Grenada

What a day! During the eight hour tour I booked, I was exposed to the finest spices and horticulture for which Grenada is famous, including nutmeg, cocoa, plantain, papaya, soursop, grindy, mango, banana, loofa, clove, bay leaf, cinnamon, allspice, calabash, tonka bean, and sopadilla. Our tour began with a drive through St. George’s (the capital city) and a stop at Concord Waterfall, which wasn’t particularly impressive, yet beautiful.

The Galaxy Awaits in Grenada

Concord Waterfall

Next, we stopped at Dougladston Estates, where I observed the process of cocoa harvesting. Here, let me show you. First, the cocoa fruit is harvested…

…next, the white, slimy pods are placed in a dark wooden box and covered with leaves. A fermentation process takes place. No, really, it does. Our tour guide pulled some out of the box and we touched them…they were very warm. Once that’s over with, they are placed out in the sun to dry…

…then sent off to a processing plant to be ground up. The guide broke one open for me and I ate it. It tasted like strong, dark, somewhat bittersweet chocolate. It was awesome. Next, we headed to the Grenada Cooperative Nutmeg Association. Oh, you want to know how nutmeg is processed? Okay. I will show you. Let’s get some of our tools together:

Start by cutting open the fruit…

…and removing the mace (the red webby thing). This can be used for all sorts of things, like tea and cosmetics.

Now, set the nutmeg out to dry (but not in the sunshine)…

…wow, it’s taking a long time for the nutmeg to dry. I think I’ll look out the window for several weeks (for reals, this is what I saw when I looked out the window)…

…ahh. The nutmeg is ready. Toss it down a chute where the shell is broken. The ladies are waiting at the bottom to separate the shell from the nutmeg inside. This lady didn’t do a very good job, but you get the idea…

…okay, now bag ‘em up, paint the name of the destination on the bag, and ship it off!

On our way out of the nutmeg processing plant, a kind woman named Dorothy showed us her wares (various combinations of local spices) and asked if we were interested in buying anything. Prior to the start of the tour, the guide informed us that his wife sells spices and that she would be waiting for us at the end of the day (i.e., spices will be purchased from my wife). I promptly checked my bag for my wallet to see how much cash I had, only to discover that I had left it locked up in my room’s safe. Awesome. I come to the Isle of Spice and I can’t buy any. So, when Dorothy asked me if I wanted to buy her spices, I informed her that no, unfortunately, I could not, because I left my wallet on the ship, but thank you. She immediately pulled me over to her cart, reached in, and pulled out a plastic neon orange martini glass filled with spices. With her other hand (now that she had let go of my arm), she reached over and pulled a beautiful necklace made from spices down and put both of them in my hands. I tried explaining to Dorothy that, no, these were lovely, but I didn’t have a way to pay for them. Dorothy responded by stating that “nobody comes to the Isle of Spice and leaves without any spices.” I thanked her for her generosity but insisted that someone in my tour group would probably lend me money later and I would be fine. Again, Dorothy insisted that I take the spices and quickly ushered me back to my tour bus, which took off to our next destination.

Although my interaction with Dorothy lasted but a few short moments, I spent much of the day reflecting upon our exchange. At first, I felt terrible for saying anything about my wallet; I mean, I didn’t intend for her to give me something for free. I should have politely declined (but I tried to!), then she would still have those items to sell. Throughout the tour, we drove through areas of severe poverty. Hurricane Ivan crippled this island in 2004. 90% of the nutmeg was destroyed, and it takes upwards of 20 years to get quality nutmeg from a mature tree (although adequate nutmeg can be produced in 8). Cocoa, banana, and other trade was severely diminished. Churches ruined (according to our tour guide, Dominica is a very religious island). Homes obliterated. And here was Dorothy, filling both my hands with beautiful, aromatic spices without a second’s thought.

I want to do something special for Dorothy. I want to do something special for all the people of Grenada. All along our tour, so many people smiled and waved at us. How can you find so much joy when all around you your world is falling apart?

Dorothy, I will do good things with your spices. My dinner guests and friends will hear about you and the people of Grenada when I cook with them. I will try to do your island justice when I write about it in my blog, as I know that tourism is your island’s only stable form of income. Dorothy, thank you for sharing your spices and your island with me. And, because I’m guessing that the customs officer won’t allow me to bring your necklace into the U.S. (something about nuts or seeds or some nonsense), I’m taking a picture of it here so I’ll always remember it.

On our way to lunch, we stopped at Carib’s Leap. Carib’s Leap is the site where the French overtook the native Carib tribe and forced them to either leap to their deaths or be shot and killed. Most tribal members elected to jump.

Lunch at Helvellyn House overlooked a beautiful scene, much like the one from the nutmeg processing plant. We were served authentic local cuisine, the content of which I can’t completely remember (a starchy, potato thing, mahi mahi with curry, delicious barbecued chicken, green papaya gratin). It was all very delicious. I think that it would be an excellent place to host a wedding reception, but I’m pretty sure Grenada doesn’t have an LDS temple.

A quick trip to a rum distillery (not so interesting for me, but the others seemed to like it) and a drive through Grand Etang Forest Reserve, and we were back to the ship…just in time! I turned around and got a parting shot of the island just before the boat left the dock. Grenada is a unique experience…you should definitely check it out.

Foods of the Day: Dorothy’s Spices and Chilled Strawberry Soup

Do You Sea What I Sea?

Nothing much to say about today. It was our last full sea day; from this point forward, we will be sailing overnight and arriving at a new port each morning. I am pleased to report, however, that I loved all five courses at dinner, a first thus far on the ship. Kudos to the chefs!

Foods of the Day: (1) Tomato and Arugula Crostini with Kalamata Balsamic Vinaigrette, (2) Chilled Roasted Beets, Feta Cheese and Frisée, (3) Chilled Black Cherry Soup, (4) Drunken Shrimp Linguini with Ancho Chile Sauce, Cilantro, and Crispy Plantain Ribbons, and (5)Warm Anjou Pear Gratin with Honey Sabayon

Curaçao

I could live in Curaçao one day. I really liked it. After sleeping in a little late, I walked to the front deck and looked out over a brightly-painted plethora of storefronts and government buildings in Willemstad. Shortly after arriving at the Queen Emma Bridge (a floating bridge that moves back and forth throughout the day to allow boats to pass), a downpour soaked everyone and everything in a matter of seconds. The storm soon ended and I crossed over from Otrobanda to Punda, two neighborhoods within Willemstad. I stopped at the outdoor Central Market to browse and found myself buying some “Arabian Formula” health supplement. The box promised to turn me into a muscular Arabian gentleman who has ladies hanging off him. I’ve never been a muscular Arabian gentleman who has ladies hanging off him, so I’m super excited to witness my transformation.

Otrobanda

Queen Emma Bridge Leads to Punda

Punda After the Storm

Speaking of supplements, several people tried to sell me marijuana and cocaine. What’s that all about? It wasn’t even covert. A simple, “Hey, you wanna buy some coke or some weed?” Maybe they saw me buy some Arabian Formula and thought I might be looking for the harder stuff. What’s in my Arabian Formula anyway? Ginger, ginseng, onion, garlic, honey, molasses, ethyl alcohol and distilled water…ewww, I don’t want to drink that. I guess I’ll stay a slightly pudgy White guy with ladies hanging around him.

Next, I headed to the Mikvé Israel-Emanual Synagogue (also known as The Snoa), the oldest synagogue in continuous use in the Western Hemisphere. The synagogue was beautiful, and it was the first time I’d ever worn a yarmakule (men were required to cover their heads before entering). The Snoa also had a museum on Jewish history in the Netherlands Antilles that was rather interesting and housed relics from the 14th century onward.

Mikvé Israel-Emanual Synagogue

My journey took me past the Floating Market and across the Wilhelmina Bridge to Scharloo, where I witnessed streets of once-decadent mansions now fallen into disrepair. Near the Waaigat on Van der Brandhofstraat was the island’s Maritime Museum, chronicling the island’s history of colonization and war (mainly between the Dutch, French, and British), slave trade in the West Indies, privateering, and piracy. Overall, the museum was well-designed and briskly air-conditioned. I can’t believe that less than a week ago, I was complaining that my apartment was too cold and now I’m relieved to find a building with air conditioning. It’s very strange.

Maritime Museum

Streets of Willemstad

On my walk back to the ship, I passed a bright red building which housed the Gouverneur de Rouville Restaurant & Café. Inside was an architecturally beautiful setting and the best sandwich I’ve ever had. No really, it was. Tender, tender chicken, deliciously spicy and sweet peanut sauce, crisp grilled onions and red bell pepper, and red leaf lettuce gently nestled between two halves of a crusty-yet-soft roll. Mmmm.

Gouverneur de Rouville

The Best Sandwich Ever

Why can’t we stay in Curaçao just one day longer? According to the tour guidebook, Curaçao has an aquarium, herbal medicine garden, snorkeling, diving, beautiful beaches, kayaking, hiking, and so much more. As I write this entry, I can feel the ship’s engine’s start to rumble as the Celebrity Galaxy causes the Queen Emma bridge to be moved once more, this time for us. I decide to go out on deck to say a proper goodbye to the island, only to find rows of cars honking and groups of people waving farewell as the sea mist splashes up from all sides. Goodbye, Curaçao…I hope to be back soon.

Food of the Day: Asian Chicken Sandwich (from Gouverneur de Rouville Restaurant & Café)

Aruba

Today I went on a beach and snorkel cruise via catamaran. Our first stop took us near Boca Catalina. As I plunged into the water, several pale-colored fish with purple and yellow stripes came up to say hello. They followed me around for a while as I scoped out schools of tiny silver fish, big silver fish with long white-and-black fins, and solo swimmers in shades of crimson, electric blue, and vibrant yellow. Snorkel time was cut short when the wind started to pick up, causing our second stop (the WWII shipwreck, Antilla) to be cancelled. We spent the remainder of our time cruising up and down the south coast, swishing through water in varying depths of aqua and cobalt blue.

Inside Our Transport to the Catamaran

On the Catamaran

Boca Catalina

After a quick lunch, the tour company left us at Palm Beach for a couple of hours. Ever since I went to Playa Flamenco in Culebra last March, that beach as been my “gold standard.” Compared to Playa Flamenco, Palm Beach was kind of a bummer. The resorts were packed so close to one another that the beaches were overflowing with sunburned tourists and deck chairs. Debris from the palm trees was constantly crashing up against the shore, sticking to one’s legs and feet, and the sand was coarse. A brief stint at Aruba’s “famed” shopping district was equally disappointing. What’s all the fuss about Aruba, anyway?

Palm Beach

Food of the Day: Nothing. It was a lame-o food day.

All At Sea

The morning started off with breakfast (delivered by room service, of course, because it’s free, so to speak). There was a Port and Shopping presentation scheduled for 10:30, and I went, assuming that there would be discussions of how to navigate the port towns and find quality, local wares. There wasn’t. I felt like I was in a taping of some QVC or Home Shopping Network program. The people around me were whooping and hollering over diamonds, jewelry, and handbags, and whenever the host said, “If you see it, and you like it, BUY IT!!!” the crowd shouted the last part in unison…well, most of the crowd. I was too busy lying on my bench, trying to fend of the sickness and headache caused by either the motion of the boat or what I deemed to be crass consumerism. Don’t get me wrong…I’m a consumer. I consume every day. I love me some Crate and Barrel, and don’t you dare go to an old bookstore or architectural salvage shop without me. I don’t know…it just feels different.

Did I mention that there is an art auction onboard the ship today? They are selling works by Rembrandt, Goya, Renoir, Picasso, Miró, Dürer, Chagall, Lichtenstein, and more. Wait a minute, people can still buy this stuff? It’s still for sale to the general public? The rabid, crazed desire to have it as my own, a desire which filled the hearts of many at the Port and Shopping presentation not an hour earlier, now begins to intermingle with my love of art museums. The thought of having just a slice of these masterpieces in my own home nearly sends me over the edge.

Lunch at the Orion Restaurant found me dining with a group of new folks and setting out on a bit of an internal existential thought process. I feel so out of place on this ship. The stateroom attendant comes in and turns down my pillow at night, leaving a chocolate where my head will soon rest. Room service is free. I dine with cloth napkins and an arc of polished cutlery is neatly arranged around my many plates. Everyone else seems to be above me in social class. It’s like I’m afraid they’re going to find me out, to discover that although I was able to pay for my trip, my current income level puts me just above the poverty line prior to taking into account student loans. But I wasn’t being lavish or foolhardy with my income; I just needed to get away. Away from the oppressive Chicago winter, to somewhere warm. Away from the thought that in a few short weeks, I’ll be finding out the seemingly life-or-death results of an exhaustive process of internship applications. Away from the feeling that because most of my clients’ lives are so entangled in community violence, poverty, and racism or xenophobia, I can’t possibly make a difference. Away.

My thoughts carry me out onto one of the ship’s many decks. There is no land in sight. None. The deep blue water crests in tiny, white-tipped waves on all sides as a deeply penetrating sun bares down on skin that hasn’t been kissed by the sun’s warmth in months. I decide to forgo the quest for skin cancer and retire to my pitch black stateroom for a please-go-away-Mr.-Motion-Induced-Headache-and-Mrs.-I’m-Going-To-Tip-Overboard-with-All-This-Rocking nap, followed by a hey-there’s-a-sushi-and-sashimi-bar-from-5:30-to-8:30 binge. It’s all about excess on a cruise ship. Or so they say.

The Sky Deck

Water, Water, Everywhere, and Not a Drop to Drink

The formal dinner seating arrangement for the duration of the cruise began tonight. My tablemates are composed of a quiet, red-faced German man, two German women, and a husband and wife from Ohio. The German fellow didn’t seem too keen on talking, and when I tried to strike up a conversation with the youngest of the two German women, she got that “deer in the headlights” look that I get when someone says something in Spanish that I don’t understand but am expected to answer. By process of elimination, I ended up conversing loudly across the table (due to the music overhead) to the couple from Ohio. Come to find out, they have done a lot of work with the Red Cross and other relief organizations in the Gulf Coast area. They seem nice.

Foods of the Day: Apple Tart with Butternut Ice Cream and Calvados Sauce & Chilled Melon and Mint Soup

Come, Sail Away

I elected to board the ship early today in order to get settled and explore. Prior to departing for the pier, I felt a jolt of that kid-on-Christmas-morning feeling. I haven’t felt that since, well, I was a kid. A bit of uncertainty, a sprinkle of magic, and a generous dollop of excitement (with a pinch of “Me! Me! Me!” thrown in for good measure).

This is my first cruise. Have you ever been on one? If not, I suggest you do so immediately. My inner cabin, though somewhat small, was just right for what I needed. I unpacked my clothes and such, putting them in their respective drawers. I never unpack when I stay in a hotel. But I figured that since I was going to be here for nearly two weeks, it made sense. Plus this is a hotel on water, so that’s totally different from one on land. Right?

My Stateroom

There is an uber-creepy, oversized photo of a plump woman dressed in French Revolution-type clothes, complete with an overly-powdered white face, big wig, and garish red lipstick, the majority of which has found its way onto her teeth, hung outside my stateroom. No wonder the peasants revolted. The placard beside it says “Jane Kaplowitz, Mardi Gras.” I decide to lock the door…just in case Ms. Kaplowitz decides to bring her reveling into my room in the middle of the night.

A mandatory safety drill was scheduled prior to dinner. The captain came on and spoke, followed by translation into French and German. I strapped on my lifejacket, ascended the stairs, and reported to my muster station. It sounds a bit melodramatic, but I couldn’t help think, “Titanic.”

Safety Drill Through the Peephole

Dinner was open seating for the night of embarkation. The folks I ate with had just gotten married in Martha’s Vineyard and were on their honeymoon. They seemed incredibly happy and had that post-nuptial glow. They told me that I couldn’t have picked a better ship and itinerary to start out with. Apparently, some cruise lines are really terrible when it comes to food, décor, and service. Other than the omnipresent “Jane Kaplowitz, Mardi Gras,” the ship is very beautiful, classy, and well-designed. My stateroom attendant is quite helpful, and the food…oh, the food. I can’t possibly write about all the constantly-changing, diverse gustatory options available on ship, but suffice it to say that the Orion Restaurant doesn’t disappoint. For dinner, I had goat cheese quiche, a deliciously seasoned fish with quinoa, and profiteroles with hazelnut ice cream.

Toward the end of dinner, the ship’s engines started up, shaking the glasses and cutlery on the table. So commenced the second-to-last journey of the Celebrity Galaxy (the ship is being sold to a cruise line in Greece) and my maiden nautical voyage.

The Resort Deck

The Galaxy Library

Food of the Day: Goat Cheese Quiche

San Juan, Two, Three (Puerto Rico)

I flew to Puerto Rico three days prior to the cruise in order to ensure I made my cruise departure time (anyone who has flown out of or through Chicago knows that it can be notorious for its delays/cancellations during the winter). Because Da House Hotel (the artsy, life-above-a-local-music-scene-club digs I took up last time) was sold out, I bunked in the Garden Suite above a jewelry store called Bóveda. It was comfortable…a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, sitting room, and an open-air terrace garden below. There’s really nothing like falling asleep to the sound of wind chimes, lightly falling rain on tiled floor, and a Caribbean breeze softly blowing. “Which internship matching process? Come again? What is Match Day? I’m not familiar.”

Inside the Garden Suite at Bóveda

I had grand plans to visit the Rio Camuy caves while I was on the island. Reportedly among the largest in the world accessible to the public, the caves were closed almost two years ago when a boulder fell on someone; since that time, they have worked to secure the area and now require folks to wear hardhats. It was closed when I was in Puerto Rico last spring, but reportedly, the cave system opened up a couple weeks ago. Looks like I’ll never know...the tour company cancelled the tour because not enough people had booked it. If only they had bothered to tell me that before I got up early and waited outside a hotel down the street for over an hour. Nice.

My trip to the beach was equally disheartening. After the cave incident, I decided to try the method for vacationing used by some of my friends and family: just taking it as it goes, doing whatever, whenever you feel like it. My prior tendency has been to plan things out months in advance to fit everything in. When I finally rolled out into the bus system (oh, the bus system in Puerto Rico…sigh…why do I complain about the Chicago Transit Authority again?), I ended up getting off way too early and walked nearly two hours to Hobby Beach in Isla Verde. The sun was going down, but no spectacular sunset colors emerged. Still, it was warm. Oh so very, very warm, and I got about an hour of beach time in before dark. However, given how much beach time I could have gotten if I’d started my excursion earlier in the day, I think I’ll stick with my regular vacation-going plan: get up, get going, see it, do it, and soak it up.

Hobby Beach in Isla Verde

Despite my somewhat underwhelming experience in San Juan this time around, I did manage to get my fix of mofongo, arroz y habichuelas, and fresh tropical fruit. And did I mention that it’s in the 70s and 80s outside? Ahhhhhh. Why do I live in Chicago again? Below are a few shots I didn’t manage to capture last time: