Wednesday, January 26
I wasn't excited about a 6:20 AM flight from Atlanta. Especially after a week's worth of ICU kicked my butt. Though I was waking up at 5 AM for seven days while on ICU, I actually woke up earlier on the morning of my flight at 3:30 AM in order to catch my flight. But it wasn't that bad. No traffic going to the airport. No one in the airport. I caught a relatively empty flight to Miami and I was asleep for most of it. And Miami was no different. I landed and made my way to AA297 to catch my 10:55 AM flight to Saint Lucia. I ate breakfast at Au Bon Pain; I'm a sucker for their cheese danishes. On my flight to Saint Lucia I had an entire row to myself. My one and only complaint was the loud old guy behind me who seemed more obnoxious even for someone who was likely to be loud and old anyway. Everyone on the plane oohed and aahed once we landed. Blue skies were aplenty. We deplaned out on the runway itself; always a good sign. It made the half hour line at customs pass real quickly.
I wasn't excited about a 6:20 AM flight from Atlanta. Especially after a week's worth of ICU kicked my butt. Though I was waking up at 5 AM for seven days while on ICU, I actually woke up earlier on the morning of my flight at 3:30 AM in order to catch my flight. But it wasn't that bad. No traffic going to the airport. No one in the airport. I caught a relatively empty flight to Miami and I was asleep for most of it. And Miami was no different. I landed and made my way to AA297 to catch my 10:55 AM flight to Saint Lucia. I ate breakfast at Au Bon Pain; I'm a sucker for their cheese danishes. On my flight to Saint Lucia I had an entire row to myself. My one and only complaint was the loud old guy behind me who seemed more obnoxious even for someone who was likely to be loud and old anyway. Everyone on the plane oohed and aahed once we landed. Blue skies were aplenty. We deplaned out on the runway itself; always a good sign. It made the half hour line at customs pass real quickly.
Within thirty seconds of making it outside to ground transportation, a taxi-cab driver took my bag, asked where I was going, and said, "Okay then, I will take you." I negotiated the cab fare, and we were off. My taxi driver was a very pleasant guy. We passed by a small fishing town of Laborie. Later on, we passed a small village where a young schoolgirl started chasing us down. "Her father's also a cab driver," he said. "We're great friends." We were heading west on the Southern Road, a windy and rough road that connects the main airport at Vieux Fort and Soufriere. It was a half hour drive. I was happy about my decision not to rent a car. Difficult driving conditions for sure. Then add the little detail that drivers were on the left side of the road.
My taxi driver told me that it was "starting to warm up again." Christmas time is the coldest, reaching a "low" of 50 to 60 degrees. It was 86 degrees when I landed. I told him about the blizzard in the states, including the most recent one in the northeast. My taxi driver told me about the hurricane that hit Saint Lucia hard in November 2010. "We hadn't had a hurricane in thirty years." Turns out, it left its mark, with several landslides causing temporary obstructions to traffic. A later taxi driver would show a part of the road from Soufriere to Canaries, where a landslide wiped out a house, killing six family members within it.
My taxi driver told me that it was "starting to warm up again." Christmas time is the coldest, reaching a "low" of 50 to 60 degrees. It was 86 degrees when I landed. I told him about the blizzard in the states, including the most recent one in the northeast. My taxi driver told me about the hurricane that hit Saint Lucia hard in November 2010. "We hadn't had a hurricane in thirty years." Turns out, it left its mark, with several landslides causing temporary obstructions to traffic. A later taxi driver would show a part of the road from Soufriere to Canaries, where a landslide wiped out a house, killing six family members within it.
I oohed and ahhed as we passed the beautiful Twin Pitons: Gros and Petit Pitons. Soon, we passed through the town of Soufriere. It is a simple town pitched north of the Pitons. Buildings were no taller than two stories high. Not particularly crowded. Natives and tourists were out and about. We moved through the town and back up another windy road, where we finally found my hotel. Again, this was when I was thankful, again, that I wasn't driving. My taxi driver, after consulting with a few passersby that we were at the right hotel, starting up a fifteen-degree steep slope, for about five-hundred feet, all the way to my hotel. I was amazed by how he maneuvered his rickety red van. He took my bags out and walked me to the reception desk. He rang the reception bell. I had arrived to the Mago Estate Hotel.
"We were expecting you," the receptionist Cara told me. "Your rum punch is awaiting you at the bar." I was quite happy. It was about 4:30 PM. "I also have upgraded your room. But I will show you both rooms, in case you don't want to change." I told her, "I'm sure I'll be fine with the upgrade." She insisted on showing me the rooms. She showed me the first room, near the entrance. A single hotel room. I was struck by the large open window overlooking the forest. Then she led me to the Brutus room. I saw a nicely made bed facing an even larger open hole in the wall. I looked outside and not only could I see Soufriere, but I could see the Pitons in the background overlooking the harbor. I walked into my bathroom, which I noticed was open to the outdoors. I was perfectly content. It was a welcome change from 41 CCU in the hospital. Not surprised, I told her I was happy with the upgrade. A pleasant man named Toby took my bags to the room. Cara walked me over towards the pool. She neglected to mention en route the lovely pool with poolside chairs facing towards the Pitons, Soufriere, and harbor. She also wasn't kidding because a guy named Jason had a rum punch cocktail waiting for me. "Welcome, Jeff." Welcome to Saint Lucia!
I enjoyed my rum punch but it was overshadowed by the amazing scenery. The hotel was built onto the side of a cliff. I walked through the Treehouse (it is what it sounds like), the Jungle Room, and finally into the Dining Room. I found myself talking to Jason for a bit. Jason is a huge futbol fan. Born on the island of Martinique (an hour or so north by ferry), he says he travels all over the islands to play futbol. He's a forward. He pulls for Arsenal. (He laughed when later that night I busted out a Chelsea jersey.) For the next two hours, I explored the grounds. I found myself running up and down random outdoor stairways, checking out random viewpoints, including open access rooftops. I found one rooftop with an unobstructed view of the Pitons and Soufriere. It was here that I simply laid down for an hour. It was completely unproductive. And lovely.
I rang the dinner bell since I was starving. The tomato and fish soup was orgasmic. I asked the waitress what the fish was in the soup and she replied, "I don't know, but it's the fresh catches of today." I was pleased with that response. The entree was a sweet and sour pork served with rice, tomatoes, and carrots. It was good. But the soup dominated the meal. Well, that and the view. During the meal, a cat approached and nestled up on a perch by my table. He looked at my food and then looked at the view. He fell asleep towards the view.
I retreated to my room. I showered. And it was a new experience: it's weird showering but still feeling the night breeze. But I was content. Relaxed and fed, I sifted through all the brochures and magazines in the room (as I always do) and started garnering ideas for my trip. But before I knew it, I was ready to call it a night. I hopped into bed and untied the mosquito nets. I heard jazz from the streets of Soufriere. I heard the tree frogs chirping and leaves rustling. I passed out instantly.
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