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Saturday, 18 February 2012

Grenada Independence Day

Somewhat delayed post as Independence Day was on 7th February. Internet signal out in the bay is getting more and more unpredictable with the average log in time of 30 minutes.

We anchored on the Monday and the next day we left the boat for the first time to go and see the independence day celebrations. As we motored away from Orion, we made a mental note of where she was, hoping that we would come back to find her in the same place and not dragged onto another boat!

The bus left Prickly Bay at 2pm and most of the yachties had made an effort, dressing in the colours of Grenada. There were funny hats, multi coloured t shirts, shorts, flags. Dylan and I clearly didn't get the memo as I rocked up in a blue dress and dylan in his grey shirt.

From the bay we headed for the stadium where we were in for a couple of hours of local entertainment before we headed off to watch a pan band. As we approached the stadium, hundreds of locals were swarming into the stands, each one dressed in red, green and yellow. There were stalls set up by the side of the road selling everything from corn on the cob to overproof rum. We were ushered into a reserved area with a prime viewing spot of the stage and proceeded to stare at the same space for an hour with nothing happening. The event as well as the locals were on island time and we appeared to be extremely early. After what seemed an eternity a big guy with a thick gold chain around his neck (Nuish – proper stair grinder) was introduced to us as the minister of tourism. He was treated like a celebrity and after a big applause he welcomed us to the island and thanked us for contributing to their GDP (of which 25% is tourism). He seemed to have been brought all the way into the stands for our benefit and after some hand shaking in the front row he was ushered away. How bizarre, I have no idea who the minister of tourism is in the UK and even if I did, he certainly wouldn't be treated as a celebrity!

The next 2 hours were spent watching paint dry....I mean observing the army, navy, brownies, guides and cadets marching up and down the field. Very talented to all keep in time but after a couple of hours of it, Dylan and I were falling asleep having not slept much the previous night for fear we were drifting off our anchor (we didn't).



Just as we were about to be leaving, the fun started. Ten members of the parachute regiment jumped from a plane and started floating towards the ground aiming to land on a marked square patch of grass in the centre of the stadium – none of them were successful. Just as they jumped, the wind picked up and it started to pour with rain bringing visibility to almost zero. The guys started hitting the ground, sending the swarms of army and naval regiments running for cover. No casualties luckily but one guy did severely overshoot the mark and ended up in the stands (photo below).



Fun over we were shooed back into the bus and chaperoned to St Pauls where we found ourselves in a deserted basketball court. No words of explanation, a group of around 30 cruisers stood around, scratching our heads, looking for some signs of life whilst the torrential rain continued. We eventually were greeted by a guy who was the community centre warden. Dylan (ever the South African) asked on behalf of the group whether there were beers for us whilst we were waiting for the pan band to start up. Cheers of encouragement forced the warden to pick a lock so we were presented with a few crates of Carib and rum punch to keep us quiet.

After a further 2 hours 'liming' – a popular island past time, the pan band started playing and we were entertained with fantastic traditional Caribbean music as well as learning about the history of the drums. For food we were served the dish of Grenada – oil down. Complete with breadfruit, salted pork, tons of saffron and callaloo, its and amazing dish that can only really be made on a big scale.



We eventually got taken home around 11pm (way past cruiser's midnight) but not before I was followed by a local guy wanting to do some 'sexy dancing'. Dylan, ever the opportunist, encouraged this guy to taunt me but I was having none of it. I didn't really fancy such intrusion into my personal space!

Lights went out at midnight with the ring of the pan drums still in our ears.

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