Don’t get me wrong, huge portions of the caribbean are utterly idyllic. And most of the visuals of the images I have just described do in fact exist. But stress free? No. Especially not for a european like myself who’s life is dictated by the schedules and arrangements of my job. Then, the slow paced ‘mañana' attitude of the caribbean becomes positively heart attack inducing and you see the local people for who they really are when they operate under pressure. The nuances of the Grenadan accent meant I was unsure which of the plethora of what I could only assume to be expletives were the most offensive… I just knew this taxi driver was getting me to the airport.. and therefore his $10 bonus I had promised him.. regardless of who he had to insult or potentially injure on the way.
Picture the scene. This morning at 7.40am I was waiting in the conference room onboard the Celebrity Summit for officials to board the vessel, and clear me and the rest of the passenger manifest through the immigration process. The ship officially docked at 8am and my flight to Miami was booked for 9.30am. The airport is a 20 minute taxi ride away in the best of circumstances so to say I was a little anxious was an understatement.
I waited patiently for the tardy officials to thumb leisurely through the mounds of paperwork before them as I uttered under my breath but inherently audibly that my flight was due to leave in 90 minutes. The blank looking gentleman pushed away my passport without even making eye contact with me and continued to revel in the merriments of the conversation his colleague was having with him about the inappropriate choice of car parking spot he had berated a local on this morning on the way to the vessel. Whilst I was obviously riveted at the prospect of a lengthy lesson in the innermost workings of the traffic system of the west indies… time was ticking on and I had luggage to collect and drag to the gang way. I tried approaching another of the officials hopefully… “sir, my flight leaves in 90 minutes!!”
“well choo be cutting it fine gurl” He retorted and I bounced up and down on the spot eagerly like a frantic Gordon Ramsay, biting my tongue all too aware they could make life very difficult for me if they wanted to. After the slowest passport stamp EVER in the history of modern man… moments later I was careering down the quay side with my two suitcases in the blazing hot sun, rueing the decision I’d made that morning to bother washing my hair. In the terminal building i scoured the empty hallway fervently in search of the driver promised to me by these ships agent in order to expedite the process to the airport and hope to make the flight by the skin of my teeth. After the security guard opened the gate in the SLOWEST fashion ever, I hurtled towards the ageing gentleman proffering his hands motioning me to give him my bags
:where choo be gurl? I be waitin on choo since a quarter to.” he said.
Flustered and sweating profusely I retorted “None of this is my fault. This flight was booked on my behalf and immigration took an eon to process me today.”
“De traffic be bad girl at dis time. you be cutting it fine gurl”
Already aware that the ‘cutting it fine’ moniker would likely stay with me all morning I breathed deeply in and began to steel myself with the implications of missing the flight. There were no more flights to the states today and an overnight alone in a hotel for the umpteenth time this trip appealed to me somewhat less than the apartment of friends I was scheduled to spend the evening in..catching up and eating chicken.
As we rounded the first corner the taxi came to a halt and the drivers companion dangled himself out of the window and gestured wildly at a passer by.
“Tis mi daughter.” the driver offered. “I needs to cillect mi daughter” . addressing me through the rear view mirror.
Prone to an imminent explosion I calmly retorted “good sir, I have paid for the exclusive hire of your vehicle and we have no time for this. I’m sorry but we can not wait for your daughter”
“but… but… okay..” he said reluctantly pulling out to rejoin the now queueing traffic.
“How much is the cab?” I asked. “I’ll pay you now so as to avoid any further delays when we get there”
“de taxi be twenty gurl. I ov the reeseet right ere”
Bravely I added. “I will give you $30 if you get me there in time. Now Step On It!”
Now acutely aware I sounded like something from a ‘straight to TV’ movie I waved the money at the drivers companion who gladly pulled his torso back in from the open window and gestured the cash in the air like a golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
If I’d turbo charged the engine myself I doubt it would have had more impact than the extra ten dollar proffer now appeared to make. My septugenarian 'Caribbean Lewis Hamilton' ploughed his way through the traffic like a maniac possessed. I was now more in fear of losing my life than missing the flight.
“We will do it gurl.. don’t choo worry your pretty ed” He laughed and made off like a bullet, steering wheel in one hand and a stack of crackers ten high in the other. He munched and blew out the crumbs all over his companion who seemed ill bothered by his manners as he asked me if I was married and where was my husband.
“He’s in Thailand.” I offered. “My husband is a professional golfer (that bit always fills me with pride.. i love the initial surprised response!). He is currently out there playing a tournament”
In an about turn from the norm, ‘Caribbean Lewis Hamilton' did not seem in the least bit impressed.
“why don’t choo leave dat husban of yours and cum stay in Grenada wit me? Den you will be in no urry.I have a big ouse just for me… we can go to de beach.. I will cook you fresh fish and roti, I Know i will make choo appy gurl”
Whilst I was sorely tempted by the offer of the Roti, an amazing curry parcel native to the Islands of the caribbean and utterly delicious, I politely declined my suitor in favour of my current status and urged him to pay attention to the oncoming traffic instead of me.
His hollerings from the taxi van offered to the obstructing vehicles we overtook were choice to say the least. There was nothing ‘calm and relaxed’ about this Grenadan. I was thinking to myself, all this ‘chill out… take your time’ attitude we are so familiar with in this part of the world causes more stress than actually just getting on with what you need to do. I suppose I am guilty as the next western european of needing to rush through life, of being a slave to a schedule and feeling the constant need to plan ahead and be punctual when travelling at all times. But the laid back approach to my blind panic today had only caused me to stress out even more. There was very little sense of urgency displayed by anyone up until this point… and now I had incentivised my guardian with the prospect of a ten dollar tip… he was careering through the back streets of the island like a man possessed… much in contrast to the ‘chilled out’ traffic crawling around him.
‘I’m going to die in this taxi, stressed, sweaty and late’ I thought. Worrying about it wasn’t going to change a darn thing so I resigned myself to my fate.
However on arrival at the airport the stress tables turned and I instantly became enamoured by the slowly slowly approach to the order of the day when I hurtled towards the check in desk, convinced I’d missed the flight.
“Don’t choo worry gurl” the chilled out attendant offered. “its aaaall good. Choo have plenty o time” and she casually tap tap tapped away at the computer checking me in, her giant pink talons, curling back on themselves looking more like langoustine than finger nails and smiling away to herself like life was aalll ggoood.
Relieved, I waited in the departure lounge, perspiring, shaken, hungry and fatigued after only two hours of my day… and readied myself to board.
When eventually seated in 24A, jubilant at having three seats to myself and therefore the prospect of a refreshing nap-ette, the captain spoke to us all over the PA system.
“I’m afraid ladies and gentleman we are experiencing some serious technical difficulties with the aircrafts engine starter system. We will have to ask you all to disembark the plane back into the terminal whilst we attempt to rectify this situation. We are very sorry”
Four hours later I was still sat there wondering why I had bothered stressing myself out so much this morning. If I had missed the flight, I had missed the flight… nobody would have died. I’d just cause myself more grey hair. And for what?
The cruise I have just completed is cruise number 9 of 13 consecutive cruises I am performing onboard for Celebrity Cruises this winter, whilst being based out of the US and the caribbean for this duration of 12 weeks. I have another 24 days to go of my 75 day stint here and I am having an absolute ball. I was fortunate enough for Steve, my husband to be able to travel with me for four of those weeks over the festive period and whilst it is much harder without him here naturally, I am well aware how completely blessed I am to be able to call this my job.
I have lots of stories to regale over the period of my travels here. I will enlighten you with those at various intervals as I go along. I haven’t written a blog for a while now… the simple reason being I have been too darn busy trying to make the most of this incredible opportunity.
Every few days I have been packing up and moving on and trying to get to the airport this morning is but one of the calamitous instances I regularly find myself entailed in as I traverse from ship to ship… bouncing about the celebrity fleet like an eager child, thrilled to be being paid to avoid the British weather and dark nights at the present time.
Last week I stayed overnight in beautiful hotel on the Marina in Phillipsburg, St Maarten. I had disembarked the Celebrity Reflection and was waiting for the Celebrity Summit to arrive the next day. As I sat there on the balcony of my room looking out over the crystal waters I was mesmerised at the literally hundreds and hundreds of white butterflies that danced in the breeze like tiny feathers. At first I had mistaken them for light, sun bleached leaves but their constant changing of direction betrayed them to be alive and I marvelled at the phenomenon of how very many there were gathered in one place at one time. Unlike anything I had seen before.
I was on my own and for a moment, sad I had no one to share this unique spectacle with. Then I stopped myself from beginning to wallow and appreciated what I was seeing all the more as a thought occurred to me
“Happy is he who gets paid for what he would happily do for free”
I’m a lucky, lucky Gurl.
