Some of my favorite things about sailing the Caribbean islands begin early in the morning. I am an early riser by nature, so when the roosters and goats begin competing on the hillsides above the anchorage at 530AM, it is generally time for me to get up and make a boat check. I get to watch sunrise over the hills in front of the boat (the boat generally faces east at anchor during this time of year because of the prevailing winds, and we try to anchor behind some hill/land for shelter from the trade winds), I watch the light spread across the island and the water, I get to notice the world come alive to a new day, and I generally am alone with my thoughts. Almost always there is activity in the water around the boat whether it is pelicans fishing for shiners, eagle rays skimming the surface, or old cruisers swimming around the adjacent boats taking their morning baths. I like swimming for exercise shortly after dawn when first light is on the water, but I’ll have a warm shower on the transom when I return to flush the salt away. After an air dry, breakfast is never better than sitting in the cockpit listening to the sounds of birds and gentle lap of water on the hull or dinghy trailing like an obedient pony.
Ashore life moves at a similar rhythm. Many people are dawn to dusk and the older ones will wander to the beach to bathe or have a refreshing float before heading off to their employment. People always greet you with a “good morning” or “al’righ”, and if you are lucky enough to be anchored downwind of a bakery (or BBQ shack later in the day) the smell will invite you ashore as your mouth waters for pain au chocolat or fresh baguettes.
Soon the local children will be walking the roadways to school in small groups. Always dressed in uniforms, I love the bright colors of their shirts identifying their school or grade. Whites, reds, yellows, pinks…each a shock of color against the green and blue of the tropical world around us. With their khaki skirts or shorts, and toting their backpack, it is evidence that people take pride in their education on the islands. Most islands have better literacy rates than the US, and each island knows that it generally must supply all its skilled and professional trades from within its younger population because few people move to the islands to permanently work. Therefore, schools are well funded, mandatory and teach a diversity of subjects.
By now the government workers, and every island has tons of government workers, many were British colonies after all, are heading to their offices and settling in for a day of mobile phone surfing or liming. Everything moves at its own pace here, whether it is getting a package through customs or giving a tour at the national museum. Things will happen, but not by a watch. Construction starts again, and the unions have nothing on islanders when it comes to overmanning and wasting resources and manpower on a construction project. We have seen fifteen men working on a 500 sq foot roof, none moving more than 2-3 feet from side to side. This is not criticism, the colonial masters instilled it in the culture generations ago when labor was forced and cheap. The governance and treatment of people in colonies, or “protectorates” is too weighty a subject for 9AM, but needless to say it permeates many parts of daily life still today.
Once ashore on many islands, they drive on the left, in smaller makes of Asian import cars and the smattering of Peugeots, Range Rovers and US trucks. The shops start to open up around 8 or 9, many times simply swinging their shutters away from the open store front. After a wander about the island, some historical sight or running errands, the smells emanating from these little shacks will make your mouth water. Curries, BBQ, and jerk seasoning waft through the air in an intoxicating mix with the salt air and tropical heat. You really cannot go wrong picking food if you have a minimally strong stomach, aren’t afraid of some bones in your meat, and don’t wonder too long about which morning crooner is now lunch, then it all washes down with a lukewarm beer. The people everywhere are always friendly and charming. Many are beautiful with generations of mixing ethnicities all browned by the equatorial sun. Sometimes you sit and watch a game of dominoes or warri played by old men with lots of stories and an irreverent sense of humor.
It is sometimes funny to think that on nearly every island, there are more churches than bars, restaurants and grocery stores put together. Years of missionary work has been extremely successful in the Caribbean. Everything shuts down on Sundays, or maybe Saturday depending on your flavor of religion, and everyone is preached at for a few hours. The modesty and manners are retained for the rest of the week, but these people live each day for that particular moment, and the institutional God-guilt seems lost on this culture.
Back aboard the boat, I’ll knock out a couple chores, alternate between the shade and sun and distract myself in a book, pausing to take in the happenings in the harbor or ashore. A snorkel or swim is generally mandatory in the mid-afternoon as the sun is high and the light good on the reefs. Then another rinse off and air dry on the trampoline with an iced rum drink perspiring in my hand. Now I begin to think about dinner, something grilled on the boat typically sounds good. During dinner it is time to focus aft to see if the sunrise will be a visual kaleidoscope of colors, or merely a radiant ending to another wonderful day. I’ll watch the stars blink on above and check for Venus, Polaris and the Southern Cross; ensuring that all is directionally correct in my world.
I know it sounds a little wasteful and indulgent to lime the days away, but I don’t think there is time in our short lives for planned retirement and waiting for a better time to live the life around you. A volcano eruption, hurricane, tuk-tuk wreck or heart attack is possible on any given day. I see the beauty in stopping the work for a game of dominoes or shutting down for a long lunch with your family or simply liming the afternoon away. These people live in paradise, generally don’t want for much according to their standards, and have found that smiling and being pleasant, even in the most menial jobs dealing with idiot tourists, is a healthier and more productive life worth living. We wander many old church yards on these islands, and cannot help but notice the large number of headstones that read ages in the 80s, 90s, or older amongst the interned. Maybe loving your life, the world around you, and having less self-imposed stress is the key to longevity. Something to ponder over the next rum drink, but not too deeply.