Grenada

5:30 wake up. 6:30 ferry. 7:30 taxi to the airport. In Grenada by 10.
It was kind of hard to decide whether or not to rent a car, since it was $45 a day for the cheapest available. But then I found out that it was a $20 cab ride each way into town. And that everything was shut down tomorrow on Sunday. So a few minutes later I was driving along in a slightly larger Suzuki jeepster than the one I had in Dominica.
Ah, Grenada (pronounced Grenayda). The island so nice they named it Spice. Last year in the Middle East Oman had been my Goldilocks country: Not too poor and not too rich. Here Grenada seemed to fit the bill of not too underdeveloped and not too overdeveloped. Still genuinely Caribbean in feel and texture, but with slightly wider and better roads, larger and better stocked markets, actual goods and services (although still relatively simple) available. Even the inevitable medical college had a pretty snazzy campus.
My research had said that the Lazy Lagoon was where to go. Enrique, a Cuban here on a work visa (didn’t they have Grenadans who could do this?) showed me a room. It was pretty basic backpacker for $40, but what the hey. He told me to come back in an hour when he had one cleaned up.
By 1:30 I had eaten, come back, rested, etc., and was ready to tour the island. I went the mile or so into St. George’s, the inevitably tiny capital, turned around, and drove the three miles or so to the south of the island. Then a meandering 15 miles up the east coast to a woebegone town of Grenville, and back across the mountainous spine, reaching an elevation of 1908 feet. Once again, the thrill of the scenic rainforest was dampened by the constant twisting and turning and dodging of all the other traffic twisting and turning.
But by 5 I was back at the Lazy Lagoon. A well stocked market was next door, so I got some groceries for tonight and tomorrow. Then I went back over to my room.
Enrique was in the process of roasting a giant pig on a spit for the full moon party tonight. I was expecting to be kept up to all hours with the ensuing noise. But there wasn’t any.
Sunday morning I sat around on my little porch for a bit, and then hit the nearly deserted road. Back up into St. George’s, only this time I kept going north. Today I was going to circumnavigate the island clockwise. Around and about, up and down hills, squeezing by the oncoming vehicles. Just like I had been doing day after day on all the other islands. I realized that it was too bad that Grenada got me last, since it really seemed like a pretty place with nice people. But, unsurprisingly, I was getting pretty burned out on Caribbean adventures.
I did find a beach on the northeastern tip that was pretty amazing, what with blue skies and pleasant hills and little islets offshore. I sat there for a while, decided that this would be the best place I’d seen to build my fantasy vacation home, and then noticed that the land was for sale. I jotted down the number.
Then squiggling on down the east coast until I got to Grenville again. And continuing on the coastal road I had taken yesterday. I made it to Grenada’s ‘best’ beach, Grand Anse, and was going to take a swim, but once I was there it wasn’t all that grand. I then decided to end my island journeys with one last visit to a waterfall back up in the hills, but, fittingly, in best Caribbean tradition, the signposts petered out long before I reached it.
And I had to give up and turn around in futility.