A conch and lobster fishing boat comes back from an outing at sea. Half a dozen beautiful guys jump ashore. With very little loot for such a large group. They are rather disorganized. Life is hard here, but certainly at a different pace. I feel like I'm in a postcard.
I get to take the prototypical Caribbean picture of the well worn barca against the backdrop of impeccable blue sea.
We have plenty of time to contemplate this, as our taxis are of course not here. A manager paces, punches his cell phone, and curses about unreliable cab drivers. The group of Americans, used to managers taking responsibility, roll their eyes. One taxi arrives but it's not the same one as before. So our stuff is not in there. You know, the dry pants, clean towels, etc... They suggest we go to town in this one, then find the other one there. I'm not going to change on the street in town, and no one wants to risk having the manager disappear too. So we all wait. Except a feisty bunch who clearly cannot waste a minute of their vacation time. They are going to have fun. So they decide to walk to the Four Seasons to have a drink. Since they have not taken the pain to communicate with the locals along the way, they don't know the Four Seasons was closed by the hurricane. They are so obnoxious that we almost let them go...
Diane Reeves sits in the cab with her friend. No diva attitude here. She has no belongings in the missing cab, so she could very well make a fuss and request to be taken to town, as her cab is here. But she just chats quietly with her friend.
The other taxi finally gets there, and they start hurrying us to jump in. I make the case that, after making us wait for over half an hour, that they are going to have to wait a few minutes for us to change clothes.
We return to Charleston, the small capital of Nevis, around lunch time. Uniformed school girls and dressy office employees in heels navigate the pot holes of the uneven sidewalks. It's a happy, cheerful behive in a landscape of tropical decrepitude. Amazing really.
A bar. Closed (hopefully).
There are some carefully maintained historical buildings, next to massive messes.
The market is mostly empty. And the lady there looks like she is out of a period movie.
We didn't see the cemetery, but there is no escaping taxes here either...
Love the firestation, where there is no sense of urgency. The wives are here too, playing cards.
The shops are cavernous, offering an unlikely assortment of anything.
No tourist enters them. There is no lack of tourists, though. The ship has disgorged its 1800 passengers in the small town, each carrying the same light blue towel. There is no mistaking us for the locals... Most of us err back and forth on the main street. As we must look disheveled from our morning at sea, many fellow tourists ask us if we went to the beach. When we say we went to three beaches, there is clear envy in their eyes. It seems we were really lucky to book this kayak trip - nobody else got to see a beach on Nevis. There are apparently none close to town.
We feel a bit out of place, but rather comfortable. We only have a little bit of time, but I wouldn't mind coming back. It's lovely, in a way, and warm. Though I fear the leisurely and inefficient pace might drive the Western tourist crazy in a few days.
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