Getting friendly with the locals–part II

Arriving in Carriacou, we immediately felt the warmth of the people, and realized that the size of the island would make it impossible again not to interact with some locals. And so true. We have realized though, that the Grenadian people can seem quite strict at the first glance, but if you fire away a few ”good mornings” and “a’right?” they are really friendly. By the first week, we are already buddies with the “juice man” (making incredible and cooling fruit juices and smoothies), we have given the water taxi guy a ride to town and been given credit from the restaurant by the beach. B has also received a great compliment from our landlord/car rental guy Sunkey – who said he is “just like a west indian man” after the following episode: Renting a car Carriacou style means

1) Entering the office. Is Sunkey here? Sure! And someone comes with a telephone with Sunkey on the line. He promises to come to the office by 2 pm.

2) B arrives, Sunkey is not there, but again, a telephone conversation – he will come to the beach later.

3) He does – and B jumps in his car and off they go. B comes back with the option of a few cars. The whole operation took a couple of hours. Car – check!

Had to consult this weed-smoking-local-on-a-donkey about directions (And no, it was not the right way…)

Road (?) trip!

We were stunned by how few tourists there are here. When our Norwegian friends came, we bragged about this and took them to our favorite beach restaurant and the FIRST person they interact with is – yeah – a Norwegian guy. He was a bit shaky because he had arrived by water taxi from another country, and on arrival the immigration officer interrogated him for three hours. Later that evening, when H and I were out piña colada hunting, we met a guy at the hotel and I simply asked where to go. We started chatting and when he heard that H was Norwegian he said: Oh! I just met a Norwegian! I am the immigration officer on the island. Hehe.

Piña Coladas. The bar woman commented on the fact that B and H also drink them, “it’s not a manly drink”, so she gave them blue umbrellas at least

Then we have realized that “our” beach restaurant and the lobster restaurant we visited are owned by the same Swedish family. Above us is an American couple who stay here 7 months a year. There is a deli (oh my god they have CHEESE and YOGHURT!) owned by an English woman, and a diveshop owned by a German couple. So, this is obviously the place for expats, contributing to the day-to-day life, but still, I insist, not many tourists.

Sunday, we decided to try take away. Take away Carriacou style means a few women barbecueing “something” on the street. Sunday, there was some kind of sports going on, and what seemed to be most of Hillsborough’s population partied outside the field and a huge congregation of these barbecuing women were present. We joined the fun and tried fried chicken, fish and bbq chicken. One was ok to eat, others went to our neighbor’s pig. We were the only tourists hanging around so we caught some attention, so by now F has been kissed on the head by drunk Carriacouan men, liking it not so much. The school kids say what they think and burst out : “She is so fat and white!!!” and E had her hair touched by a few. All in all, we all interact, and like it that way!

Trying to look like a local