Sunday afternoon we decided to check out the local Carnaval parade…

I took earplugs, and Matthew promised that if the crowds got too rowdy for me, we would go back to the boat, but both precautions were unnecessary – it was a family-oriented parade, and it was on island time! We arrived an hour after the start time and still had to wait an hour for any action. And then it was one slow-moving display about every 10-20 minutes. The first hour was local businesses, which was pretty lame, with one notable exception…something we would never see in Canada…the McDonalds restaurant float had jiggly girls in spandex and fish-net stockings walking ahead of the float carrying their sign, but that was nothing! On the back of the float truck were two dancing girls, of the kind seen in men’s clubs (thong and all) with their skin painted with the Big M logo and colours, strutting their stuff while throwing kiddy-meal coupons to the families lining the route! A very different kind of corporate image here than at home! Sure got a laugh at that!

Next came the kids groups and sports teams – roller-bladers, tae-kwon-do kids, ballet classes and school bands, which were cute enough I suppose, but honestly, watching the spectators was more interesting. Lots of the grownups were wearing the traditional dress of Carnaval, and their kids were running around everywhere, many in costumes of the Halloween variety (cowboys, Robin Hood, Disney Princesses) playing and getting into mischief. Left to their own devices, they were having far more fun than the kids in the “structured” parade. Kids as young as 4-5 years old running around with whips – how fun is that? Apparently cracking whips is a part of their Carnaval tradition, to remember the suffering endured by the slaves. And these guys could really make an incredibly loud Crack!!

 

Finally there started to be a few of the more professional-looking groups in the really well-done costumes you expect to see.

By this time we had been standing around for 3 hours, so after a few more of them had passed, we decided that we were too hot and tired to wait around anymore and went back to the boat for a nap. That was good family fun, island-style.

 

  

Since arriving in the Caribbean last November, we have checked into 8 countries, visited over a dozen islands, and can’t help but notice the idiosyncrasies of their naming conventions. From simple repetition, to stating the obvious, to the opposite of the obvious, the place names have been a continual source of amusement. Here are some of our favourites:

Under the category of repetitious, the winner is Saint John, or the french St-Jean, or the Dutch Sint John.  Clearly he was everyone’s favourite saint of the day, with a city, town, parish, or bay named after him on almost every single island we visited. Sometimes, to distinguish one Saint John from another, a further moniker is added, like in St. Kitts and Nevis, one country with two St. John’s. One is St. John Capisterre, the other St. John Figtree Parish.

Under the category of stating the obvious (or perhaps that should be lacking in imagination?) the hands-down winner is the island of Saba. This is a small (13 square kilometres, a population of just under 2,000), rather isolated island, a Special Municipality of the Netherlands where Dutch is still spoken. Maybe these names lost something in the translation, but how is this for obvious:  Its towns are called The Bottom (the capital, and, you guessed it, the lowest down), Windwardside (guess which side that’s on), Hell’s Gate (we’ll see more of these, they are usually a geothermal opening of some sort) and of course, St. John’s, everyone’s favourite saint. Their volcano is called Mount Scenery (unique, but still it’s pretty obvious why, if you walk up to the top like we did), and the one road linking all the towns is simply called The Road.

More very popular and very obvious names, usually based on geographic features, include:

• Marigot. All the French islands have one. It means swamp or lagoon, an enclosed body of water
• Soufrière. Both Guadeloupe and Montserrat named their active volcanoes this. It means sulphur. I gather St. Lucia and Dominica also have a Soufrière, although we haven’t made it that far yet.
• Sugarloaf, or the French Pain de sucre. Plenty of small, conical islands named this. A sugarloaf was the usual form in which refined sugar was produced and sold until the late 19th century, and I guess since these islands were the main source of sugar cane…
• Hell’s Gate, or the French Trou à diable, usually refer to a geothermal feature, and so far we have seen those on Saba, Iles des Saintes (part of Guadeloupe) and Montserrat.

And finally, there is the whole matter of Basse Terre. This means low land, and again is a very common name.  In the case of St. Kitt’s capital city, it is a simple statement of the obvious, as it is located in the lowlands of that island. But after that, it starts to get complicated. St. Martin uses the variation Les Terres Basses. The Iles des Saintes, two lovely islands that are part of Guadeloupe are named Terre-de-Bas (low land)  and Terre-de-Haut (high land) even though they are both volcanic islands. Granted, Terre-de-Haut’s volcano is higher than the one on Terre-de-Bas.

As for the mainland of Guadeloupe, I think the French explorers were just messing with us. Guadeloupe is shaped like a butterfly, with the two wings named Basse-Terre and Grande-Terre , which is all well and fine, except that the wing that is mountainous and has the volcano is Basse-Terre (low land), and it’s largest city is called Basse-Terre too, just to add to the confusion. The wing that is lower is Grande-Terre (big land), which  has long beaches and sugarcane fields. Perhaps those doing the naming had been enjoying too much of the local rum while doing so?

So if it sounds like we have been somewhere before, we might have doubled back or just hit one of the common place names.  

 

 

 

The Bromptons have not been ashore for a month or so, not since we left the BVI’s. The Islands we have been visiting since have not been very cycle-friendly, that is until we reached St. Kitt’s and Nevis.

On the southern part of St. Kitt’s we found a lovely new road, that was flat and freshly asphalted, and that took us around a salt pond and all the way to the coffee shop at the newly developing super-yacht docks at Christophe Harbour.

 Nevis was even better. Shaped like a sombrero, it has lower, flatter land all around Mount Nevis, and our cruising guide said it was possible to cycle around the whole island in half a day. So we loaded the bikes into the dinghy and went ashore for some exploring. The first hour was not as flat as they had led us to believe, we gained some 250 metres of altitude, which in this heat, was quite challenging. Our reward at the top was a delicious lunch at Golden Rock, a former sugar-cane plantation turned restaurant. The plantation manor, built in the early 1800’s, and the grounds around it, have been beautifully restored. We ate in the shade on a patio surrounded by manicured lawns and gardens, with a spectacular view all the way down to the sea. The food and service were great too.

Full and refreshed, we set off for the downhill part of the ride, through picturesque villages, with views of the sea all the way. We were delighted to see our first wind farm. And of course we had to check out the airport, but it was nothing special – a great long runway with no hills, or big drops off to the sea, or any other thrilling features.

That’s not to say that the ride back was dull or without adventure. Matthew’s Brompton provided enough entertainment, requiring repair to a punctured rear tire no less than 5 times! He had to keep adding patches on patches, since we discovered a serious omission in our repair kit, no spare tube. 

Repair number five finally held till we got back to the boat. It must have been because of all the assistance we received from some local school children. Thanks, kids.