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| We live at Mount Pleasant - far less pleasant when you're walking up it |
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| Love this view |
Life is simple here. Simple and quiet and clean. Everybody needs this - a place where you can go and turn off, and take a break from the stresses of everyday living. A break from noise and pollution; a break from your 'to do' list; a break from dressing up and wearing make-up; a break from meeting people and talking bullshit; and a break from crappy food or drinking too much. Basically we all need a break from normal life in a paradise-like setting. Everyone has their own idea of paradise - for some it's camping on a beach, or their family shack or a holiday house - maybe it's an off-the-beaten-track part of the world in Asia that only they know about. For many people their home can be a paradise - but regardless, we all all need a special place that makes us feel at peace.
Being pissed and passed out on a particularly comfortable couch doesn't count.
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| Princess Margaret Beach (she took a dip here once) |
For us, paradise is a little backwater island in the middle of bum fuck nowhere - Bequia (pronounced 'Beck-way") There are no large hotels, no big developments (yet), no 'proper' restaurants and cafes, no traffic lights. The roads are one lane only and all crappy and crumbling - I'm forever trying to stop my tyre going off the side - although at least I would only roll the jeep onto a couple of goats and a banana tree. The beaches are shady and the water is clean - and sometimes your only companions are a couple of people with beach stalls trying to sell you some tie-dyed sarongs and boats made out of coconut shells. They're much too lazy to be particularly pushy about it they just sit back on their rickety deckchairs, on the nod, after a few daytime joints. Everyone is wasted all the time. I tend to get wasted here too, just so I blend in more (that's the only reason).
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| Carli's Fruit and Veg - he bought a fridge last year - it was the talk of the town |
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| Check your flour bags for weevils - but otherwise good to go |
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| The New York Bar - aptly named |
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| What's the difference I wonder - that you have to catch your own goat? |
The main drag of town consists of a few colourful little stalls selling fresh fruit and veggies and a couple of stores selling good old tie-dyed sarongs and coconut boats. You may also be able to pick yourself up a bit of whalebone jewellery here - whaling is alive and well here. I think they only catch one a year, but regardless, they are on the international shit list. The supermarkets have all their dry goods tied up in 1kg plastic bags and really really cheap alcohol. In fact alcohol is so cheap here, that the only reason for it must be that it's stolen and smuggled. I always wanted to bust up a smuggling ring as a child - I'm pretty sure I had no idea what they were, but I read a lot of Famous Five and I was aware that it was a kid's responsibility to do so. I'm pretty sure smuggling is alive and well here - one evening while running on the Atlantic side of the island (when we were cranking out a lot of miles in our marathon training days) we spotted a couple of cops taking a suspicious looking stroll, and after they'd gone, all kinds of shady dudes came out of the bushes and took up vantage points at various positions along the coast with tiny flashlights - we were sure some booty was landing. The smugglers weren't too happy to spot us trudging up and down that 5km coastal road as they morse coded the fuck out of those torches, so I was glad we didn't get knifed over a bottle of Baileys. I still go running, but I limit it to one lap of the coast road (5km). Even that is pushing it these days, but I like the privacy of it - there's never any people - which is good because I never exercise in public due to the fact that I've heard I run like a duck with constipation. There may be no people, but there sure are a lot of bugs. I typically come home with about 6 stuck to my chest, and often get one in the throat and/or eye. They are bizarre ones too - appearing just to be a pair of flying wings with no body. I've also had a bird fly into my leg while running - which is pretty uncoordinated for a bird, however, I also saw a dead one stuck in someone's hubcap yesterday so maybe the birds of Bequia have some issues.
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| Whalebone goods anyone? |
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| Piece of whale vertebrae perhaps....? |
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| Cows +Tree - or make your own interpretation |
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| Smugglers (and seaweed) Cove |
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| Goatie |
There are cows all over the roads that shit everywhere, and goats that are intent on committing suicide when ever you take a drive. Baby goats tend to run with anything moving, so often I have a whole entourage of them chasing after me and bleating for food. I actually had 7 kids running with me the other day which was all kinds of cute. There are crappy dogs hanging around the place all covered in shit and piss and dirt just being all gross and diseased looking. But at least the street dogs don't attack. There are a number of owned dogs on our road that are hell bent on killing me. Whenever I take a stroll, I have to take a large stick and shove a dozen rocks down my tits to pelt at them because they just won't take no for an answer. It was recommended to me by the house keeper - "Emily you take a BIG stick and you hit dem HARD". I didn't need to be told twice - I've been longing for something to thrash ever since they outlawed child belting - by the way, they've done no such thing here - even the teachers whack the kids, and you can really see some Mums going to town on their kids arses in the supermarket when they won't shut up asking for plantain chips. The golden age for parents, where even strangers would give your baby a good wallop to shut him up. Our closest neighbours have a collection of dogs that look like they escaped from guarding the gates to hell, and a couple of fluffy muthafuckers with the physique of a Pomeranian and the spirit of Cujo. They are determined to amputate both my feet at the ankle. I hate them the most. Nothing more annoying than a stupid pathetic looking dog with an attitude. I would never get a chihuahua.
The people here are a mixture of whites, blacks and Caribs. The Caribs were the original residents before wealthy Euros shipped over a whole lot of poor Irish and Scottish to work on the sugar plantations and indigo factories, before moving onto the black slaves - both of whose descendants still live here. The white population is more inbred than a family of hamsters left in a closed box for 2 years. No shit - they are all scary looking, with foreheads the size of mount Everest and tiny little eyes. Our Scottish descended housekeeper is fond of the story of how her racist mother would constantly say to her "I don't want you with no niggaman". However our housekeeper decided that she was inclined to prefer kids that didn't have a foot growing out off their shoulder sockets and hooked up with a black dude and luckily had 3 normal looking kids. Everyone is really religious and thus it's pretty conservative here - let's put it this way, don't get your tits out on the beach. Sunday is church day and the halleluya's ring loud and clear, I've seen clapping in the streets before which was cool and slight annoying as I was driving and couldn't move the car because there was a seven foot man vigorously praising Jesus right in front of me. The gardener had a bit of a shock the other day when he asked our religion - 'A non practising Jew and an Atheist I responded chirpily. He looked like he was about to be sick and muttered "But do you go to church?". "Yes, of course" I replied, "Daily". He perked up remarkably. When I'm cruising around town here I'm known as "Auntie" - all women over 20 are. I used to be known as "Cordivalimummy" - but now it's simply "Auntie". I've even got kids named after me - ok there's one (The religious gardner's daughter - too late to change her name now John). But still, I've never had a namesake before, and she's pretty cute.
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| Baby Emily and "Auntie" (no wonder I always wear sunglasses in photos) |
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| My main man with a machete - Percival |
I have a serious obsession with coconut water. I drink the shit all day long while I'm here (for the love of god, tell me it's low calorie?). I have had my own supplier for a few years - my boy, Elton (local crim turned born-again) - Unfortunately I used to call him Elvis for quite some time, and I think he's paying me back now by stiffing me on the coconut water this year, mixing it with normal water and palming it off on me. I've also had the shits for the last 2 weeks, so I really wonder what the bloody hell he has been mixing it with - probably the neighbour's dogs piss. Thus, I'm breaking ties with Elton and going over to his competition - Percival - the father of our fruit and veggie seller - name of Darkie. I found it really hard to address her as "Darkie" - what with racism and all - but it says Darkie's Cool Spot as clear as day on her sign, and now that I've started dropping the "Darkies" I just can't stop. I say her name about 20 times every time I buy a bunch of bananas from her.
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| Darkie herself |
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| Sprinkler games just never get old |
Another reason I love it here is that my kids run wild all day and I barely scream at them. This is for a few reasons;
1. I'm too stoned....... actually I think that's the only reason. When we first arrived my husband asked them if they could have one wish what would it be - so they wished that they could look after themselves. How about that? I was sure it was going to be to live in a castle made of chocolate (oh, that's my wish). Anyway, because their wish is my command (in all things, I like to parent in this way) - I have been letting them go for it - building cubbies everywhere and sleeping in them, throwing towels in the pool, wearing 8 different outfits in one day and discarding them in a pile of water on the floor, helping themselves to food out of the fridge, letting them make french toast for dinner. It's open season around her and I'm on strike. What really helps is that we have a pool. And who didn't crave a pool as a child? My entire summer holidays were spent carefully outlining what pools we were going to hit on the hot days. The pool-having people in my neighbourhood must have been bristling with fury - but it's surprising what thick skin a kid with a pool obsession has on a 30 degrees day. So my kids are in total heaven. Plus the housekeeper gave each of them a baby tortoise for a pet (we'll leave them in the garden when we go). Poor Crunchy and Munchy - they are handled all day everyday. The little fuckers do not have one minute to themselves. Sometimes I catch the girls holding them by one paw and waving them about in the air, while other times they serve as transportation for all the girls Lala Loopsies and My Little Ponies. Plus Crunchy and Munchy are getting really good at Dubsmash - their dance moves are quite something. So between swimming and animal torture, V & C entertain themselves all day. All day. I've struck gold - pure, sparkling gold. If I can't take the pool and the animals with me I never want to leave.
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| Jump for Joy! |
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| This is a happy pool face if ever I saw one |
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| Crunchy and Munchy - first day (oblivious to what lay in store) |
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| Hi Munchy you poor little prick |
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| Is he screaming in this one? |
So although life is pretty chilled here, here was however a slight nerve racking incident a couple of weeks ago - after 200 earthquakes in this area from July 11th (I officially felt none of them) the nearby underwater volcano "Kick Em Jenny" - possibly the coolest named volcano in the world - was getting pretty angry. It seemed like Jenny Girl was going to erupt and everyone went into meltdown. We were all put on an Orange Alert (never heard of it - I thought there was only red), with the volcano expected to erupt in 24 hours. This particular underwater volcano has erupted twelve times since 1939 and has also caused a tsunami before. People were hoarding water and supplies, while everyone on the hills was calling their seaside dwelling relatives and friends, to ask them to come stay with them because of the tsunami fears. All boats were prohibited from going within 5km of the volcano in case gas bubbles sucked them under (comforting). People on the mountains here threw "Kick Em Jenny" parties where everyone gathered to watch for a tidal wave and get so totally pissed that they wouldn't be able to run away regardless. Our housekeeper told us that this place wouldn't hold up in an earthquake "Gee thanks" - although she did have a point - our place is a giant concrete block already with major cracks in it perched on the edge of a mountain. But of course nothing happened - don't they know that about natural disasters? - they only come when nobody expects it - it's their signature move - otherwise nobody would die in these things.
So that's Bequia - a little island in the far east Caribbean Sea - totally old school Caribbean style, like going back in time (apart from everyone on their cellphones - even Rastas like emoticons). I don't know anyone else who has ever been here, but I totally recommend it - 100%. Just make sure you stock up on anti anxiety prescriptions for the plane ride here and back. Otherwise you can always boat here on your yacht - watch out for Kick Em Jenny though - remember, it's always when you don't know she's coming.
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| Little fuckers have no idea how lucky they are |
