i></div>
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<i>Local manufactured and processed goods in the indoor stalls</i></div>
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<i>Coconuts sold by the 'stick' :-)</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2mX6Kxb6uA5E-mwM35JDBXI_ElxQE_Rlmnl3i9C0nurtgiZNceZYkgkCjRKMH-nadkjG62kXkGYaTBOcOcCF9XNPF8Pld5BsnTkBALTvKYymqC3YSBR4cCcPH6HFkCwmAeoB9SE6VtE4/s1600/P1020701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT2mX6Kxb6uA5E-mwM35JDBXI_ElxQE_Rlmnl3i9C0nurtgiZNceZYkgkCjRKMH-nadkjG62kXkGYaTBOcOcCF9XNPF8Pld5BsnTkBALTvKYymqC3YSBR4cCcPH6HFkCwmAeoB9SE6VtE4/s1600/P1020701.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>This place just reeked to high heaven</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEismosmdtJO28GlxZon_qb292QsqhSFWU871wSgdFNn1iiu8VE4xA1Ftems59pZ3LNrxfxwMOGhl8S-ygLPNAhz8ciCeVyqLw7fPyr27sOmgGhk5ubdkO7Pjxqvoomb4dDgoR3cxgfaW44v/s1600/P1020703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEismosmdtJO28GlxZon_qb292QsqhSFWU871wSgdFNn1iiu8VE4xA1Ftems59pZ3LNrxfxwMOGhl8S-ygLPNAhz8ciCeVyqLw7fPyr27sOmgGhk5ubdkO7Pjxqvoomb4dDgoR3cxgfaW44v/s1600/P1020703.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Loved this sign at the fish market</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4GIF1XSs4taUCNKXziQBvWXIkPBXx3aWNXcSdC95-qq68ryM1A-2KjQGhTrLjciiNqpjPJePvWjVoxDZJxHjF9tEf10jT9BWiVCsW3z9n9mkrn5vpGGnwTM8-3c1gjkpdEx4kD6vUw6C/s1600/P1020704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH4GIF1XSs4taUCNKXziQBvWXIkPBXx3aWNXcSdC95-qq68ryM1A-2KjQGhTrLjciiNqpjPJePvWjVoxDZJxHjF9tEf10jT9BWiVCsW3z9n9mkrn5vpGGnwTM8-3c1gjkpdEx4kD6vUw6C/s1600/P1020704.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>And across the street from the fish market... </i></div>
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<i>really REALLY fresh meat</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja93tDYzEj6FXuXAbVJ0jkHWO9uklEP5TdreQkaB_HrD-RfMbJZsXi22N4A4UBEJhd_sUz0WjHjsYDsapqIRdDeEpS3n0buZQee49BrwT8MEqMEqbjMtF-9fsesUULUlinpsVB3sPfvjfJ/s1600/P1020706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja93tDYzEj6FXuXAbVJ0jkHWO9uklEP5TdreQkaB_HrD-RfMbJZsXi22N4A4UBEJhd_sUz0WjHjsYDsapqIRdDeEpS3n0buZQee49BrwT8MEqMEqbjMtF-9fsesUULUlinpsVB3sPfvjfJ/s1600/P1020706.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Just outside the cruise ship terminal</i></div>
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I buy a few small things here; some turmeric powder, some cocoa balls to make hot chocolate the way they do it here, a magnet to add to my travel magnet collection on my fridge, a calabash bowl. Everything is so cheap! And I would love to try some locally prepared food but no one else is hungry so we pass the tempting aromas by. It is interesting to note that there are very few tourists at this market, today at least; it is all islanders shopping their weekly grocery list.</div>
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We give our guide a few dollars each for giving us the tour and head back to the terminal to check out the stores there again for things the market did not have. I buy a t-shirt for myself and then wander about and discover a Columbian Emeralds store. Oh-oh! </div>
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Let me explain:</div>
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When I was in the BVI in 2011, there was a Columbian Emeralds store in Road Town and they had a little display in a window over in Long Bay at the resort. There was a necklace in that display that I just loved, a small diamond covered palm tree. The price was $499 US and I agonized for a few days whether or not to splurge on it for myself and finally decided not to. Once I got home, I thought about that necklace frequently and wished I had bought it. I even called my brother in law, a jeweller here in Vancouver, to see if he could either get me one like it or manufacture one for me. He couldn't find one and the cost to make it would have been way more than buying the one at CE so I never got one. Now, here I am, and there is the store.</div>
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I go inside and ask about the palm tree necklace. She shows me one but it isn't it - this one is more stylized and has fewer diamonds overall but three larger ones for coconuts. The other one didn't have coconuts. It is $100 less than the one I want. I describe the other one to her and she knows the one I mean and says that they only have it in yellow gold with emeralds and gets it for me but I know that I don't want that one, I want the one with white gold and the diamonds. I hem and haw and finally decide to get this other diamond one. It isn't the one I really wanted but it's cute and it's a palm tree in white gold so... I put it on my credit card. It's a bit of an ordeal buying it because in order to get it tax free, I have to produce my passport, my return airline ticket and I don't have either with me. I end up giving her my airline and flight date and time and she works with that. I am anxiously watching the time but get out of there just in time to not be left behind by the van. In fact, two guys are about 5 minutes late and we wait for them so I needn't have worried so much.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGYhFyfh7tYSnr9Z_8I9uO_WVP7zP6Wd1NyVYxkKk0Xys4PlIvOSFS-CgPIbuae-1qu5oxyoIwFvV3VzMRYdWUF5PowiKfw2O1BCU0ZxAiXXbIwbqs_dVHH-5jN3XBiyWZ7qMixCDUeyq/s1600/P1020708.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGYhFyfh7tYSnr9Z_8I9uO_WVP7zP6Wd1NyVYxkKk0Xys4PlIvOSFS-CgPIbuae-1qu5oxyoIwFvV3VzMRYdWUF5PowiKfw2O1BCU0ZxAiXXbIwbqs_dVHH-5jN3XBiyWZ7qMixCDUeyq/s1600/P1020708.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Downtown St. George</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmdM_FzLWAMMeftUywcEv4wKpshf-o83cu8BMbChVfuKFMuTXS3mXyFnrW3RQWdBa_H-p2yxOOEG3smeXoPD6hssBcTCb97fNPgWReZpVqP_b8bNkC_djzIb5lJgUBKtj0EHQO3fiOdf_/s1600/P1020709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmdM_FzLWAMMeftUywcEv4wKpshf-o83cu8BMbChVfuKFMuTXS3mXyFnrW3RQWdBa_H-p2yxOOEG3smeXoPD6hssBcTCb97fNPgWReZpVqP_b8bNkC_djzIb5lJgUBKtj0EHQO3fiOdf_/s1600/P1020709.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Downtown St. George</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyllKLrTHdULpf9bcWFMAb-R326su3rwQ4cz53WhIX2sF0NHVL55VfbmW4kJEcOpVkaL3GlLI0whA2P1OX62CB3KcXjl4a3O641mvt5IZAn-_l_zmok8AmGY5dDDt4MD3dq4mHGqrhyphenhyphenaeY/s1600/P1020711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyllKLrTHdULpf9bcWFMAb-R326su3rwQ4cz53WhIX2sF0NHVL55VfbmW4kJEcOpVkaL3GlLI0whA2P1OX62CB3KcXjl4a3O641mvt5IZAn-_l_zmok8AmGY5dDDt4MD3dq4mHGqrhyphenhyphenaeY/s1600/P1020711.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Urban housing - doing the laundry</i></div>
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We stop in at Port Louis Marina on our way back. Not sure why. We are supposed to be stopping by a local craft mall but I guess we are doing this instead. I have already been here on Rick's boat so there's nothing for me to see, thus I head to the bar and order a Ting - I am hot and very thirsty. The couple I've been with most of the day join me and we have a nice relaxing half hour together with our driver. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfi3TQpUJFXszJwFz7fsTWcW0bLBq58goR1E8Fv0sT_Z963piMjqXbg-G7YxQ2nDOhWNHClg1Vxt4SxEFXyjAeUtD0kDMyhb-osdt6eOLt5cgW1OZH2ICUWrGvXzehSuPWAfEGPjGjxJ31/s1600/P1020713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfi3TQpUJFXszJwFz7fsTWcW0bLBq58goR1E8Fv0sT_Z963piMjqXbg-G7YxQ2nDOhWNHClg1Vxt4SxEFXyjAeUtD0kDMyhb-osdt6eOLt5cgW1OZH2ICUWrGvXzehSuPWAfEGPjGjxJ31/s1600/P1020713.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>GO is still docked at Port Louis Marina</i></div>
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I am back in my hotel room by lunch time so I change and head down to the beach and to SAVVY for lunch. I order their chicken roti that comes with an actual salad, albeit on the small side, with nutmeg dressing that is amazing. The meal is very tasty.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRvVZE2caPVKll5CM9SdeOyB4ymegzf6bQ4LKbT7ONpHBQOpdIHeu0LP3x7m3V16AUtBceNZtPhzGpU43A-hwtXmpGxn8JkamXF0U0SIaAMwiIHRKHzytRDg4mF4b5oz2d5AHbm74NshV/s1600/P1020716.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmRvVZE2caPVKll5CM9SdeOyB4ymegzf6bQ4LKbT7ONpHBQOpdIHeu0LP3x7m3V16AUtBceNZtPhzGpU43A-hwtXmpGxn8JkamXF0U0SIaAMwiIHRKHzytRDg4mF4b5oz2d5AHbm74NshV/s1600/P1020716.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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The staff here mistake me for a guest and so I am handed two beach towels by a fellow, one for me and one for my husband. I don't bother to correct him and move outside to sit on one of the lounges for a bit. I want to go in for a swim, once I get too hot, but the waves here are so rough that I decide to walk down to the Allemanda and swim and sit there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKhJEYCRy2N-IW4ngfkN-xXWDoknMS3adnW9mAh2tZByqI7C1J_otcX54xmwC2dxRd8DZSujluifgNKJFauVPXdI70YUl7SzdRr1U_t_VE56XjGZ2Vm4CRnozdAvhcqaUf-Z1uAeZZH4q/s1600/P1020717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJKhJEYCRy2N-IW4ngfkN-xXWDoknMS3adnW9mAh2tZByqI7C1J_otcX54xmwC2dxRd8DZSujluifgNKJFauVPXdI70YUl7SzdRr1U_t_VE56XjGZ2Vm4CRnozdAvhcqaUf-Z1uAeZZH4q/s1600/P1020717.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Pretty sunset - time to head back to my hotel</i></div>
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I head back to my hotel and as I do, who should pull up along-side me but, yep, Tom the taxi driver. I ask him if he is stalking me and he seems taken aback and emphatically declares 'no!'. Good. He asks me what I am doing tonight and I honestly answer that I don't know - maybe look at a new restaurant. We chat briefly and he drives off without asking me out, which is a relief.</div>
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I stop by the pool to sit with my feet in it for a bit. I decide it is too much hassle to go out tonight - taxi etc. I really wish I felt safer walking the roads, then I'd go to Umbrella's for dinner but it's not just people I am afraid of - actually it isn't EVEN people I am afraid of, it's the darn crabs that populate the edge of the roads. I was told they walk all over the road at night in the dark and I have seen evidence of that in the morning - flattened crabs. I don't want to risk being surrounded by them in the dark!</div>
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When I get to my room, I remember I have nothing left in the fridge to drink. Rats!</div>
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-87321663315730244122013-10-25T21:11:00.000-07:002014-09-13T20:12:42.961-07:00A NATIONAL HOLIDAY & A VERY SHORT DINNERI went to bed early last night, I was so tired from my day of touring Grenada, and as a result I am wide awake at 6am.<br />
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Today is a national holiday named Thanksgiving, but there is nothing about it that relates to Thanksgiving in North America. Thanksgiving here is a relatively young holiday as it is in celebration of the liberation of the nation from a military coup thirty years ago, courtesy of the USA. I recall the weeks, back in 1983, when it all went down, but I was knee deep in toddler and baby life, having a two year old and a newborn thus did not have time to learn the why. So I spend some time online this morning, researching and learning.<br />
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I head out to La Boulangerie, just down the road, for a croissant. It is delicious as it is fresh baked this morning but, sadly, the San Pelligrino is flat.<br />
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After breakfast, I walk over to the beach and there are lots of locals out today due to the holiday. I head down to the North end on a quest for sea glass and find quite a lot. While there, a couple slightly older than me come along, they are from Colorado and we have a nice conversation as we all search. I admire a necklace she is wearing - a gold chain with a very pretty pendant made with three lovely pieces of glass she tells me she found on a past holiday.<br />
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<i>The bounty from a very successful hour of sea glass hunting</i></div>
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I walk back to Allemanda and my beach bag is so heavy! It's a gorgeous day so in the heat the bag seems to be getting heavier and I decide to stop for a float about in a gorgeous, pool-like bit of water before carrying on.<br />
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After saying hello to the couple I see every day, I get a lounge and settle into the usual spot but within an hour a huge system moves in and it starts to rain a lot. I pull my lounge up under the tree to wait it out but give up after a while and decide to walk to the South end of the beach. I go to The Owl, a restaurant attached to The Flamboyant Hotel, and order chicken roti with salad (as described on the menu) and a Ting. The roti is very good but the 'salad' is a joke - a tiny piece of lettuce, one slice of cucumber and one slice of tomato.<br />
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<i>Lunch at The Owl</i></div>
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I overhear a group of people a few tables over talking about being on the island for the invasion. Sounds like one of them was a med student at the time. He talks about hearing the shots that killed the Prime Minister and his cabinet. How awful. They have lots of interesting stories actually, and I rather enjoy hearing them. And I wasn't really eavesdropping as they were talking so loud, everyone could hear them.<br />
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After lunch I sit on the beach for a bit under the seagrape trees on one of several lounges there that belong to The Flamboyant. The weather is still drizzly and I take out my camera to get a photo. As I click the button, something seemed to drop through the frame. When I look at the photo, I see that a bird was coming in for a landing right as the shutter opened.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbfgVTOM_55si0LVC-BllzaZWw3PfB-Uvx-HOrcNDvTF7R3FcdaC-ttBNwR1kNSAMiwzNroSjpW4fHsvCZeNtiY3edCPVgO7RSXC2qgn18-AyWCJS92CvjYa2e_zvPtFjIykDYanYxX1s/s1600/IMG_4095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZbfgVTOM_55si0LVC-BllzaZWw3PfB-Uvx-HOrcNDvTF7R3FcdaC-ttBNwR1kNSAMiwzNroSjpW4fHsvCZeNtiY3edCPVgO7RSXC2qgn18-AyWCJS92CvjYa2e_zvPtFjIykDYanYxX1s/s1600/IMG_4095.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Coming in for a landing</i></div>
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An infestation of ants that are biting me drives me off. I stop by Cinnamon Resort's beach restaurant, SAVVY, to take a look and decide to go in and have a drink. I love the look of this place with it's large couches and chairs grouped around long low tables, and the beautifully painted tent roof overhead. I select a comfy chair, plop down, and order a pina colada. This is a really lovely spot and I decide I will come back for lunch on another day.<br />
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<i>Love the ambience of this place</i></div>
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<i>I like pina coladas...</i></div>
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After an hour or two of relaxing with my Kindle, I head down the beach to the Allemanda. The beach is so busy, despite the weather, with all of the locals out enjoying the holiday. I come across a group of young guys playing cricket on the sand and there's an older guy up to bat. As I walk by, he drops the bat and walks over to me and I realize, with a sinking heart, that it is Tom the taxi driver. He right away asks me out and I say no. He asks why and I hem and haw. He says he just wants to get to know me. Sigh. He keeps pressing me and something in me breaks. Fine. You want to go out with me? We will go out. I don't say that, I say "Fine. Ok. I will go out for a drink with you tonight. Pick me up at 7." and he breaks into a big smile as I walk away to continue down the beach. He also gives me a hard time about not using him to take a tour like we had talked about. I tell him I went with a company that was a lot cheaper than what he quoted me.</div>
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I kick myself most of the way back to my hotel while deciding that I will not hold back as to why I don't want to go out with him when I see him tonight.</div>
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I take a short cut through a school yard on the way back that saves me 10 minutes of walking but the entire grounds are a mine field of crab holes! It's like a crab hotel!</div>
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Tom is 20 minutes late picking me up and he's lucky I am still here as I was just in the process of calling a taxi to take me to dinner. I am seriously thinking of telling him I have changed my mind but think to ask him where he lives. He lives in Gouyave which is over an hour away and I would feel terrible having him gone home to change and come back all that way for nothing so I lock my door and head to his van where he holds open the back door for me to climb in. I tell him as I am not a paying customer this trip, I will sit in the front and he quickly clears a pile of junk off of the seat so I can get in.</div>
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I am hungry so he takes me to a Chinese food place that is a dive at the side of a busy road. I thought we'd order a few dishes like we do back home and share, but he orders a plate of chow mien for himself so I do the same. I eat two forkfuls and leave the rest, it really is that bad; until now I hadn't met a chow mien I didn't love. </div>
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<i>Me and a plate of chow mien I won't be eating</i></div>
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It is an awkward conversation. He goes off on how he thinks I am beautiful, that I am interesting, that I intrigue him, that he just wants to get to know me better, ad nausea. I interrupt to ask him how old he is and he says he is 33. I tell him that is the same age as my son and he shakes his head and says age is just a number, blah blah blah. I tell him it's a big number to me.. the number of my son's age and that alone would keep me from dating him. It also comes out that he is still married after telling me, in answer to my specifically asking the first night he asked me out, that he was divorced. When I express my outrage at his lie to me, he claims that here in the islands, once you're separated you are considered no longer married so he did not lie. I explain to him that where I come from you're married until you have a document stating you're divorced.</div>
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I also bring up that he listens to Christian radio so I can safely assume he is a man of faith and if so, doesn't the Bible say something about not being 'unequally yoked together with an unbeliever?" and since he doesn't know me at all, why is he trying so desperately to date a woman who could be a hedonistic heathen, for all he knows. He tries to tell me that verse isn't talking about personal relationships and I have to laugh. He has no idea that I have sat in church for most of my life, listening to sermons and several really good ones on the meaning of that verse, not to mention doing my own study, books I have read on the subject etc. so I know exactly what it is talking about and it most certainly does apply to personal relationships... more so than most other kinds!</div>
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He asks me what I meant on the beach earlier today when I had said he made me uncomfortable the other night. So I told him. I am a single woman, travelling alone, in a strange country so the only way I feel safe going anywhere after dark is to hire a taxi. I pay to feel safe and then I get a taxi driver who behaves very unprofessionally and abuses his position, using his taxi to attempt to pick up women who are travelling alone. He crosses the line from friendly to intrusive with his many personal questions. I didn't like it and it made me uncomfortable and add to that - he knows where I am staying and even what room I am in. How does he think that would make me feel? He seems genuinely taken aback and apologizes to me. We sit there in relative silence for a bit but dinner is over, in less than an hour. We leave and he drives me back to the hotel.</div>
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He brings up the offer to put aloe on my back the other night so I tell him what I think of that too. In response, he claims he wasn't trying to get into my room, that we'd have gone down to the pool for him to do it. As if I believe that, never mind that at the time, he specifically offered to come into my hotel room to do it. As I am walking to my room he, unbelievably, tries again by asking if he can have my email address and cell phone number. I tell him an emphatic 'no' and his face falls so I say "I have your business card that you gave me on the beach the other day. If I feel inclined, I can contact you," then wave goodbye as I go into my room and shut the door.</div>
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I am home by 8:20 so gone just an hour. It was long enough.</div>
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Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-57242122217055061542013-10-24T20:03:00.000-07:002014-04-18T20:50:08.038-07:00THE BEST DAY EXPLORING GRENADA <i>This is going to be a rather long post. I thought about splitting it into two posts but I've tried that before and because I give my posts the date they occurred (rather than the day I am writing them) that means there will be two posts for the same date and that messes things up as they either get posted backwards or people don't realize there are two posts for the one day and miss one. So grab a coffee or tea and enjoy.</i><br />
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</i> When I walked into the living area of my suite this morning, I got a nasty shock:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSqlkzJYxhtAq-BundSynZnEbC3uUpkb-VFW2xwyGbyyNw4t6_BplJuP990cr_TcO0RlQX4MVb6elF0ClUaQExVtX7E5O8Mfs_t3CcU312Oqd12Th6aN9hQMwashUyYigaQUb8MERXFxG/s1600/P1020589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSqlkzJYxhtAq-BundSynZnEbC3uUpkb-VFW2xwyGbyyNw4t6_BplJuP990cr_TcO0RlQX4MVb6elF0ClUaQExVtX7E5O8Mfs_t3CcU312Oqd12Th6aN9hQMwashUyYigaQUb8MERXFxG/s1600/P1020589.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Big cockroach on my living room curtains this morning!<br />
I kept a wary eye on it while getting ready and when I was down at </i></div>
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<i>reception told them about it and they promised to spray down my room</i></div>
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<i>while I am gone all day.</i></div>
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</i> Today is my booked tour of the island, called the Tutti Frutti tour with <a href="http://grenadasunsation.com/index.php/island-tours">Sunsation Tours</a>, and I am down at the hotel entrance by 8:30 - the time I am to be picked up. When the van arrives, it is full all but for the passenger seat in front which I am really happy to be in all day. I introduce myself to the 6 younger people in the back and find out that the three girls attend the medical school here and that the three young men are boyfriends from the states here to visit their gals who are on a reading break. I apologize for crashing their tour but they blow it off and tell me they're happy I am along. I am really glad to hear it and to see that this is a nice new van with air conditioning - no rusty bits hanging from the ceiling to jab me in the forehead!<br />
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We set off; it is a gorgeous day and I am very excited to see what this island has to offer. There are several planned stops at various points of interest and I am definitely interested in all of them!<br />
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Our first official stop is Concord Falls but before then we stop for a photo op on a hill looking down at the Carenage. It is a great view. (CLICK ON PICTURES FOR LARGER VIEW - and if there was ever a blog post that was worth doing that with, it's this one!)<br />
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<i>The Carenage from up high</i></div>
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Glen, our tour guide, also stops at many trees to show us the bounty of the island. One thing I learn, among many things today, is that banana trees die once they have produced. I was shocked to hear this. They grow new shoots at the bottom that become next year's producing tree. Kind of like raspberry vines. At one such stop he gets out and pulls a piece of fruit off of a tree and it looks very much like an apricot only green and a bit larger. He asks us what we think it is and none of us guess correctly. It is a nutmeg! The outer flesh is boiled to make nutmeg jelly, then there is a red lace over the nutmeg that is mace, and then the shell with the nutmeg inside. He breaks it open and shows us the layers.<br />
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<i>Banana tree</i></div>
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<i>Blurry pic of the nutmeg Glen picked, this is the very center of the fruit, the nut</i></div>
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The road to Concord Falls narrows to just enough for one vehicle and I worry about an oncoming car but we don't see any on our way up. We do encounter one on the way down, a big van like ours, and we have to back up quite a bit until we get to a driveway that we can pull onto to let him by. We are way up in the jungle here and yet there are still a fair number of small homes. It's a long way from anywhere up this far.<br />
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<i>Narrow road!</i></div>
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<i>A beautiful lake on our way to Concord Falls</i></div>
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We are told we can swim at the falls if we like but no one has brought a bathing suit. There are a few little shops at the roadside before climbing down the stairs to the falls and the people there are very eager for you to purchase something from them. I end up buying a couple of small things and giving two very cute little boys $1 each.</div>
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<i>Concord Falls</i></div>
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<i>Just growing in the wild!</i></div>
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Our next stop is in Gouyave at the nutmeg processing warehouse. I am so eager to see this and also am interested to see the small town of Gouyave as it is where the Fish Friday is held and I want to know what the place looks like. It turns out to be a very busy little town with vehicles and people cramming the narrow streets. Unlike St.Georges, the 7 of us visitors in this van seem to be the only white people here and we get a lot of interested looks as our van slowly makes its way along, which is puzzling to me as this is a major stop for people travelling to Grenada so I am sure a van full of white people is not a novelty.</div>
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On the way we pull over to the side of the road to see a spot named Leapers Point because the Caribs that remained after the French arrived and slaughtered most all of them leapt off of this point into the sea rather than live under tyranny. Apparently there is a monument there which I would like to see but Glen feels is not worth the drive over so we see it from a great distance. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M4XumGWFfBF7nrWcsalOg8HxSu_KC2QOonnJbqI9CWrUAZoHS5Iiky2AEd-NLcrtdyqw5wCZC0AHcadmLy-ftVgRlHdFbYVpGG5CZuav9VSIxgyhTRKyfhLTmKI9_ydK-c4XqrrVUYLm/s1600/IMG_4049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2M4XumGWFfBF7nrWcsalOg8HxSu_KC2QOonnJbqI9CWrUAZoHS5Iiky2AEd-NLcrtdyqw5wCZC0AHcadmLy-ftVgRlHdFbYVpGG5CZuav9VSIxgyhTRKyfhLTmKI9_ydK-c4XqrrVUYLm/s1600/IMG_4049.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Leapers Point</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXIFAyJQsqZlNJeVmowZPxZZzmNnBidQP9CbZ1BwrklqZaggik1Dc2VU1q7oTNG_WOUWw7ZyuZggs9Iy0tMyNsX6gYrjIVC9iE3M6OgyAZagD6s_zjz9AHQhKdnrM-z4IEzWfNwBnikvq/s1600/P1020595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuXIFAyJQsqZlNJeVmowZPxZZzmNnBidQP9CbZ1BwrklqZaggik1Dc2VU1q7oTNG_WOUWw7ZyuZggs9Iy0tMyNsX6gYrjIVC9iE3M6OgyAZagD6s_zjz9AHQhKdnrM-z4IEzWfNwBnikvq/s1600/P1020595.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Typical Caribbean graveyard. The bodies are 6 feet </i></div>
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<i>under</i><i>ground and these are monuments on top, which is somewhat</i></div>
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<i>of a relief as I thought they housed the coffin above ground.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8O21dY4N_ZoY8alSfoXrvchhSN0fyPKeHfdGbrwV_2n8TeSQSczLcDf0EhNKLrP3KO0Ml5l-IO50lKuQBG3vSfAkcmpVNWPKoELXLwmujeS9i1HiCc3_NOjHSXTc4ZPYa5NM1SwUEYIxM/s1600/IMG_4039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8O21dY4N_ZoY8alSfoXrvchhSN0fyPKeHfdGbrwV_2n8TeSQSczLcDf0EhNKLrP3KO0Ml5l-IO50lKuQBG3vSfAkcmpVNWPKoELXLwmujeS9i1HiCc3_NOjHSXTc4ZPYa5NM1SwUEYIxM/s1600/IMG_4039.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Arriving in busy Gouyave</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKwh1x_vt6v-bhdClAa1Du4BCkjasTaB5bfZi5DcpuWN0rsp9m7c_EuTW5nBSacRvE7URbxnphwIqGyqJZh2hyphenhyphenahyDrDnPBsuQRvJbwsvg7Ud-NB4O0z2m_GKYBvi9OKgpE1FcDsmmrFS/s1600/IMG_4041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKwh1x_vt6v-bhdClAa1Du4BCkjasTaB5bfZi5DcpuWN0rsp9m7c_EuTW5nBSacRvE7URbxnphwIqGyqJZh2hyphenhyphenahyDrDnPBsuQRvJbwsvg7Ud-NB4O0z2m_GKYBvi9OKgpE1FcDsmmrFS/s1600/IMG_4041.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The nutmeg processing warehouse is up ahead on the left, </i></div>
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<i>the pretty building in the fg left is the police station</i></div>
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We approach a stretch of pretty buildings on either side of a rather narrow street and squeeze into a parking spot at the side of the road. When we step out of the van, the air is heavy with the fabulous scent of nutmeg. We head inside the large warehouse and are greeted by a tour guide who is expecting us. He takes us through the area where the nutmeg is being graded by women sitting at small benches surrounded by large baskets full of nuts still in the shell. On one side of the massive room is a couple of men sewing up the burlap sacks for shipping and another man labels them using a big stencil and a roller of black ink. There is also a huge area with bags and bags of the nutmeg ready for shipping and, taking a closer look at some of the bags, I can see they are destined for Amsterdam.</div>
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We are told at the start of the tour that no pictures are allowed. I am visibly dismayed and so our tour guide says I can take a few but I am not allowed to take any of people working, which is really too bad because there are some glorious photos to be had here.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR61ihIpyAkQhDuQd7vHxNt49o6hE_WwkcJPvALzPaYAgjk3NYyzd4RSIJK_OgMD1RWbHEs1GMU1sVH9_FP1VJbEd5fDNT8VZr3lDlOYLbp-NmTYQF4bsv56Z4g45ej5hoL0oAjoig489n/s1600/nutmeg+ladies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR61ihIpyAkQhDuQd7vHxNt49o6hE_WwkcJPvALzPaYAgjk3NYyzd4RSIJK_OgMD1RWbHEs1GMU1sVH9_FP1VJbEd5fDNT8VZr3lDlOYLbp-NmTYQF4bsv56Z4g45ej5hoL0oAjoig489n/s1600/nutmeg+ladies.jpg" height="208" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Sorting the nutmeg</i></div>
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<i>Photo courtesy of <a href="http://grenadasunsation.com/index.php/island-tours/tutti-frutti" target="_blank">Sunsation Tours</a></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_8b8qUmeCSpQHg4_EiD1jesGJHffTnQnQ-oiwGv8zyc9BibeYtMBDaExdMZkoAlU3qkqidnCWhxgaM9hYGxN813_iXq_vgXTokv7EotDSQ51GJ5Yp24L8a-WRTj-YLZ6-Lb5a3KMXKE3/s1600/IMG_4042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_8b8qUmeCSpQHg4_EiD1jesGJHffTnQnQ-oiwGv8zyc9BibeYtMBDaExdMZkoAlU3qkqidnCWhxgaM9hYGxN813_iXq_vgXTokv7EotDSQ51GJ5Yp24L8a-WRTj-YLZ6-Lb5a3KMXKE3/s1600/IMG_4042.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Ready for shipping</i></div>
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We follow the guide up a flight of stairs (you can see them in the background of the above picture) to where the nutmegs are dried on huge wooden beds for a few weeks. It is really hot up here so I can see how it would be perfect for this. There are women raking the nuts over with long wooden rakes, and they balance themselves, straddling the isle, on the sides of the wooden beds to reach the beds that are higher up. It is hard work and not made any easier by the temperature up here. I can't imagine doing this all day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgag6zJ8-uFtot9K2E7ottX9iWpWUsWWlwYXsEhQjjqdA0rsBxx525MGX87jcKX0FYX_BkwzHJDQ1aLxjDgjhb1-IR8DZaSaM6o7QxFdfgr22EAi3aXe9XsbtU0nSMZOm6YeSovg5m5ZnOa/s1600/P1020599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgag6zJ8-uFtot9K2E7ottX9iWpWUsWWlwYXsEhQjjqdA0rsBxx525MGX87jcKX0FYX_BkwzHJDQ1aLxjDgjhb1-IR8DZaSaM6o7QxFdfgr22EAi3aXe9XsbtU0nSMZOm6YeSovg5m5ZnOa/s1600/P1020599.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Layers of beds where the nuts dry, the women straddle these isles</i></div>
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<i> with feet on either side, climbing as far as the third plank</i></div>
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<i> to reach the topmost bed</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZUIdjETFEgIeaf0Pza0dj201Hn2C5h1gjpntVx01aHLQhT3fsD2-jJkUchxRK8ba0XjPJ1lRv7EXY2lzOErdb9akEBBYAKXZHmCHb-4GM3QcImA0pR0Ym1lflfnmJ7l02oGBkUbMS_tj/s1600/P1020598.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ZUIdjETFEgIeaf0Pza0dj201Hn2C5h1gjpntVx01aHLQhT3fsD2-jJkUchxRK8ba0XjPJ1lRv7EXY2lzOErdb9akEBBYAKXZHmCHb-4GM3QcImA0pR0Ym1lflfnmJ7l02oGBkUbMS_tj/s1600/P1020598.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Beds of nutmeg with the date they were laid there </i></div>
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<i>chalked on the end board</i></div>
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Once our tour is over, we exit through a tiny gift shop where we can purchase nutmeg products if we wish. I take a small jar of nutmeg jelly to the till and ask the lady if they sell whole nutmeg as I don't see any. She says they do and summons our tour guide who asks me if I would like half a pound or a whole pound. I want a whole pound and it takes him 15 minutes, much to the impatience of Glen, to return with a small bag full of nutmeg for $6 EC dollars - a steal!!! As I am waiting, many of the workers come to the lady at the till and hand her a few EC dollars, some $10 some as much as $50. She makes a careful note of each one and as she does, a dim memory from my childhood comes back to me. I ask her if the donations are some sort of savings and she says that indeed they are, today is payday and some like to set a bit aside each payday for Christmas. I thought as much. I recall my family doing the same thing when I was a child in England. I love it that the old ways still exist somewhere in the world!</div>
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We pile back in the van and set off to our next stop, St. Andrew's and the River Antoine Rum Distillery, established in 1785.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioe_0cu0wqlLjIGZJAR6q6YLmAIwBOLocI3U43fNDZ6JdARdYXiowzTacjvKLxTB60Bc7uJe2S3pHUqgfaFTNEWJ4vibjzRw7ppQH1PLL7Q9fuzR618m14TI0XXIkWJIkbktcesXK5F2Y/s1600/IMG_4045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioe_0cu0wqlLjIGZJAR6q6YLmAIwBOLocI3U43fNDZ6JdARdYXiowzTacjvKLxTB60Bc7uJe2S3pHUqgfaFTNEWJ4vibjzRw7ppQH1PLL7Q9fuzR618m14TI0XXIkWJIkbktcesXK5F2Y/s1600/IMG_4045.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Beauty along the way</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnn4HEYp8Wq3uLp2zgCtNxFT4UaR22LJ0fWjJ2eP9qWALo48lUeITdqmsRXfXjoxNK_u8pyjc_p4Iag5c2bZN8I0vGiQsD8PoDwexNWmSp3DOmk8t6dmlNoPWWoVL4-urgerB0THdbwz4/s1600/IMG_4047.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPnn4HEYp8Wq3uLp2zgCtNxFT4UaR22LJ0fWjJ2eP9qWALo48lUeITdqmsRXfXjoxNK_u8pyjc_p4Iag5c2bZN8I0vGiQsD8PoDwexNWmSp3DOmk8t6dmlNoPWWoVL4-urgerB0THdbwz4/s1600/IMG_4047.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Beauty along the way</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhy1EHtxjqNO625S0VjpKkwPh7o3ts9FrscTxSvcBAYyUpdAP1FrRbuBV8jkovvGj_fBQpMC8kq-CqAuD__TO_cJOITtuilkjwxEtmyFf6Fap47UptV6lR7W5jJHxZxT2DNaC0QPdBkm9U/s1600/IMG_4048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhy1EHtxjqNO625S0VjpKkwPh7o3ts9FrscTxSvcBAYyUpdAP1FrRbuBV8jkovvGj_fBQpMC8kq-CqAuD__TO_cJOITtuilkjwxEtmyFf6Fap47UptV6lR7W5jJHxZxT2DNaC0QPdBkm9U/s1600/IMG_4048.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Oh to live in that little beach house!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhckxY85wLfnK8qVnA4duHj5EzF5hkeeqkPP_EDXvn0ShJnHT9wz6iwQJnvjQPW1WKgOnP34a7mdypiTv-vdlKf37wDx_u6wY0KnDRGz0oXwLN8aMroSNM3bKIhyVzaqq0DmlmegbNuqW9w/s1600/IMG_4052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhckxY85wLfnK8qVnA4duHj5EzF5hkeeqkPP_EDXvn0ShJnHT9wz6iwQJnvjQPW1WKgOnP34a7mdypiTv-vdlKf37wDx_u6wY0KnDRGz0oXwLN8aMroSNM3bKIhyVzaqq0DmlmegbNuqW9w/s1600/IMG_4052.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>An old plantation home with fabulous woodwork detail - </i></div>
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<i>click on the picture to enlarge and see it</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByGjfjI1WFPlIxs-eM_A0vvXYkKD317Y70FFXP965OjMm6UzwDiKGJrInC5xrr-8mInb4OtH6x96KbZIVk-bcbvx_IpSlmyvwBfL750NHnki5HnjBmoxh85W3yFCprABJKV2LPW87vHf3/s1600/IMG_4053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhByGjfjI1WFPlIxs-eM_A0vvXYkKD317Y70FFXP965OjMm6UzwDiKGJrInC5xrr-8mInb4OtH6x96KbZIVk-bcbvx_IpSlmyvwBfL750NHnki5HnjBmoxh85W3yFCprABJKV2LPW87vHf3/s1600/IMG_4053.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>And another old plantation home</i></div>
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We know we are getting close when I notice fields on the left that are full of something I don't recognize and when I ask, Glen tells us it is organic sugar cane growing for the distillery.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JwgWK8TEg344M2BVQ1R0nufgaSRPsXIWOtxRDW3wHtOX4j5ZUchHvMF_IZJ3PWBe5z7_YVZmEr3T8LJOqtZeh2JfF-awGAyXsLaNofGXMFBmqF0lkPXzFKKOv-SqGrZg-yjHdME7Gy2W/s1600/IMG_4055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JwgWK8TEg344M2BVQ1R0nufgaSRPsXIWOtxRDW3wHtOX4j5ZUchHvMF_IZJ3PWBe5z7_YVZmEr3T8LJOqtZeh2JfF-awGAyXsLaNofGXMFBmqF0lkPXzFKKOv-SqGrZg-yjHdME7Gy2W/s1600/IMG_4055.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Fields of cane</i></div>
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We pull into the long driveway of the distillery and park next to an old building covered in hot pink bougainvillea. It is breathtakingly gorgeous.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLT7TsZx3P9enEZv2pwAfrwyGUCrF3pItsWdLXWCNcdOceBHTQPo57lspHj0rIoHHwhUf3JHlr7UxJ0NeLMSFtxv3dWiccNr8qNkl0XHS7Ep3j2n_Oj3COELtuDzgsFxZhI4jFqvWG1VjT/s1600/IMG_4060.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLT7TsZx3P9enEZv2pwAfrwyGUCrF3pItsWdLXWCNcdOceBHTQPo57lspHj0rIoHHwhUf3JHlr7UxJ0NeLMSFtxv3dWiccNr8qNkl0XHS7Ep3j2n_Oj3COELtuDzgsFxZhI4jFqvWG1VjT/s1600/IMG_4060.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Bouganvilla</div>
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We are met by our tour guide for this location and he leads us over to the building where it all happens. It is like taking a 250 year step back in time as nothing has changed in how the rum is made in all of the years of operation. Rickety wooden carts are pushed along ancient tracks to transport the cane, the mechanics for pressing the cane is moved with the original water wheel fed by the River Antoine. It is the oldest distillery still run by a water wheel in existence - rum was being produced within the walls of this place while Mozart was writing operas!!</div>
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<i>The River Antoine that feeds the wheel</i></div>
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<i><br />
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<i>The viaduct for the water and the wheel to the right</i></div>
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<i><br />
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<i>The cane is dumped by hand onto the conveyer</i></div>
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<i>The press, with the great wheel behind our guide, where the</i><br />
<i>cane is pressed twice</i></div>
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<i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwBfWFbImkfkS-YkJQsHRVU0KOfpp2u-YsT3skf-CJLrRb3ecxAit22JN0dhKGh7N9GheaEbkk9xZUKgSuW5rTQlcoFqNYSH8jatbf2KvQjoMnpvGLOIY2fM4fSs9RYJPSu3XvzF__Nmp/s1600/P1020609.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPwBfWFbImkfkS-YkJQsHRVU0KOfpp2u-YsT3skf-CJLrRb3ecxAit22JN0dhKGh7N9GheaEbkk9xZUKgSuW5rTQlcoFqNYSH8jatbf2KvQjoMnpvGLOIY2fM4fSs9RYJPSu3XvzF__Nmp/s1600/P1020609.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Mountain of crushed cane stalks (called 'bagasse')</i></div>
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<i> - this was about 20 - 30 feet high off the ground</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMD-1YW1PmJHTeax0yC9BCHoHbQJPKg6QGMA7t5W5PrZvZIqoSR4EKhViAll_9sSH_ZOaO3IP1g5p4iYricGexM8gWvLZgC9sY8adktaO8D0Im8Wqcxe2r8lfOXUk9N9Z3AzHi6DUfJA3m/s1600/IMG_4071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMD-1YW1PmJHTeax0yC9BCHoHbQJPKg6QGMA7t5W5PrZvZIqoSR4EKhViAll_9sSH_ZOaO3IP1g5p4iYricGexM8gWvLZgC9sY8adktaO8D0Im8Wqcxe2r8lfOXUk9N9Z3AzHi6DUfJA3m/s1600/IMG_4071.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Fire fueled by the discarded cane (bagasse) after it has been pressed </i></div>
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<i>to heat up the copper bowls where the cane syrup is </i></div>
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<i>boiled and filtered by hand</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zXAiSFpkoXU5W0MiEFqwNENMZtLKtIJ_7cFNwQKVc1fHur31yvR3PHSIL9kp390WWH2vrN9kN_qpgLy83EXBwxAn_4xCmGGrXyT77NbgLJNJr2IL7kCo7r1Fq3hsg4KO3A_buyhz7f76/s1600/IMG_4072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-zXAiSFpkoXU5W0MiEFqwNENMZtLKtIJ_7cFNwQKVc1fHur31yvR3PHSIL9kp390WWH2vrN9kN_qpgLy83EXBwxAn_4xCmGGrXyT77NbgLJNJr2IL7kCo7r1Fq3hsg4KO3A_buyhz7f76/s1600/IMG_4072.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The copper bowls where the cane syrup is brought to the boil</i></div>
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<i>over the period of a few days</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFLc-f4vs9E_tiodn4_ZbYca8dONrwd3dc0-f7YTwP7Cxn0pkpBnVzrNfBzbxY91dWaaZvObY0Rq7rgYqK3Q710_n6I-CMyXfdwOad3t2H1mfx79JiKqmXM75OYAE_kOx2-KUmIXQkAjy/s1600/IMG_4074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiFLc-f4vs9E_tiodn4_ZbYca8dONrwd3dc0-f7YTwP7Cxn0pkpBnVzrNfBzbxY91dWaaZvObY0Rq7rgYqK3Q710_n6I-CMyXfdwOad3t2H1mfx79JiKqmXM75OYAE_kOx2-KUmIXQkAjy/s1600/IMG_4074.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Same bowls, higher view, where the cane is spooned from one bowl to the</i></div>
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<i>next till it reaches the boiling point</i></div>
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<i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobPqF9TOFT8JVQ1apq0u9sxMEmFyxSj687HI5w6JNEBeP9jg5-3mHFzF8KPO80e_VrzCDD9tzvcM9-n-1BLyzs8CyTO4E-ngKQVre-Ilc7ivrKoLcJStJcE7OTz3yC8j9FqMjMTB6ywIO/s1600/IMG_4076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobPqF9TOFT8JVQ1apq0u9sxMEmFyxSj687HI5w6JNEBeP9jg5-3mHFzF8KPO80e_VrzCDD9tzvcM9-n-1BLyzs8CyTO4E-ngKQVre-Ilc7ivrKoLcJStJcE7OTz3yC8j9FqMjMTB6ywIO/s1600/IMG_4076.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Retired tools of the trade</i></div>
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<i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEP9-vF19u-dolwqVvdg15qM4Rr0kNW7npO7-DVoinSzTk8LqtnmqAw1BncO85n2I0Yd-VQNs5uOMkz7vMJ5zLRbxbnADY5ag52_jmF3e91CwsYmkJ9Z6Pe6l5pUiUN9hU65bfyLJPEOls/s1600/P1020615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEP9-vF19u-dolwqVvdg15qM4Rr0kNW7npO7-DVoinSzTk8LqtnmqAw1BncO85n2I0Yd-VQNs5uOMkz7vMJ5zLRbxbnADY5ag52_jmF3e91CwsYmkJ9Z6Pe6l5pUiUN9hU65bfyLJPEOls/s1600/P1020615.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The rum is then transferred to cooling tanks, spooning it by hand,</i></div>
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<i> where it sits </i><i>for two more days and is invaded by yeast</i></div>
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<i>floating about in the </i><i>air naturally then is transferred to</i></div>
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<i>these fermentation tanks for 8 days </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzyuY5QfXRw7u4-VxFTZd-7cjJOuqw7a-8_nKo9KJCJuDF1HQ5Illr2MItZ8Omxusn6kRUMInnsg-beNv9Wr955iEDwz8QvYBdtTfLWA98O3hladTduNlBoYQiCIttfeEg9FAOVGFV-dM/s1600/P1020616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIzyuY5QfXRw7u4-VxFTZd-7cjJOuqw7a-8_nKo9KJCJuDF1HQ5Illr2MItZ8Omxusn6kRUMInnsg-beNv9Wr955iEDwz8QvYBdtTfLWA98O3hladTduNlBoYQiCIttfeEg9FAOVGFV-dM/s1600/P1020616.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The numbered tanks where, after 8 days, the rum is sent </i></div>
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<i>to the distillery</i></div>
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<i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iZkXPMJPNZFfBXIz3Yq9l6UviEBkc-OEvHS1XwVd2oDJjVWZsep1YyPokxGQlZ6BHQIdb6bsN41eGIxZDHRVV2YMMZJ2C153vkUaMFNKkblbZEaWFKu2hH22Adb1tAO_ULSTOn7feGdf/s1600/P1020619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0iZkXPMJPNZFfBXIz3Yq9l6UviEBkc-OEvHS1XwVd2oDJjVWZsep1YyPokxGQlZ6BHQIdb6bsN41eGIxZDHRVV2YMMZJ2C153vkUaMFNKkblbZEaWFKu2hH22Adb1tAO_ULSTOn7feGdf/s1600/P1020619.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The original copper distillery</i></div>
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<i><br />
</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicJYANuFv8b0k_3IaLkN6Eg2_1nYghLNqFLTSM1OSMPDAxdEY__hEV304_qu1PnNRIC2cUOz3q-6SUDt5LCsN-bUeIdxb5IsKuPCpKMvJUjQKCUr1K9IA1THxtGAPQaHzwEXjiLlYjGPdS/s1600/IMG_4062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicJYANuFv8b0k_3IaLkN6Eg2_1nYghLNqFLTSM1OSMPDAxdEY__hEV304_qu1PnNRIC2cUOz3q-6SUDt5LCsN-bUeIdxb5IsKuPCpKMvJUjQKCUr1K9IA1THxtGAPQaHzwEXjiLlYjGPdS/s1600/IMG_4062.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The fire that fuels the distillery has to burn much hotter</i></div>
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<i>than the fire to boil the cane, so proper firewood is used</i></div>
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<i><br />
</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXAjIcJfVo76-mkryJM-ZJNY1rWyg3u48Wp_KKQGF2cTbeU30hU0EX4H_ALny_LxxWE3QEp-YIC4ytNb_wE2XK1nm4NDYu26Awv1sHnPwbUtrMbSz2MtryZ-OUmWoTCIJJiEBUCd4NeT4/s1600/P1020614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXAjIcJfVo76-mkryJM-ZJNY1rWyg3u48Wp_KKQGF2cTbeU30hU0EX4H_ALny_LxxWE3QEp-YIC4ytNb_wE2XK1nm4NDYu26Awv1sHnPwbUtrMbSz2MtryZ-OUmWoTCIJJiEBUCd4NeT4/s1600/P1020614.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>The only change in all of the years is they no longer age the rum</i></div>
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<i>in these oak barrels</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxldhzamtOipbK122lwwMhfbzkDseMXKKy9n2_9lic3_zPIdNO3ClJzV9gxJ0_1VquVH3q_PEI4voCvVzuKtUGdD_l5zlDKHvJo1_A_EpkAbZ8m9NP32Y_kufwDMWeJVooVMjvRtKHPwPp/s1600/P1020617.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxldhzamtOipbK122lwwMhfbzkDseMXKKy9n2_9lic3_zPIdNO3ClJzV9gxJ0_1VquVH3q_PEI4voCvVzuKtUGdD_l5zlDKHvJo1_A_EpkAbZ8m9NP32Y_kufwDMWeJVooVMjvRtKHPwPp/s1600/P1020617.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Stairs everywhere</i></div>
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<i><br />
</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9I_pCSmxMZYk0tEdkqKe1-oP1VrFvrBhlOGi2K8K-Z3-5YG9Wy2ULyA_W4kx1OC5xj4rMg9D6D5Y09dtSKa_0G6lm2jARIwqqQaLqyPGMWMVOvbhmlYXKdaweo3227OaAq9BOYs1BZgS/s1600/P1020622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs9I_pCSmxMZYk0tEdkqKe1-oP1VrFvrBhlOGi2K8K-Z3-5YG9Wy2ULyA_W4kx1OC5xj4rMg9D6D5Y09dtSKa_0G6lm2jARIwqqQaLqyPGMWMVOvbhmlYXKdaweo3227OaAq9BOYs1BZgS/s1600/P1020622.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The rum, when ready, is pumped by hand (!!) from</i></div>
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<i>the holding tanks underground into bottles</i></div>
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<i><br />
</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY0ntaOX_Tzx93aNtNs-rL3ruEELpya1QUsMf7Kcyt2tLqvmGk_rhBldHgdpDJl2vCB8fL-EdrbUO0CUly-AUtj4uUPwuVjbyYERW5WWBaJRxVoGulxipblBY8Eh1xuFr04JVUKsBsOkZ/s1600/P1020620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY0ntaOX_Tzx93aNtNs-rL3ruEELpya1QUsMf7Kcyt2tLqvmGk_rhBldHgdpDJl2vCB8fL-EdrbUO0CUly-AUtj4uUPwuVjbyYERW5WWBaJRxVoGulxipblBY8Eh1xuFr04JVUKsBsOkZ/s1600/P1020620.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Eager to taste the rum</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIgdO0UQL6DWGXIQdfAY_Rhm36p957fbiulQ8bTAOq1ECYgQL0cWN-TZVB9uvIGXSrGQIgfLhsVfcDCHdNRJLw-XWVeEPqFxDU1Svnfzt9H5ZWnWDLjWyEShJFvdjUtlTNR8Ix6Xsapm8/s1600/P1020625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIgdO0UQL6DWGXIQdfAY_Rhm36p957fbiulQ8bTAOq1ECYgQL0cWN-TZVB9uvIGXSrGQIgfLhsVfcDCHdNRJLw-XWVeEPqFxDU1Svnfzt9H5ZWnWDLjWyEShJFvdjUtlTNR8Ix6Xsapm8/s1600/P1020625.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The finished product - rum punch on the left which I tried and</i></div>
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<i>'cough cough' it was STRONG, 71 proof in the middle, and 98 proof</i></div>
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<i>on the right - the middle one is made only for taking home on the</i></div>
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<i>plane as the other is too flammable and not permitted</i></div>
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Once everyone has had their taste of the rum and bought some to take home (I didn't buy any) we climb back into the van and head off for lunch at Belmont Estates, also where cocoa is grown and chocolate is made!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORIk3HpiEL5G4PlOByQ-fSKfocGexwY4fAAfjlX5Xzeqg0KcxysMMFsKhDiFjoVsZHLzCtIP3Fx_fczVyJtPUn57XHmAEwL2TPmItyTFCMKSFO_2ylzrp2lQgYuMkxbn-2CvFR_LSvjxI/s1600/P1020626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhORIk3HpiEL5G4PlOByQ-fSKfocGexwY4fAAfjlX5Xzeqg0KcxysMMFsKhDiFjoVsZHLzCtIP3Fx_fczVyJtPUn57XHmAEwL2TPmItyTFCMKSFO_2ylzrp2lQgYuMkxbn-2CvFR_LSvjxI/s1600/P1020626.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Entrance to Belmont Estates</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHX_sIYXWgY8nrQ4wY9hjTgIOITQLvELK8AcJeScWzzYWrIxAzdeY9kvUGnUEhzzxnUHgJ8phz9yHedmymp28zXbLFR1hUrJ0jqF1qeHJV53VB_EQAht7ctbu6nNgVZwTLvgwhSCqTvhtn/s1600/P1020627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHX_sIYXWgY8nrQ4wY9hjTgIOITQLvELK8AcJeScWzzYWrIxAzdeY9kvUGnUEhzzxnUHgJ8phz9yHedmymp28zXbLFR1hUrJ0jqF1qeHJV53VB_EQAht7ctbu6nNgVZwTLvgwhSCqTvhtn/s1600/P1020627.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Lunch stop - fabulous food</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlHCItkCUcc9XDS9nzm2RqeXZyPeBB-NR41dOCmte2Z53bED9-q2wTgfOLVguxqjC-riuMeQSbMKRpVK3tOyR1qBB9Mh-vQVb0v1iw9lrxiMhw_Zkh4ZVOVWuloYQfWwQNND585G8D5Nhg/s1600/P1020637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlHCItkCUcc9XDS9nzm2RqeXZyPeBB-NR41dOCmte2Z53bED9-q2wTgfOLVguxqjC-riuMeQSbMKRpVK3tOyR1qBB9Mh-vQVb0v1iw9lrxiMhw_Zkh4ZVOVWuloYQfWwQNND585G8D5Nhg/s1600/P1020637.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Beautiful grounds</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4hb0lDFvF8gGJSTPL5xX96rRrKnIRwIaAWzJNp8eo_CTezfRz8dwnW4cSq4oGfkxpd5-RjRNLjubP-52hlAd1BftZz-TUPGJo_gYpTI0cMaasjV0JzvhKBOwX-uoFbETFAE2Ni6Pml8g/s1600/IMG_4078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4hb0lDFvF8gGJSTPL5xX96rRrKnIRwIaAWzJNp8eo_CTezfRz8dwnW4cSq4oGfkxpd5-RjRNLjubP-52hlAd1BftZz-TUPGJo_gYpTI0cMaasjV0JzvhKBOwX-uoFbETFAE2Ni6Pml8g/s1600/IMG_4078.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Overgrown derelict outbuildings at Belmont Estates</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnbqG8XizUwDVwjy5_vT2fjB8SgGislLpFjmcs8F_fulx4Zca9UVy-jh3PNi3f-A4YrJJHsih_TFrC0xEDVSFAa3XD1SqGhGUATb1ZNKDbcgYfG4ahjl3IamasKOgOn7oBAMHciRP9L5JV/s1600/IMG_4079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnbqG8XizUwDVwjy5_vT2fjB8SgGislLpFjmcs8F_fulx4Zca9UVy-jh3PNi3f-A4YrJJHsih_TFrC0xEDVSFAa3XD1SqGhGUATb1ZNKDbcgYfG4ahjl3IamasKOgOn7oBAMHciRP9L5JV/s1600/IMG_4079.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Ancient copper bowls used for washing the chocolate beans</i></div>
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<i>repurposed as planters</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnu_eE11gfVKP8vXKc6k49-40eohtkHgKUk3uhleAOx7ok9roMhCYtGHMZJAwgYzAXr7QQVH25aIRSkpcKH4TX1YhUiEHbcpvs83F73oijpbl_0YfpX7K_YjO6ND26il60ZCGUYDCtWeRU/s1600/IMG_4081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnu_eE11gfVKP8vXKc6k49-40eohtkHgKUk3uhleAOx7ok9roMhCYtGHMZJAwgYzAXr7QQVH25aIRSkpcKH4TX1YhUiEHbcpvs83F73oijpbl_0YfpX7K_YjO6ND26il60ZCGUYDCtWeRU/s1600/IMG_4081.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDKt58Vc80kBOPtwPMz7l8XNwhZJSb8dFmDx32eKwmfhI-BJJIdaxAZrTPkLukT7RVLpYX2Tp7V7j4iQQ8F5B1pczC04z2zsvs6Vo6f22JBo-k3mXkCLCAkBSf2fHUIuqjXzisNR6Fhyphenhyphenma/s1600/IMG_4087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDKt58Vc80kBOPtwPMz7l8XNwhZJSb8dFmDx32eKwmfhI-BJJIdaxAZrTPkLukT7RVLpYX2Tp7V7j4iQQ8F5B1pczC04z2zsvs6Vo6f22JBo-k3mXkCLCAkBSf2fHUIuqjXzisNR6Fhyphenhyphenma/s1600/IMG_4087.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpw6qyq8maNYw1T34z5jRPcUIGkYBCtPrrVBwLfjepjjKHqfldjswSQL7geqikydiOxj14Hy-MNjahNM3iJzvs23rFCM7RBA_zeeSIAdvtK0dfSSG9kBGBI7_Uww3lF6Q2SaIgaEPkQFiC/s1600/P1020630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpw6qyq8maNYw1T34z5jRPcUIGkYBCtPrrVBwLfjepjjKHqfldjswSQL7geqikydiOxj14Hy-MNjahNM3iJzvs23rFCM7RBA_zeeSIAdvtK0dfSSG9kBGBI7_Uww3lF6Q2SaIgaEPkQFiC/s1600/P1020630.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Drying sheds for the cocoa beans - when it isn't rainy season </i></div>
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<i>(as I have discovered it is right now) the beans are laid out</i></div>
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<i>on wood pallets across the concrete beams in front of the</i></div>
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<i>shed to dry outdoors in the hot sunshine</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsPn3rsqaoM_2yp0TEV1_C_V_9lFlYqtFWOr0Py88r742uyJX9SMnIjRXYm6Sq6uitnsVzH1_GPywqDpOK8_dBl5Qi8-HVss0sBdNvk_nTmYfmTijYRJ1JURV3P5SQeUq331j56Xyx_VA/s1600/P1020634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEsPn3rsqaoM_2yp0TEV1_C_V_9lFlYqtFWOr0Py88r742uyJX9SMnIjRXYm6Sq6uitnsVzH1_GPywqDpOK8_dBl5Qi8-HVss0sBdNvk_nTmYfmTijYRJ1JURV3P5SQeUq331j56Xyx_VA/s1600/P1020634.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Drying cocoa beans in the shed</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_0a_k3sVibHeiNAMiYgidNKVoFzsgRl2pANNRTUQKYHKJj5r8az5A_lKOUXw5TTCuIGg8qaeSXsa0hdu7rTMoIiUPMNoItw7q8Y3vPw6yM15OQLXXHxjcv0PFer1B3PkIwt7Hlno_JqX/s1600/P1020638.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_0a_k3sVibHeiNAMiYgidNKVoFzsgRl2pANNRTUQKYHKJj5r8az5A_lKOUXw5TTCuIGg8qaeSXsa0hdu7rTMoIiUPMNoItw7q8Y3vPw6yM15OQLXXHxjcv0PFer1B3PkIwt7Hlno_JqX/s1600/P1020638.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Our tour guide for chocolate!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHg0jqgV_XC33We3Q2PEuaENlLLxCkD59S42xgMGAIjvN-HCgxZ3jdJBox0qifpMw6dpgeAvjCnSKV3PLd_G03lmWnZS4WTew8QN-YxZ6IpLUlvSW9Q9RgqHn6PKQCRwt5i_sZ8QnXET3/s1600/P1020639.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDHg0jqgV_XC33We3Q2PEuaENlLLxCkD59S42xgMGAIjvN-HCgxZ3jdJBox0qifpMw6dpgeAvjCnSKV3PLd_G03lmWnZS4WTew8QN-YxZ6IpLUlvSW9Q9RgqHn6PKQCRwt5i_sZ8QnXET3/s1600/P1020639.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>This bell once called the plantation workers to dinner</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXhRXscW_srMHS-DK3ORKLdbzK2yVChLLH6OPEg_tErKeKiWfLhYTVzZ9ezFZNxglYxWjWmU3JZTTzqpdBuchLuxzrw7hU3Xvwd88VSfABEg2N9NEWMyptZGFlPs9TY-zP8Yv4GbADPR8G/s1600/P1020632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXhRXscW_srMHS-DK3ORKLdbzK2yVChLLH6OPEg_tErKeKiWfLhYTVzZ9ezFZNxglYxWjWmU3JZTTzqpdBuchLuxzrw7hU3Xvwd88VSfABEg2N9NEWMyptZGFlPs9TY-zP8Yv4GbADPR8G/s1600/P1020632.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I spent quite a bit of money here :-)</i></div>
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Our next stop is not on the itinerary. One of the fellows on the tour had been at the grocery store while a local spice factory, Baron, was there with a display of their various products. He got to chatting with the fellow at the table, who turned out to be the manager of the plant, and was invited to drop by for a tour if he was in the area. He didn't plan to be in the area as it is about an hour out of St. Georges but as we are driving by it he suddenly sees the sign and he asks if we can pull in to get a tour and Glen readily agrees.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxaOzFkA9NKYVDhifx37kCSFtVza73DEFWaZcVrl0fPzk0aCuL_XjR42713YjuefVrmlNGXihUtzA3NrRkGQTMjfDJBtDCr5qFuFu0ROrdXfyxurxE4K16cD_rgnTtQ4JH1X2mEzbfiLx/s1600/P1020649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOxaOzFkA9NKYVDhifx37kCSFtVza73DEFWaZcVrl0fPzk0aCuL_XjR42713YjuefVrmlNGXihUtzA3NrRkGQTMjfDJBtDCr5qFuFu0ROrdXfyxurxE4K16cD_rgnTtQ4JH1X2mEzbfiLx/s1600/P1020649.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Unfortunately, they have just finished their day and are cleaning up and about to close. However the manager takes us around to explain how they process the organic, all locally-grown spices and vegetables to turn them into dried spices and delicious sauces. He is obviously very proud of their standards and I am impressed.<br />
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I am thrilled at this this unexpected stop and to be able to purchase a lot of jerk seasoning, which I had bought in the BVI and loved, and one bottle of hot-wing sauce. I would dearly love to buy more of their selections but am starting to get seriously concerned about fitting everything I have bought on this trip into my luggage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMX_hdCoBLX1u9ye9jDBRavklt51y-fbNEDtmZ9SbSJJa_4E6gGN4JcoXxaGBheglGYSTr0uRztsD3uFuJLQK3BMHyrWhqUgo9oOcB9WQgTA3y48RIUEx2V2-64f8uJvrV3FjTFwGicl4k/s1600/P1020644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMX_hdCoBLX1u9ye9jDBRavklt51y-fbNEDtmZ9SbSJJa_4E6gGN4JcoXxaGBheglGYSTr0uRztsD3uFuJLQK3BMHyrWhqUgo9oOcB9WQgTA3y48RIUEx2V2-64f8uJvrV3FjTFwGicl4k/s1600/P1020644.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Spice milling equipment</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8EfrDWUfPYd8so1HJPhMqvIp9qnJv5gtIwxVgXx8w-51Pn1oWseHAzP3QHnTV1ZwPFB7nntcecHgj3F95YpDV1eKEfKoEvUw4Ro6fSmO3I0pKI5oTVV20nRE-EhD2QVsWHVJImmxjNlT/s1600/P1020650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB8EfrDWUfPYd8so1HJPhMqvIp9qnJv5gtIwxVgXx8w-51Pn1oWseHAzP3QHnTV1ZwPFB7nntcecHgj3F95YpDV1eKEfKoEvUw4Ro6fSmO3I0pKI5oTVV20nRE-EhD2QVsWHVJImmxjNlT/s1600/P1020650.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></i></a></div>
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<i>The finished product ready to ship out</i></div>
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Our next stop is Pearls Airport, the old airport that was used before the revolution in the 80's. There are no commercial planes landing here these days, it is more a grazing ground for goats and cows and used on the weekends for drag racing. Remember when the US Military invaded Grenada back in 1983? One of the major motivators for the invasion was the construction of Grenada's current airport, Maurice Bishop International, which was being undertaken with aid provided by Cuba and the Soviet Union. Supplies and personnel from Cuba were flown into Grenada at Pearls, making this place a primary target for the invading US forces. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxgl-vboMh3jms9_Dta1cT9acgbHdZEeMQI_HUGKJ6Qkpi0l55CxoXYC_miGHXgoMZmMq3jZxyvFDeZpDMQtRKB1oRM7Jv-U5Mcy0oO5mgel-sFbC4kJ0UN4AUAtJPoE50gfOMm1yglgB/s1600/P1020642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxgl-vboMh3jms9_Dta1cT9acgbHdZEeMQI_HUGKJ6Qkpi0l55CxoXYC_miGHXgoMZmMq3jZxyvFDeZpDMQtRKB1oRM7Jv-U5Mcy0oO5mgel-sFbC4kJ0UN4AUAtJPoE50gfOMm1yglgB/s1600/P1020642.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Pearls Airport, or what is left of it</i></div>
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It is at this location that we come to, what I believe to be, Glen's favourite part of the tour. After giving us the history of the place, he puts the pedal to the metal and we race along the tarmac at (yes I looked) well over 120 kilometers an hour. </div>
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After that adrenalin rush, we head back up the mountains to the <a href="http://www.grenadagrenadines.com/explore/attractions/eco-sites/grand-etang-national-park-forest-reserve/#.UsycsWRDvxQ">Great Etang National Park and Forest Reserve.</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifG3I2Hzxlm_mmMtCsJIXifdMbENAN-Cg6U08GLd-VC6AuhJjphe6OiP77zAMO_8ogFqqkPah769lqOewatbRtChgya14b56aqOy7J84d5HIcZo8AZkysJmrnNY_0yaVD4EpQS7NXqihrE/s1600/IMG_4046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifG3I2Hzxlm_mmMtCsJIXifdMbENAN-Cg6U08GLd-VC6AuhJjphe6OiP77zAMO_8ogFqqkPah769lqOewatbRtChgya14b56aqOy7J84d5HIcZo8AZkysJmrnNY_0yaVD4EpQS7NXqihrE/s1600/IMG_4046.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Back up the mountains!</i></div>
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<i>The remains of an ancient sugar mill</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMMzVqMOR2XXDjsfsV-0n2-flCLrGBtqAj7j992DstnnD8LMgCO4gDw0taPKcWQVMstKP8M_vusbTTzTW9R9guVBSM9Pj4aXNDhMb8PO9LMAHKHXcPyAyTD7jgCF_WfL9NJRNycW93RjH/s1600/P1020654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMMzVqMOR2XXDjsfsV-0n2-flCLrGBtqAj7j992DstnnD8LMgCO4gDw0taPKcWQVMstKP8M_vusbTTzTW9R9guVBSM9Pj4aXNDhMb8PO9LMAHKHXcPyAyTD7jgCF_WfL9NJRNycW93RjH/s1600/P1020654.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>climbing higher</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSGuV4l5SQZ4wDcnL4fyjfLqr4fke0fX1YWYPxI1X7Eh_SsnSRZtMUnYhsGL03lE_LB0rU24WTUuwIvx8BkHmKgs-Ui87rD1TA3vcwb42bMB9-_cuuoWiS_-76kcY79lblymWnZkFTCdF/s1600/P1020653.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZSGuV4l5SQZ4wDcnL4fyjfLqr4fke0fX1YWYPxI1X7Eh_SsnSRZtMUnYhsGL03lE_LB0rU24WTUuwIvx8BkHmKgs-Ui87rD1TA3vcwb42bMB9-_cuuoWiS_-76kcY79lblymWnZkFTCdF/s1600/P1020653.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>and higher</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahQM2720h3hdkgXNKIeMd69MPAMiu2pQFWG-ZMAfbS1aFtHFQGhruUkUjzVlN00VDgZ8nfWg4SP7lRggf4Aw8F554phs0tg6SucL1XzxnOpAj8FkdgJVVWctWzKcU8aHpR2qO51jB-XHa/s1600/P1020655.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahQM2720h3hdkgXNKIeMd69MPAMiu2pQFWG-ZMAfbS1aFtHFQGhruUkUjzVlN00VDgZ8nfWg4SP7lRggf4Aw8F554phs0tg6SucL1XzxnOpAj8FkdgJVVWctWzKcU8aHpR2qO51jB-XHa/s1600/P1020655.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The road narrows as we are almost there</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNJmVrBP3xyxHWeH0wDABSwOZZ4m8KlN2C0EXiTHIVhxuO5rhW5KTwH6j4YK3wfAQZvK5QaGiETpyv7B_G6VRCzJZ91aV8VJKDApyCp8r-ELa0fRC4tKpui3bK0Nz_MPbt2KPyz_loBtZC/s1600/P1020663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNJmVrBP3xyxHWeH0wDABSwOZZ4m8KlN2C0EXiTHIVhxuO5rhW5KTwH6j4YK3wfAQZvK5QaGiETpyv7B_G6VRCzJZ91aV8VJKDApyCp8r-ELa0fRC4tKpui3bK0Nz_MPbt2KPyz_loBtZC/s1600/P1020663.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW81GDyGX4h3m0WzmiwQtmRqJBe8Jlo9ki8N4c2_0Q0ppMSIdBtaJamA3eXgy6C8GZEhlyDqg7QmL7MBGd5CIRt4yOLM9WjIAUE-q-eB8xWwJiJXeZv-5W9Q8Ox1HXu_fHq_zvhb3qI6Bg/s1600/P1020666.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW81GDyGX4h3m0WzmiwQtmRqJBe8Jlo9ki8N4c2_0Q0ppMSIdBtaJamA3eXgy6C8GZEhlyDqg7QmL7MBGd5CIRt4yOLM9WjIAUE-q-eB8xWwJiJXeZv-5W9Q8Ox1HXu_fHq_zvhb3qI6Bg/s1600/P1020666.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Apparently monkeys will come out here if called for but our </i></div>
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<i>driver didn't </i><i>call for them </i><i>so we didn't see any</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhFgNDAVh_FIipmqP_UqW6W3wGyOz4OIU4CGnUgumY5Wc1fPA9ts8Iyr1w8ZU7A4HmbyJ-owdls05uhgOPZ_C3i0NT40nUxyk5QrM62GveOs9jLnjyKCA79dwpCYSLptQj6zcsMKeZ-M8/s1600/P1020668.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhFgNDAVh_FIipmqP_UqW6W3wGyOz4OIU4CGnUgumY5Wc1fPA9ts8Iyr1w8ZU7A4HmbyJ-owdls05uhgOPZ_C3i0NT40nUxyk5QrM62GveOs9jLnjyKCA79dwpCYSLptQj6zcsMKeZ-M8/s1600/P1020668.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>We are at the very top of the island here, in the mountains that I look at </i></div>
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<i>from </i><i>Grand Anse Beach each day; the view is spectacular and</i></div>
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<i> you can see Grand Anse in that second bay</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELA6INb0FJ19_as9zRmVdeVko78oEzyKA4Yth7mbD9ckvfMFPTFLbFJ8iagGzwlh8FJN9A1buz7S5Dp6ba7quhFSvonm87A3YY3_PgBmKbJejnTzBjEERkTr6Km2ESEmdFIqp5f1XFZPn/s1600/P1020656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELA6INb0FJ19_as9zRmVdeVko78oEzyKA4Yth7mbD9ckvfMFPTFLbFJ8iagGzwlh8FJN9A1buz7S5Dp6ba7quhFSvonm87A3YY3_PgBmKbJejnTzBjEERkTr6Km2ESEmdFIqp5f1XFZPn/s1600/P1020656.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Volcano crater, now a lake</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qLP00JXW0N1IYqiSBme0fNQiQ6FAn7ZaEVnCYmVskebnsEvjA3zcVV6QKIw6qvYfm_l4V5cvmJIDCv8nnWPFOh91x7_E6r3YDxg-sM4f5GOdZ4j_Uu3D1clVFGvxwfOrYRzSbCZes2iv/s1600/IMG_4082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qLP00JXW0N1IYqiSBme0fNQiQ6FAn7ZaEVnCYmVskebnsEvjA3zcVV6QKIw6qvYfm_l4V5cvmJIDCv8nnWPFOh91x7_E6r3YDxg-sM4f5GOdZ4j_Uu3D1clVFGvxwfOrYRzSbCZes2iv/s1600/IMG_4082.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Up to the observation hill</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFBbM-R4tSBDmbrCd63UUIhqQjxqU8Tk6kN5GDbschyISSAynXnGHGRqioxgeat4oV3KIlS4qVrKemXJGFiWEt6xMzzF7WqaWYQhv868v_ioPnVnThD1O9ZrDDL-xvzuRCT6TNJTmPqyk/s1600/P1020657.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFBbM-R4tSBDmbrCd63UUIhqQjxqU8Tk6kN5GDbschyISSAynXnGHGRqioxgeat4oV3KIlS4qVrKemXJGFiWEt6xMzzF7WqaWYQhv868v_ioPnVnThD1O9ZrDDL-xvzuRCT6TNJTmPqyk/s1600/P1020657.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The rest of the group on the tour with me</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswwHXDMnbs7lnKbJsV0OrirVG3R5oVA05jlRwJdKK1uxE9g6Kg1LavRFE2KY7l59AMuN5JculA1v-eGuza-0HZLzZ0dC7SKTqEQHzBl2frbNLRXItUZxUAKk7uZxQ7ur5_7iLy7QOXJO-/s1600/P1020669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswwHXDMnbs7lnKbJsV0OrirVG3R5oVA05jlRwJdKK1uxE9g6Kg1LavRFE2KY7l59AMuN5JculA1v-eGuza-0HZLzZ0dC7SKTqEQHzBl2frbNLRXItUZxUAKk7uZxQ7ur5_7iLy7QOXJO-/s1600/P1020669.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Beauty on the way back to St. Georges</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6pEorN7aumQCE-mGqsp__yRFrVgy9-En4rC-zG9Krtdla8mfLc7Qu5-qfwdsfN61PcfYTvTSqYfUFtTymJMhqTj1P1da4pygFuKqvwB3RrdnmJF0qcOjNNOWj9g_WNjziDOSfsL1lTlZ/s1600/P1020670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx6pEorN7aumQCE-mGqsp__yRFrVgy9-En4rC-zG9Krtdla8mfLc7Qu5-qfwdsfN61PcfYTvTSqYfUFtTymJMhqTj1P1da4pygFuKqvwB3RrdnmJF0qcOjNNOWj9g_WNjziDOSfsL1lTlZ/s1600/P1020670.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Love the colour of this house</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9J5zyNkxcD7HFsuSaD24A3_FIld2EpKGImr8XSXiyJEaV6hDHPNPwNjCdHRwytgduB50Uld-xH2I3GFYmjRyX3sygYHkosElHICsuPMVQ7gNWu2RpvtT98pDFIX5CJv6txNumAzxxhTD/s1600/P1020672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY9J5zyNkxcD7HFsuSaD24A3_FIld2EpKGImr8XSXiyJEaV6hDHPNPwNjCdHRwytgduB50Uld-xH2I3GFYmjRyX3sygYHkosElHICsuPMVQ7gNWu2RpvtT98pDFIX5CJv6txNumAzxxhTD/s1600/P1020672.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Back to civilization</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqDbB6QK2OkDAb9Wd-7hFEXLtjO2nrYdoZMAEKsJpNbf4Nqmf2ABzmmiT1d4tl6EnXusRZWI1kFk7VO42zj8RXcFncmNIw9POC3GOpk9zYNB1LH8D3GT9njefHaSoB-t-ItwFYOnDVomn/s1600/P1020673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqDbB6QK2OkDAb9Wd-7hFEXLtjO2nrYdoZMAEKsJpNbf4Nqmf2ABzmmiT1d4tl6EnXusRZWI1kFk7VO42zj8RXcFncmNIw9POC3GOpk9zYNB1LH8D3GT9njefHaSoB-t-ItwFYOnDVomn/s1600/P1020673.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>A monument by the people thanking the US for</i></div>
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<i>saving them from the coup</i></div>
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We get back into St. Georges an hour later than scheduled and I am exhausted but exhilarated. This has been, without a doubt, one of the best days of my life - definitely in the top ten of all time. I love road trips, I love leaving no stone unturned. We saw every parish, each named after a saint. We drove through every little town and village. We saw beautiful deserted beaches. We saw the bounty of the island and how it is turned into an income for its workers. We met some lovely local people. We ate fabulous food. The people in the group I was with were awesome... I LOVED THIS DAY!!!!</div>
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Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-68183482082412515432013-10-23T22:42:00.000-07:002014-01-24T15:56:50.580-08:00AN UNFRIENDLY LOCAL AND A FRIENDLY MEALI wake up to about 200 sugar ants on my nightstand. UGH!! I left an open bottle half full of Ting on it overnight. Not a good plan.<br />
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I walk down to the restaurant and order the Spicy French Toast and then go in the pool for a dip. The location of this pool is unfortunate. I don't really want to swim and lay out here where every single lunch patron can watch me. Thus I make it a quick dip.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi86PqD5EjjAPf18iTSsp4y0ibmy9ZCf4sbjiaqiy8LjYosUCcyl2sIpGkCdliEa_ZshYBj3yvaV24KO6gr6aRhiwJqKv6S5buOilR2A0Z9VURsr6PFyjdm8nZ-o94yqUY2HHd1-QbM0Yt/s1600/IMG_3978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi86PqD5EjjAPf18iTSsp4y0ibmy9ZCf4sbjiaqiy8LjYosUCcyl2sIpGkCdliEa_ZshYBj3yvaV24KO6gr6aRhiwJqKv6S5buOilR2A0Z9VURsr6PFyjdm8nZ-o94yqUY2HHd1-QbM0Yt/s320/IMG_3978.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Spicy French Toast</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I go to reception and get some info on a tour company here and go back to my room to make the call to book an 8 hour island tour for tomorrow and a market tour for Saturday. They are $90 and $12 US dollars respectively. The island tour includes lunch. I am really looking forward to seeing the rest of the island.<br />
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On the way to the Allemanda resort I stop in at the mall for a couple of drinks for the beach. Once at the beach, I have to ask again for the chairs to be unlocked. It is a bit of an inconvenience but I understand it. Right next to where the resort is, there is a public park of sorts with a few shacks on it selling food. There is a big seagrape tree in front of the park on the beach and a lot of local men hang out under it for the entire day. They have a big stack of chairs in the park and they rent them out for the day. Some of them are also the beach vendors selling jewelry and massages etc. They look like a shady bunch and I guess the hotel doesn't want them, or anyone else for that matter, helping themselves to their chairs.<br />
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I get settled in and then go in for a dip. There are two women in the water and they greet me. We get to talking and their names are Lauren and Rosalie. Rosalie is older and originally from Grenada but now lives in New York, as does Lauren - who is originally from Tobago. At one point I am sure I hear Lauren call Rosalie 'mom' so not sure how it is they are from two different islands. They are really nice and very friendly and we spend an hour floating and laughing.<br />
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Back lounging in my chair, a huge cat comes in - Carib Cats. I have seen it (or rather HEARD it) way out on the water earlier. It takes tourists out for a few hours and they play reggae music extremely loudly. As I watch them, a young local guy is hauled up the very tall mast by rope and a small wooden platform. It doesn't look any too secure and steady and I am riveted watching him go up and then shortly after, back down. They let him down too fast and he freaks out a little about half way. Poor guy! When he gets on the sand he actually kneels down and kisses it!<br />
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An annoying old ratty looking rasta guy, who has been talking at volume ALL DAY under the local hang out tree I mentioned earlier, comes over to where I am and starts yelling at some little girls playing at the water's edge. It is obvious to me by the startled looks on their faces that they do not know this guy. They go back to playing and try to ignore him while he continues to yell at them. I can't make out what it is that has got him so annoyed but it seems to me that he is way out of line. He turns to see me staring at him, probably with a scowl, and he says something unintelligible to me and then says "Are you angry with me?" I say no but I guess he can tell I am annoyed with him and he goes off at volume about who he is, how much money he paid for a private island and some gas company (uh-huh, not buying it). He is yelling and is quite aggressive. He starts to walk off and then turns back to me yelling a bunch of stuff about how educated he is. He goes on and on and on and I finally have had enough.<br />
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"All I care about is that you're disturbing the peace of this beautiful place" I say.<br />
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He doesn't like that one bit. "ME? Disturbing the peace? Is that what you said?"<br />
<br />
"Yep. That's what I said."<br />
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He goes off again about the millions he has spent on land and companies. I just go back to my kindle and ignore him. He continues to yell and then finally leaves, walking to another small group not far from his tree and starts disturbing their peace.<br />
<br />
Guys like that should be arrested. Loitering all day, ranting at tourists right in front of their resort. He was a total ass for yelling at those little girls like he did.<br />
<br />
Every day that I have been on the beach here, there has been a couple my age under the shade of a tree a bit closer to the property line for the resort. He is white and she is black. Judging books by their covers, they seem really nice. I have started to say hi to them when I arrive, it is clear they are staying at the Allemanda, and they have been watching this whole exchange. I look over at them and grin and shrug. He grins back.<br />
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Some young boys arrive at the beach and proceed to have the Caribbean version of a snowball fight. It is highly entertaining to watch as they carefully form a small ball out of sand and a lot of water and then slowly pack more dry sand around it. They make a line of half a dozen or so and then start pelting each other with them. They are having the time of their lives and I am thoroughly enjoying watching them.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2WBK1kJxFrvuN5LGuwIgJqjpKYBDzp_AUHBIUFR3PLxFEUUsMt0agiUprykVad9frsH5HVQ8u8m6guU0Lu9MLzaJXwzioCxWLJfSZmnF3evHlFFNimVT4JRctfyOsC7L8RrIJmjtlGJC/s1600/IMG_3991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2WBK1kJxFrvuN5LGuwIgJqjpKYBDzp_AUHBIUFR3PLxFEUUsMt0agiUprykVad9frsH5HVQ8u8m6guU0Lu9MLzaJXwzioCxWLJfSZmnF3evHlFFNimVT4JRctfyOsC7L8RrIJmjtlGJC/s320/IMG_3991.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Carefully forming the sandballs</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm721_bCO_bUr8uohqtrCZX1MdiL65jJgdieIxAMeA-Zo-qpg4vb69ArnMw11maNxdY-Yzdwx1e84eJBD7iaFxUTMumTHlBn4eeB_pOhrSLvEAkpi7Omlyf9NotXj-RPaYja3m3ee5iguw/s1600/IMG_3983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm721_bCO_bUr8uohqtrCZX1MdiL65jJgdieIxAMeA-Zo-qpg4vb69ArnMw11maNxdY-Yzdwx1e84eJBD7iaFxUTMumTHlBn4eeB_pOhrSLvEAkpi7Omlyf9NotXj-RPaYja3m3ee5iguw/s320/IMG_3983.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>This ball landed smack on the side of the target's head!</i></div><br />
<iframe width="640" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/WxK23LPwsN8" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />
<br />
I have finally called Joe, the taxi driver Mike recommended, to come and take me out to dinner. He arrives right on time to pick me up and he is so professional, his van is new and pristine, and I am very happy. Not one single personal question.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeni0SAtZw6N3mxAo_5Il_f0apQIEQm4MgSVYf_UbohBq7H5YFr0EcsIgaT_e3WrqvzzZYtxjrgwx8WKVLvECGOsG98s2gcc7v_Itup1bfV5HRwaUu4nFcN2EoQJxUvKAmoLpPw1Fkv2CX/s1600/IMG_3999.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeni0SAtZw6N3mxAo_5Il_f0apQIEQm4MgSVYf_UbohBq7H5YFr0EcsIgaT_e3WrqvzzZYtxjrgwx8WKVLvECGOsG98s2gcc7v_Itup1bfV5HRwaUu4nFcN2EoQJxUvKAmoLpPw1Fkv2CX/s320/IMG_3999.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Ready for a night out with mystery guests</i></div><br />
Tom, the other driver, had told me about a resort on the south end of the island named Le Phare Bleu, that hosts a 'friendship table' dinner once a week on Wednesday evenings. The meal is set out, family style, in dishes, and you all sit together at one long table and get to know some new people. I LOVE the idea of this and so have made a reservation and that is where we are headed.<br />
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When I arrive, there is a long table set out and a few people at the bar. I walk up to the bar, order a drink and then say hello to an older gentleman sitting there. I ask him if he is there for the friendship dinner and he says he is. We introduce ourselves; he is Robin and he is British. I recognize another man down the bar from pizza night at Prickly Bay. He is rather loud but seems really nice and I am guessing from his accent that he is from the states, maybe Texas. I find out later that he is from Florida. There is a woman with him who looks to be about 20 years older than he is (he looks my age) but I think maybe she is the same age but has had a hard life and too much sun!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKo3j1PCe33te-WyPsSN6T6VBQpLm4OtY_66LiebhgR90fH27m11vTTmzIXbbS5Ej7Dl-dFhPQH27t_znJlwjdoIu07qG4vfUVHd2zt_k-YU3KeZ05JeZWadzdrrqdjJ1hoetvjI4R-mxN/s1600/IMG_4002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKo3j1PCe33te-WyPsSN6T6VBQpLm4OtY_66LiebhgR90fH27m11vTTmzIXbbS5Ej7Dl-dFhPQH27t_znJlwjdoIu07qG4vfUVHd2zt_k-YU3KeZ05JeZWadzdrrqdjJ1hoetvjI4R-mxN/s320/IMG_4002.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>My wonderful dinner partner, Robin</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>It turns out that tonight we are dining buffet style and a server comes to tell us we can help ourselves whenever we are ready so we head to the table. The meal tonight is all authentic Caribbean cuisine and I am excited to try it. Robin and I sit across from each other at the long table and have a great conversation. It turns out he has lived on Grenada for ten years, he is a project manager and built the beautiful Port Louis Marina, among other places. He has just returned from a trip to England and his wife is still there visiting family. He is a wonderful dinner partner and I have a lovely evening. And the food is fantastic.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAht0Qx9wKbk0s8P2Y7ZxUQuCIAN6frvYUazuhRQUxtU8G1j2ALs-SdUYNPJ02Rd_HEA_mV0jfJxSjmAHU9v4OscL9WHJFIkxELHrbzVCXfsMrdFvinyaz1kXw5mwzQs5tXf0K0pqWu2xd/s1600/IMG_4003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAht0Qx9wKbk0s8P2Y7ZxUQuCIAN6frvYUazuhRQUxtU8G1j2ALs-SdUYNPJ02Rd_HEA_mV0jfJxSjmAHU9v4OscL9WHJFIkxELHrbzVCXfsMrdFvinyaz1kXw5mwzQs5tXf0K0pqWu2xd/s320/IMG_4003.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Robin and me</i></div><br />
The guy from Florida is named Tom and once I am alone, because Robin has gone home for the evening, he comes over and offers to buy me a drink and I accept. He orders it and one for himself. He asks me where I am from and tells me he is from Florida and that he is a boat captain and delivers boats all over the Caribbean from Florida for those who don't want to make the trip themselves. Just as the drinks arrive, the woman he is with walks over and it is clear right away that she has had too much to drink. She more orders than tells him that it is time to go. He says "yes, in a bit", and turns back to me. She gets really rude at this point and grabs his arm and says "Lets GO! I want to GO. NOW!" and yanks on his arm. He can't ignore her although it seems he wants to. He apologizes to me and stands. She is loudly telling him she wants to leave NOW the whole time. I feel sorry for Tom as he seems very embarrassed and tells me she is his first mate. As they walk away, I wonder if he is also married to her. If he is, I feel very sorry for him.<br />
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What I really appreciate about my new taxi driver, Joe, is that he, unlike the other two, does not require me to give him a time to return for me, just a phone call giving him 20 minutes to get here - so I don't feel like I am leaving before I want to. I call him and then go sit with some other friendship table diners that were at the other end to introduce myself. I meet a lovely woman with a young boy on her lap. They are from Germany and here on business for two months and just arrived today. They are staying at the resort attached to the restaurant here. We have a nice chat until Joe arrives and then we walk out together, her to their room and me to the lovely shiny clean taxi.<br />
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Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-254926542604704392013-10-22T23:58:00.000-07:002014-01-03T13:46:50.326-08:00BEACH, BURGER, AND A (SMELLY) BAG OF ALOEUp at 8:30 after a fabulous sleep. I love how quiet this place is.<br />
<br />
I read over the proof read one more time and email back and forth with Mike a bit until we get it just right.<br />
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I grab a couple of gingersnaps for breakfast and walk down to the computer store on 'Wall Street' (named so because there are several banks on that block) just by the big roundabout at the end of my road. They have a cord for my phone at $105 EC or $42 Canadian. I hate to pay that much but I need it.<br />
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Close by is the Allamanda Beach Resort, a sister hotel to where I am staying. Because of this, I can use their deck chairs to lounge on the beach. I head over there and have to ask at the desk for the chairs to be unlocked. I take two in case Regina comes by.<br />
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It's a partially sunny day and yet super hot so I put the chairs in the shade of one of the huge seagrape trees that are along this stretch of sand. I read for two hours and am constantly being interrupted by local men and women asking me if I want to purchase handcrafted jewelry, or do I want my hair braided (no!!!!), or would I like a foot massage. Most do leave when I say 'no thank you' but the constant interruption is annoying and the odd one who won't take no for an answer is as well. One great thing though, I am wearing the bracelet I bought on Mayreau so those who are selling a similar item notice it and say 'oh I see you have one' and leave me alone.<br />
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<i>Ahhh... perfect!</i></div>
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A fellow walks up to my chair and hands me a business card, his name is Tom. He tells me that he runs tours of the island and asks if I am interested. I am, actually, so he asks if he can sit down and he sits on the edge of my lounge. He explains the full island tour and prices and I ask a few questions. I mention that I am looking for a new taxi driver and he tells me he drives taxi as well so I arrange for him to pick me up at 5:30 at my hotel for dinner at Prickly Bay with Rick and Alessandra. I tell him I will think about the tour (as his price seems steep to me). He eventually leaves and we agree to 'see you later'.<br />
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Shortly after I think I see Regina and Bruce heading towards me along the waters edge and I stand up and wave to them. They wave back. They get close and... it isn't them! I am so shocked because they both looked exactly like them from a distance. I get ready to explain myself but as they walk close enough to talk to, they completely ignore me - no eye contact at all. Hmmm.<br />
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Growing hungry, I realize that it is almost noon so I walk down the beach in search of a restaurant and find a place called Umbrellas near by. It isn't right on the beach, there is a packed sand parking lot between, but it's close enough that I feel okay about going in with just a swimsuit and cover up shirt. I ask to be seated outside on the upper deck and love the view from there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cdQGEXmb5AFXYcqBv-501auZ3MwMI_RRynJ2vjAB3x7SWdEvcuf0-eiVJSLf7Ze7E9yu2DV7ncQoN9nX0BF6Q_TZnenkKjE6IvWAF30OwMIDgeGgkdC_besheWrSBdDpWnrpkXnJFj7-/s1600/IMG_3975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cdQGEXmb5AFXYcqBv-501auZ3MwMI_RRynJ2vjAB3x7SWdEvcuf0-eiVJSLf7Ze7E9yu2DV7ncQoN9nX0BF6Q_TZnenkKjE6IvWAF30OwMIDgeGgkdC_besheWrSBdDpWnrpkXnJFj7-/s320/IMG_3975.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>View from my table at Umbrellas</i></div>
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I am dying for a burger so order one and a nutmeg milkshake. I don't usually drink milkshakes but I want to try the nutmeg one. I mention to the waiter that I'd like to charge my phone if there is an outlet nearby but he says there isn't. He offers to charge it behind the bar downstairs and I gratefully accept. The weather is warm and breezy, broken cloud with about 30% blue sky. I hope the rain holds off today.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRELFIeBkrxvIsAPVGUt9sLLYmdCitnxfvv2YoHbAQhtvkWlOYkYMuCMHUM0VM8YGdYllajURlqcX_eHQqi8D-7Kf511yhDC_lz1qNpJCW3LT_eWWMEcFMqeSZYZSyNQ-G6VYQl8eH_l-/s1600/P1020585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbRELFIeBkrxvIsAPVGUt9sLLYmdCitnxfvv2YoHbAQhtvkWlOYkYMuCMHUM0VM8YGdYllajURlqcX_eHQqi8D-7Kf511yhDC_lz1qNpJCW3LT_eWWMEcFMqeSZYZSyNQ-G6VYQl8eH_l-/s320/P1020585.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Nutmeg Milkshake...mmmm!</i></div>
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The meal is exceptionally good and the shake is delicious! I decide I will definitely be back and trying more of their menu. When it comes time to leave, I am rather self conscious as more patrons have arrived and they are all dressed for either a business lunch or a ladies lunch out with friends. I feel very underdressed and decide that I can't come back here unless I am dressed for it so no more beach lunches at Umbreallas.<br />
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<i>Enhanced view</i></div>
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I head back to Allamanda and the chairs have been put back so I have to get them unlocked again. I just get one for me this time. As I sit there, a dog walks up to me and stands beside my chair and gazes into my eyes for about a minute. I look back at him and say 'hi' and give him a pat on the head. He continues to gaze into my face and then suddenly turns, walks a couple of steps to the rear of my chair and collapses onto the sand in the shade. He instantly falls asleep and stays there for a couple of hours. I guess he was checking me out to make sure I was trustworthy.<br />
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<i>A weary dog who just needed a safe place to sleep for a while</i></div>
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After a couple of hours or so I decide to walk down the beach in search of sea glass and I don't get very far when who should be waving at me from a distance but Regina! So we walk back to my chair, get a second one and sit together and chat until I have to go and get changed for dinner. We agree to try to meet up again tomorrow.<br />
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I walk back and get changed and fixed up. Tom, the driver, arrives on time and seems rather taken aback by the change in my appearance - something I have encountered before as I know I tend to look fairly hideous on the beach with no makeup and limp hair clipped back off of my face. He compliments me and I just smile and say 'thanks' as I head down the steps towards his van... which is a total wreck. As he gives me a hand up into the back, I bang my head on a rusted piece of metal hanging by wires from the ceiling and I realize that it is the dome light that has come loose and is not working. I can't see but it feels like it cut my forehead. I decide on the spot that there is no way I am going for an 8 hour tour in this heap. The seat I am on is completely wrecked with lumpy springs under my butt.<br />
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He asks me a lot of personal questions on the drive to Prickly Bay but that seems to be the norm for males in these parts and I give short answers. It's about a 20 minute drive so there's a lot of questions. I am relieved when we arrive at the destination and I ask to him to come back for me at 9.<br />
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Rick and Alessandra arrive about 20 minutes after me and they have a couple of people with them, a girl named Dasha and a local fellow named Michael. Dasha has a heavy accent that sounds a lot like Andy Kauffman playing Latka. Over beer, hamburgers, and pizza we have a nice evening. There is a trivia game that anyone can take part in and it is awful as the questions are seriously stupid - trivia no one but a specialist on the subject would know.<br />
<br />
Tom arrives right on time and so I have to go even though I could have stayed another hour, and he is exhibiting impatience as I say my goodbyes which I find inappropriate but I don't say anything about it.<br />
<br />
He has noticed my blistered and peeling shoulders (I will peel from my hairline to my toes before this vacation is over) and offers to stop at a friend's place to cut me some aloe vera. I thank him but tell him no. He insists it is no trouble. Again I say no, that it is okay. He then insists that I need it so I say fine. He heads in a completely different direction than we came in and soon we are on a pot-holed dirt road in the middle of nothing and nowhere. There are no houses, no street lights, just the glow from his headlights illuminating a few feet ahead and on each side of the road. It passes through my mind that this may not end so good for me but I take hope in the fact that he listens to Christian radio (there's been sermons blaring on it the entire time I've been in the van). But him continuously saying 'let your heart be not afraid, I am not going to hurt you' without provocation could kind of negate that hope. However, deep down, I sense that his intentions are good, and sure enough, we pull off into a cleared area where there are several huge yucca plants and he jumps out and cuts off two huge leaves. He gets back in and fishes around on the floor until he finds a bag and puts them inside and hands them to me. I thank him and we get on our way. There has been an odd unpleasant odour in the van since getting in at the marina and it just got incredibly stronger. I gingerly sniff at the bag in my hands. It is coming from there. I lay it on the floor.<br />
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We pass by the airport - we actually drive right through the pick-up area, and he is flagged down by a uniformed customs officer. Now what?! They exchange some words that I don't understand and then the passenger door opens and a woman gets in. I recognize her as one of the customs clerks that was present when I checked into the country. Apparently we are giving her a ride into town. She never looks back where I am and never says a word to me so I don't know if she even realizes I am there. She and Tom talk a bit but, honestly, despite my trying very hard, I can't pick up more than a word here or there. Hard to believe they are speaking English!<br />
<br />
Once we are back at the hotel the driver tells me he'd like to take me out for coffee in the morning. I tell him no thank you. He then offers to come in and put the aloe vera on my back for me. Uhhh... no. He is really pushy about seeing me in the morning but I tell him again that I am not interested. He again offers to put the aloe vera on for me and I tell him firmly that I can handle it myself and I walk up the stairs to my door carrying the smelly bag of stems. He calls after me and says will I please, please think about going out for a drink with him and I say I will think about it just to get rid of him but there is no way I want to see this guy again. I feel so uncomfortable. I need a new cab driver. <a href="http://www.zerotocruising.com/" target="_blank">Mike </a>gave me the name of a guy they use and I had intended to call him after my bad experience with Cat Eye but then this guy appeared on the beach and I figured why not just go with him but it was clearly a mistake. I will be calling Joe, Mike's guy, tomorrow.<br />
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I go to the kitchen to cut some aloe vera and when I pull it out of the bag I am overwhelmed with the odour of some sort of curry and see that there is a bright yellow oily slick on both stems of the plant. It just reeks - I mean, I love curry but this is not just curry. I have no idea what it is that smells like that but it is absolutely disgusting. I wash the stems off with dish soap and water and dry them to see that there is still a yellow stain on the stem. I cut a piece off of one and put the rest in the fridge. I then go about slicing the piece open and rubbing it on my shoulders and back as far as I can reach. As I climb into bed and get comfortable, I realize that I smell like that awful curry. It is absolutely nauseating and I get up, wash my hands and spray some perfume on myself before getting back into bed. It doesn't really help.Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-58223188997398306452013-10-21T23:28:00.000-07:002014-01-01T18:53:36.453-08:00OFF OF THE BOAT INTO A HOTELI wake at 7:30 but doze in and out for an hour. Today I leave the boat as the 'by sea' part of the trip is over, and I am trying to sort out in my head what to do about tipping Alessandra. I have $600 set aside for it but there's no way I am leaving that much so I decide to message a friend who used to do charters and is well versed in this business. He messages me back and says to leave $50 - $100 or nothing at all. He also suggests to talk to Rick, which I do.<br />
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Come to find out, this was not a 'crewed' charter, just captain only. I was expected to pitch in and fend for myself and no tip at all is expected. I am rather stunned and Rick says that it was stated as such in the initial contest post. This is news to me. The prize was described as a 'share the sail' charter and to me, that means I am not the only guest, there will be others that I won't know aboard who are also guests. This was to be the case but the only other guests, a couple, backed out a couple of weeks before the sail. Other than that, that this was not a proper crewed charter was never explained to me. And although it is good to know, it is rather too late and I am somewhat embarrassed as I must have seemed like a lazy, entitled idiot the entire time.<br />
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I decide to leave Alessandra $100 US because she did all of the dishes the entire trip and, I now realize, cooked more than her fair share of the dinners. It doesn't help me feel less embarrassed about the whole thing though and I really wish it had been made clear what the expectations were right from the start.<br />
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I get all packed up and the eat some of the coconut bread for breakfast. Alessandra is still in bed as she is not feeling well today. Rick is at his computer editing the footage we shot of the girl who sang the other night.<br />
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I have, overall, enjoyed this part of my trip. I loved the sailing but not how the boat heeled over - it makes for an uncomfortable time of it; I loved that Rick took me on so many dingy explorations - I really enjoyed them and saw a lot that way; I absolutely fell in love with Union Island, the Tobago Cays, Petit Tabac, and especially Mayreau - truly, truly paradise on earth and I would go back in a heartbeat and, if I could take my family with me, never, ever leave. I am forever grateful to Rick for making those places part of the itinerary. I didn't see any dolphins, which was a big disappointment - but saw loads of flying fish and they were fun to spot! I really liked Alessandra and just wished she had been more social - the one time we sat on the side of the boat and talked for an hour or two was so great and I think we could have had many more chats if she'd shown interest. I was also very grateful for both Rick and Alessandra's gracious acceptance of my instability getting in and out of the dinghy and helping me greatly so that what had been a very big concern to me was almost a non-issue. I was very leery of Lucky the parrot as he bit Alessandra a couple of times, but was shocked when he said - in my voice - 'Where's Rick?' one afternoon after I had said it to him about a dozen times in an hour while Rick was on shore (he said it many many times after that) - I loved how many things Lucky could say and, as long as he was in his cage, found him very amusing. I was very comfortable in my little cabin and the bed was a lot more comfy than I expected - but I hated the bathroom. The cabinet on the wall had hinges that had broken so it fell down every time I opened it and I was constantly in fear of plugging the toilet - which never happened, thank the Lord. And showering in there was a challenge as you soaked the whole room and there wasn't much space to maneuver - if I lived aboard there would definitely have to be a proper shower.<br />
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I am really looking forward to the second half of this trip and I hope the hotel is clean and in good repair. I tried to see where it might be from the water each time we sailed between Grand Anse and Mourne Rouge Beach but I'm not sure if I saw it or not. I'm just trying to recognize buildings I am seeing from pictures on the website but nothing is quite the same. I am thinking that it is not as close to the beach as they make it out to be on the website. We shall see.<br />
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Not having my iPhone is horrible!<br />
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Just before noon, Rick dinghys me and my bags to Clarke's Court Marina where we wait just a few minutes for Cat Eye, the taxi driver, to show. Rick and I make arrangements to get in touch to go to half price pizza in a couple of days at Prickly Bay and maybe to Gouyave fish fry Friday together later in the week<span style="color: #4a4a4a; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Bitstream Vera Sans, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">.</span></span><br />
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Cat Eye arrives and we say our goodbyes for now. As we drive the 20 minutes from the south end of the island up to Grand Anse - Cat Eye pointing out places of interest along the way, and it strikes me again how different this island is from the BVI. There are no multi-million dollar villas on the hills here, just a lot of brightly painted shacks and cabins with a few stucco or clapboard houses here and there. There are people walking on the side of the road everywhere, and there are no killer hills. This really does feel like a third world country. We pass a 'squatters village' that is pretty awful - loads of ramshackle shacks on a steep hillside, crammed together with palm trees and bits of wild jungle growth between - super tiny structures smaller than most people's living rooms back home, the majority are of faded raw plywood but some are painted bright colours.<br />
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We pull in to the Siesta Hotel and I check in at the open reception area. I realize at once that I never saw this place from the water as it is not where I thought it was - I thought it was between Grand Anse and Morne Rouge but it isn't - and it is much farther off of the beach than I supposed. Cat Eye drives me up the steep driveway to my building and leaves my bags at the door to my room, which is standing open. I walk inside and the young maid is still in the room, hanging curtains. It is stifling hot inside and ask her about turning on the air-conditioning - something the hotel clerk asked her to do when she radioed up that I had arrived. She apologizes and turns it on and I take a look around. As the entire establishment is almost empty of guests, I have been upgraded from a room to a 'suite'. It is rather sparsely furnished, no decor at all - it is very bare bones. It's not super clean either but the whole place passable and I remind myself that I got it at a very good price. Then I find a spider in one of the kitchen cupboards! I call the maid to come and remove it, hoping dearly that is the only one I will see in here. I am happy to see that there is a small safe in the bedroom closet for valuables. The air conditioning unit is in the bedroom and it quickly cools off that room but the rest of the place stays too hot for comfort.<br />
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<i>From the living room to the kitchen area</i></div>
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<i>From the kitchen to the living room</i></div>
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<i>Kitchen</i></div>
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<i>Bedroom (note the lovely curtains)</i></div>
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<i>Bathroom which was very clean except for the light fixture</i></div>
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Looking out of the window, the view is great but it's looking like it will definitely be a bit of a walk to the beach as what I thought was a lawn between here and there (when looking at pictures on the web site before booking it) is actually a plot of jungle. The mall is five minutes to the right, the way to the beach about the same to the left, apparently. The pool looks nice and the restaurant right beside it looks like it will be a good place for some lunch.<br />
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<i>View from my little balcony</i></div>
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I head down to the restaurant for a bite of lunch and order the callaloo quiche. Certainly not cheap at $25 EC. I haven't ever had callaloo - I don't even know what it looks like so this will be interesting. When it arrives, it is just a slice of quiche - no salad or garnish - and it appears to be full of spinach but this is the callaloo I guess. It tastes pretty good! As I sit there and eat, it starts to rain - hard. I wait it out and then set out to walk to the beach. The receptionist confirms that I need to head left, take the first road on the right, and there will be a path to the beach at the end.<br />
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<i>Callaloo Quiche</i></div>
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<i>And...... the rain</i></div>
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As I walk down the narrow road which has no sidewalks, I start to notice that there are huge holes in the dirt at the side of the road, everywhere - about 50 every 10 feet. I stop and look at one, warily. If these are made by some earth burrowing spider, it is going to make for terrifying walks to the beach every day and if I actually ever see one of what ever big ass arachnid makes these holes, I might never go to the beach as I won't dare step foot off of the hotel property! As I continue to walk, heart somewhat in throat, looking down at my feet, which now look very exposed in flimsy flip flops, to make sure no spiders are ready to attack me - I start to look ahead a little and notice that there are orange things outside each hole and as I get within 10 feet or so, they disappear into the hole and I realize - with huge relief - that the holes belong to land crabs. The crabs are various sizes from the size of a small cookie to the size of my hand. There are ditches that run along each side of the side of the road, and on the far side of the ditches, the crabs that are lucky enough to live there don't run into their holes when I walk by. It's almost as if they are standing there, their one big claw in the air, saying 'HA! You can't get me... I am way over here and there is a ditch between us that you'll NEVER cross.' I imagine that these are the smug aristocracy of the crab community here.<br />
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<i>WHAT lives in there?!?!?</i></div>
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<i>Oh, whew! It's just some crabs.</i></div>
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I turn off this road down the first road on the right (more crabs) and see the local police. I cannot find the path that is supposed to be at the end of the road so I turn right along a road that runs alongside the beach (and more crabs) but has big resorts in between and I finally decide to just walk through one of the resorts, Spice Island, to the beach. I walk as if I belong there and no one stops me as I go through the marble clad open air reception, past a gorgeous bar and restaurant, and then a private outdoor seating area around a pretty fountain. I step onto the sand of Grand Anse and am immediately accosted by a young man with dreadlocks and a diamond stud in his nose. He is carrying a backpack and flashes a big white smile. He holds up a necklace made of cinnamon sticks, nutmeg with the mace lace still on, and various other leaves and spices and tells me I need one. It is a beach vendor and he is unrelenting when I tell him I'm not interested at the moment, thank you anyway, and he walks by my side as I start to walk down the beach. I tell him I have just arrived, that I am here for 10 days, and that IF I want one, I wouldn't buy it until the day before I leave. He realizes I am unmoved by his pleas and the smile disappears. He says everyone says that and then he never sees them again. I tell him that if I decide to buy one, I will look for him on my last day here and then I go on my way, leaving him behind. I have read that the beach is full of these guys but they accept it when you say no and move on. This guy sure didn't do that and I wonder if I am going to be fighting them off all week long.<br />
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<i>Ahhh! The beach!!</i></div>
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I find a small dive shop on the beach with several local guys sitting out front. I walk up and ask them where the path is from the road to the beach and they point it out to me, not far away, and I find it on my way back, after a nice long stroll along this new-to-me end of the beach. No wonder I didn't see it, it is clearly a path from the beach side, but then it cuts through a small dirt road that doglegs and leads to a parking lot for a Yoga gym, which I saw from the other side but had no idea that was it.<br />
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I walk to the mall for a new iPhone 4 cord with no luck but buy some snacks and drinks to put in my fridge back at the hotel. As I head to the doors to leave I see that it is absolutely pissing it down out. There is a small group of shoppers waiting at the doors for the rain to pass and I join them. It slows down but doesn't stop so I head out into the drizzle and make my way back to the hotel. I haven't gotten my bearings yet - I do know how to get back - but I am sure there has to be a quicker way. As I walk the long way around from the front of the mall to the road that takes me home, I realize that the peach stuccoed, long, low building with the red tin roof that I passed on my way to the mall IS the mall - the back side - and that there is a small glass door into the mall at the end of a long path from the road, over the ditch, and through a bit of lawn that I could have taken. Great to know for future visits!<br />
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<i>Waiting out the rain</i></div>
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As I get dressed to go out for dinner, I realize that I forgot to empty the drawer under my bunk on the boat. My tank tops and my bras are in there! I am gong to need those items!! I private message Rick on FaceBook and send him an email - I now have wifi in my room so can use my iPad. An hour later he hasn't replied to either. This is not good.<br />
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I have arranged to meet Bruce and Regina at Port Louis Marina tonight. Cat Eye comes for me and drives me about 10 minutes to the port. Bruce seems a bit distant at first but he soon comes around and we chat about his life on the farm and what prompted him to sell and come here, and about his life since. Regina also shares a bit about her life in Switzerland. I have a really nice evening with the two of them and Regina and I agree to meet up on the beach tomorrow.<br />
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The ride back with Cat Eye is strange, he is either high or drunk. Either way, I do not feel safe with him at the wheel. I won't be using him again. (I was sure I took a pic of Bruce and Regina but a search of both my iPhone and camera turns up nothing.)<br />
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Mike from <a href="http://www.zerotocruising.com/" target="_blank">Zero to Cruising</a> has messaged me asking if I would proof read an article he has written for a sailing magazine so I do that and then head to bed, leaving lights on in the living room because I don't want cockroaches running about. I haven't seen any. And I don't want to.<br />
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-61620335121117141992013-10-20T23:59:00.000-07:002014-02-26T22:27:37.691-08:00HOG ISLAND, GRENADAWoke up at 6:30 but dozed till 8. I get up to see Alessandra on the couch on her iPhone and Rick at the computer and there is a sink full of two days worth of dirty dishes. As it seems I am pretty much on my own for meals, this is the last straw... am I expected to do the dishes? And I say exactly that. Rick mumbles something about them just having gotten up themselves. Whatever. They've been there since yesterday afternoon and they were both on board for well over an hour while I was at the pool and Alessandra was aboard alone for three hours while Rick and I videoed the girls singing last night. I am getting the distinct impression that this is not a real charter so I guess I won't have to leave a real tip. I was prepared to leave 20% of the value of the prize but that is not going to happen.<br />
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Rick leaves to check in to customs and they charge him $140 EC and he isn't happy. He was checked in for 3 months already and I was checked in for the same at the airport when I arrived. I give him $100 EC as it is because of me, but I am not thrilled about it either. Seems like a money grab by the gov't aimed at sailors as I didn't have to pay anything to check in for three months at the airport. And really, once you're checked in you should be able to come and go in that time without another fee.<br />
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At 11am we head off to Hog Island so that we can be there for the bbq later this afternoon. It's a nice motor all the way and I have a short nap. We get there at 1pm. We anchor close to the beach and, interestingly, Alessandra asks me if I am hungry and when I say that I am, she prepares herself a dish of avocado drizzled with olive oil and plops down in front of me and eats it, leaving me to myself. I eat the rest (4) of the gingersnaps.<br />
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We hop in the dinghy for a tour around and so I get to see Calvigny Island. It is so cool to see so many of the places I've read about on <a href="http://www.zerotocruising.com/civilization-is-a-relative-thing/" target="_blank">Mike and Rebecca's blog</a>.<br />
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<i>Calvigny Island</i></div>
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<i>Calvigny Island</i></div>
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We pass by the burnt out hull of a brand new <a href="http://www.sailfeed.com/2013/06/boat-fire-gorgeous-yacht-destroyed-in-grenada/" target="_blank">yacht that caught fire</a> a few months before I arrived in the islands, right in Prickly Bay. It burned everything but the aluminum hull. Such a shame. The guy who bought it has it tied alongside of a huge tug boat he owns and he has started to patch the hull with plates of steel riveted onto the outside of the shell. But the whole thing is so warped from the fire, I can't see what the point is nor how anything can ever be made of it.<br />
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It is an observation of mine that there is a great variety of people anchored in this place. Some of the boats are at least 50 feet, sleek and pristine. Then there are boats that are the water version of a gypsy caravan with all manner of 'junk' hanging from the lifelines and tied up anywhere else they found to stash stuff. The ropes are frayed, the hulls are small, faded, and some even rusty, with the sorriest looking excuse for a dingy floating behind and both the dingy and the boat needing some good old fashioned elbow grease. Some are obviously home to a lone sailor and some to young families and others to wealthy retirees. It's quite the mix.<br />
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We stop in at Clark's Court Marina, a tiny dive of a place, for a drink and watch the last 20 minutes of Hugo on the large TV over the bar, along with another half a dozen or so very worn-out looking customers.<br />
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We get over to Hog Island for the bbq dinner at Rogers Bar. The place is very rustic with a sand floor and cobbled together half walls and roof, open on the front to the beach. Strangely there is no music, not one note the whole night. The food is really good although the only chicken is all legs and I usually only eat white meat but I strip that leg down to the bone! At $25 EC it's a bit steep. Rick and Alessandra share one plate between them.<br />
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I meet a great guy named Bruce from a boat named 'Sold the Farm' and it turns out he is from Alberta (how is it that all Albertans are such lovely people?!) and he really did sell his farm to buy a boat and move to the Caribbean. His crew is a lovely girl from Switzerland, Regina, and I have a great night talking with them. He is so nice and someone I'd be happy to sail with. Wish I was more suited to it - read: young and fit! Oh to turn back the clock knowing what I know now!<br />
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<i>Regina at Rogers Bar</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
There are a lot of full-time cruisers and a handful of locals at this bbq and what a motley bunch! And such drama! One lady comes over and starts talking about her ex boyfriend (who is also present somewhere here) with Rick and as I listen to both of them it dawns on me that as much as some people are here to escape life, they just bring all the drama with them. I get the distinct impression that most of these people never leave this anchorage. They're not really cruisers, they just happen to live on a boat in the water. And they have the usual gossip about those they live near. Looking around I, once again, get an overwhelming feeling of not belonging. As much as I dream about living full time on a boat in the Caribbean, hanging out with this crowd is not for me.... I have nothing in common with them and I despise gossiping. And although I don't think this trip is a great gage of how I'd do as a full time live-aboard, I am feeling like it isn't for me. But I never did want to live on a mono-hull sail boat. A cat (or a nice big luxury yacht - hahaha) is the only way I could go, if I could go for it at all.<br />
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<i>Hog Island regulars</i><br />
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<i>Just a half empty bottle of Ting between me and </i><br />
<i>the parrot that likes to bite people</i></div>
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I need to figure out what it is I want. At 55. HA! I say that as if I have choices as to how I will live out my retirement. I don't. Not at this point in my life and not unless there is a dramatic event that brightens my prospects; I will be working till I drop dead.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-86610997372812326922013-10-19T23:33:00.000-07:002013-12-30T00:46:10.523-08:00BACK TO GRENADA At 7am we pull up anchor and set for Grenada. When I get up Rick and Alessandra are readying the boat to sail. There's no word about breakfast and I am thankful for coconut bread I bought on Mayreau as I set about making tea, a cold drink, and buttering a couple of slices of the bread.<br />
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There's a rainbow in the sky as we leave the harbour. It is sunny with clouds. I have to wear a light shirt as my back is sore with sunburn.<br />
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When we sail past Kick'em Jenny, Rick suddenly realizes that we are in the no-sail zone. Eeek.<br />
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Off Grenada we hit a storm and I am ordered below. It's raining very hard and the wind is really strong, blowing the sails all over. Lines are whipping about as well. It's not fun. After what feels like an hour, we get through that and eventually head in to Port Louis Marina.<br />
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Rick has been asked to video a local girl singing at a club there tonight and he has agreed in exchange for moorage at the marina. There's a pool there and I am looking forward to that, especially because there is no breeze at all in the sheltered port and it is stinking hot and particularly stifling below deck. It will be hard to sleep tonight. What I wouldn't give for some air-conditioning right now! I am teeming sweat.<br />
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It's almost 4pm and we haven't eaten today, other than what I made for breakfast, and I decide I am going to make a meal for the three of us. I use lots of the vegetables we bought and have barely touched, chicken breast, and cook up some rice and make us a huge stir fry. It is absolutely delicious and Rick certainly seems to enjoy it. I honestly don't know how these two survive on the slim pickings that have been our meals. We never do use the fish we bought and not even half the bag of chicken. At one point I asked Rick about the bar-b-que he has on the rail, wondering if we could use it to cook up some burgers if I bought some ground beef. He didn't want to use it, citing it needing a new grill or more propane or something or other. I was dying for a burger (I rarely eat red meat) at that point and was very disappointed. As this will most likely be my only charter cruise, the whole meal situation has been quite the let down.<br />
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I am super frustrated because an adapter I recently purchased for my iPhone 4 enabling me to use the iPad cord, thus needing to pack only one cord for charging both, has broken. I bought it very cheaply online direct from China. It's a piece of garbage now and it leaves me without a way to charge my iPhone and for some reason I can't get online with my iPad.<br />
<br />
The swim in the marina pool is very refreshing and I float about for over an hour waiting for Rick and Alessandra to join me... they were supposed to be right behind me. They eventually show up, just as I am thinking about getting out because my fingers are prunes. I stay a bit longer then leave to use the showers at the marina to clean up... what a treat and they are so much nicer than I expect!<br />
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Rick and I head over to YOLO, the bar at the marina, toting lots of video equipment. And it is air-conditioned!! Oh wow, does it ever feel amazing. What a relief!<br />
<br />
We get a drink each and then Rick sets up the equipment. There are a few people in the club and I get to talking to a fellow beside me. Turns out he is the captain of a big luxury yacht in the marina called GO. We first saw the boat when we left Port Louis on our way to the Grenadines. We also saw them everywhere we went up there and we were so surprised to see them behind us when we pulled into Port Louis today - basically they had the exact same itinerary we had. He is a really nice guy from Texas and he shows me some photos on his iPhone of the interior of the yacht. It's gorgeous.<br />
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<br />
Tammy Baldeo arrives with her accompanist, a fantastic guitar player, and we get busy filming them. I take the camera on sticks and Rick works the steadi cam. The singing is really good, especially seeing this is one of her first public appearances, and I very much enjoy the evening.<br />
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While we were there the Prime Minister and Governor General of Grenada show up with a retinue including a female uniformed guard, red braid and all. They sit outside on the patio and have a meal and then leave without coming inside to hear the music. Rather exciting, regardless.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/AJTjhLtwc-c?rel=0" width="640"></iframe>Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-2300622571309615542013-10-18T13:57:00.000-07:002013-12-25T11:54:30.762-08:00RELUCTANTLY LEAVING THE CAYSI set my alarm to be up by 5:30 so I can pop my head out of my berth hatch and see the sunrise. WOW! It is GORGEOUS!!<br />
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<i>Sunrise in Saltwhistle Bay</i></div>
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I stand there and watch the show for at least 20 minutes before I lay back down and try to sleep but can't so read.<br />
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Once up, I watch La Boriel, a 'small' luxury cruise ship from France, sail into the Cays. <br />
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I wait for the coconut bread I ordered from yesterday to arrive and when it does it is delicious. I pay $10 EC instead of $6. It just seemed too cheap to pay that little and it is obvious to me that the local people do not have a lot of money so I feel it is the least I can do.<br />
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When we go to leave the bay, the same boat boy that helped us off of the sand last night wants $60 EC for the mooring ball. Rick is angry about that and refuses to pay more than $40, as that is what they go for around the other side at the turtle reserve. He seems really angry at the amount of money he has spent since arriving here so I give him $100 EC to cover most of it. When you consider the exchange rate, it isn't that much money.<br />
<br />
I am sad to be leaving the Cays - it is beyond gorgeous here, truly a paradise and I don't know <b>if</b> - let alone <b>when</b> - I will ever be back. It saddens me almost to tears to leave.<br />
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We stop in at Union Island again to sign out of the Grenadines. We girls stay on board although I am alone most of the time as Alessandra prefers her cell phone to my company, it seems, so I sit on the swim grid and dangle my feet in the water. A squall comes over and it rains hard for 10 minutes and soaks everything not below deck. Rick is still away and doesn't return for over an hour. He stopped at a bar when the rain hit and ended up staying half an hour.<br />
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<i>Alessandra</i></div>
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Alessandra is planning on making pasta again today. I am starting to get annoyed. I paid for a good portion of the groceries we purchased and there was chicken and fish in the cart. Where aren't we using any of it? This trip is almost over and we've had chicken once and pork one other night. I tell her as nicely as possible that I need protein, that there has been way more carbs this week than I would normally eat in a month. She doesn't seem happy to hear this but, oh well. I will cook myself a chicken breast to go with the pasta whenever our next meal is.<br />
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Once Rick is back, we head over to Petit Martinique for fuel. It is sunny and very hot and I try to stay out of the sun as it feels like my back is burning. It takes us about an hour to get there and Alessandra is in her cabin pretty much the whole trip over. I thought perhaps it was because she was upset about me wanting protein but apparently she is feeling seasick.<br />
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We arrive for fuel and then take the dinghy over to a spit of sand named Mopion just off of the island on the other side. It is just tiny with a palapa on one end that is being taken by the sea as the sand shifts.<br />
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<i>Heading in to Petit Martinique for fuel</i></div>
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The idea was for me to have my picture taken under it but the waves are very rough and the water too deep around the island. I am afraid I'd never be able to get back into the dinghy so I don't get out. Shame really. It would have been a cool pic to have.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtG58J9feuLiNfPDs8g6QWT1Y5wj0ROC-XsMMokTlL_37f1NitQBfOqhJr8nM7OlhYQFCpglQ_mzJzdjY28TNuf9BPIury505KMBhpFJLOMYgVrg012ZjjEM7En1B4Ru2sCDVGIhaIJjK0/s1600/Mopian1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtG58J9feuLiNfPDs8g6QWT1Y5wj0ROC-XsMMokTlL_37f1NitQBfOqhJr8nM7OlhYQFCpglQ_mzJzdjY28TNuf9BPIury505KMBhpFJLOMYgVrg012ZjjEM7En1B4Ru2sCDVGIhaIJjK0/s320/Mopian1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>What Mopion used to look like</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7o7ei1JZM-zv8Yet6WkxtbRj9b-ou8mtt6wE8kSCD-xfCovThGDrjOHnE4qYeN6HgmYHNHj7IbOr_p2Q1Rdp5_pUspmitQYtdd6X_h9UYtjRy18zEmMj0B3jo1d3jgqZMXte2nIELzDe9/s1600/Mopian2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7o7ei1JZM-zv8Yet6WkxtbRj9b-ou8mtt6wE8kSCD-xfCovThGDrjOHnE4qYeN6HgmYHNHj7IbOr_p2Q1Rdp5_pUspmitQYtdd6X_h9UYtjRy18zEmMj0B3jo1d3jgqZMXte2nIELzDe9/s320/Mopian2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Mopion today</i></div>
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After a pretty motor sail past Carriacou's backside while the sun, we drop anchor in Tyrrel Bay at the south end just before dark. Rick comments at the close call on the timing as he doesn't like to drop anchor after dark.</div>
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<i>Carriacou</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvKcAkylSSwfQGP9qTmOgYndTmAWAcGJLAGeflW1zXCrrb_4DCKmH-n5aqniPI_6F9jtivxmXDGI6JU-LTc6EAqzMufHtuJZfujdgtKZjqizuyZ0zEzEJm-8T_mWDkrt51rVd9D95HI6T/s1600/P1020541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvKcAkylSSwfQGP9qTmOgYndTmAWAcGJLAGeflW1zXCrrb_4DCKmH-n5aqniPI_6F9jtivxmXDGI6JU-LTc6EAqzMufHtuJZfujdgtKZjqizuyZ0zEzEJm-8T_mWDkrt51rVd9D95HI6T/s320/P1020541.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Carriacou</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X68um_aOvUN2gbFZC1Jl7uJDIjwxevamRHYrfXxqdaLYnAac6I4Qu1KV29UxLhCEret6qYSGd7RI23ssp5gr7q9J2FWhBBvqAD6qmWWUCng5K7QwViiEtC9sXCcD7QHYULSkcDD1FraQ/s1600/IMG_3968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4X68um_aOvUN2gbFZC1Jl7uJDIjwxevamRHYrfXxqdaLYnAac6I4Qu1KV29UxLhCEret6qYSGd7RI23ssp5gr7q9J2FWhBBvqAD6qmWWUCng5K7QwViiEtC9sXCcD7QHYULSkcDD1FraQ/s320/IMG_3968.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Carriacou</i></div>
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<i>Sailboat in the sunset</i></div>
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<i>Boats in the sunset</i></div>
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There doesn't look like there's much here. Hillsborough, around the other side, is the main town but there is no sheltered anchorage there. Apparently one used to have to clear customs into Grenada at Hillsborough but they, just in the last month, moved the office to Tyrell Bay as cruisers complained a lot that it was inconvenient to have the customs office where you couldn't overnight.</div>
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It takes a few tries to get the anchor set and then we finally eat at 18:25. The chicken tastes amazing as I was actually craving it. I can't say I've ever craved chicken before. </div>
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Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-82297389349853423442013-10-17T21:29:00.000-07:002013-12-25T11:50:39.656-08:00TURTLES, TABAC, AND TROUBLE IN THE CAYSIt's an absolutely gorgeous morning here in the Tobago Cays. <br />
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I am standing out back, soaking in the sun and the view, when a boat appears from around an island and it looks like it's making a straight line for our boat. I watch, curious, and sure enough, the driver pulls up beside me and asks if I want to buy any t-shirts or cigarettes. I grin; this fellow is one of the 'boat boys' I have read about on a friend's blog. These guys have bright coloured wooden boats, bigger than a row boat, that they use to sell fish, freshly baked goods, t-shirts apparently, and also will scrub the hull of your boat for a small fee, help if you run aground... and any other number of ways they can make a living.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7mupTTTMVvu1nm2B0KoZxCQaJHlu_TTHMX-RNTzQDyuicnAnARWWw4Tot8tMaz2hJguqSDPVRtmaGTFt498UUFn97LckzRNKuLjKKr9QL2csvGCYffdUCRVDkreRkBOuAaxZ4uZWLWX7/s1600/P1020486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7mupTTTMVvu1nm2B0KoZxCQaJHlu_TTHMX-RNTzQDyuicnAnARWWw4Tot8tMaz2hJguqSDPVRtmaGTFt498UUFn97LckzRNKuLjKKr9QL2csvGCYffdUCRVDkreRkBOuAaxZ4uZWLWX7/s320/P1020486.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>A couple of boat boys setting out early</i></div>
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This fellow has numerous battered suitcases in the bottom of his boat and numerous huge fenders hanging off the side. Once I tell him that I would like to buy some t-shirts, he ties alongside our boat, tossing me the line. He proceeds to open up his suitcases and show me what he has. I love the shirts with original island artwork on them and quickly choose two tank tops for myself (one has a cartoon drawing of 3 boat boys on the front) and then select a small one of colourful turtles swimming for Malia. He doesn't have my size in the boat-boy shirt but says he will come later with the right size. I tell him that we will probably have moved by then but he says not a problem, he will find us. I tell him we will most likely be at Mayreau but he cuts me off before I can say where with "no problem, I will find you". I toss him the line and he takes off, cutting a swash of frothy white foam in the crystal azure water as he leaves.<br />
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Alessandra makes mango smoothies for breakfast with the mangos I bought yesterday. It's delicious!<br />
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We move the boat around to the other side of the island we are at, between Petit Bateau (Middle Cay) and Petit Rameau (North Cay) so we can go snorkeling in the protected area off of a beach on Petit Rameau. We take the dinghy to the beach and pass 8 or 9 turtles. I get my snorkel gear on and swim out into the reserve. I am out there for half an hour and I don't see a single turtle! I give up and take the gear off and go around the corner to a gorgeous patch of water that is like a swimming pool and just float under the sun for an hour. Bliss!!!!<br />
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<i>Turtles to the right, swimming pool to the left</i></div>
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<i>Beautiful spot to float for an hour or so</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AKRuFWFaa2C2Ng9pKCNS4pp2tVuFdrYbZPDw7FSv2NVezVulBI6aVm498rkvADvrwDmOPDLKnVZRnjiwZLIHSP9pI9caLfQ2ZUihq-3qN1HrLcj6U4_b5K1aT9VmEEpbBkwntZxyfEQs/s1600/IMG_3788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AKRuFWFaa2C2Ng9pKCNS4pp2tVuFdrYbZPDw7FSv2NVezVulBI6aVm498rkvADvrwDmOPDLKnVZRnjiwZLIHSP9pI9caLfQ2ZUihq-3qN1HrLcj6U4_b5K1aT9VmEEpbBkwntZxyfEQs/s320/IMG_3788.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Floating!</i></div>
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<i>Panorama of both sides (click on it to enlarge)</i></div>
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We see another 8 or so turtles on the dinghy ride back to the boat! I so would have loved to swim with them! Alessandra keeps telling me that there was one right in front of me at one point, but I never saw it. That is frustrating!</div>
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We take the dinghy through the reefs to Petit Tabac. This is the island where the scene from Pirates of the Caribbean was shot where Jack Sparrow asks "Why is all the rum gone?" It is a small deserted island and I am really excited to go see it. It will be my very first time on a deserted island.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpP6pDIWNpXyfmk9QS9-IsoSYEoTHnGDsbXAhl4xos46BmcBoYdM-JW8uGArax7P_nrRBOz2TB04IFwmvXJ6ib7La_PrODesUvqT8iv9fkfn2BcD1RyjSwiUiBpbQHNNd77fS8DRAiFGaX/s1600/IMG_3802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpP6pDIWNpXyfmk9QS9-IsoSYEoTHnGDsbXAhl4xos46BmcBoYdM-JW8uGArax7P_nrRBOz2TB04IFwmvXJ6ib7La_PrODesUvqT8iv9fkfn2BcD1RyjSwiUiBpbQHNNd77fS8DRAiFGaX/s320/IMG_3802.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Petit Tabac in the distance - there are reefs galore between here and there</i></div>
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It's really shallow going through the reef and there is coral on both sides with just a narrow path between them. Alessandra stands in the front of the dinghy, spotting and pointing the way for Rick. We go really slowly and its a bit nerve wracking so I try not to look down into the water. Not very successfully. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCH3eoh6suTTKxg1w1CIS3GJPn26xwA5RIbT4IHiqMbUTLQ6h-lPfA-mhwW1BxxpNWQW0eNyr-eFVPcXJ1iAa9n_XFnXgno2h31rfdhz3RWd9pIs5_U9YsKcWFVefU8tAFhZbN49hb4xpR/s1600/IMG_3810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCH3eoh6suTTKxg1w1CIS3GJPn26xwA5RIbT4IHiqMbUTLQ6h-lPfA-mhwW1BxxpNWQW0eNyr-eFVPcXJ1iAa9n_XFnXgno2h31rfdhz3RWd9pIs5_U9YsKcWFVefU8tAFhZbN49hb4xpR/s320/IMG_3810.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>As we set out - just look at that water!!!!!</i></div>
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<i>Alessandra keeping watch</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYeDdgwZLQdV0xIuES9CTrKNvbUa0QWxnwk1wOaO6PPSlS_bmNrtWRS0s0dAFMMcv_qZeqtsquVkmCvJB0Q_1v5DFy66ikljKC6kgqHHZo6qNWfmgJk5_Busj5HriBkjHWY8mQXTIyiafL/s1600/IMG_3849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYeDdgwZLQdV0xIuES9CTrKNvbUa0QWxnwk1wOaO6PPSlS_bmNrtWRS0s0dAFMMcv_qZeqtsquVkmCvJB0Q_1v5DFy66ikljKC6kgqHHZo6qNWfmgJk5_Busj5HriBkjHWY8mQXTIyiafL/s320/IMG_3849.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Getting close!</i></div>
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When we get close, I can see we aren't alone. Drat. I really wanted to be the only ones on a deserted island.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7mJNmvuktIxP0Y72RWT1lCKdM_o7Akkt67EK6y9-5wUAgq2JoW2y4py1PX15LYxOy9FAfnMQzB07rep_ov0ALe_pas6Dv5v8MqDkzHiG8hPZ_aU3Y_KsLBgO37VZ5Uq_SxZXbWmAL8Cv/s1600/IMG_3858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl7mJNmvuktIxP0Y72RWT1lCKdM_o7Akkt67EK6y9-5wUAgq2JoW2y4py1PX15LYxOy9FAfnMQzB07rep_ov0ALe_pas6Dv5v8MqDkzHiG8hPZ_aU3Y_KsLBgO37VZ5Uq_SxZXbWmAL8Cv/s320/IMG_3858.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Not alone</i></div>
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There's another couple and their boat driver here, but they leave almost as soon as we arrive so that makes me happy! Normally I love to meet new people but I really want to be alone on a deserted island!!</div>
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Even before we get out of the dinghy, I see a faded small conch shell under the palm trees. As soon as I am on the beach, I claim it and put it in the boat. </div>
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Rick and Alessandra both need haircuts and I brought my scissors just in case (I used to be a hair stylist in another life, back before I was married). So I set about cutting both of their hair. We decided to do it on land rather than the boat to avoid a mess of hair to clean up. </div>
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Once that is done, they head into the water and I go explore. Pictures can show more than I could ever describe so here is a whole bunch that I took on the island...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HgzkiaxMAJJCLOub2Ve052KrZciVNvV7rw0l31PQ6kbFESsjpGarEAOnC_TcPRKTb_g2wph4aaLjjU0j2wMt7EEft14LmK_wa4SSKdjuUemXy0Zo2Q2g-eRZGPxn-VBupGF2wjVF8i8Y/s1600/IMG_3876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HgzkiaxMAJJCLOub2Ve052KrZciVNvV7rw0l31PQ6kbFESsjpGarEAOnC_TcPRKTb_g2wph4aaLjjU0j2wMt7EEft14LmK_wa4SSKdjuUemXy0Zo2Q2g-eRZGPxn-VBupGF2wjVF8i8Y/s320/IMG_3876.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Rick and Alessandra swimming</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6350DS79xpRq3NCsl1sr6r-80h-y5t53VfN1cbTAZkFBODWboDQo7atlXGyMx47eS7qZl2WKIYvHov0OFHrQDvdWXHc9ptgE0-unxFrite5fd9Qv-LzT5e29htPzPObUHmcdUDrsHcFF/s1600/IMG_3872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6350DS79xpRq3NCsl1sr6r-80h-y5t53VfN1cbTAZkFBODWboDQo7atlXGyMx47eS7qZl2WKIYvHov0OFHrQDvdWXHc9ptgE0-unxFrite5fd9Qv-LzT5e29htPzPObUHmcdUDrsHcFF/s320/IMG_3872.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The area where Kiera Knightly burned the rum</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibb20GoxG4oXAPdpBZIZRT43hdl-gDWBSX_DeJ_lCHT8WvNAOww8O76_EWE7xGG0QG2CPHePYg9JIRLO1SiuqCy3PkTFow_nV8LghfhyZAoTKpGfebYLo1lvUMWWJ96abF1uPm0gOcj5Lf/s1600/IMG_3885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibb20GoxG4oXAPdpBZIZRT43hdl-gDWBSX_DeJ_lCHT8WvNAOww8O76_EWE7xGG0QG2CPHePYg9JIRLO1SiuqCy3PkTFow_nV8LghfhyZAoTKpGfebYLo1lvUMWWJ96abF1uPm0gOcj5Lf/s320/IMG_3885.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Looking down the beach from the palm trees in above pic</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmH9hn9zV1bueyttmMS1Sk19HRTYfZJxPyvoHuI7fGiKed32zJvhVkZXeOZALyYVdQCWTi41FkV9kUmPD4WOghLdiF09Ew_Mou1JGKXCTx49n_I8n0yYZCY3sILPw4LDGDphakD5frZaEE/s1600/IMG_3886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmH9hn9zV1bueyttmMS1Sk19HRTYfZJxPyvoHuI7fGiKed32zJvhVkZXeOZALyYVdQCWTi41FkV9kUmPD4WOghLdiF09Ew_Mou1JGKXCTx49n_I8n0yYZCY3sILPw4LDGDphakD5frZaEE/s320/IMG_3886.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>On the windward side of the island</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWZgDYcdkhr3Wx5Zkm4dvSCeJLSC08cO3De6OxhINtOMT4WuVREJYthtFt5ycNmkvyKnK1KzXWcJ1P_H5l5cAnalF2AY0Y27JDtd29vWdNG_ngftYU7WT7sp99hChSR2cLkyuPWHIUrH7/s1600/P1020519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaWZgDYcdkhr3Wx5Zkm4dvSCeJLSC08cO3De6OxhINtOMT4WuVREJYthtFt5ycNmkvyKnK1KzXWcJ1P_H5l5cAnalF2AY0Y27JDtd29vWdNG_ngftYU7WT7sp99hChSR2cLkyuPWHIUrH7/s320/P1020519.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The surf on the windward side</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3hRt7ipcRQooqLugljYNwRA5orwzgTiiCX9CCRHkA9DqgrZoAbcZBj9BNy1HaUjXmbj86MKUaa1atrUqWQP8_0eAR9gZnjSRvyIsx9wEZNvp_z9SdDjKTsnY2yW07VshHkwSG20tNqkS/s1600/IMG_3888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj3hRt7ipcRQooqLugljYNwRA5orwzgTiiCX9CCRHkA9DqgrZoAbcZBj9BNy1HaUjXmbj86MKUaa1atrUqWQP8_0eAR9gZnjSRvyIsx9wEZNvp_z9SdDjKTsnY2yW07VshHkwSG20tNqkS/s320/IMG_3888.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Heading back to the lee side</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRifUR98mZtupyZ66FPWaa2PorPacNxnhz_C7WLOGwQ1KaBCpH-mU0N0vqFt6ux9x14L6jLk1xLZPFSXSUT3j0My0Nohl5Iu-NhDyN2UfMqZa_-FDHfjcAKPQS8UgIugwYkqu9Bce9_9KK/s1600/P1020509.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRifUR98mZtupyZ66FPWaa2PorPacNxnhz_C7WLOGwQ1KaBCpH-mU0N0vqFt6ux9x14L6jLk1xLZPFSXSUT3j0My0Nohl5Iu-NhDyN2UfMqZa_-FDHfjcAKPQS8UgIugwYkqu9Bce9_9KK/s320/P1020509.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Very reluctantly I climb back into the dinghy when it is time to leave. I never want to leave this island. If I thought I would survive, I'd have them go get my stuff and bring it back and leave me here forever.</div>
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Alessandra makes avecado spaghetti and we eat it as we get underway to Mayreau - a very short hop from where we were anchored.</div>
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Saltwhistle Bay on Mayreau is a <b>gorgeous</b> beach and we drop anchor in a soft sand bottom. There isn't a rock or coral head in sight, just pure white sand as far as one can see. I jump in off the boat and float about for an hour or so, swim to the beach and walk it for a bit, and then swim back.</div>
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I see a boat approaching and it's the boat boy from the morning with my tank top. People here are so trustworthy. I paid for this shirt with all of the others this morning and I had no doubt that he would return as he promised.</div>
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A couple of boat boys from Mayreau approach and they know Rick. They offer to scrub the bottom of the boat for a small fee. Rick had attempted to do it when we first anchored here and didn't get far. He agrees to their price and they get to work. When they are done, one asks me if I would like to order a loaf of freshly baked coconut sweet bread for the morning. I ask how much and he says $3 EC a loaf. I tell him I will take two and he tells me he will have them here first thing in the morning. I ask him to wait till at least 8am. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFcdzvXn30tVebXmO3wFRCJbvhcfk_gE_BQOx9IiFIgUrO4i2gF1J1dgj1SUv0gbfL0tIOeBK4uB8Mh0W6teEZ3c-qoMGTXJHZdYNON63a9Mvr8dLtq-Kcs544dsexQzBl5qZLYDmqzZ0q/s1600/IMG_3919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFcdzvXn30tVebXmO3wFRCJbvhcfk_gE_BQOx9IiFIgUrO4i2gF1J1dgj1SUv0gbfL0tIOeBK4uB8Mh0W6teEZ3c-qoMGTXJHZdYNON63a9Mvr8dLtq-Kcs544dsexQzBl5qZLYDmqzZ0q/s320/IMG_3919.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Jomo and Ricardo, two hard-working boat boys</i></div>
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It feels very decadent to be laying on the deck reading while two young boys, barely out of their teens if that, scrape away at the bottom of the boat. It makes me uncomfortable, actually, and I have to tell myself that they want to do it, that this is how they make a living. But it doesn't help much.</div>
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Once the boys are done, I get changed and we take the dinghy ashore for a drink at a bar at the end of the beach called 'Last Bar Before the Jungle'. Which it is and it is very rustic, as are most bars on the beaches of tiny Caribbean islands. </div>
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At the end of the dock that we tied up on, as soon as you step off on to the beach, there is a small stand where a woman has jewelry and shells for sale. She also has conch shells of various sizes and there is one that is huge. I ask how much, fearing that it will be well out of my reach. She quotes $15 EC!! What a bargain. I tell her I will take it along with a shell necklace for my youngest daughter and a black coral bracelet for my other daughter. I wear both for the rest of the trip because I love them so much. Little do I know how handy they will come in for the latter part of my trip on Grand Anse Beach in a week.<br />
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Just as we order drinks at the bar, it starts to rain and I realize, with horror, that I have committed a major no-no when living on a boat; I have left my hatches open!!! This means my bunk will be soaking by the time we get back if this drizzle turns to a deluge as it usually does. With a little trepidation, I tell Rick but to my relief he just laughs and says he hopes I like sleeping in a wet bed.</div>
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There is a delicious aroma coming from the back of the bar area, which I assume is a kitchen. I ask what it is and the lady tells me that its chicken. I am dying to order some but Rick and Alessandra don't want to eat here - Rick says something about it being expensive to eat out all of the time - not that we have. I am longing for some protein. But I am not going to eat alone so I ignore my growling tummy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hZ89tWPFrighBBuFM-UoeAxwpKkqY-vQE5PX67xlnetLIpBvwF4H1lIRHrulZYZ_Wjs_GVqjWmSr2ecvLUJLB-FsIeCxi-LYcJxw_p-ZMTx6oAik3KCFIoJvKqhmNtxhr288GCTxOdIw/s1600/IMG_3900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hZ89tWPFrighBBuFM-UoeAxwpKkqY-vQE5PX67xlnetLIpBvwF4H1lIRHrulZYZ_Wjs_GVqjWmSr2ecvLUJLB-FsIeCxi-LYcJxw_p-ZMTx6oAik3KCFIoJvKqhmNtxhr288GCTxOdIw/s320/IMG_3900.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>View from the deck of The Last Bar out to the anchorage</i></div>
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It is dark by the time we head back and the dock is super rickety and I cling onto Rick for dear life as I stumble my way along it and try to avoid the gaping holes in the planks. </div>
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Checking my bunk, it is just damp as it didn't rain heavy. Thank goodness!</div>
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Not long after getting back, there is a shift in wind direction and not long after that I feel a big 'bump'. Alessandra pokes her head out of her bunk and asks what that was. Rick does not seem too concerned but I look over the side. I can't see anything in the dark. Suddenly there's a shudder and a grinding noise. Oh-oh, we've swung around in the wind into the shallows and we are aground in the sand. We are in trouble but at least its not rocks we are grinding on!</div>
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We are deep into the sand though and Rick tries to get us off using the dinghy but we aren't budging an inch.</div>
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It takes half an hour and help from a boat boy named 'Mr. Fabulous' to get us out of the sand. And it costs Rick $60 EC for the help and he is not happy about that.</div>
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We have risotto and christophene for dinner and I am in bed by 9:30. </div>
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I lie in my bunk and go over the day in my head. It was a fabulous day!!!</div>
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-45690589194811421572013-10-16T23:33:00.000-07:002013-12-25T11:43:37.548-08:00TO THE TOBAGO CAYS - OTHERWISE KNOWN AS PARADISE FOUNDI wake up at 3:30am with something banging about in a rolly sea. Sounds like it is something stowed just ahead of me in between the wall of my cabin and the hull. I don't sleep much after that. Later when I mention it to Rick, he thinks it might be something in my medicine cabinet and, sure enough, the culprit is a can of hairspray that fell over.<br />
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I make myself toast and jam with some grapes for breakfast.<br />
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Rick has pretty much completed the video and set it to music that someone on the island wrote. It has lyrics and is actually quite good. He wants us girls to add a line at the end so we record that and then he finishes it up. It has turned out great.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/LBK2GO0c0wQ?rel=0" width="640"></iframe><br />
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<i>Rick's video for Grenada Tourism</i></div>
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We head back into Clifton at about 10am. Rick forgot to check us in yesterday. Ooops. I also want to buy and mail some postcards. I buy 10 and sit down at a picnic table next to one of the fruit stand huts and write them all out while sipping on a frosty Ting. I am so grateful for the shade as it is easily 100 degrees out. Before I leave, I buy some fruit and vegetables from the lovely lady who owns the stand, as a thank you for letting me sit there for so long.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFurOezb1tHPF1nMe6LjMI5ur-oulsxyANQvRsIDSpMfqcETN90E8LEwS6yt5M2WO1xD6yEWQL2IdPdlErwt3nvDSxvZjI0ZckhwDY3NQVhOm4kq8hA5PYSB6kgDr3iNE1vpkqdzLnJNkq/s1600/IMG_3717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFurOezb1tHPF1nMe6LjMI5ur-oulsxyANQvRsIDSpMfqcETN90E8LEwS6yt5M2WO1xD6yEWQL2IdPdlErwt3nvDSxvZjI0ZckhwDY3NQVhOm4kq8hA5PYSB6kgDr3iNE1vpkqdzLnJNkq/s320/IMG_3717.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Postcards all done</i></div>
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<i>Buying tomatoes and mangoes </i><br />
<i>from the lovely lady who owns the stand</i></div>
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<i><br />
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I head back over to the little shop down the main street where I bought the postcards and stamps, to mail them in her cute little mailbox.</div>
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<i>Mailing the postcards, hoping they will get to their destinations</i></div>
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<i>this year. Turns out most got there a week or so after I got home.</i></div>
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<i><br />
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We dinghy back to the boat and have a lunch of salad. We pull up anchor and head off to the Tobago Cays at 1:15pm. So excited!</div>
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It doesn't take long to get there, we can see them from where we were anchored. They are GORGEOUS. Not what I pictured at all but I love it here. We drop anchor close to an island and we all jump in off of the transom and swim to the beach.</div>
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<i>I swam from here to there, and back in beautiful clear, warm water</i></div>
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<i><br />
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When we get back to the boat, we hop in the dinghy and go explore. We saw 3 turtles pop their heads up out of the water! Tomorrow we will snorkel in the protected area where they all live.</div>
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Off in the distance is Petit Tabac, the island in Pirates of the Caribbean where Jack Sparrow is on the island alone with Kiera Knightly and she has set all of the rum on fire and he asks "why is all the rum gone?" We will go see it tomorrow and I am so excited about that although, truth be told, I am excited and pretty overwhelmed by all of this. It is so so beautiful here and is the paradise I dream of all the time. The sky is blue with puffy white clouds on the horizon, the air is warm, the water is too, and is so clear and that amazing Caribbean blue, there are palm trees everywhere, white soft sand, beautiful dark skinned people on every island... my heart and soul and mind are full to overflowing. I have read so much about the Cays and longed with every atom in my body to be able to see them someday. I actually get choked up and try to hold back my tears when Rick asks me on the way back to the boat if I am enjoying it. "Enjoying" doesn't even touch how I am feeling.</div>
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<i>A huge pile of ancient conch shells - I will show this to customs in </i></div>
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<i>Canada if I find a nice one to bring home and they refuse to </i></div>
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<i>let me in with it because they're endangered or some such stupid reason</i></div>
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<i>A gorgeous deserted beach, one of many around here</i></div>
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<i>Our boat, Sophisticated Lady, silhouetted in the setting sun</i></div>
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<i>Another gorgeous sunset</i></div>
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When we get back to the boat, Alessandra and I sit on the side of the boat with our feet hanging off into the void and talk about the English language (she is Italian) and about reading for an hour or two. It's an interesting conversation and really the first one we've had. It ends up being pretty much the last one we have as well. She isn't very social and spends pretty much all day either sleeping or on her iPhone texting.</div>
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She makes chicken for dinner and it ends up being super salty. She added salt without tasting. Rick gives her a hard time about it, in a joking way, and she won't eat hers. I eat mine because I am so hungry, while she protests the whole time that I should toss it out.</div>
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After dinner I am in the usual place, the cockpit, reading. I fall asleep and it is all quiet aboard when I move into my cabin at 9:30.</div>
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Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7390341455570609651.post-11316026183398952232013-10-15T23:00:00.000-07:002014-01-24T15:50:59.273-08:00CLIFTON, UNION ISLANDIt's very cloudy this morning but there is blue sky to the south-west. I hope it is headed here.<br />
<br />
The plan today is to go to shore to the town of Clifton for a bit and then to Happy Island again this afternoon.<br />
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I make myself some toast and jam for breakfast. I eat it slowly, hoping I can keep it down.<br />
<br />
Rick is on the computer again so I sit out in the cockpit and check online to see if there are any restaurants in Clifton that we can have lunch at. I find one called Big Citi. They serve a lunch buffet, apparently, and judging by the comments on Trip Advisor, it is really good and really reasonable. I run it past everyone and they like the idea. Rick is still on the computer so I settle in on one of the cushioned seats, with my feet up, and read.<br />
<br />
I am getting antsy as its been a few hours and there is no sign of Rick getting off that thing. He is editing a short video of clips he has taken over the years of Grenada. He is hoping that the Grenadian tourism board will like it and hire him to do more. I get that he wants to do this, but he has a guest - me - and I want to get going. I can't stand sitting around when we have plans. I finally say as much and we are underway in about 45 minutes.<br />
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<i> Heading in to Clifton</i></div>
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<i>Welcome to Union Island!</i></div>
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The town is so tiny! Just one very narrow road with a couple of tiny shops, the restaurant we are going to, and a little market area comprised of small colourful huts in a semi circle on hard-packed dirt and a few trees at the street with a couple of picnic tables under in the shade. The sun has come out, the sky is blue, and it is so so hot!<br />
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<i>Looking down the main street in the direction we came from </i></div>
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<i>(the restaurant is on the right edge of frame, Rick and Alessandra</i></div>
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<i>on the left)</i></div>
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<i>Looking down the main street in the other direction</i></div>
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We head around the back of a white building and then up some stairs to the restaurant. The whole place is open on the street side and we take a table right at the rail overlooking the road. The 'buffet' is about 10 dishes under glass near the till. We walk over and tell the girl behind the counter what we want. She seems surprised that we want to try almost all of it. I pass on the pigs tails and try the turkey leg stew, chicken wings, veggie dish with christophene - first time I have had that and I love it; sort of cross between a turnip and broccoli stem in consistency and flavour, rice, chow mien, and half a roasted potato. It was delicious although there were a lot of bone fragments in the stew as they just chop the entire thing with a cleaver into bite-sized chunks. With drinks it came to $76 EC (Eastern Caribbean Dollars) with a $10 tip which works out to $29 Canadian - a great deal. I pay the bill as that is what one is expected to do when you go out for a meal on a crewed charter.<br />
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<i>View from our lunch table down to the main street</i></div>
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<i>My meal</i></div>
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After lunch, we walk along the street and stalls. I buy two christophenes to cook up at some point, and a Caribbean flip doll for Malia, my granddaughter.<br />
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<i>Locally grown fruit and vegetables</i></div>
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<i> The lovely lady who sold me christophenes and told </i></div>
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<i>me how to prepare them</i></div>
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<i>Bright clothing at the stall where I bought the Caribbean doll</i></div>
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<i>Looking out over the anchorage from the shore of Clifton</i></div>
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We hop in the dinghy and head over to Happy Island for a drink. Janti is much more subdued today. We walk through the room in the back (not his house) and see pictures of the progress of the island over the years.<br />
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<i>With Janti before we leave</i></div>
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Back at the boat, we change into bathing suits and then dinghy over to Palm Island, it is a very bumpy ride. Palm Island is a gorgeous place but for guests of the resort only. Too bad because I would have loved to go ashore and look around and maybe have a drink at the beach bar.<br />
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<i>Palm Island</i></div>
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We go looking for another beach and end up at the reef. We have to drop anchor in waist-high water and then walk to the reef. The bottom is very rocky and hard to walk on. I keep my flip flops on which makes it harder and I am wishing I had worn my water shoes which are back on the boat. Once we get to the beach on the reef, there are loads of anemone shells, my favourite shell. I gather as many as I can, using my tankini top to hold them by holding the hem up to make a pocket. As I am stumbling my way back to the dinghy I have a premonition I will drop them all in the water and as soon as I get there and try to take them out of my swim suit, that is exactly what happens - every last one of them. I spend the next fifteen minutes getting them all off of the sea floor and into the dinghy. When Rick and Alessandra join me (they were exploring a little island at the end of the reef) I have a hard time getting in the dinghy and have to get in from the back using the engine and Rick's hand to get up and in. I hate how hard it is for me.<br />
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<i>The reef</i></div>
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I take a quick shower when we get back and the hatch is open above my head. I look up at one point and Lucky, the resident parrot, is peering down at me and makes like he wants to hop down. I kind of freak out. This bird bites. I don't want to be bit. I try to push him away from the hatch so I can close it but he is having none of it. I try to scare him with my towel but he hops onto the towel which really freaks me out. It takes me 5 minutes to get him to move so I can close the hatch and I am not happy.<br />
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We don't have dinner that night as I guess no one is hungry enough although I could eat something so I have some ginger snaps and lay out under the stars in the cockpit and read till quite late. I love this time of day as much as the sunshine and only head to bed when I can't keep my eyes open any longer.<br />
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<br />Sandy Montgomeryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12712498671084861662noreply@blogger.com0