international travel: part 1

As the jitney bus with green license plates pulls out of Vieux Fort, Saint Lucia, it passes by the Reef, a kite surfing hotspot where you can take lessons with Tommy, an Italian instructor with a surfer persona and Rastafarian dreadlocks. The bus swings by Hewonorra International Airport and the hill-climbing begins. There are a few mansions, some recently built, some under construction with lots of open space in between and sometimes distant views of the Atlantic Ocean. We pass by a few boutique banana plantations. Except for me, the 15 people on the bus are locals. The driver is aggressive; he takes corners hard and fast, but slows as we pass through the village of Micoud. Climbing the hill out of Micoud, we pass by commercially-sized banana plantations. A series of steep ascents and descents and the bus rolls to its final stop in Castries, the capital city. I make a quick transfer to another jitney bound for Rodney Bay. There are at least nine women and girls on the bus. The road is flatter and more urbanized.

I arrived at the International Airport on a bright, mild mid-December Saturday afternoon at the close of 2011. I approached a Saint Lucian, a PhD student in public policy at the University of Georgia at Athens, for directions to Hewonorra Gardens, the guest house I had booked for two nights. She thought it was past a yellow building and Skyview Inn. On her advice I asked a second person, who gave me specific directions. I walked down the Airport road. Walking to the main road was a bit disorienting as British rules of the road apply on the island. On the main road I speak with a European nurse who invites me to a grand opening party at Island Breeze, a bar located on the beach next to the Reef. I turn onto a side road. As I walk into the driveway of the 2-story lime green building, I encounter the owner, Sammy Brice speaking on his cell phone. Its 5 p.m. I introduce myself; he’s a bit surprised, but offers me a ride into town to buy some food. I suggest a ride to the beach, as sunlight for a swim is waning. I briefly meet Kadri, another house guest as Sammy checks me into my room, or suite (a bedroom, living room and kitchen). He informs me that the new Prime Minister stayed in my room while campaigning for the post that he won on November 30th.

As I get into Sammy’s vehicle, I see my name printed out on a large piece of paper. Sammy’s intention was to meet me at the Airport, but my flight arrived early! I learn that Sammy and his sons lived in both Norwalk and Stamford before returning to St. Lucia for the better weather. As we drive down, Sammy warns me to use one of the lockers at the Reef. Theft is a potential problem, he explains. At the Reef, I quickly meet Jolene, the owner, a tall, slender European women with a tomboy look. Jolene, an emigre from the Netherlands, sets me up with a locker for five dollars (U.S.) Its 5:30 p.m. She explains that sunset is a quick affair, so I take an abbreviated swim. Walking back to Hewonorra Gardens under a dark sky, I warily take notice of a vehicle parked on the side of the road. The driver swings the car by me, rolls down the window and says to me “you’re safe.” Its Sammy and a woman; he offers me a ride to Super J’s, the grocery store. On the drive into town, Sammy asks me where I am from in Connecticut and informs me that he lived in Norwalk and Stamford. He lets me know about and invites me to a “thank you” rally organized by the Prime Minister’s supporters scheduled for Sunday at 5 p.m.

I peruse the produce section. The produce is divided by two labels: LP (local produce) and IP (imported produce). I opt for the much less expensive local produce: bananas, paw-paw (papaya), grapefruit and oranges and a wine bottle-sized Parisian cranberry-apple spritzer.