Admiralty Bay is a horseshoe shaped harbor. An azure respite nestled in the green foliage of Port Elizabeth's outstretched arms. It is a bustling yet calm anchorage with at least a hundred yachts, water taxis, dive boats, dinghy traffic, the mail boat and the Bequia Ferry system running 4-6 times a day which wakes our boat and has it leaping at the gates. I've found this to be a simple way to tell the time of day. When the boat starts jumping, the ferry has arrived - and the ferry is always on time. Though time is somewhat meaningless here. Most days we find ourselves asking each other - does anyone know what day it is? Is it still January?
One of the first things I noticed in Bequia was the frigate birds, which the local people call "man of war". I saw them first in Thailand near Kho Phi Phi circling high in the sky like a legion of pterydactyls with their huge wing span and bent angle wing shape and long necks. They make me think of something very primal and ancient. This is how I recognized them when I saw them again in the harbor soaring through the sky then dive bombing into the ocean from 50ft up. I was sitting on the deck of the boat one day, reading about physics and wind and the dynamics of sailing....when suddenly there was a large splash right next to me - like something fell out of the sky. I looked up surprised to see nothing there. Then a bird burst out from the water with barely a stumble through the transition from swimming to flight, a fish dangling in his beak. In fact, I dont think it was really swimming at all. It was as if it just flew through water as easily as through air. They are stunning to watch, graceful in the air as they circle and expertly accurate when they strike.
I've walked many of the roads in Bequia. It's basically a big ridge of an island with steep sides flowing down all around. There are some crazy roads on hills that go straight up the mountainside. You'd be sure a car would just fall over backwards. The roads are all overgrown with lush vegetation, lianas trailing, air plants growing out of every nook and cranny, strange fruit hanging from unfamiliar vines.
The street dogs are everywhere, lying about the place, eager to make friends - especially if you are eating - but a bit wary and befuddled by the concept of play. There are lizards, about a foot long, grayish with sky blue iridescent spots, that bask in the roadside sun, then scurry off at the sound of your approaching feet.
The sun here is gorgeous, and almost always there. It can be quite hot on land, but the trade winds make all the difference. Out on the boat, the wind never stops and you never feel the heat. When it does rain, it is often just for a brief downpour and then after 5 or 10 minutes back to being sunny and hot again. Because of these sudden downpours, we have rain drills - where we run around closing all the hatches and ports as quickly as we can. You learn to sleep lightly and wake at the slightest patter of raindrops.
The people here have been very friendly, though at times a bit overbearing if you are female. I've got probably 20 local West Indian guys professing their undying love on a daily basis - because they saw me walking down the street - or because I happened to smile in their general direction. But they have been sweet in their adoration, as opposed to pushy - which I have been told is not uncommon. And most of the time they are happy if you will give them a dance of which there are endless opportunities. You can dance to steel pans and calypso at Frangipani, reggae at the Devil's Table or late night hiphop at the Penthouse - a rather shady little shack that serves drinks after hours and allows you to dance and hang out with mostly locals as opposed to mostly tourists and yachtees.
The Rasta market is the place to go for fresh fruits and veggies. Avocados the size of a grapefruit are my favorite choice of purchases from the various rastafari with their dreads piled up more than a foot high on their heads all tucked into their red, gold, green and black knit tams. They charge some crazy prices and fawn all over you trying to get you to buy from their "shop" (actually just a table) as opposed to the guy right next to them who has all the same produce. I often ended up buying one thing from each "shop" just to placate them . I know - I am a pushover. I was never good at bargaining or market buying even after all my time in China. Only after living there for years when I really understood what things should cost did I ever feel comfortable haggling, and by then they all knew me and only charged me normal prices anyway. In the end the rastas will avoid giving you back your change by giving you a "gift" of another small piece of fruit or some fresh nutmeg or a slightly manky mango or something else you didn't ask for and have absolutely no need of. Good times!! I must say though, that starfruit and mango have become daily breakfast food for me....not a bad thing. As far as other foods here - well, apparently these guys invented barbeque....and do they ever make it well. The mutton, which is generally goat meat, is quite delicious and they make rice dishes with vegetables as well as potato and macaroni salads. But my favorite treat by far has been the roti - which is meat and potato curry wrapped up in a doughy pastry of the consistency of fresh made uncooked pasta in the shape of a flour tortilla - so you have yourself a little pastry bundle of meaty spicy tastiness.YUM!
Sorry for the rather rough quality of this blog - still learning how to get these photos in here...
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