Apologies, I’ve been utterly useless at updating this blog. I don’t have many excuses for the hiatus, except that I haven’t been feeling very well recently, and a bout of homesickness debilitated much of my creative energy.
We landed in St Lucia on Saturday 25th of June, after what can only be described as four uneventful but emotionally tumultuous months on the island of Grenada. It’s important that bloggers report on their experiences with integrity, so it must be said that I met many a Grenada fanatic whilst staying on the island. It just wasn’t for us.
Grenada’s beauty is unquestionable but we found it a hard place to live
Grenada’s provincial charm has long drawn honeymooners and retirees from the United States and Europe, seeking a peaceful getaway which has shunned the over-development that has blighted other islands in the region. However, this provided a challenging environment for a pair of former Londoners, who, overindulged by the conveniences and efficiency of the UK’s First World infrastructure found it hard to adjust. Every process, from visiting the hospital, to extending visas, to finding a house to live, presented a bewildering and unexpected set of challenges. In the end we didn’t have the patience or the flexibility which was required. The irony is that we moved to the Caribbean in hope of a simple life. The reality is that we stayed in a resort overrun by cockroaches, ordered taxis which failed to turn up and unknowingly moved into a house which resembled a construction site, duped by a landlord which failed to make us aware of the work which needed doing to it. Developing Indonesia, a riotous mix of culture and corruption that we visited on honeymoon, looked as organised as Singapore by comparison.
“I want to go home,” I flatly explained to my husband, about three months into our relocation abroad. “You don’t like the UK,” he explained, “You’ve always wanted to live abroad. Perhaps Grenada isn’t the right country for you but going back to England isn’t the answer.” I wasn’t listening. A spiritual person by nature, I was utterly convinced I’d been sent to Grenada by way of karma for not realising how lucky I was for living in London.
Grenada’s secluded appeal offers the ideal opportunity for a quiet break
My bout of homesickness coincided with the desire of my husband’s employer to send us to St Lucia. My husband had regularly visited the island for work in the last few months but before arriving I’d never been here. We were originally supposed to move to St Lucia but ended up staying in Grenada due to a last minute development. “They’ve asked if we want to move to St Lucia. We can go there or the other manager can go there. I’d like us to go. I love it there. I think you’d prefer it. It’s easier, more developed, less hard work,” my husband enthused. I agreed without any thought or deliberation. Moving offered a small beacon of hope to my current emotional downturn, but essentially my husband’s happiness is imperative. Whilst I have the rather privileged option of crying over Netflix on weekdays, he’s got all the shackles of a major career and had made his preference clear.
We boarded a British Airways flight in Grenada which was bound for London, and exited on it’s short stop off in St Lucia. As soon as we’d entered the taxi to our home the clouds metaphorically lifted. We arrived in Rodney Bay late in the evening, but as my husband had assured me, St Lucia looked and felt very different. Rodney Bay presented a small village of cosmopolitan shops and restaurants which could easily be explored by foot. In Grenada, one must drive, or risk being hounded by incessant bus drivers for business at every given opportunity. Of course I’m careful to rave about St Lucia too soon. We need to seriously explore and find out what this island really has to offer before drawing too many conclusions. I’ll be reporting my findings in the coming weeks, and please bare with me as I deal with the backlog of posts I’ve got on Grenada…