4/8/15
Kingstown, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines
Yes, this view is how I will always visually remember Saint
Vincent. Tonight is, most likely, the
last night I will spend in the Windward Islands for quite some time, unless I
decide to jet off to Martinique at some point, which I doubt I will do. The pictures can only begin to capture the
beauty of these so-called Lesser Antilles.
It is more than just a collection of islands. It is a way of life. However, what the pictures cannot express are
the people. They are some of the
friendliest people in the world.
Further, these countries are four of the safest countries in the world,
as well. There is almost no crime
here. In the time I have spent in the
Windward Islands (and the Leeward Islands), I have never once felt unsafe. Sure, I have been approached by beggars, but
they were harmless. When I was in
Britain at the beginning of last year, there was a story on the news that a
Briton and, I think, his wife, were killed on their sailboat at harbor in Saint
Lucia. It was so shocking that that
would happen, that a murder would occur in such a safe country, that it was the
top developing story all day.
These are
islands that thrive on tourism, and, as can be expected, at every restaurant
and hotel I have visited, I was invited by the hosts to “Be Our Guest.” I have come across some surly hotel staff and
even surlier wait staff in my travels, but not in the Windward Islands. Here, it is always, “Be our guest.” While I have not yet seen any singing
candlesticks or clocks or teapots, I have always been made to feel
welcome. Can I smoke out here? “Be our guest. I’ll bring you an ashtray.” I can approach any stranger on the street for
directions, and they are more than happy to oblige.
After I closed last night, I could not
connect to the Wi-Fi, so I just went to sleep, saving it for the morning to
publish. I headed to the breakfast area
where the manager was quick to great me.
He all but said, “Be our guest.”
Come to think of it, he reminds me of Lumiere. I had prepaid the room, but I needed to sign
some paperwork, but first he made sure I was situated for breakfast. I ordered the local special and coffee. The coffee was good, finally, and I lit up a
Winston Churchill. He had also told me
that they changed the Wi-Fi code. I was
connected, so I got to work on publishing my entry, finishing just as the food
arrived. The meal was as delicious as
all of my breakfasts in the Windward Islands have been. Actually, that might be what I miss the
most. Reader, if you ever find yourself
in the Windward Islands, please, I beg you, try the saltfish, it’s
delicious. (“Don’t believe me, ask the
dishes.”) You might balk at the idea of
having saltfish for breakfast, but, if you don’t, you are truly missing out on
something.
After breakfast, I brought
some more coffee back with me and got right to work. For my next cigar, I opted for a, wow, I
can’t remember. It was an Aroma de
Cuba. After I got done everything I
needed to do in the morning, I got ready to head to town. My driver last night had told me that there
was only one place in town that had souvenirs, and the receptionist had told me
the best place to go for lunch (Cobblestone).
All of my eggs were in that basket.
Was Robin Williams still on my team?
Would I get that second flag pin?
I walked down the hill and towards the souvenir shop. Parliament was in the same area, too, and the
restaurant was there, also. I ditched my
cigar before I walked in. It was a
first-rate souvenir shop, and I was surprised how many locals were there. I asked if they had flag pins. They had two different types. Jackpot!
They were overpriced, but I got both of them.
Reader, I think you know me well enough that
if the flag pin was the price of my airfare, I still would have bought it. I also got some other assorted souvenirs,
including a shot glass and a beer stein.
I handed her my card to pay, but she said their machine was down. Hmm, I didn’t have enough cash on me, so I
asked her where the ATM was. She told
me, and I asked again for directions from someone else, but I couldn’t find it,
so I walked back. I had enough cash to
pay for everything but the shot glass and the beer stein, and I figured that
walking around with glass wasn’t the best idea, anyway. I also got better directions to the ATM and
to Parliament.
I decided to go to
Parliament first. The famous, historic
prison was right there, too, the oldest building on the island and, to my
surprise, still in use. It looked like
it could house 20-30 inmates, tops. The
prison was right in town. Reader,
imagine having a prison in Washington, D.C., right along the National Mall. Of course not. The prison is in some isolated location in
rural Kentucky or Colorado. I took my pictures
there, then I went to Parliament. This
was it, and I was going to do it up right.
I hadn’t had my Cuban yet, so it wouldn’t be Complete until I lit that
up, so I allowed myself a bunch of pictures without the cigar first. Then I lit up the Partagas.
“Saint Vincent and the Grenadines
Complete. Windward Islands Complete, and
it’s been amazing.” It truly has been. I walked around, and the bank was actually on
the way to the restaurant. I went in,
and I took out how much cash I thought I needed for the rest of the trip. That was a mistake. I had forgotten that Barbados uses their own
currency, not the East Caribbean Dollar.
I guess I should be able to use up what I took out, but I should have
taken out half the amount. Otherwise,
I’ll need to convert in Barbados, but that will not be the best idea. I still had plenty of cigar left when I went
to the restaurant. I suppose that it was
technically outdoor seating, but smoking was not allowed there. I could smoke on the balcony.
I asked if they could bring my food out
there. They couldn’t, but they would let
me know when it was ready, and I could leave the cigar there while I ate. That would work. I then looked at that menu, and my heart
sank. It wasn’t local food. It was burgers and sandwiches. Hmm, I was actually in the mood for a good
burger, ordered one, along with the local beer.
I brought the beer back to the balcony as I enjoyed my cigar. It wasn’t long before my burger was
ready. The meal was delicious. I retrieved the rest of my cigar, which got a
little waterlogged from a brief rain spell while I was eating, and I made my
way back to the hotel. I ditched the
cigar before I got back, but I was spent.
I needed to lie down in the AC before I got back to work.
Once I recovered, I went outside to do some
more work and lit up an Ardor. I was not
doing well in the heat, and I needed to take a nap after my pipe, which I
did. I spent the rest of my time working
inside, giving up the smoke for the AC.
A little before 6 PM, I came out and talked with the owner again. He asked the chef where I could find a local
dish I wanted to try for lunch tomorrow, and I am looking forward to having
dinner at the hotel restaurant, though I don’t expect that they will be
singing, “Be our guest,” but the service will be just as good.
I went back to my porch, where I lit up a
Padron, answered a few emails, and proceeded to write this entry, which I will
now close so that I can get on with my evening.
I’m thinking “101 Dalmatians” tonight.
Or maybe “The Princess and the Frog.”
Wonder if Netflix works here.
Okay, I’m rambling, so I’ll close.
I was wrong. It won’t be this
view that I remember when I think of Saint Vincent. It won’t be the amazing saltfish I had for
breakfast. It won’t be time downtown. It will be when the manager and the waiter
all but said to me, “Be our guest.” It
was almost three hours ago that I closed, and I’m now only getting back to my
balcony, and I know that I need to write this entry before I watch my movie
(“The Princess and the Frog”). I
finished the Padron and headed to the patio for dinner, choosing the same table
as last time. What would I order? I chose the lobster. It was a little expensive (not by NY
standards), but I had the extra EC dollars to spend, and the waiter recommended
that. I also ordered a rum.
A few minutes he came back saying that the
manager invited me to be his guest for a drink.
I was expecting the foreigner who had greeted me this morning, but it
was someone else, an older local. He was
sitting at the bar, so I joined him there, and the waiter poured me a
drink. Reader, it was almost two hours
before we parted company, and I was not bored for a single minute. That is what I will always remember about
Saint Vincent.
When people ask me if I
met any interesting people this trip, I will gladly answer that I did. There were two types of dark local rum, and
the waiter assured me that I could try both.
Free drinks. I like that. It was difficult to understand the two of
them, as they had thick accents.
Ironically, one of them would later say that he thought Americans and
Canadians had very similar accents.
For
two hours the three of us talked about everything and everything from politics
to the places we’ve been to everything that is wrong in the world to whether or
not there will ever be peace in the Middle East. For the last question, I said, “Maybe not in
our lifetimes, but never is a long word.”
He insisted that there never would be peace. I said again that not for at least 20 years
but not never and reminded him of the religious wars between England and France
and how they are best friends now. (This
was at the end of the evening, I’m going out of order.)
We spoke about all the killing in the history
of the world that had occurred in the name of religion, occurring for as long
as religion has existed. He said that he
couldn’t understand how anyone could take another life. We spoke about all the weird plane incidents
of the past year or so. How could
someone get so depressed that he would crash a plane? Having plenty of experience with depression,
I answered him that he probably got to a point where life had no meaning, so he
just didn’t care about his life or anyone else’s. Once you are at the point that you could take
your own life, so what if you take other lives with yours? I’m glad that I have never gotten to that
point, but I was able to understand it.
What caused depression, he wanted to know. I explained that it is often just a chemical
thing, something goes wrong with the wiring of the brain. He did not know that.
We talked about politics, about American
politics, about the different candidates, about the Clintons, about the
Bushes. When I say “we,” the waiter was
often included. He asked about Sarah
Palin. I explained that McCain was a
very centrist candidate, so they needed someone far to the right on the ticket
to get out the vote. We both agreed that
we liked McCain. We spoke about local
politics. There are two parties, one to
the left, and one further to the left. I
said that that was in such sharp contrast to the right-wing politics of Central
America. The countries looks so similar,
but the militaristic culture of Central America is very different than what is
here.
Wow, I’m toasted. Four rums will do that to me, I guess. I talked with the waiter about the murder in
Saint Lucia. He remembered that. I asked about the prison. There is one other prison and a women’s
prison. The prison in town houses 400
inmates, mostly “crimes of passion,” according to the manager. He said that the prison was next to the
courthouse as a remnant of colonial times, just like the cemetery was next to
the hospital. “That’s efficient,” I
offered. There is so much that we talked
about that I cannot possibly hope to record it all. I did not see a single other person than the
three of us for the whole time.
They
also told me where I could I get fried jack fish and that if I told him earlier
he would have gotten some for the chef to cook here. “Be our guest” indeed. I might need a nap before my movie. I asked my famous question about what makes
Saint Vincent culture different from other islands. At first they didn’t understand. I rephrased it. They said something about the Carnival and
music and other cultural activities. Not
what I meant. What about the people? There is more of a diversity of talent, more
connection to the sea, lots of seafarers.
Okay, that worked, but it wasn’t as good as the answer I got in
Grenada.
Alright, so what about this
meal? It was not long before my lobster
came, and it was delicious. The manager
went towards the lounge area so that I could enjoy my meal in peace, and the
waiter poured me a second drink. After I
was done, I brought the drink to where he was sitting. We talked a little, but something was
missing. Reader, what do I need for a
conversation like this after a meal like that?
A pipe of course. I excused
myself and went back to my room to grab a pipe, picking up an ashtray from the
room. Oh, we talked about drug laws,
which are very strict here. I lit up my
Maestro de Paja, and we continued our conversation. They brought me a third glass of rum. I had had one with my cigar earlier, so that
made four. I can’t remember the last
time I’ve had four drinks in one evening.
At least I can sleep in tomorrow.
After the pipe, I got some dessert, and I lit up a second bowl. At 9 PM, they started to close up, and a bit
after that, the manager said his goodbyes, and we exchanged niceties. I went back to my balcony, where I finished
my pipe and rum and proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so
that I can publish and watch my movie. I
might need a nap first, though, if I do, I might not wake up…
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