k i n g s t o w n

[ 18:42 sunday 7 april – port of kingstown, st vincent ]

easter sunday, a little after sunset. i’m sitting cross-legged at the taffrail of the day’s last ferry across to bequia. the ramp below me scrapes and squeals in the rolling swell. bob marley songs pump out from a pick-up parked on the quay below, which is surrounded by a knot of people dancing and talking. lights start to pepper the surrounding mountainsides as the post-sunset sky darkens. the air is sultry, tinged with an acrid edge of diesel.

it’s barely 36 hours since i left london but it feels like i’ve been traveling for weeks already. last night on tobago i stayed with a security guard everyone calls the doctor who lives on the sea behind the airport and keeps a few guest rooms with his sister ruth. he drove me up to scarborough, the island’s main port, where we got some supper and soaked up the atmosphere around the market.

a lot of people had come over from trinidad for the evening’s beach concert by buju banton. some of them had brought seriously tricked-up cars with custom paint jobs, flashing lights, lots of chrome and big sound systems; which were parked along a stretch of road for people to admire. when we got back to the doctor’s place i clambered down the dark rocks and sat by the beaking waves with the hot wind on my face until i was ready to sleep.

this afternoon i flew on to barbados in a fifty-seater twin prop aircraft that seems to be the staple inter-island transport here. after an hour in barbados’ earily gleaming airport and a couple of delightful conversations i boarded another flight to st vincent where i arrived an hour ago.

my first impression of the caribbean is of strong warm people who are confident in their cultures. it’s easy to speak to people. it’s particularly interesting to hear opinions of america and europe. there’s a much more balanced, critical view than i would expect.

as i write the ferry’s ramp is raised, the engine throb gets higher and we cast off. in an hour i’ll be on bequia.

: c :

t o b e q u i a

[ 12:18 saturday 7 april – gatwick airport south terminal ]

being marooned at gatwick is as close as i ever wish to come to a concentration camp. airports are grim places. british airports are especially joyless. but there’s something uniquely brutal and dehumanising about gatwick.

staff seem to be trained in a chilling gritted-teeth cheerfulness. efforts to sell over-priced crap to trapped passenger are raised to new levels of intrusiveness. the architecture is cramped and offers no hint of redemption.

but despite this, and a two hour delay to my flight, i have a light heart for i am on holiday for the next two weeks. later today i shall arrive on the island of tobago where i’ll find somewhere to stay the night. then tomorrow i’ll fly to barbados and on to st vincent’s, from where i hope to get a ferry to the tiny isle of bequia to visit my friends meg and alan.

the prospect is indecently glorious. even gatwick cannot damp my spirits.

: c :