out the "Fantasy Pool." It has a waterfall, with one whirlpool at the top, and another on the other side, a bit lower down. The pool meanders under bridges and around the bar. We sat in the lower whirlpool with our drinks, then showered, dressed, and occupied ourselves til dinnertime.
I had made reservations for dinner at Coconuts, a short walk down the beach (no shoes necessary). Like many other places, Coconuts was already decorated for the holidays. Our table was right on the beach and had a thatched umbrella over it, draped with Christmas lights. Dinner was, as usual, a treat. I had callaloo soup (of course) and fish creole; everyone else stuck to seafood as well, and no one was disappointed. With the trip almost behind us, we were all a bit more relaxed and mellow. After dinner, we all walked back down the beach to the hotel, Rick and I retiring while the parents stayed up to listen to the calypso band.
On Sunday morning, Rick and I got up with our 6 a.m. wake-up call so we could have one last stroll down the beach. We were accompanied by just a handful of other early risers, whom we are greeted with a respectful "G'morning" per Grenadian custom (to not acknowledge every person you encounter is considered rude). The soft-scented air, wafting the fragrance of flowers and spices, would be hard to leave behind.
By 7 a.m., we had showered, dressed, packed and checked out, taking a cab to the airport with my parents (Rick's parents had already departed on an earlier flight). Despite the American Airlines' directive that passengers arrive two hours early, the check-in area was empty. We settled into the departure lounge, watched CNN for the first time in over a week (still no President!), and scrounged up some breakfast. I bought a pair of earrings at Colombian Emeralds, and we picked up a few bottles of Westerhall Rum, our favorite. We boarded our Eagle, and took off for SJU on time, enjoying views of True Blue, Prickly Bay, Mt. Hartman Bay and Grand Anse before heading west over the Caribbean Sea.
We arrived early to a very wet San Juan and breezed through customs and immigration. Seems ours was the only arriving flight at the time. We said our goodbyes to my parents and made tracks for Old San Juan again, having many hours to kill. The rain was stopping, and there seemed to be some sort of special event in the works, but we made it to our lunch destination by about 12:15. La Bombonera, on Calle San Francisco, is a funky, noisy lunch counter/diner type place. The waiters wear red coats, black pants and bow ties and provide quick if curt service. I had a pork sandwich and virgin pina colada, which Rick had the house special sandwich (some sort of chicken concoction). All were great, and we got away for less than $20, including tip.
We then took to the streets. By this time, the skies were clear blue. We marveled at the Christmas decorations arches over every street decorated with gold tinsel, poinsettias everywhere (they grow naturally here, but NOTHING compared to the poinsettia TREES in Grenada). It seemed rather incongruous here. Three mammoth cruise ships were in port, so we had to dodge some crowds. We took things easy, sitting in the square near El Convento Hotel, among others, and watching the passing parade of people: children feeding pigeons, chic San Juaneros, blatant tourists (I'm sure, with our Teva sandals and backpack, we were just as obvious).
The sky was darkening with storm clouds by 3:30, so we started looking for a taxi. We found one, but found traffic snarled because of a Christmas parade which was just ending, finally arriving at the airport an hour later. We collapsed gratefully at our gate and took off right on time, loving life in business class. We found that the couple sitting behind us had been in the Tobago Cays the same night we were there, but their trip as part of a Moorings flotilla started and ended in St. Lucia. In Baltimore, it is cold and windy. Reality bites!
Closing Thoughts
Grenada and the Grenadines are amazingly lovely islands and still offer a feeling of the real, un-commercialized, Caribbean. But the influx of cruise ships, reaching even into these tiny, remote islands, takes away some of the allure. In contrast, our beloved Abacos are still sleepy because the rages in the Whale Cay Passage ended cruise ship traffic there before it had a chance to take root. While Grenada and the Grenadines are still far less crowded than, say, the British Virgin Islands, the governments need to look very carefully at how much mass tourism they court, because it may scare away other travelers.
The Moorings, as ever, provided a first class experience. Charlotte and Mick were professional yet warm and friendly. The boat was in pristine condition, and the Moorings experience went off without a hitch. While more costly than other charter companies, you get what you pay for in this case.
Sailing in the Grenadines is not for the faint of heart. Lots of bluewater conditions, with open ocean seas normally at 6-8 feet. Going upwind on the open ocean passages is a flogging, especially between Grenada and Carriacou. Few anchorages offer perfectly calm conditions, so sailors can pretty much count on several rough nights of interrupted sleep.
While I hate for any vacation to end, I'm looking forward to our next sail, a bareboat catamaran charter in the Abacos, our second, but this time with just me and Rick . . . . Stay tuned.
