Laborie

Coffee and cereal on the deck … little Bananaquits https://ebird.org/species/banana buzzing importantly between clusters of coconuts …. yachts riding at anchor in the bay below… and puffy white clouds drifting by. Every morning should begin in this way.

There’s a bus stop right outside the gate, so no chance like the present to try out the local buses and take a trip into Vieux Fort and stock up. The shady bus shelter was actually on the wrong side of the road, however a young lady waiting said “no problem” she’d flag down the bus when it came. Green license plates beginning with M are definitely buses … some black plates starting with H can be … blue plates with TX are – you guessed it, taxis … plates beginning with P are private vehicles. Apparently there are white, red and yellow ones, but we haven’t decoded them.

Another lady, using a red and black ladybug umbrella as a sunshade, joined the queue, and we all squeezed companionably into a 15-seater minibus … all 16 of us! It was quite surreal to be flying along … windows wide open … being jostled against one’s neighbours while Country and Western blared from the speakers! An exhilarating twelve minute journey for $2.25 Eastern Caribbean ($1.20 Can.) … a real bargain.

Massey’s (a grocery institution throughout the island) was well stocked … they too, unaccountably serenading shoppers with C&W ballads. With provisions stuffed into two backpacks and two large shopping bags, we staggered over to the return bus stop. A herd of goats had just munched their way through and down the verge … forcing cars to swerve. Same bus driver on the way back, and SUCCESS … we alerted him to our stop and piled out right beside our apartment gates. How’s that for service?

There’s supposed to be a local bakery, but so far we haven’t found it – many businesses just look like regular houses, or only operate at certain times. A few houses along is a small convenience shop with a little of everything … milk, cheese, batteries, bras, cleaning supplies, matches, sunhats, … you name it. Apparently you can also buy chicken legs and salted pig tails. “Salted pig tails?” asked Glen … “it’s more of a local ting” the shop owner replied. “What gave it away that we weren’t local?” Glen inquired …. she gave a grin and said, “Hmmm, let me see… “. George the fisherman — a few shacks further — has fresh fish every Thursday and Friday. Anything from fried to chowder … whatever he catches those days.

The local beach is only a few minutes walk downhill. Palm-fringed … fishboats tethered to shore, their lines dipping and tightening with the waves … a few rental cottages with tourists. What looked like a reef with snorkelers turned out to be a series of empty pop bottles bobbing on the surface .. anchored to the sea floor. Curious! Water was pretty murky and churned up. A fellow Canadian (identified from his Blue Jay’s hat) sat chatting … until an absolute downpour chased everyone to shelter. Coconut palms don’t do the best job, by the way!

The pure white hearse with twinkling pink lights spotted the day we arrived was explained when a funeral took place at the church and nearby graveyard … mourners retiring to a bar across the street for a wake. The Church of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary (we can see it from our balcony) is a well-used and much loved part of the community. Sunday services … weekday 6:00 and 6:30 am bell ringing … choir practice … musical gatherings, and one lunch time an enchanting children’s steel drum band performance. There’s a girl’s school a short distance below us and one can hear them singing, chanting lessons and playing at break time … all neatly dressed in white blouses and navy tunics, white socks and sandals. Our landlords have one little boy … Marvano, aged six. Bursting with cheeky grins, energy and questions in equal measure. Sometimes his cousins Amira and Grace join him after school, 10 and 9, and want to know everything. They are an absolute delight.

People are friendly and almost formally polite … it’s always “Good Morning” or “Good Afternoon” — even with younger individuals … and always ready to provide information about buses or the best place to shop. It’s rare to encounter other tourists (they get whisked off to hotels), and only one on the 10 or so local buses we’ve taken so far.

There’s an etiquette to bus travel. Flag down a bus where there’s room to pull over … space will always be made to squeeze in one more by breathing in or using tiny pull down ‘rumble’ seats …. it’s courtesy for the person nearest the door to open it from the inside … when you want to get off, call out “bus stop” — of course, depending where you are in the bus, this might involve a great shuffling as seats are folded and people alight to let you off – sometimes you occupy several seats on one journey. Greet everyone on the bus as you get on with a quiet “Good Morning”, etc … although yesterday we got friendly fist bumps from a young worker lugging his heavy tool box home after work. There’s a whole language of vehicle ‘toots’ as well! A brief acknowledgment to a friend, or as a thank you … a few quick toots as a reminder to pedestrians or cars to keep in, I’m passing … more serious honks before overtaking, or going around tight blind corners — replied to if a car is coming the other way … and full-scale blasts for anything deemed downright stupid!

We’ve had bread now from two bakeries … Zeb – who runs a wood-fired oven from the bottom of his garden, down on the lower road, and Miss Rose in town – if we hadn’t seen someone buying bread, we’d never have noticed the big baskets of wrapped loaves tucked behind the verandah wall. Both are delicious. Low in salt, tender and distinctive in shape — rather like a very large panini but with long ‘dolphin noses’ each end. Zeb’s tends to have a crustier outer texture. Excellent fresh or toasted.

Second trip into Vieux Fort proper took a little longer – it’s right beside the airport and international jets take off and land with deafening roars meters from the main road.. It’s also the financial hub with dozens of banks, but sadly the residential areas and local businesses don’t tend to reflect this … although some effort is being made to change this. February 22nd is St. Lucia’s Independence Day which is celebrated by a special relay, whereby a baton is transferred by foot to officials in every community all over the island. The local city park was undergoing a major transformation in preparation … new flag, coats of paint, trimmed lawns. We’re hoping to see some of the parade.