Going to Grenada- Installment 7- Oildown?

So, I had seen the words "Oildown" in my cursory research before heading to Grenada, but still had no idea what it was until I got there.
We saw it listed in a menu at B.B.'s Crabback as "The Grenadian. Oildown! Grenada's national dish. Only available on Friday."
It wasn't Friday, so I didn't ask (I'm enough trouble for a waiter without also being curious.)
But, my guide into the rainforest, Danny Alexander, answered all my questions, including this one.
Since we were in Grenada for the Independence Day Celebrations, I got a pretty good demo. They make oildown for the celebration. Americans have hotdogs and hamburgers on the 4th of July. Grenadians have oildown.

This is oildown being cooked on the edge of the rain forest by a nice lady who gave me a lesson and a look. She would've offered a bowl, but it wasn't done. I wouldn't have accepted, due to the ingredients, but with a little tweaking, I think I could be an oildown fan!
Oildown is cooked over a wood fire in a cast iron cauldron. That is important, evidently.
It is a dish cooked in layers. The bottom is layers of meats. They like using smoked or salted meats. Rabbits, fish, goat, lamb, chicken, anything, and everything! Then the next layer is vegetables; broccoli, cauliflower, greens like callaloo, root vegetables like cassava or dasheen, potatoes carrots, whatever they have available. These steam and heat and release their water which then in turn helps stew the meat layer at the bottom. On top goes spices, of course, they are the Island of Spice! About 20 minutes before serving, they add big chunks of breadfruit to the top which then melt into softness.
In my picture above the black pots to the right of the fire are full of bread fruit slices and greens.

For my own Oildown, I would stay with the fishes on the bottom layer, and the rest of it could be traditional. A Pescatarian version of Oildown!

Going to Grenada- Installment 6 - Vegetarian(Pescatarian) and Gluten free?

When traveling, meals are often a big challenge for me. Although, learning how to eat so I am not sick has made the experience of traveling a LOT easier.
The good news is that imported goods are expensive in Grenada, so they have an established supply of fresh foods grown on the island. And, also, I eat seafood, and an island is a perfect spot for that!

I had done a little online research of restaurants and other folk's experiences, so I had a short list of places to try. Our first day on the island, we spent the day at Grand Anse Beach, and had a nice midday break on the upper deck of the Umbrella Restaurant. 

Even though it was midday, we were on vacation! So we started with the drinks menu. I started with a Mango Daiquiri, which was refreshing and excellent, blended fresh mango and rum. Huz had the Umbrella Cooler, which he liked well. We ordered an appetizer of Lambie Souse, conch marinated in lime, but they were out. So, we ordered lunch. I had the Wanna Be Waldorf salad, because it was safe eating. I also tried a strawberry daiquiri at the waitress's suggestion, but it was awful. Strawberry syrup, way too sweet. Huz took care of it. He also had a Rum Punch, and was the best of the island.

For dinner that evening we took a taxi to the inner harbor of St. George's. Out at the far end of the bowl is B.B.'s Crabback. We made reservations- and you need them. We were taken to our seat by the over-the-top B.B. He is the chef/owner and very involved with his customers. It is a casual place, with really good food. We sat right on the edge of the water, overlooking the harbor. The walls, ceilings, everything is covered with notes and signatures of the patrons.

We got our lambie here, as an appetizer. I informed the waiter of my diet limitations, and he and B. B. walked me through my safe choices. I had King Prawns, in a mango sauce, and dessert was flaming bananas. They were nicely aflame at delivery, but I don't think all the alcohol burned off, as they were definitely not for those that don't love rum!

Our view of the Carenage of St. George's harbor included this enormous sailing yacht. It was the same size as a container ship.

We did not try the signiture dish of B.B.'s, the Crabback. Too bad, as it sounded great- but not on the allowed list for me. Huz' dinner was incredible. It was the special. Mahi mahi chunks rolled in cinnamon and nutmeg, and perfectly flaky, on a gorgeous sauce. He used the rice and lentils served with our dinners (fragrant, slightly sweet, perfumed) to sop up every last drop. I played it fast and loose, and took a bite of his fish. DEE-Vine.

Our breakfasts were had at the breakfast buffet at the Rex Grenadian. Buffets are fraught with dangers for folks like me. A cruise the first day yielded a piece of cheese. But, as I watched the egg station, I decided to brave a vegetable omelet. She pretty girl making the eggs stirred some veggies into my freshly cracked eggs and omeleted them (Oil!Yikes!What kind? ) I smelled the finished version but was not told by my senses to stop there, so ate. It was a success and I felt fine, so that was my breakfast each morning.

Lunch, when I'm on my own, is not something I bother with much. Not that I don't get hungry, but taking a taxi to find a place to eat takes too much time away from other things. So, I've learned in these travels to bring a few things that work to keep my energy going. I had rice crackers, envelopes of Justin's Almond Butter (individual serving packs, expensive, but protein in a squeeze envelope) and Kind Bars. Also, I bought a bag of French Cashews(a red, sweet, pear shaped fruit with a large pit and a perfumed white flesh) from a lady on the street my second morning in Grenada, and  the fresh local fruit was a perfect lunch solution.

 Our second evening, we were hosted by the Veterinary School at the University Club for a cocktail party. (As an aside, nailed the dress code in packing platform wedge espadrilles that make for mile-long legs but shoes that handle grass, sand and decks with aplomb.) The party was right on the waters edge, a beach, deck area with a bar and tables. We arrived in time to watch the sun set. Divine. Once again, I was not tasting the passed offerings of quiches and kebabs. I know I won't be eating going in, and plan accordingly. As in, making dinner reservations post party.

Sun setting from the University Club.

This time I chose a restaurant close to our resort. The Beach House is a short taxi ride from the Rex Grenadian. Another beautiful setting, right on the beach, ocean waves audible in the darkness. I played it safe with a Rum Punch and the Daily Fresh Catch, which was a Mahi Mahi with a fruit salsa. Light and delicious. The Spicy Vegetarian Curry sounded very good, but one of my limitations is a coconut allergy, and many of the sauces and dishes of the Caribbean feature coconut milk or water, or coconut. So, keeping it simple, I steered clear.  And then watched Huz devour a piece of Coconut Cream Pie.

Our last night on the island, the Vet School hosted us at The Aquarium Restaurant, a short walk down the beautiful beach just outside. The Aquarium is tucked right up against the rocks at the south end of the beach. Once again- we were surrounded with beauty while we ate.

 It was buffet style...danger. But, you don't want to be the weird one who doesn't eat anything, and drinks 2 rum punches...so into the danger zone I go, clutching my plate to my chest and skeptically looking at the piles of food on the plates of the folks on the way out of the buffet. Then, it was my turn. There was a woman serving, and I asked her what was in the first buffet warmer. She said "rice". But then I asked what else, is there coconut, or flour for the sauce, or.... and she got that wide eyed look I've seen before, and disappeared, quickly returning with a black-clad chef, who stuck with me right through the line, guiding my choices. I left the line with a nearly full plate! The food wasn't excellent (that is a tall order in any buffet) but there were plenty of choices for me. Was I "the weird one"? Probably. But I wasn't "the weird one with an empty plate"!
And, after our dinner, and some goodbyes, we got to stroll down the beach, in the breaking waves and cooling sand back to our hotel. Half way down the beach the live steel drum band playing at the pool house of the resort got our attention, and we watched and enjoyed the music for a while. Paradise? Yup.

Family Photo Project 2015- February

As stated in the January edition of FPP 2015, I was disappointed in our lack of family photos in the year of 2014 (exactly 2, and both were "selfies" of the group). So, my New Year's Resolution for 2015 was to take a family photo every month. I think this is a tall order, as we cannot assume to be all together at any given time each month of this year, but it is a goal. I may have to learn "Photoshop".

We made it together for Valentine's Day.

 See what we did here? A family Valentine. (Awwwwww.)

Going to Grenada- Installment 5 ; Me, Danny, "Vermud" and Seven Sisters

No denying that the beach at the Rex Grenadian was captivating enough that I could've tripped down at sunrise and stayed for the whole three days with periodic trips for food and a swim. I say this with a bit of wonder, as my usual modus operandi on vacation involves very little sitting still. This time, I was tempted.
But, my sense of adventure outweighed the temptation for hebetude.
Enter: Danny Alexander.
Danny is a guide for the island. He is my age, has 4 sons ages 13 -20 (I got to meet a few in our wanderings) and is full of ideas. I learned a bit about him in our travels, including that his wife suffered serious injury in Hurricane Ivan and was buried for 16 hours under trees and rubble, but is doing much better now, and that his sons all have large ambitions. Danny shares my interest in native medicinal plants. He learned the lore from his Grandmother and willingly shared the knowledge with me on our hike into the rainforest. If you are hanging out in the rainforest of Grenada, and you get a headache, or your blood pressure is high, or your prostate enlarges, it would be good to run into Danny Alexander.
Danny collected me from the lobby of the hotel. I was surrounded by the Veterinary School representatives waiting for their own transport. He seemed to know which one was going into the rainforest right away. I guess the ball cap, water shoes and bathing suit peeking out from the collar of my shirt gave me away.
Danny was tasked with showing me the way to the Seven Sisters waterfalls in the Grenadian hills. We were actually only going to Sisters 6 and 7, as the death toll of tourists is negative publicity for tourism, and no longer were people permitted to hike up to 1-5. It was just as well, as the last two Sisters were plenty of challenge and beauty. I was evidently the only one at the Rex resort that opted in on the hike, which makes you wonder what you've gotten yourself into, but I was in for the pound at that point, pennies be damned.
After we set out from the hotel, Danny said they had recruited one more pair for the hike and we would collect them in St. George's. We found the young couple, Rhonda and Greg, near the "cruise ship mall" downtown, as they had docked on a Canadian cruise that morning. I felt much better when they got on the bus, as Greg looked like he wasn't a practiced hiker. But that was my "American thinking". In America, we believe strongly in saving people from themselves. We put up fences so you can't fall off a cliff. We post "Warning! Steep incline ahead! Ask your Doctor if this is right for you!" on everything from stretching videos to the ski slope. My natural thought was that if we weren't lithe enough/strong enough/properly attired, someone would prevent us from departing. But that is too American. Outside of the U.S., folks don't feel like they need to parent the population. If you fall off the cliff, well, duh, you shouldn't have gotten too close. If you aren't fit enough for the hike, don't go. I guess that's why the death toll from the Sisters 1-5 had to become noticeable before preventive measures were taken.

The climb from St. George's up the Grand Etang road into the Grand Etang National Forest is a twisted series of switchbacks. The road is often two lanes, but not always, and the curves are blind. Grenadians are very serious about using their horns. They communicate with them. Short beep= "Hey there!" Two short beeps="My Friend!" Staccato of short blasts= "I'm excited to see you it's been a while!" Longer blasts are alerts to other vehicles that you are passing, or you are randomly backing up instead of proceeding forward, or you are about to come around a single lane blind curve. You take preventive measures when you hear a beep come back. It is a constant chatter.

Danny would periodically stop the taxi in the road and jump out, returning to the bus with some plant or another for me to crush and smell and determine what it was. On one of these impromptu stops I shot a photo of this Rainbow Bark Eucalyptus tree.

This next is a little bush or tree that grows in similar habit to a lilac. Danny plucked off a small twig and presented it to me for a quiz.

 It is cinnamon. The bark is peeled away from the tree and allowed to dry in the sun. It curls a bit and the outer bark separates from the cinnamon bark. The darker the cinnamon the longer it will last in your spice cabinet. you can see at the bottom of this tree where some of the bark has been harvested previously.

Danny also brought me sweet leaves of the clove, native cilantro (doesn't look anything like ours, but they use it to flavor goat dishes) and nutmeg.

This is a fruit from the nutmeg tree. the outer fleshy bit is used to make nutmeg jams, jelly and nutmeg syrup. The inner pit is covered in red stringy things that look like plastic. This is mace. Mace is one of those spices you use in the speculaas cookies, or spice cakes. The oil of the mace is in the spray you blast at criminals. Different levels of this will stop your diarrhea, cause miscarriage and relieve aching joints or toothaches.  Under the mace is the nutmeg nut. The shell is commonly used for mulch in Grenada, or in grilling meats to give them a nutmeg flavor. And the nutmeg itself is ground and used ubiquitously in Grenadian cooking and rum punch (yum punch). There is fat in the nut, and if slowly stewed will release as a butter. This is used on the skin.

Eventually we made it into the center of the island and a hut where Danny dropped us off to go park the taxibus. We were told to select a stick, that we would certainly require one. Greg told me that he had been on a 5 hour hike that they had gone miles- and this would surely be a piece of cake. I kept my mouth shut about famous last words, as in my experience, distance is one thing and terrain is completely another. The man in the hut kept muttering at us and shaking his head. I couldn't understand him, and my Canadian cohorts were equally mystified, but it included words like "vermud".

Danny joined us, approved our choice of walking sticks, and we set off.
After a short walk down a dirt path, wide enough for vehicles, we turned into the rainforest. It was beautiful and breezy as we were atop one of the hills, but we began our descent into the forest, and the breeze stopped. Still comfortable, we wended our way for a while until we found the first big drop. And discovered what "vermud" means. 

See, someone had the idea of making a zip line into the rainforest. But rainforest trees aren't up to the task of supporting a few miles of zip line. So, concrete pillars are to be built. In the rainforest. And, to dig the footings, you need a back hoe. In the rainforest. So, someone drove a backhoe in, removing trees and boulders and other things that usefully sat atop the ground, using the claw to repel down the hills. This leaves a slick scar of red clay as the way in and out. Since this provided a rather quick and haphazard course to the bottom, "stairs" have been hacked into the clay. Method of climbing down these hills involves anchoring your stick, stepping sideways with your bottom foot, clutch until you stop slipping and then follow with uphill foot. Thanks to Huz having given me a Fitbit for Christmas, I can tell you Fitbit determined this "one slippery step at a time" method is repeated for 90 stories.

 Here is Danny, checking back to give helpful instruction for the next descent. The trough for the concrete to make the pillars is visible on the left.

I paused at one particularly sound stair to shoot a photo.

You can see my walking stick, and also the booted prints of the folks who had gone down since the morning rains. These would be the construction workers. In the rainforest. Those of the backhoe running, concrete pillar building plan.
I found out what it takes for construction workers to think a middle aged woman is "gorgeez". Stick them 2 miles out in the rainforest. "Kepdonwhadon", followed by a fist to bump. Which Danny helpfully translated into "Keep doing what you are doing."  So, if you're missing the catcalls of your youth, prepare to get "vermud".

Sometime into our hike we started hearing the falls, and encountering lots of larger stones for getting out of the mud a bit. My childhood past as a stone-hopping creek walker was handy as I could accelerate along, not having to plan my route, but knowing it would just come naturally. Poor Danny was left trying to split the difference and not leave Greg and Rhonda far behind.

Then, there they were! Sister six appeared out of the forest.

 As I leapt closer, Sister 7 also appeared.

 I gave Danny my camera and put up some happy "Jazz hands!"

 Then, off with the outer garments and a dip into a Sister.

 The water was very cool, and I had not anticipated how lovely the mist coming off the falls would feel.

 After a bit of splashing about in the pool at the base of Sister 6, I wanted to see Sister 7 from the top. I found a nice sitting boulder to look down on the falls.

 As you can see, Greg and Rhonda have made it and are not atall deterred by the water temperature. Canadians are a hardy lot.

Eventually it was time to once again go back the muddy way we came. A group of adventurers from the British Cruise ship had also made it to the falls, I wish I was brave enough to start snapping their photos. There were older ladies in skirts and proper hats, and people of both sexes who had , judging by their mud covered hips, knees, backs, and one unfortunate face, not mastered the "stick, step, balance, step" descent. Many of them looked weakly at me in my dripping suit, their mouths opening and shutting like landed fish. No one said much.  I asked one lady if she was going to hop into the falls. She clucked at me, clutching her stick and said " I wouldn't dare go across those rocks, my balance is rubbish!" Others, with a sigh and a grunt said "Come this far, might as well." We left the Brits to it, Danny giving some encouragement and sympathy to their guide, and off across the rocks we went.

 Danny had said going back would be much easier, and it was, indeed. Yes, we had to climb back up all those stories, but somehow gravity and our climbing balanced one another.

Plus, periodically groups of construction workers were present, for fist bumps, and probably their morning's entertainment. I would guess it was like an episode of "Keeping Up Appearances : Hyacinth 'Boo-kay' hikes into the rainforest. "

When we came out of the dense-ness, there were people with buckets "Boo-kays?" that make their living washing the feet of hikers. I went up to a bent old fellow with a bucket and a rock. I was to place my foot on the rock, and with a sponge, he laboriously washed my clay covered legs and feet. It felt very odd to have someone washing your feet, and it made me understand further why Jesus chose to do so. I gave him a generous fee. Greg was recovering a bit, and not talking about cake. He had determined that he would make it back on his ship and maybe not move again until they docked in St. Kitts.
I felt fine until the next day, when my legs chided me for not being better prepared. No doubt, the chiding, and the "vermud" was worth it to be with some Sisters.

Going to Grenada- Installment 4; Farmer's Market, Grendian Independance

Playtime, strictly defined, ended for Huz, and he had to go off and be professional. Fortunately, this was not one of my requirements. In talking to the hotel staff the first day, one had mentioned  there would be a trip to the spice market the next morning. So, I made my way to the lobby in the a.m. to get a lift. I soon noticed there was but one taxi-bus and lots of people. Also, there was a pretty and official looking woman with a clipboard checking off names. I sidled closer, and found that you were supposed to reserve a spot on the bus. I had not. So, she said to wait and if there was room they would squeeze me on. And squeeze they did. They measured my rump and found just enough space if I straddled the gear shift and sat partly on Howard from Winnipeg's lap. Howard was a good sport and we were off! I had thought ( in my ignorance and rudimentary research) that The Spice Market was located in Grand Anse, the beach area where we'd spent the previous day. I was pleased to find we were headed to the downtown St. George's Farmer's Market, traditionally held on Saturdays, but since Saturday was the official celebration of Grenada's Independence, the market was to be held on Friday. Emory, our driver, and my close partner in the drive to St. George's let us out near the market and bid us to be back by noon. After standing on the street a moment, another passenger approached to see if I wanted a shopping buddy. Perfect! So, Judy, from Pennsylvania and I headed off into St. George's. Judy is the mother of the Veterinary School representative from UPenn, and her daughter and my Huz, unbeknownst to us, had also joined forces and lunched together at the meeting!
Judy and I found the spice market easily.

  We walked up the crowded street to the top of the market, and back down the other side. Fruits and vegetables, handmade goods, clothing and lots of spices are available. The lady in this picture wearing the orange shirt is selling spice "necklaces". They are sold almost everywhere we went and are made up of all the spices found on the island. You aren't meant to wear them but hang them in your kitchen to make it smell nice. And they do smell divine!

A moment here to talk about the people of Grenada, as I found them to be. I mentioned in Installment 1 this would come later.
There is no doubt that Grenadians make a small wage. I asked, and was told the average starting income is $250 US a month. Imported goods are very expensive, so food grown on the island is the most affordable for the residents. They are a very helpful people. At the market, I asked a lot of questions, and everyone took the time to patiently explain answers. The residents speak, as I was told, Creole, which is mostly English, just with less syllables and really fast. I wasn't good at catching everything, but a passerby was always happy to translate. You get the feeling that they all want you to enjoy the island and your experience. I never felt unsafe or wary. Yes,sometimes people are approaching you to sell you something, but not in that shifty-eyed way that makes you feel like moving on. I enjoyed my interactions with each person I encountered on my visit, and happily chatted with strangers on the street.

 At this fellow's pick up truck, a line of natives waited for a fill up. Curious, Judy and I stopped to watch what he was doing. Soon, a group of older ladies was explaining the process of getting coconut water. They bring an empty bottle or cup and he has this machete with which he spins and chops the top off of the young, green coconut and pours the clear water into the vessel. If asked, he also whams the coconut in half and scoops out the moist, soft coconut for you to eat. The ladies convinced Judy to give it a try. I would've jumped at the chance, but have developed an inconvenient allergy to coconut and had to decline. Judy assured me I was definitely missing out!

I had brought along a burlap bag, which I proceeded to fill with spices and chocolate- also a native crop.

 Many sellers explained how the spices were harvested, and how they are best used, sharing recipes and suggesting preparations for food. How to cook dasheen, and callaloo and cassava. The best way to grind mace and cook goat (not necessary knowledge for me, but interesting). I slowly filled my bag with amazing smells! This picture has baggies of cloves, ground cinnamon, cinnamon bark or sticks, and small bunches of thyme. Also, spiced candied fruits nuts and sweets.

When we finished at the market, we wandered towards the water and into a shopping area that is evidently designed purely for tourists. There is a direct flow from the cruise ships into the shops so you can buy your "Grenada!" tee shirt and shot glass, and then back onto the boat. We breezed through this area and out the other side into the sunshine. Above the parking area loomed a ruins and we moved towards the base of the hill, soon finding a staircase.

 It sat near the Sendall tunnel that connects the harbor side of St. George's to the ocean side. Fort George sits atop the tunnel and the hill that overlooks both sides. In this photo are also the little buses you see everywhere. They are both bus and taxi. Grenadians drive on the left side of the road (British colony style) and their road rules are, well, loose. I don't recommend trying to drive here. You can also see on the concrete wall, shells. These are for sale, and a man sitting on a bucket in the shade told us all about them. The large conch sells are the least expensive and most common. It is from these that they harvest "lambie", the meat of the conch.  He sold some shells to Judy. He also interpreted for an older lady who sold me a bag of  "French Cashews" . These are fruit that is ripe now, red on the outside, white soft flesh, a slightly perfumed taste and a large pit inside. My lunch.
Judy and I set out for the stairs.

At the top, the views delivered. Judy and I exchanged cameras and my proof I was on the trip, not just my camera.

The mouth of St. George's Inner Harbor

The west coast of St. George's

The Carenage of St. George's Inner Harbor

 While exploring Fort George, we could hear from the market area, a great host of drums. A parade had begun! We were lucky enough to be in Grenada for the 41st celebration of Grenadian Independence. The sound of the drums traveled up the hill and we could catch glimpses of the parade in the street. We finished up our perusal of the Fort and headed down to see if we could catch up to the parade.

 On the way down we passed the Presbyterian Church. A ruin from Hurricane Ivan of 2004.

We could hear the drums and the children as we wound down the hill, and just caught the end of it going past. It was the Children's Parade. All the children were in the national colors dancing and marching past.

 In fact, many of the people were in their finest all weekend. Handmade colorful dresses in the national colors of red, yellow and green, Men in shirts, hats, pants, even red, yellow and green checked gloves. Hair was dyed in the bright colors and the flag flew everywhere. The people are very proud of their independence and their country.
The next morning, on February 7th, dignitaries from all over joined the population in the National Cricket Stadium for military parades and celebratory speeches.

This is the crowd going into the stadium.

Businesses are mostly closed for the day, and everyone makes room for the national dish- Oil Down.
I can discuss that in the food installment of Going to Grenada!

Going to Grenada- Installment 3: The Rex Grenadian Resort

While our resort is worth writing about, its future is changing.

There are several resorts on the island, and they all seem to be set in the southern rim. Our resort is currently called the Rex Grenadian, but it has been purchased by Sandals La Source, a pricey resort farther down the tip of the island. La Source Deux? In any case, it will be getting pricier in the future me thinks!

The Rex Grenadian was truly a lovely place to be. It is a bit aged. Not in an overstuffed British castle sort of way, but in a seaside rusty sort of way. But it feels Brit-ish, in that one must suffer a bit in order to enjoy the wonders of life. At the Rex, it is a very small bit. The downside: the accomodations were clean but not special, furnished in a 1988 Florida condo style, with bleached "wood" rounded furnishings, a dubious looking couch and glaring lighting. The upside: WHO CARES what your room looks like? There is a BEACH right outside! Our suite had a big tiled back porch, which is where we spent  any spare time while in the room. And we arrived, 10 pm,  tired and eyes burning (from a 3:00 am wake up in Ohio) to fresh fruit juice in the open air lobby and bright magenta bougainvillea strewn over our bed and in the bath. Flowers and fresh fruit perk up just about anything!

 The view from our porch looked down to one of the bar areas where they had evening entertainment and morning exercise. If you looked the other way you could see the pool and beach beyond.  I didn't know what it truly was until morning came and I could get a good gander.

The pool is on the uppermost level of the structure with a bar and a restaurant as well. Our last evening in Grenada, we strolled back on the beach from The Aquarium Restaurant to the rhythms of a steel drum band playing poolside.

Our bed upon arrival:

 The resort is strung out with several buildings connected by clay tile covered walkways.

Sunrise included walking to the beach.

The pool is obviously a lovely place to be, but we spent almost no time here, and never dipped in a toe. Why bother when the beach and the ocean are so perfect?

From our room we could wend our way to the beach from mulitple stairways. My favorite wound around the hotel on the outside.

From here I could anticipate scoping out a beach chair. That turns out to be one of the hardest decisions of the day, as there were plenty available, surrounded by peaceful sounds of ocean, birds and breeze.

Looks like an imposing decision, no? Undaunted I would stride forth and make a choice. I was never wrong.

Basking in a choice well made. 

I may have spent my morning tromping around hither and yon, but my afternoons were spent right about here.

Or anywhere there.

The pool can be seen on the rock at the end of the beach, but on the other side of the pool was another secluded, empty private beach.

In comparison to Grand Anse Beach, ours was tops. Plenty of shade, practically uninhabited and the cool blue water had a lip of sandstone that you had to cross to get to the soft stuff, but the rock meant the fish came in, and I was surrounded by them. Since the water is crystal clear you can see them all swimming about quite handily. I found out they were not waiting to be petted, and they avoided my hands. So we just swam together. Had one been required to summon up the energy, one could go to the bar at the pool and collect one of those tasty rum punch drinks. I was never required. I found several hours in a beach chair in the shade to be all I required indeed.