St. Kitts is affectionately referred to by the
locals as the “Mother Island” because it was the first British outpost in
the Caribbean.
It is one of the Leeward Islands in the
Lesser Antilles. Don’t worry, no one
knows what the hell that means. Probably
the best way to describe it is to say that it is part of the West
Indies.
On a map, St. Kitts looks like a whale, and the
neighboring island of Nevis sits at the end of the tail like a big round
rock. Technically, they both stand
together as one country: the Federation of St. Kitts and Nevis.
There are about 45,000 people living on St. Kitts and the capital, Basseterre, is tucked away in a cozy bay on the south
side of the island at the base of the whale tail.
Most people on the island are of African descent, speak English, and
charmingly refer to themselves as Kittians.
The neatest thing about St. Kitts is that the
eastern coast faces the dark blue Atlantic Ocean and west side faces the turquoise-colored
Caribbean Sea.
The second coolest thing about St. Kitts is
that the national bird is the pelican. I
love pelicans!
We docked at the cruise terminal around 7 in the
morning and were off the boat by 8, after a yummy breakfast on the sunny fantail.
We were traveling with our friends Richard and
Olga from Bethesda, and Peter and Esther,
our Canadian buddies who we had cruised with once before.
When we arrive at a port, Peter always does
recon, sniffing out the local tour guides and seeing what they have to
offer. And he always finds the best deal.
As we walked onto the expansive dock, Peter was
there with a welcoming smile. “I found a
great tour with Ian, the Lion King.”
Lion King Taxi & Tours
Sugar Land Tours
Mr. Ian Nisbett
Tel: (869) 765-3616/ (869) 664-7858
Home: 465-0397
International: 1-718-355-9484
e-mail: fromthesugarland@hotmail.com
And while his words made little sense, we
implicitly trusted Peter’s judgment and gladly followed him through Port Zante, the airy 27-acre cruise ship terminal and marina reclaimed from the sea. The
architecture was domed, yellow, neoclassical with duty free everything and pulsing
reggae. As usual, Bob Marley provided
the soundtrack for our Caribbean experience.
Outside the terminal it was controlled chaos as
dreadlocked tour guides in guayabra knockoffs hollered at the milling boat people, “Come with me,
Mon. I show you da very best of St. Kitts.”
The tour vans were parked in a line along Bay Road while vendors hawked their colorful wares from the crowded
sidewalk. We definitely were not in Kansas anymore.
Peter led us over to a cream-colored, 15-person
van emblazoned with a flashy “LION KING” logo.
Ian, our friendly guide, welcomed us with open arms, giving each of us a big hug. Joining us on our 6-hour tour of the island were a very nice couple from Cleveland and some newlyweds from Puerto Rico, along with the bride's parents who spoke little or no English.
The cost of a tour was predicated on the number of people. The more you have, the cheaper the tour. With twelve people, the Lion King was only charging $25 per person. What a deal!
St. Kitts is about 18-miles-long and 5-miles
wide. So, it’s easy to see the whole
thing in a short day, even stopping at the premiere hot spots.
We all piled into the van and Ian drove through
the center of town, describing the scenes outside the windows. The first thing I noticed was that there were
no roundabouts or traffic lights.
Traffic converged at stop signs and then jostled together in a honking
scrum.
We drove past Independence Square, the capital’s
chaotic center where Eighteenth Century Georgian buildings and tropical gardens
hearkened back to a time long gone. St. George's Anglican Church and the Fairview Great House and Botanical Gardens stood in
all of their glory like beacons to Colonial rule. You could almost hear the sound of bullwhips
cracking in the wind.
These days, all is not sunshine and roses on
St. Kitts. In Independence Square there was a large, but well-behaved, anti government, pro-democracy demonstration in full
swing.
“What are they protesting?” I asked Ian.
He turned down the reggae blasting from the
stereo and looked at me in the rear view mirror. “Dey are fed up wit da corrupt government dat has been in power for 18 years. We have da second highest per capita debt
in the world. And it tis very hard for many
people in my country.”
The monetary situation on the island is a bit
sketchy. All of the banks are
Canadian. And there is no income
tax. Massive debt would seem to be a
given.
The history of St. Kitts reads like most Caribbean islands.
At a place called Bloody Point, 4,000 Carib
Indians were massacred in 1626.
Supposedly the water ran red for three days when the French and English teamed up for a little ultra violence. And then, when the country
had been secured from the unruly natives, they divided the island into two and went
back to fighting each other.
As we drove past Halfway Tree, the old
demarcation line between the French and British halves of the island, Ian
boiled the truth down to its essence. "Once dey finished stealing all of our resources
we were given our independence."
We headed out of town on the Old Road, which is essentially the coastal highway, past the
rundown remains of the first permanent English settlement in the West Indies, founded in 1624 by Thomas Warner.
Ian waved at a spooky, palm tree-lined, white stone cemetery with a wee grey church in its center at the top of town, facing the sea. “Dat
is da Hotel California, Mon.
You can check in, but you can't check out.”
Our first stop was Romney Manor. The very nice brochure that comes with the
tour of the grounds pretty much says it all:
One of
the most celebrated sites on the island is the oldest colonial plantation and
its mansion, Romney Manor. Established in the 17th century during the first
major stage of colonial development, the property has been owned by only six
families in over 350 years.
Before colonizers gained control of the land surrounding Romney Manor, it is
believed the site was occupied by the village of Chief Tegereman
- the leader of the Carib Indian tribe. Soon after European colonizers defeated
the native tribes, the land came to be owned by the ancestors of Thomas
Jefferson. Many of the structures from the once-successful tobacco plantation
known as the Wingfield Estate date to this early colonial period. Adjacent to
the Wingfield Estate, the Earls of Romney established their own sprawling
plantation and resided over both estates by 1735.
The story of Romney Manor in the 18th century is, in many ways, the story of
the Caribbean. In the fields, African slaves
focused on the cultivation of sugar cane while the Romneys tended to their airy
Caribbean mansion. After the emancipation of
slaves in 1834, sugar production slowed considerably - not just at Romney
Manor, but also throughout the region. As more Caribbean
nations gained independence in the 19th and 20th centuries, plantation farming
came to a halt and colonial structures such as Romney Manor fell into
disrepair.
Today, Romney Manor features one of St. Kitts' most celebrated local businesses
- Caribelle Batik. Using the traditional Indonesian method of treating fabric
with wax to resist dye, the artisans of Caribelle Batik have been creating
their apparel and tapestries for over 30 years. When you visit the site, you
can watch the artists at work and even learn the technique during hands-on
demonstrations. Known for their durability and inventive designs, handcrafted
artworks from Caribelle Batik are some of the finest souvenirs you can find in
St. Kitts.
Outside the main home, you will find some of the most beautiful botanical
gardens on the island. Spread over six acres, the gardens feature many
varieties of tropical flowers and plenty of animal life. At the heart of the
gardens' diverse plant life is a 350-year-old saman tree, also known as a rain
tree. Having seen all stages of St. Kitts' diverse history, this giant tree -
it covers nearly half an acre - has long been one of Romney Manor's most
popular sites.
At the farthest reaches of the botanical gardens, you can even spot the
beginning of the island's dense tropical rain forest. As you walk amongst the
ruins of the oldest plantation in St. Kitts, you can hear the creatures of the
rainforest calling to one another and see the land rise to the volcanic peak of Mt. Liamuiga.
What I remember most about Romney Manor was the
batik shop where I bought a beautiful blue tropical shirt. And the web-limbed rain tree in the front
yard was so bloody big it dominated the entire hillside, drawing us to it like a
magnet.
After that, it all starts to get a bit blurry
because when I came out of the batik shop, there was my buddy Richard with a
big smile and some frosty Caribs – three for $5. And when you start drinking beer in a warm
climate at nine in the morning, you are definitely in for some silly surprises.
Many of the houses we drove by were
unfinished. Some folks just build the
first level with the second floor doubling as a roof, and then construct the rest of the second floor later on when they have the money
and time. Rebar stuck up in the air like spiked hair above the temporary roofs.
There was a large subsidized housing community on the outskirts
of town where the owners were charged $250 a month for 25
years. So, they end up paying $75,000
for a brightly-colored shack with an ocean view. I guess that slavery comes in many different forms.
There are several international universities on
the island, including the Ross School of Veterinary Medicine. Why are
there so many medical schools in the Caribbean?
It seems like every island has at least one.
Our next stop was Brimstone Hill,
a 38-acre stone fortress that is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It was built by the British and was besieged
by the French at the battle of St. Kitts in 1782. The views from the towering ramparts were out of this world, with several nearby islands shimmering in the sunlight.
Next up was Sandy
Point, St.
Kitts’ second biggest city, located on the west end of the island. Ian was, of
course, as is the British custom, driving on the left-hand side of the incredibly narrow road. And it seemed like we were having near misses
all of the time, trying to blindly get around parked vehicles because there was no
on-street parking. The houses were
perched right on the edge of the road, giving the place a fishbowl feel. Driving on St. Kitts in some places takes nerves of steel.
We came upon the Carib Brewery in the middle of town
and asked Ian to stop so Richard and I could load up on some fresh Carib and Skoll lagers – one for each hand.
There aren’t a lot of businesses on St. Kitts.
Most of the sugar cane plantations shut
down about ten years ago because they couldn't compete and were losing money. The only remnant of the island's slavery cane past was
the narrow gauge rail line that had
serviced the largest sugar cane factory in the 1700's, where they made molasses. The carnival train now carts tourists around the island for a narrated glimpse into the marvelous brutality of the island's Colonial past.
We noticed a few small convenience stores and several rundown plants, making concrete
from the native limestone. But most
businesses on the island could easily fit in the bed of a pickup truck.
As with all of the islands in the Caribbean, tourism is tops.
Ian called it, “white candy.”
Our next to last stop was Black Rock, a
volcanic cliff where waves pounded the rocks relentlessly, sending sea spray into the air like white explosions. It was here that we met the "Monkey Lady". Give her a buck and she would let her creepy
monkey on a leash climb around on your head.
Inna thought the monkey was very cute.
Personally, I really like monkeys, but I don’t trust them.
They are always messing with you with those little monkey hands.
Richard and I hung out with this old
coot named Ringo Star who was selling these funky brown coconut shell turtles and
crooked crosses glued to tiny magnets.
Ringo wanted to be paid in beer.
And there were old ladies in flowery print dresses selling dollar beers
from large white coolers. So, it was a
win-win for everybody.
By the time we left Black Rock, it was about
two in the afternoon and Richard and I were pretty lit. We continued our circle tour along the coast
and soon crested a steep hill dotted with expensive creamy houses and flowering cactus. Ian pulled the
van into a large gravel parking area filled with other tour vans and loud vendors selling
trinkets and frosty beverages.
The view was amazing. To our south
was the Caribbean and to the north the Atlantic. Our cruise ship sparkled below us in the
sunlight like a bright jewel.
Behind us lay Friars Bay Beach and Frigate
Bay Beach,
where the Marriott St. Kitts featured two championship golf links –
the Atlantic and Caribbean courses – lushly laid out on the narrow green whale tail.
Richard and I bought another round of Carib
beers and watched the tourons pay to have monkeys crawl on their heads and
shoulders. It was all very amusing.
Ian walked over to our group with an
interesting proposal.
“Every day when we stop here, I do the Lion King
Tourist Link Up on ZIZ 96. I have the radio feed equipment in the
van. The DJ down in town will interview
one of you – you know, ask you a few questions about your visit to St.
Kitts. Who wants to be the spokesperson
for da group?”
“Steve!” exclaimed my fellow tourons in unison.
I was half drunk and thought, “What the hell. Why not?”
At 3 PM sharp, a friendly DJ with a deep Caribbean
voice, came on the air and after a brief intro from the Lion King, the interview
began.
“What’s your name, Mon?” asked the DJ.
“My name is Steve. Steve Carr,” I replied with great gusto.
My friends giggled.
“Where you from, Steve?”
“I am from Washington, D.C.,”
I answered proudly, “and I bring greetings from the great white father, Barack
Obama, who is black.”
The DJ had not been expecting my crazy response and was a bit
flummoxed. “Okay … thanks ... that’s very
interesting, Steve. But how do you like our
island?”
“I LOVE St. Kitts!” I almost
screamed. “Right now, I’m gazing down from a rocky perch atop an extinct volcano, on the luxurious Marriott Hotel where all the rich white boys and girls
dressed in their colorful golfing outfits are hitting their little white balls
around the tropical whale tail, and it’s looks like a smoking hot piece of paradise.”
There was dead silence on the other end. The Lion King was grinning from ear to ear
and nodding for me to continue.
And so I did.
“We’re standing at this amazing overlook above two twinkling seas where
monkeys are climbing on the tourons and there’s icy cold beer for all. Cruise ships are shimmering off in the distance. The Egrets are fishing. The lizards are dancing. The catfish are hopping. And the living is easy. So if you ask me, St. Kitts is the cat’s meow!”
The DJ burst out laughing and then cued some
calypso music to take us on home.
Our group was speechless. But not the
Lion King.
“I have been interviewing tourists for years, but I have never
heard anyone as crazy as you, Steve. Dat was the best! People all over da island
heard dat interview and I bet dey are still laughing der asses off.”
Well, as it turned out, a lot more than the
local Kittians had listened to my little rant. ZIZ
96 can be heard all over the West Indies. And I became an instant celebrity.
When we stopped at Dominica the next day, Peter greeted us as we left the ship,
shaking his head. “Steve. You are a rock star. There are fifty tour guides at the end of this pier, and almost every one of them is waving a sign with your name on it. They all want to be the ones to give you an
island tour.”
I thought he was pulling my leg. But he wasn’t. The islanders had heard me raving on the radio the day
before, and they knew that our ship was coming there next. Every tour guide on Dominica wanted to be the one to show me the sights.
And for the rest of the cruise, whenever we
came into an island port, this scene repeated itself. It became a running joke.
Which just goes to show that when you travel abroad, the unexpected often hits you without warning. So, you need to be flexible and always remember to pack a good sense of humor. And a couple of cold beers wouldn't hurt either.
