Trisha Ray - Log of a Travel Artist

Grenada - Watercolors on the Island Side

Here in the Caribbean - far south - things are pretty slow.

Cabier Beach, Grenada. Our apartment is on the left.

But we have plenty of time.

We need to be out of the Schengen area for 2 months.

Our house for the first month here (!) was in the "busy" part of the island. The Lime.

A beautiful tropical gingerbread place - this was our view:

Not very busy, really.

Arriving in the islands after leaving winter in London was quite a shock.

The green hills, colorful houses, blue seas.

The eyes - and the mind - need time to change gears.

We had to go to the police station to get our local driving permits - quite the cultural experience.

The fellow who rented us our car turned out to be the local doctor. Nigerian.

When Stan had a sinus infection, our landlady called the doctor. Turns out he's the guy we rented our car from. He checks Stan out, and says, "I'll pick up the prescription at the pharmacy, they know me, and it'll go faster. Otherwise you'll have to wait."

Then he went to the pharmacy to pick up the prescriptions! All for $30. What service.

(Since they don't pay him much as a doctor, he had a small car rental business on the side.)

During the second month, we moved east - to the windward side. Generally, in the islands, the leeward side has the lovely beaches, but can be warm. The other side is windier. NOt as good for swimming, but more comfortable with the breeze.

On the east side, there are no cities. Few towns.
Bumpy dusty muddy roads.

Goats. Chickens. Pigs.
Enthusiastic roosters.

A few years ago we came to this part of the island.

It turned out to be wonderful - but the first night on Grenada was rough!

Jungles of plantain, papaya, coconut, mango, breadfruit trees.

Nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, cashews.
Everything grows here.
And the flowers -!

Beaches without a soul around.
(ok, maybe a few iguanas.)

We found a place to stay at Cabier Beach - and we stayed a month.
It's pretty remote - beautiful - and just right.

View from our apt. No one on the beach but a couple of donkeys.

Pretty soon, it felt like home.

Our local store.

The parrots, the turtles, the monkeys, the zookeeper. (Yes, they even had a small zoo!)

The people who live and work here began to know us and we began to know them.

Weighing scales used at the local "green" market.

It's a mix of French, German and English - and some sort of local Creole.
Alexander, a gentle German, runs the hotel.

Bruno is French and runs the restaurant.

Sometimes a couple of pigs graze the beach, too.

It's seriously relaxed.

We made driftwood sculptures on the beach.

Tried sometimes to catch crabs.

Took daily beach walks.

Enjoyed torrential downpours and spectacular moonsets.

Even took part in a "hash run" - a weekly event with a mix of people, music, noise, color.

Good local beer and BBQ chicken.

(These "hash runs" happen all over the world, apparently. If you find one, try it! It's fun.)

(I drew a LOT of little things in my journals-)

It's the sort of place that - when a visitor comes to eat at the restaurant, everyone winds up sharing stories, and we leave with promises of meeting again somewhere else in the world.

We fed the macaw. Hunted for cashews.

Discussed local politics.

Drew. Played music.

You get the idea.

Grenada isn't glitzy.
It's a regular place, not a "destination".

"Downtown" Crochu.

Most tourists only visit one small corner of the island.

Turns out - it's a great place to spend the winter.

Steel Drums and "Oil Down" - in Grenada

Everyone on the island was talking about "Ail Dung".

-I had NO idea what to make of it.

Turns out, it's "Oil Down", Grenada's national dish.

In fact - it's a whole happening.

It's Independence Day on the "Island of Spice".
Time to enjoy "Oil Down".

Everyone is decorated in Grenada's national colors, red, yellow and green.

The sidewalks are freshly painted.

Stores play national songs all week - "Three Islands, One Nation".

Grenada became independent in 1974.
It was a French colony and a British colony.

Many names are still French:
Morne Rouge, L'Anse aux Epines. Petit Martinique.

(Some are a curious blend of French and English - like "Lower La Tante".)

The British Queen is still on the currency, the Eastern Caribbean dollar.

She's a lot younger in these pictures -

The best place for the "Oil Down" is on the beach.

It's a whole day affair.

Everyone helps. The pot is HUGE. And heavy.

These guys were VERY excited to tell me about their "Oil Down"!

Made with plantains, yams, pumpkin, breadfruit, taro leaves,

salt fish and salt pork, turmeric and coconut milk - and anything else local. Cooked "down" so the "oil" of the coconut infuses the other ingredients.

As it cooks, kids play in the water.
Boys play soccer and cricket.
Moms watch babies, men hang out.

It's colorful and the atmosphere is fun.
People are friendly.

Visitors enjoy celebrating on the beach, too.

In the evening, trucks pass our house.

They're filled with steel pan bands, playing island music from the back of the truck.

So, with a small glass of rum punch - we sit on our balcony and join in the celebration.

Happy Independence Day, Grenada!

Maggie May Goes Back in the Water Again - Good-bye Shipyard!

Maggie May - on the hard at Chantier Allemand in Grau d'Agde, France.

Leaving Berlin, it's back to the French shipyard for New Year's Eve.

Our last few nights living "on the hard".

This calls for a celebration!

It's time to go back into the water.

First, the Hérault River - to the Ecluse Rond (Round Lock).
And from there, back to the Canal du Midi.

Yes, we've been looking forward to it.

Still - it's a bit of a nail-biting experience.

Maggie May gets put into the enormous sling - all 23 tons.

We try to do all the necessary steps right.

We struggle a bit with all the unknowns.
We are returned to the water just as it gets dark.
Everything seems last minute.

I crawl around the big wheels of the lift machine, trying to secure the boat.
I use my phone as a flashlight.
Just hoping I don't fall in.

And: After the work that was done:

Will the new seacock valves leak?
Will the engine even start after 8 weeks?

Can we make it up the river and through the 11 locks without issues?
Some of those spots are VERY narrow. And it's winter!

The locks are being opened specially for us.
Will the lock keepers be there on time?

So it's - good-bye Mediterranean living.
We're heading back to the Midi.

This transit was a major step for us.

There was a sense of urgency, too.

Our spot in the shipyard was already taken by the time we were out of sight.
And - with the enormous fishing trawlers creating huge waves, we didn't want to spend the night in the river.

Coming around the final corner into Poilhes! It's VERY windy. And cold.

And: Ol' Maggie May makes it, in spite of fierce winds and bitter cold.

We have our reserved "spot" in Poilhes, our winter mooring on the Canal du Midi.

The village of Poilhes. "City Center".

The next day, we meet a Scot on a narrowboat.
(The canals in the UK are much narrower, so they build the boats there skinnier.)

He's cranky. We've taken the spot by the water mains. (It wasn't our choice-)
Then, he regrets his crankiness - and invites us to his 60th birthday dinner.

Turns out, he's a bagpipe player.
Somehow, this was not the way I pictured our local French bar.

By the end of the evening, we've met another dozen boat people.
English is the primary language, much to Stan's relief.

Bagpipes in the bistro.

So - we're back where we started, on the Canal du Midi.
But: Now Maggie May is ours.

We've learned a LOT about boats in the meantime.
My French nautical vocabulary has improved.

It's January, and it's cold.
But the view out the cabin window in the morning is lovely.

We've been in France since November.
For now, we only have a limited amount of time on our tourist visas.
We have to leave the Schengen Area (which includes most of Europe).

East or West?
We spent last winter in the Far East, so West it is.

The Caribbean calls us for couple of months.
At some point, we'll apply for a longer visa.

On the way, we stop in London for a few days.
January is time for museums and riding double decker buses in the rain.
Even visiting a friend or two.