Dear Faithful Followers (aka family and a few friends),
I apologize for the lack of posts over the past couple days. But as you are about to see, I have been busy.
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Friday, I hopped on a bus with 27 other happy-go-lucky people for a whirlwind all-around the island tour.
Up the windy road we went to Fort Fredrick and Fort Matthew – conveniently located a stone’s throw apart.
At Fort Fredrick we took in the breath-taking view from the top and were led on a little tour by our own self-proclaimed “Alice in Wonderland.”
Alice told us stunning stories about Hurricane Ivan, which almost destroyed the island in 2004, and the city that lay below us. When she was finished and we were roaming the fort on our own, I realized she had forgotten one important detail about Fredrick’s history. This is where Grenada’s prime minister and his 7-month pregnant wife met their doom at the unfriendly end of a machine gun in 1983 as a military coup was about to overrun the country. The bowels of the fort are sealed off to the public now.
Just down the street lies Fort Matthew, a funky little maze of cells and hallways that was once the country’s insane asylum. The mentally ill were housed in its cells until that fateful day in 1983 when a stray American bomb shattered Matthew’s roof and killed 19 people. It’s never been the same since. In fact, it is now a creepy weekend drinking spot for the locals.
From Matthew and Fredrick, we rode a few nausea-inducing miles up to Carib’s Leap; the place where all the Caribs Lept.
Chris Columbus made first contact with the natives during his string of 15th Century voyages. Columbus saw the island said, “meh” and moved on.
Later, the French paid the Caribs a visit in 1626, but the two civilizations just couldn’t seem to make a relationship work. Citing “irreconcilable differences,” the French declared open season on natives in 1650. It was slavery or death for this peaceful population. So rather than play the game, they all jumped off this cliff into the unforgiving Atlantic. An entire civilization (or what was left of it) committed suicide.
Today, Grenada is almost entirely populated with descendants of the French, British or their African Slave labor.
At Carib’s Leap, we had reached the northern tip of the island – a journey of 21 windy miles. There was nowhere left to go but down, so we went to Belmont.
We ate our packed lunch under this cute little canopy before going exploring.
The old fashioned plantation estate is best described as a sprawling … um … plantation estate. After gathering the spices and working the chocolate, slaves would be called from the sun-soaked fields with the clang of this bell.
Belmont is best known for its chocolate production, which we got a succulent taste of. From the goopy, Skittles tasting seeds of the freshly cracked open coco pod to the bittersweet taste of refined chocolate, we got to taste (and experience) it all. Stay tuned, faithful readers, for the full story of the coco pod – coming to you in another post soon.
Scattered throughout the estate were cages of beautiful birds, scrappy little tortoises and even a monkey or two! I hear there were goats too, but for the girl who hears them clamber down her street every morning, they have kinda lost their charm.
After burning through most of the afternoon at Belmont, a happy group of people boarded the bus again destined for Pearls Airport – the home of the Cuban/Russian/Mexican planes.
Prior to 1983 (when the “big” airport was finished), this was how people got on and off this little rock we call Grenada. In the moving process, they left this little airplane behind to keep the cows and goats company.
One bull was particularly fond of the plane and charged us when we tried to approach!
As the sun was sinking below the horizon, we were a bus full of pooped people. We were tired (and just a tinge car sick) and it was time to go home.
It was the end of a whirlwind day that gave me a great view of the whole island in just a little time. There is a lot to do in 21 miles!
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