Photos: Deciding where to go for dinner, sunset on Grand Anse, view of sea from our villa



Grenada Day 2

This was a mostly lazy day for us. Breakfast by the pool, then dressed and into St. George’s. Parked by the Carenage so we wouldn’t have to negotiate one way streets downtown. Walked toward the market, stopped in Tikal to do a little shopping for Emmie. At the market it’s a maze of people and I want to buy a little bit from everybody. But I don’t want to buy spices or spice necklaces. We want lime, mangoes, cucumbers. We end up with two packages of nutmeg, too, because I cannot say no to Therese. So only four sellers are appeased—I feel tremendously guilty. There’s a cruise ship in town but I don’t see many people who look like cruisers in the marketplace.

On the walk back to the car a man falls in step with my husband. His name is Herman and he claims he’s the go-to guy of St. George’s. Maybe he is. He offers us a taxi. We say no, thanks, because we have our own car. He offers to drive with us up north to Sauteurs to show us around. We say no, thanks, we prefer to make our own way—it’s part of the fun to stop and talk to folks along the way and ask directions. As we pass the statue on the carenage commemorating the Bianca C, he then asks us if we know what it is. I say, yes, sir. It’s a statue of thanks to the people of Grenada for rescuing the people aboard a boat that eventually sank. Undaunted, he keeps pace with us as we continue to our car. As we reach it, he asks for a little money—enough to buy himself a cold drink. It’s a small enough request and we’re happy enough to acquiesce. But it’s the first time I’ve felt uncomfortable about a transaction in our travels to Grenada and I think the reasons are a little complicated. Do we look like an easy mark, that a guy can ask us for money just because he walked along with us and was friendly? Or are times really that hard, that a guy is desperate enough to just ask for money when all of his other offers to earn money from us are rebuffed? Am I reading the situation completely incorrectly? Are there rules of etiquette at play that I’m completely ignorant of? In joining Herman in conversation, did we unknowingly enter into some social contract? It seems to me that it would be unspeakably rude to rebuff his approach, but perhaps to Herman it was unspeakably rude of us not to tip him after our walk together. I really have no idea. With a distinct feeling of ambivalence we made our way to the grocery store and from there back to the villa for lunch.

Reading, swimming, and relaxing. It’s amazing how tired an afternoon of this can make me feel. We had cocktails and cheese & crackers around 5:00 and made plans to go to the Beach House for dinner at 7:00. After two previous meals out where we were one of only two tables filled it was a relief to arrive at the Beach House to see a few other parties already seated. By the time we left it looked like they had a pretty full house. The ambience was light & breezy with jalousied windows and white curtains billowing in the soft night air. Still no lambi on the menu, much to my husband’s disappointment. I tell him that we may have to wait until we’re at Boots’ place to get any.

Anyway, dinner was very pleasant. We began with a Caesar salad (DH) and mixed greens & herb salad (me). Barry had the escargots, prepared with garlic, Pernod, mushrooms, and spinach. I had the Thai Teepee – three skewers with beef in a slightly spicy peanut sauce. Both very good. We then shared the rum cake a la mode. A rum punch, two martinis, a cappuccino, and a shot of Old Grog brought the meal to EC $210, including tax and tip.

In other news, Anthon tried to figure out our problem connecting to the internet. The air port is giving off a strong signal and I’ve tried every configuration that I know (admittedly it’s not much) but nothing is working. Now the phone in our room has gone dead. Minor frustrations.

I did finish off the Coetzee book and start & finish two others: How Elizabeth Barrett Browning Saved My Life by Mameve Medwed and Jane Eyre’s Daughter by Elizabeth Newark.

Did I really miss all of May and most of June?

June I've been away for most of the month, but May I have no excuse for...except for the part of having only 4 hours off that month (or so it seemed at the time). Here's what I did and what I read while I was doing it:

Travel Day 1 (June 6)

Spent night at the Doubletree Hotel in Windsor Locks, CT. Morning American flight on time but crowded since the Miami flight was cancelled. With an extremely long layover in SJU we opted to leave the aeropuerto and head to Pamela's Restaurant at the Guesthouse Numero Uno in Condado. Taxi ride was about 10 minutes, $17 + tip for the two of us and our bags.

Lunch was a pleasant and unhurried affair. The beach is wide and as it was a Saturday there was a pretty good crowd forming. Couples and families alike, with lots of dogs. Perfect for people watching. Lunch was delicious but expensive: two Medallas, one mojito, one fizzy water, two appetizers, one salad, and one cappuccino came to $90. A 15% gratuity was already included and marked plainly on both the menus and the bill. The organic salad was great—mixed greens, manchego, red bell pepper, red onion, slivers of mango, and a mango/balsamic vinaigrette, lightly dressed. Oysters on the halfshell, served with a wonderful frozen cherry-melon concoction for sweetness, plus the usual lemon, horseradish, and red sauce. Jerk chicken satay—big enough to be a meal in themselves. Unfortunately I forgot to specify no cilantro as a garnish, so there was a cilantro coulis on the plate. I could wipe most of it off, though.

So we ate, read, chatted, and enjoyed the view. There were half a dozen kiteboarders. Some close to shore, some perilously far at sea, or at least so it seemed to me. It was very windy—you could see a haze of sand hovering about the beach. Passing showers just shy of being intense enough to drive us inside.

We left Pamela’s around 3:00 to head back to the airport. Slight lines to get through security, then a wait at the gate. American Eagle flights now board at the other end of the terminal—Gate 16 instead of Gate 1. Barry bought a bottle of vodka so we’d have something to sip when we arrived. Flight to Grenada also on time. Landed a few minutes early. Breezed through immigration , got our bags, then breezed through customs. We didn’t get any forms back, which is a little unusual. Grabbed a taxi and made our way to Turtleback. We arrived around 8:45pm, early enough so that Sharon and Anthon didn’t have the gate unlocked yet, so I called softly out to them through the gate and Sharon came right away.

We settled in for the evening with our feet soaking in the pool, vodkas and Ting in hand. Finished book 1: Making Cakes in Kigali by Gaile Parkin.

Grenada Day 1

Woke to overcast skies and finally got out of bed around 9:00 am after dozing lazily on & off for about three hours. Sunrise comes with a vengeance, all at once, around 6:00. We padded about the apartment, made coffee, and went outside with our books. I took a swim and alternated between sun and shelter during the brief showers. Car from Y&R was delivered around 10:00, but instead of leaving to get groceries right away we settled back into our books. Made toast, drank more coffee, went swimming again. Finally got dressed to have lunch and started off toward La Belle Creole. Felt we were a little underdressed for Blue Horizons/La Belle Creole, so we doubled back and made our way toward the Lagoon to try Tropicana. On the way we saw dense black smoke on the horizon but I assumed it was bush burning. We found out later that the older stadium (not the new one for the Cricked World Cup) had caught fire. Lunch was very good and very leisurely. Felt very local. I had stewed pork, Bubba had oyster chicken for EC $30 each, accompanied by the usual provision plus a green salad. I had ting, he had iced tea with a small pitcher of sugar syrup to sweeten it. Lots of rain while we ate. Traffic noise sometimes impeded conversation, but we brought our books to read. Lunch came to EC $80, including tax & extra tip. 10% gratuity was included but I added more to it.

We drove around a bit to orient myself to driving on the left and to see if we could easily find BB’s Crab Shack where we’d like to go for dinner one night. I always prefer to find things by day first and then find our way back by night.

Finished my second book of the trip, Jonathan Tropper’s Here’s Where I Leave You. At first it felt a little light, a little wah-wah. One of those books about how hard it is to be an upper middle class white man, you know? . But it was casual, honest, funny, and with some actual insight into human nature. Like Jim Harrison, it’s his sense of humor that saves him from being ordinary and annoying. Sometimes it’s nice to read a book that confirms exactly how hard it is simply to get by. That acknowledges that we’re looking for more, that we’re all perhaps a little disappointed with ourselves and where we’ve ended up. But there’s a dignity to it, too.

Went back to the villa to try to connect to the internet, but still no luck. We’re reading a full signal from the air-port. We’ve tried turning the thing off & on, restarting the computer, but nothing is working. I even took the cable and tried it directly in my laptop, to no avail.

Now we’re kicking back with cocktails and trying to figure out where and when we’ll go for dinner tonight. We have a few things in the pantry & fridge now from grocery shopping. It’s Sunday night, so our options are limited. And without a phone book and without an internet connection it’s going to be hit-or-miss driving around to find someplace that’s open tonight. Today at lunch we were the only patrons for the first hour we were there. The island’s tourist economy is way down, even for the off season.

We decided on La Belle Creole, the restaurant at Blue Horizons, for dinner since we bypassed it for lunch earlier. We were one of only two tables tonight. Food was excellent and a pretty good value. Two soups, two appetizers, one dessert, one coffee, three cocktails came to EC $151. Barry had the cold christophene soup served in a vichyssoise style and I had the hot cream of tannia soup. Then we moved on to the sugar cane shrimp and the callaloo soufflé. For dessert we shared soursop ice cream. I had the coffee (decaf) and he had the Grand Marnier to end the meal. 10% gratuity was already included and we added some more for the very good service we received.

NB: We learned from our server tonight that it was not, in fact, the stadium that burned today but a private home behind the stadium. Burned entirely to the ground but at least nobody was injured.

Now I’m in bed, about halfway through J. M. Coetzee’s Slow Man, which I believed was published as Elizabeth Costello abroad. I’m not sure if I like it yet or night, but it does have my interest piqued.

Here are some photos of the gorgeous Turtleback Pavilion where we stayed. The rooftop pavilion and the swings were my favorite parts!

Book Reviews: A Two-fer

MOLOKA’I by Alan Brennert. $13.95 in paperback

This compelling novel follows the life of Rachel Kalama from her girlhood on Oahu through her lifelong exile at the leper colony on Moloka’i, and consequently it follows the history of Hawai’i itself from the US’s unconstitutional overthrow of the monarchy through the attack on Pearl Harbor. The reader feels the same anguish, fear, and isolation as Rachel faces one hardship after another, with a heartwarming reunion with her lost family as a final reward for her hard-earned self-reliance.


HONOLULU by Alan Brennert $24.95 in hardcover

Like his previous book Moloka’i, Brennert’s new novel takes a sweeping and probing look at a little-known period of US history. Jin is a young Korean “picture bride” who, in 1915, risks everything to leave her homeland for Hawai’i in order to marry a man she has never met. When his bitterness and cruelty drive her to run away, she makes her way to Honolulu, finding support and friendship in the most unlikely sources. Brennert takes a hard look at the hardships of being a woman in the early 20th century and at the racism that almost destroyed what is now one of the most thriving multicultural metropolises in the world.

Both books are satisfying reads, but what sets them apart is Brennert’s ability to plumb the mysteries of the human heart, exploring the heights and the depths of our emotional spectrum. What I particularly love is the fine balance he creates between hope and despair without seeming melodramatic. Fans of The Secret Life of Bees, Ellen Foster, or The Kite Runner (or anybody who is drawn to stories of overcoming social, cultural, or religious constrictions) will find much to appreciate in his novels.

Time flies when you're having rum!

Lawd, lawd, I can't believe I've let it go so long between posts.   A little trip planning, a co-worker's vacation, some extra hours at work, and the discovery of some new fanfiction and my, how the time flies!

So in two months' time I will be on my summer vacation after putting in a couple hundred hours of online research.  Our first stop is our beloved Grenada, an island we're returning to for a third visit, then onward to Anguilla for our first visit.  Our first week will be largely filled with exploration, delving even more deeply "into de country" than our last trip.  We'll sample beach bars and rum shacks, tramp through trails to sparkling waterfalls, stopping by the spice market to stock on up nutmeg, mace, cinammon, and other essentials.  We're renting a vehicle with 4 wheel drive and ample ground clearance, so we'll be able to follow any track, well-beaten or otherwise, on a whim.  Grenada's lush mountainous interior is gorgeous and incredibly inviting, the fresh air redolent with spices and the tang of the sea.

Anguilla is entirely different.  Formed of coral, not by a volcano, it is the perfect counterpoint to Grenada's peaked topography, with white sand beaches ringing the entire island.  These wide swaths are blindingly bright, showing off the brilliant turquoise hues of the water.  You'd swear that photographs of Anguilla's beaches have been Photoshopped into perfection, but they really are that stunning.

I've always relied on the kindness of strangers, especially when it comes to travel planning.  Travel forums can soak up hours of my time on my days off.  I've got a large sheaf full of notes to take with me so that we can enjoy each island to its fullest, much of which is information shared with me by strangers.  I even had the lovely experience of striking up a conversation with two customers yesterday at work--one was wearing an Anguilla t-shirt so I introduced myself to him as someone about to experience Anguilla for the first time.  When I revealed that we would be staying at Carimar,  their own favorite place to stay, they pulled me aside for a good 30 minutes to share their travel experiences and wouldn't be satisfied until I assured them I would take all of their advice to heart.  

I have an online acquaintance named HowardC who has also devoted pages of email to ensure I have a fabulous time in Anguilla.  But what's more, he has gone a step further by sending me a care package--a travel video and a local magazine.  When I planned my first trip to Bequia it was HowardC who sent me his personal photo album from the island to whet my appetite for my visit.   I have another online friend named mymoosie who, upon visiting Nevis for the first time, brought home for me in her bag a bottle of Killer Bee, a killer rum punch found only at Sunshine's, a fabulous beach bar on Nevis.  Just because I had posted that I loved that rum punch and that I had tried to recreate it at home with limited success.  

What is about people with shared passions?  Is it possible that we cannot behave as indifferent strangers?  That there's something in us that calls to each other?  I couldn't possibly say, but I know that I feel a thrill whenever a fellow traveler tells me that some tip or other that I passed along was the highlight of her trip.  

NB: Grenada photos courtesy of Grenada Explorer.   Anguilla photo courtesy of Trip Advisor. 

The supposedly non-existent demographic...

I had an interesting experience earlier this week at work.  You know how over the first sales quarter of 2009 that sales of e-books have jumped something like 110%?  And you know how our trade organization and various booksellers tell us to calm down, that everything's okay, we're not going to be going the way of the independent music store anytime soon?  'Cause it's only the younger generation (which doesn't read much anyway), the folks who go ga-ga over gadgets, who are going to be buying the Kindle?

Well, folks, I met the supposedly non-existent demographic this week.  A woman came into the store to browse our fiction section.  By her own admission she is nearly an octogenarian (!), and she was busily taking notes.  When I asked her if I could help her, she said (politely) no.  That she was looking for new titles to download to her Kindle.  She loves independent bookstores--she loves the feel of them, their selection, their staff picks, the way they engage the community.  She even said she's been missing her indie bookstores since she bought the Kindle.  But she's still coming in to our store to take advantage of our expertise and love of books and careful selection and walking out without a purchase, choosing instead to spend her money with Amazon.  

Bookstores, both indie and chain alike, need to be able to compete on this playing field.  And we need to be able to do it yesterday, not two years from now.  What can possibly happen to us when even 80 year old women who really value what the independent bookstore brings to them choose to shop at Amazon?  I'm no fan of chain bookstores (nor of any of chain stores, really) but I think that in this instance we should work together to make the publishers aware of a missed opportunity.  By not working with bookstores to make e-books widely available, not just in the Kindle format, publishers are effectively making Amazon their biggest competitor.  

I know this economy is tough, folks.  Though I'm still fortunate enough to have my job, I have friends and family members who have lost their jobs and are counting every penny.  But *where* you spend your money is just as important as *how much* you spend.  Think about what you want in your community and for your community when you're deciding what to purchase.  

What I'm reading now...

In a nod to Nick Hornby and in an effort to get by with a small(ish) blog, I'm just going to list the books I've read recently or am reading now.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies was a laugh-a-minute.  The Bennet daughters form the Pentagram of Death!  Darcy thinks Jane has been stricken by the Satanic plague!  Lady Catherine de Bourgh is the nation's pre-eminent defender and lady of the Deathly Arts!  This book was pure-dee entertainment and I'm glad I read it.  Though the vomiting and those Most English Bits were a bit much.  I know, right?  Something over the top in a Jane Austen/zombie fanfiction is so highly unexpected!

An Embarrassment of Mangoes by Ann Vanderhoof.  

I've actually read this book a few times before, but it always makes me happy so I'm revisiting it to get in the mood for my upcoming trip to Grenada.  Sure, this book has all of the obligatory recipes for conch and coconut shrimp, as well as the tales of peril on the high seas.  But unlike so many other travelogues written about living and/or working in the Caribbean, this author and her husband really got into the local groove of whatever island they were on--volunteering, going to political rallies, exploring every inch of the islands, befriending locals, joining in the various Carnivals and Jouverts and other festivals, and in general becoming a part of the community everywhere they traveled.  Makes other books, such as one about opening a restaurant on Anguilla, seem backwards and colonial.  

Random House sent me a copy copy of Olive Kitteridge that I finally read this weekend.  I hadn't realized that it's actually a novel of connected short stories where the titular character is only occasionally the protagonist.  This way we get a fuller version of Olive, a woman of a certain age who lives in a small coastal town in Maine--she's complicated and ornery, smart & sharp spoken, weary of fools and wary of change.  Her influence over the town is both distant and far-reaching, as she taught seventh-grade math to most of its denizens.  She's respected but not well liked, but she surprises everyone, including the reader, with her periodic bursts of insight and compassion.  Definitely an interesting read, this book should please both short story readers and those who prefer novel-length fiction.

Last weekend I went down to Memphis to visit my two best friends and over the course of the weekend I got a few books read.  I read Zoe Klein's forthcoming Drawing in the Dust from Pocket Books on the way down there.  It's a story that combines archaeology, religious fundamentalism, romance, and ghost stories in modern day Israel.  Fun, frothy, and easy to read, it made my day of travel much less tedious than if I hadn't read it.  Don't worry--the cover of the advance reading copy is quite pretty, showing a woman's hair blowing in the breeze with the desert blurred and faded in the background.  I'm not sure why it's not been "unveiled" yet, but there you go.  Fans of The Red Tent and People of the Book will probably find much to enjoy in this debut novel.

Of  April and Oliver, the least said, the better.  One night after an uncalculatedly large dose of caffeine, I read this book straight through.  I wanted to be able to fall asleep.  But short of that, I wanted to be able to care for April, one of the most messed-up characters I've read about in a long time.  But the book was more like a trainwreck--in between wanting to slap her, I couldn't stop reading to see what self-destructive thing she would do next.  I'm being admittedly a bit harsh about it, but I suspect that fans of Jodi Picoult's The Pact will find much to recommend it.  We can't all like the same things, alas.  What a dull world that would be!

Scent of Sake by Joyce Lebra.  This well-researched first novel tells the story of Rie, a woman born into a sake-brewing dynasty in early 19th century Japan.  A bright young girl with natural business acumen, Rie bristles under the extreme sexist mores that dictate her behavior.  Saddled with a boorish husband, she discovers ways of quietly undermining his power.  Little does she realize, however, that as time goes by she demands the same sort of sacrifices from her family and employees that she herself was forced to make, effectively becoming just as domineering as the men against whom she was rebelling.  An interesting read.

I did finish reading two wonderful books that I've mentioned earlier in this blog.  One was just as good as I hoped it would be and the other was just as good as I'd remembered it (isn't it nice when that happens?).  Stephen Fry's wonderfully funny book about visiting every state in the US was a delight.  And finishing Without Reservations was like saying goodbye to an old friend.  I hope that one day when I'm on my own again that I'll have the courage to pick up and travel like she did.  

 

Demons and Zombies and Books, Oh, My!

You know it's a grand year when not one, but two, major Jane Austen pop cultural events occur. Sometime this summer, moviegoers will be treated to Pride & Predator, a film about filming yet another version of Pride & Prejudice, when the unthinkable happens--an alien invasion! I'm very excited about this prospect. I like both films and movies--don't make me choose among an adrenaline-filled espionage thriller and the thoughtful, quiet, character-driven subtitled story from Argentina and the sweeping historical epic or the arty costume drama. I want 'em all. Pride & Predator should promise the best of all worlds. Popcorn & Raisinettes will complete my happiness.

But even that movie can't compare to my excitement over the new book published by Quirk Books this week-- Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, by Seth Grahame-Smith. At first I wondered why the author didn't choose a classic more suited to the gothic & the macabre to introduce zombies. Wuthering Heights seemed the most natural choice. Even Jane Eyre had the nifty plot device of the mad woman in the attic. If you're going to start with Austen, Northanger Abbey might seem more logical. But then I read what prompted the author: why was the regiment stationed in Meryton when they were actually needed to fight on the continent? Could it be...that zombies had invaded the town and that the residents' lives were in danger?

I'm eagerly awaiting the comp copy that my sales rep promised. But if it doesn't arrive by the weekend you can bet that one of the store's copies will be going home with me.

In other news, I finished another book last week that is forthcoming from one of my favorite fanfiction writers. Sarah Rees Brennan is so far best known on the internet for her fabulous Harry Potter stories, predominantly featuring the Harry/Draco pairing. Very soon she'll be as well known for her teen fiction, the first of which is The Demon's Lexicon. In the spirit of not spoiling anything, I'll make my comments as wide as possible. Overall I thought it was a good first effort but it was not as polished as her later fanfiction tended to be. Those readers who've enjoyed her dialogue, particularly Draco's laconic snarkiness, will still find evidence of that in her new book, particularly in the brother-sister team who seek out help from the Alan and Nick, two brothers born into a family constantly on the run from magicians.  One early example: '"Rituals with the dead," Jamie repeated in a faint, stunned voice.  Nick turned and looked at him coldly. "I mean," Jamie said, and swallowed, "how interesting and not at all creepy!  Please go on."'

 The pacing was a little uneven, and I'm not crazy about this new style of writing that names a concept or character on one page but doesn't explain it to the reader until pages or even chapters later. Since I tend to skim things when reading, this tactic makes me go back and re-read paragraphs to make sure I didn't skip something crucial--when inevitably the explanation show up later in the book.  Still, there was a major twist in the end that I didn't call correctly, though like a good mystery writer, Rees Brennan had strewn clues and red herrings throughout (unlike much of her fanfiction, where I correctly anticipated many of her plot twists). The end left me wanting to pick up the next book in the series right away, which means I'll have to wait at least another year or so for it.  

Books, Books, Books, & Books

I've suspected it for some time now but my recent reading confirms it: Nick Hornby is one of my favorite authors.  I've read a few of his novels, which I would recommend to just about anyone, but it's his collections of essays written for Believer magazine that have won my undying devotion.  I'll confess straightaway that I've never picked up an issue of the magazine to read; rather, these essays came to me already in book form.  The first collection that I read, The Polysyllabic Spree, I stumbled upon in my bookstore.  The price was right (it was second hand) and I had an upcoming trip to visit my family in Wisconsin and thus would need plane reading, so reader, I bought it.  Each essay begins with two lists--books he bought that month and books he read that month (a format which I might adopt from time to time in homage)--and then meanders through his book adventures, all the while making this reader laugh with his witty cultural observations and wry self-effacements.

The second installation of essays collected from Believer is even better.  Housekeeping vs. The Dirt is funnier than anything I've read in a long time.  Possibly even funnier than the Stephen Fry book I'm currently reading.  I've also enjoyed it more because this time around he's been buying and/or reading more of the books that I've bought and/or read and he's got periodic shout-outs to indie bookstores.  He's currently my book hero, even if the stuff I'm reading is woefully out of date (Feb 2005 through June/July 2006).  Here's an excerpt: "I bought A Complicated Kindness at the Powell's bookstore in the Portland, Oregon, airport, after several fervent recommendations by the Powell's staff who looked after me at my signing.  Did you know that you [Americans] have the best bookshops in the world?  I hope so.  Over here in England, the home of literature ha-ha, we have only chain bookstores, staffed by people who for the most part come across as though they'd rather be selling anything else anywhere else; meanwhile you have access to booksellers who would regard their failure to sell you novels about Mennonites as a cause of deep, personal shame.  Please spend every last penny you have on books from independent bookstores."

Nick Hornby, folks.  Go read him now.  If you don't have any pennies left in this economy to buy the book at your favorite indie bookstore, go get his books from the library.  Or you could just ask to borrow my collection.  

In other book news, I wonder if anybody else has paired up Cormac McCarthy with the tv show Northern Exposure to write a book review.  If not, then you heard it here first, y'all.  Jim Lynch's forthcoming book from Knopf, Border Songs, is the most bizarre love child of Cormac McCarthy's westerns and the quirky characters from Northern Exposure.  Honestly, I can think of no higher praise!  There's a hint of menace lying under the surface of nearly every page but that menace is perfectly counterbalanced by one Brandon Vanderkool, a behemoth of a man who has recently joined the Border Patrol but who would much rather stay at home with his dairy cows and make shadow sculptures of birds.  His bumbling, awkward ways, which once made him the object of local ridicule, have freakishly come together to make him the best damn BP man on duty.  Brandon is infinitely endearing in his happenstances, whether he's making a bust on a would-be terrorist or discovering a hidden tunnel used for transporting drugs across the border from Canada to the US.  Mr. Lynch has delivered a book that is both warm & wary.  His sense of the ridiculous is tempered by the generosity he shows his characters, and I look forward to reading more from him.  The readers at The Odyssey Bookshop liked the book so much that we've picked it for our July FEC selection. 

Something old is new again. Ahh, Bequia!

The weather really has me down.  Snow, sleet, ice, freezing rain, snow, more rain.  I took a comp day from work today and treated myself to reading some good fanfiction, re-reading a charming travelogue by Alice Steinbach called Without Reservations, and revisiting some of my own travel writing.  In particular I fell in love with the island of Bequia all over again and I must figure out a way to get there once more.  Here's my trip report from my first visit there:

BEQUIA       (pronounced BECK-way. Or BECK-weh)

Bequia was, in a word, delightful.  We used Barbados as our gateway to the Grenadines, primarily because I was able to secure one of our tickets using frequent flyer miles.  Our American Airlines flight was met by the SVGAir rep right inside the airport who took care of all of our immigration/customs/transit needs and sent us to wait in the departure lounge.  Where we waited.  And waited.  While BA, Virgin, Air Canada, and sundry smaller aircraft came and went.  And then our boarding time came and went.  And then our departure time.  Finally our flight was called.  This was definitely a flight worth waiting for – the windows on this low-flying plane provided stunning views of the region I’d been longing to see for some time, the Grenadines.  We landed first on Union Island (which my husband said reminded him of landing on St. Barths) and then went on to Bequia, where we experienced our shortest ever line going through immigration.  We popped outside and hailed a taxi to take us to the Frangipani Hotel in Pt. Elizabeth. 

FRANGIPANI HOTEL

I had been waffling back and forth between wanting to stay in town and wanting to stay at the beach at Lower Bay and opted for staying in town on our first visit, especially since we were only there for five nights.  I booked a Deluxe Garden room at the Frangipani, which was located at the top of the property, the upside of which is that we had a splendid view, the downside of which is that we risked a heart attack every time we returned to the room.  At only US $120/night it was certainly a good price (sidebar: it was the first time I ever paid the rack rate for a hotel) for what it delivered – a beautifully crafted room of wood and stone with pitched ceilings, large bathroom (shower only), nice dressing area with a mini fridge, and a spacious balcony with a table, two chairs, and two padded chaises longues.  In addition to the king bed, the sleeping area also had a writing desk and a comfy padded chair with ottoman.  The bedroom opened onto the balcony with double doors that folded back, proving a seamless transit between indoors and out.  The balcony view was westerly over the harbour and we had great fun in the evenings watching the sailboats, ferries, and other vessels coming and going while sipping our cocktails and watching the sun in its downward progression.

The room had no air-conditioning, but it was well designed to catch the breezes, aided by a ceiling fan and a standing fan.  All of the windows were wooden louvers.  The room would have been just about perfect except for one thing: lack of screens on the windows or doors.  We were provided with a mosquito net over the bed, but even so my husband woke up the next morning with over 100 bites.  Fortunately for me, I had covered myself in a 25% DEET bug spray for dinner the night before that clearly lasted through the night, for I woke up with just a few bites.  Our remaining nights we both coated ourselves with the OFF! spray before going to bed, which certainly cut back on the mosquito bites, but also made us feel a bit icky & sticky in the bedsheets.  I have to say that the mosquitoes put a serious damper on the trip.  It seems to me that installing window screens would be a relatively inexpensive and easy addition to make to the rooms, one that would reap exponential benefits for guests.  Other guests were also plagued by the mozzies, so we weren’t the only ones.  It seems to me that the garden rooms are far too nice an accommodation not to take that extra step to make them that much nicer.  To be fair, we made friends with folks staying next door at Gingerbread, and the mosquitoes were just as bothersome.  And when we casually mentioned over breakfast one morning that our mosquito net seemed to have a few small holes in it, it was replaced by the time we returned to our room that afternoon.  Were it not for the lack of screens, I would give the Frangipani an unreserved recommendation.  As it is, I still recommend it, but with the condition of bringing plenty of good repellent. 

DAYSAIL on the FRIENDSHIP ROSE

 Our very first morning we embarked on a daysail to the Tobago Cays on the schooner called Friendship Rose.  We had intended to go out with them on our second day in order to rest ourselves from the long day of travel, but they changed their schedule and that was our only available day if we wanted to see the Cays.  The dinghy dock where we got picked up was a short walk away from the hotel, and by 7:30 we were on board and feasting on a lovely breakfast of croissants, pain au chocolat, fresh fruit, juice, and French press coffee.  There were about 25 people on board—enough to make mingling fun but not so many that one couldn’t get away for a quiet moment if so desired.  We were a truly international bunch.  DH and I were two of only four Americans.  The rest were British, Barbadian, Canadian, Belgian, French, and Portuguese.  During the three hours we were under sail we had a fine time chatting with the crew & passengers and watching the crew put up the sails—an amazing display of choreography, really.  Periodically a crewmember would circulate with an offering of biscuits, sodas, water, rum punch or fruit punch. 

 Upon arrival in the Cays we had the option of going ashore to one of the beaches that was deserted when we got there or to go snorkeling.  Well, duh.  I haven’t been dreaming about visiting the Cays with the idea of sitting on a beach, that’s for sure.  We were preparing ourselves and our snorkel gear when oh, no!  The strap on DH’s prescription snorkel mask snaps off, and the little pin with it.  Alan, who I believe is one of the owners of the FR, heard our cries of dismay and then spent a full 20 minutes below deck improvising a way to reattach the strap.  Success!  Once we were out on the reef we were even more thankful that Alan had found a way for DH to see everything—it was really beautiful out there.  No big fish, at least not where we were, but the coral looked healthier than anyplace I’ve snorkeled, and the fish were everywhere!  At one point we were surrounded on three sides by a large school of blue tang, which was pretty magical. It was over all too soon and we had to head back to the boat for lunch. 

Lunch was simple but very tasty fare with tuna, rice, and provision, followed by a type of fudge that I didn’t much care for.  After lunch the crew hung a few hammocks for folks who wanted to relax, but I opted to head back to the water to snorkel around the boat.  The other American couple had reported lots of turtles there in the grass, so I went off in search of them.  Well, I didn’t see “lots” but I did spy one large one that let me get very close.  At first it surfaced right next to me but after it submerged again I followed it for some time.  I also passed through a few dozen small squid, which was pretty fun.  All in all, I would give a B+ to the snorkeling in the Cays.  My only disappointment was that I couldn’t spend more time in the water, as we still had a three-hour sail back to Bequia.  

All of the crewmembers we met were engaging and knowledgeable and we were sad to see the day come to an end.  There was one handsome young man from the crew who would cross our path again, but his story will come later.  Of the other travelers we met that day, we became particularly friendly with two couples, frequently running into them for drinks, meals, or activities around the island. 

BEACHES

 We spent two days exploring different beaches on Bequia.  One morning we opted to hike over to Princess Margaret Beach.  We started off walking along the Belmont Walkway (a waterside path that starts just north of the Frangipani and fronts various hotels, restaurants, and shops) and started climbing a staircase cut into the rock face.  Very soon we realized we were in over our heads.  The hill itself wasn’t too bad, but all too soon the stairs gave way to a footpath, one which required the use of both hands to scramble up in parts.  It probably wouldn’t give any trouble to avid hikers, but we are not avid hikers, nor were we shod as such.  What’s more, it was raining when we started out and the footing was quite slippery.  What’s even more, my poor DH was suffering an attack of gout, which made every step increasingly painful. 

I am pleased to say that Princess Margaret aka Tony Gibbs Beach, was worth the trouble. 

It was a fairly long stretch of sand and we were the first to step foot there that morning, or so it seemed.  We walked to the far end, spread out our towels and damp clothing on some tree stumps to dry, and proceeded to explore the cave and grottoes that the large boulders formed.  It was great fun!  We whiled away a few happy hours there, mixing our reading with swimming and snorkeling (which was just okay, but it still made me happy) and chatting with the various locals who always stopped to greet us on their way to Lower Bay.  

When we ran out of water it was the perfect time to walk to Lower Bay, the path there being much easier than our earlier walk, we were assured many times.  We stopped first at De Reef for a cold drink and thought about having lunch there, but only the bar was open.  We ended up at Dawn’s Creole for lunch.  Since it was slow, she kindly let us use her chairs and umbrella for the rest of the afternoon.  Lower Bay was also beautiful and is very likely where I would want to stay for future visits.  I did quite a bit of swimming here and walked to both ends for snorkeling.  This beach was a bit busier than Princess Margaret, maybe a couple dozen folks all told.  There was some natural shade provided by sea grapes near De Reef, which always improves my impression of a beach.  All in all, it was lovely, including playing with the small packs of island dogs that wandered up to us.

On our last full day we spent several hours at the beautiful Industry Bay.  This is probably close to my ideal beach.  A sweeping cove, lined with coconut palms on one end, and completely deserted, with a swath of sand leading to the small inn, which was closed but whose kitchen  was open for lunch.  The water was beautiful, the setting was serene, there was plenty of shade available, good food and drink from Crescent Beach Hotel, a good book to read, and good company in my DH.  I only saw three rooms right on the beach there, but it would certainly be a place I would consider staying on a return trip, especially if I were looking to get away from it all.  There was a good bit of surf on this beach, which I loved listening to while I read, but it did make swimming in a straight line a bit of a challenge.  In the end I just gave up and did some body surfing.  After all, I knew I’d work off plenty of calories just walking up to our room that night.  

 WEATHER

We had perfect weather while were there, with big storms every night and occasional brief rain showers during the day.  Despite being so close to the equator, I don’t remember a single time when we were out during the day or sleeping at night when it was hot to the point of discomfort.  In fact, we were more comfortable on this trip in July than just about any other Caribbean island we’ve visited during the summer.

 MISCELLANEOUS

 One morning we hired Ramzay to take us up to Old Hegg Turtle Sanctuary, which turned out to be a real highlight of the trip.  Brother King runs the place with a dedication and a softspoken passion that belies his steely determination to operate his sanctuary in the face of a government who is not only not interested in conservation of these creatures, but in some cases acting against them.  He is self-taught in the ways of the hawksbill and green turtles and tells fascinating stories of things he has learned on the fly (in addition to sharing a few hair-raising tales of his skin diving days and coming face to face with tiger sharks).  We met Miss Busybody, a large hawksbill who sometimes goes swimming in the open sea with Brother King.  We met the newest Old Hegg, a turtle whose flippers are deformed and cannot propel itself forward the same way other turtles can.  We came away from our time there extremely impressed with Brother King and his operation, and in my opinion this is a not to be missed experience on Bequia. 

Despite its small size, we really just touched the surface of Bequia in our 5 nights there.  My DH experienced most of the island in a fog of pain and thus feels that he needs to visit the island again to make any kind of meaningful assessment, which I agree with wholeheartedly!  For my part, I loved it for its charm, its people, its beaches, its scenery, its laid-back vibe, and for retaining the flavor of what was best about the old Caribbean.  I am extremely eager to return.

Industry Bay, seen from above

cute dogs at Lower Bay

Underwater shot at the Tobago Cays

What I'm reading now...

LAST NIGHT IN MONTREAL by Emily St. John Mandel

Mandel's debut novel, which is intense and subtle in equal measure, has left me completely dazzled.  Lilia, abducted by her father at the age of seven, grows up to be a wanderer, utterly incapable of forming lasting attachments or understanding the concept of home.  When she quietly leaves Eli behind, he traces her to Montreal, where Lilia's past and present collide in one mysterious young woman whose training as a tightrope walker stands in sharp counterpoint to her unbalanced mental state.  Ultimately this is a novel about urgency and restraint and about both the tragedies and rewards that we reap when we try to push beyond the limits of meaning and understanding.  Mandel resists the temptation to tie all three storylines up too neatly, leaving a couple of them to unravel as they may, and I think we can expect great things from this author in the future. 

It's from a small publisher, Unbridled Books, which has been quietly making good books for the reader for I don't know how long, but which came to my attention a little over a year ago when they published Margaret Cezair-Thompson's The Pirate's Daughter.  We picked that book for our First Editions Club in December 2007 and now I hope to pick Last Night in Montreal for our June 2009 selection.  Ms. Mandel is incredibly young--she looks like she would be carded non-stop for a night out on the town--for having turned out such a fine, sensitive first novel.  It's not just the careful details she crafts for each character, it's also what she chooses to leave in shadow, crediting the reader's own imagination, that sets this book apart.  I can't wait for the book to be published so that I can put it in the hands of as many readers as possible.  

And now for something completely different...

Stephen Fry, Stephen Fry, oh, how I love thee!  I was sadly unaware that Mr. Fry had come to America to visit every last state, filming and writing as he went along, and thus was not able to become his fangirl.  I've admired his humour for years and now that Harper Collins is publishing the US edition that accompanied the BBC series he filmed, I can enjoy his writing, too.  This book won't be published until December 2009, so you'll probably see me mention it from time to time as I dip into it throughout the year.  It's tempting to read the book straight through as I started to do, but I think I'll change that.  For one thing, one runs the risk of busting a gut, as they might say in my old home state, from too much consecutive laughter.  But also because it's nice to have to look forward to (I'm the same way when people give me gift certificates for things--I'll put off using them just so that I can have the pleasure of anticipation).  So now I'll apportion perhaps one or two states to read, every few days.  It won't last until December, certainly, but it will get me through the dreary, muddy months of what passes for early spring in New England.  

On a side note, was anybody else holding dear to the hope that the Harry Potter movie franchise would be casting Fry as Professor Slughorn and Hugh Laurie as Rufus Scrimgeour?  Wouldn't it be lovely to see them onscreen (sort of) together again with the super-duper special effects budget that Warner Bros has lavished on HP?  Say what you will about the Harry Potter movies (and I've said plenty, believe you me.  Although Prisoner of Azkaban was, like Elizabeth Bennet's teeth, tolerable, I suppose), they sure do provide the pleasure of seeing so many of the great actors of our time--Alan Rickman, Emma Thompson, (Dame) Maggie Smith, Gary Oldman, Ralph Fiennes, Richard Griffiths, Julie Walters, Michael Gambon, Imelda Staunton, Helena Bonham Carter, Kenneth Brannaugh, Robert Pattinson (heh--just kidding.  I was checking to see if you were paying attention!), really the list does go on a bit...

Anyway, the series would have been the richer for my casting preferences but nobody asked me.  I find that *that* is increasingly what is wrong with the world today.