 |
| John |
After breakfast we lined up for the tender to check out St. Georges, Grenada. As we waited, John, Jay and I joked about John's tendency of stepping off the ship, getting through customs control, spending about 30-60 minutes ashore, then heading back to the ship for a steam or massage. Luckily, as we passed through the visitor's area, before John could change his mind, we were approached by one of the many van drivers grouped around the port exit and decided to have an adventure.
 |
| Glenn |
 |
| Jay |
We settled on a ridiculously inexpensive price for a 2-3 hour tour. After the Barbados adventure I was eager for a repeat performance. First stop was a spice shop. A decidedly shy and possibly uninterested sales lady took us through the spice demonstration. We got to see what the spices look like before they are processed and had a few tastes of raw cinnamon and cocoa. Just enough to loosen our wallets to buy bags full of spices that will more than likely still be in my pantry when it is cleaned out after my death: tumeric, paprika, cinnamon, nutmeg, bay leaves, curry, mace, nutmeg jam, and hot sauce. So much for that extra half pound I had in my luggage weight limit.
Next stop, Arrendale falls where we were greeted by the "banana women." Yep, that's what they called themselves. We were greeted by smiling women with fruit on their heads asking if the "handsome gentlemen wanted to take pictures with the banana women?" How can one say no to that?
 |
| $2 |
 |
| $2 |
 |
| $2 |
Then there was the $2 ticket to see the falls. We laughed about the touristy commercialism, but then we saw the gardens leading to the falls. The gardens were both peaceful and spectacular consisting of multiple small trails highlighting blooming plants native to the island, huge specimen plants, and trees draped in vines and orchids (not yet in bloom).
It was like our own private garden, but with jumping boys. For $20 USD these jumping boys would climb to the top of the falls and jump into the pool below. When the high pressure salesman / jumper approached me and told me the price, my response was that for $20 I would gladly jump off the cliff into the pool myself. John, however, decided to practice his generosity and gave the $20 to the local jumpers instead of his friend. This is what John got for his money.
On the way back to the van, John showed us a spot he had found along a trail that made him feel peaceful and happy. We all took a moment to enjoy the view from the secluded, trail side bench and the feeling of peace emanating from the gardens. We were soon once again stimulating the local economy through our support for necklace makers, spice stringers, and professional smilers.
Our next stop was the top of the volcano to see the lake that supplies St. Georges with its fresh water. We just started driving up and around and back and forth around blind turns and always up through the cool misty rainforest. Peter, our driver, turned off the van's air conditioner and opened all the windows. The temperature continued to drop as we advanced up the side of the volcano. Upon arriving at the top, to our surprise (not), there was yet another gauntlet of fruit-hatted women and spice salesmen to traverse before paying another $2 USD for the pleasure of seeing the lake and climbing to the top of the volcano's rim.
The lake was a little disappointing, but after a 10 minute hike we
arrived at a rickety lookout platform that was still under construction
(i.e. no handrails) from which you could see a wide swath of the island
including the Atlantic shore. I jumped up the stairs to the top of the
platform. John gingerly made his way up. Jay stayed on firm ground.
 |
| That's it - the lake. |
 |
| He sang us a song with lyrics including,"they are so handsome, they must be movie stars." |
 |
| It's safer down here. |
 |
| But so wonderful up here. |
From the top of the tower a strong, cool breeze laden with the aromas of the cool moist rain forest lifted our spirits. It was a pretty awesome experience. I took a moment for myself as John made his way down to fully appreciate the moment and make a dedication of happiness.
The hike back down was a bit more energetic and less whiny than the hike up. After a bit more local economic stimulation, we descended back through the rainforest and discussed with our driver the possibility of finding a local dining establishment that served traditional dishes. We were soon dropped off in front of a harbor-side seafood grill.
 |
| Only the best |
Beside seafood, chicken, beef, and pork, there was also armadillo, possum, and iguana to choose from. As I have said, I am quite "epicurious," but I was a little worried that I would end up with an upset stomach by going too exotic. So we all chose from the list of curry specials. My curried fish stew was delicious. The fish was White Marlin, which I think of as a sport fish rather than an eating fish. The texture was a bit like a tenderized pork cutlet, but much more tender. One more fish checked off the "to eat" list.
 |
| Food Porn! Curried fish stew with yams and rice |
 |
| Jay got the whole plate - I think it was pork. |
In the harbor across from the restaurant was a monstrously huge yacht - I talking James Bond Villain Huge. Due to the distance, it was difficult to gauge the yacht's size accurately. It was not until the "boat garage" opened to lift in a 20 foot speed boat that we could appreciate the unimaginable wealth required to purchase and maintain such a large ship. We asked the waiter if he knew who owned the ship. Apparently, a
Mr David Geffen is the proud owner. Well done Mr. Geffen, well done.
After a great day on the spice island, a delicious local meal, and a harrowing walk through a tunnel shared by cars and pedestrians, a stop at the mall, and a tender ride we were back on our ship.
 |
| Two-way car traffic, no guard rails, no safety, but thrilling nonetheless |
Later at the sunset / sail away party I overheard John describing our day as the best day ever. I can't wait for tomorrow.
 |
| The sunset party is quickly becoming one of my favorite times of day on this trip. |
