THE NORTHERN LINK

My friend Hen and her visiting friend Annemarie, Ernard, McDowell, and I hired Henrik and his van and took our favourite road trip known as The Northern Link.  It connects the west coast and the east coast of the island along the north coast.  It climbs over Morne Aux Diables (2,826ft) and has stunning views both north to Guadeloupe and Les Saintes, and south across  Portsmouth to Morne Espagnol.  The summit is the crater of a dormant volcano.   

The weather was cool, and as we headed to Penville and Vielle Case became quite misty.  We drove through the clouds and decided not to stop and take the ten-minute easy hike in to see the Cold Soufriere where the sulfur bubbles up through the rocks.  We did stop by the side of the road to view the truly awesome verdant mountains and valleys.  On to Pointe Michel and the Chocolate Factory. There Allan Napier grows and makes the best chocolate anywhere.  We were graciously welcomed, given a tour, and shown the process - from tree to pod to bean to drying to curing to bar.  Annemarie bought several bars to take home to the UK.  I bought myself a large bar of ginger chocolate.

Then we headed to the village of Calibishie, walked around a bit, had a lovely leisurely lunch by the rolling Atlantic Ocean, and watched a man out in the ocean collecting winkles (wigo in patois).

From there we drove to Bense and spent some time there.  Both McDowell and Henrik knew everyone and were warmly greeted.   We had intended to go from there to the Chaudiere Pool but decided that since the road was all chewed up by the big trucks working at the new airport site, and we were tired and satiated by the overwhelming scenery we would save it for another trip.

Home to Portsmouth, well satisfied with our day and the outing.

AN ARTIFACT

 Hans and I would have been married for 60 years when he died last summer.  We lived together, as a couple, for 45 of those 60 years.  We were married in the Hampstead registry office in London, July 26, 1963.  We exchanged wide gold wedding bands as was the custom of the times.  He never wore his.  I dont know where it is.  I didn't see it, or find it when I was there.  I did find mine. I had taken it off when I moved to Dominica and left it at home in Perth.

But some years before that, as my finger knuckles were swelling and knotting and becoming arthritic I had to get it cut off.  I could not get it past my now misshapen ring finger knuckle.  Steve, a local artisan goldsmith fashioned a little hinge and catch on it, so I could open it wide and then clip it on.  I wore it like this, safely, for years after, until I  took it off and left it in the Brooke Valley house. Then when I was home this past summer to say goodbye to Hans I found it and put it back on.  I don't know why, we had hardly even talked to each other for the last ten years, but it seemed the right thing to do and I was comfortable doing it. So I kept it on my finger when I came back. 

 After months of gardening, swimming in the sea, hauling stuff around, washing dishes, etc it never opened or slipped.   A couple of days ago I was feeding the dogs in the pouring rain and they were jumping up on me, night was falling.  I had slippery sandals on.  Down I went, onto the muddy cement path, scraped my knees, and had a hard time getting up as the dogs had me all tangled up in their rope.  That evening I noticed that the ring was not on my finger. The catch must have snapped open when I fell. 

I was more surprised at the emotion I felt when I saw it was gone than the fact that it was gone and that I had lost it. Sad.  I figured  I had lost it forever.   How could it not be gone in the rain, and mud, with mad dogs about?  A hunk of 18-carat gold.  I wrote it off.  No point in worrying about it, or grieving its loss.

The next morning dawned dry and sunny,  I went out with my coconut broom to clean up the path where I had fallen down. Sweeping, sweeping, sweeping......and there it was.... lying alone, clean, open, waiting to be found and put back on.

I haven't put it on.  It is safely put away with my other gold jewelry.  An artifact from another life.

A Quiet January '24

I have tried several times over the past week to write something but not much has happened or is happening. 

Christmas and New Year have come and gone.  Carnival opening in  Portsmouth has come and gone and was a success.  We are now awaiting Carnival itself.  I hope to have my iPhone back and camera working by then.

People have been lost at sea, murdered, died, gotten sick, and gone back to the UK, USA, and Canada in the past few months.  Petty thievery abounds. At the same time, people have continued the struggle, survived, and revived.  Dominican resilience has shown itself to be as strong as ever. New friends have been made and there have been some minor successes. 

Today's small success is that I called the vet and actually got him, and spoke to him on the first attempt,  The dogs are growing and are quite big, although not yet fully grown, and haven't been vaccinated.  I am nervous that the female will get pregnant, she needs to be spayed, and the male needs to be neutered. I have procrastinated about calling the Vet because I just knew it would be a frustrating hassle.  But an hour ago I had an inspiration!  Call NOW the 'voice' said.  So I did.  I got the Agricultural Station on the first try, the woman was pleasant and gave me the Vet's number.  I called, and he answered!  I said I am looking for Bryan the Vet, and he said, "Well, darling, you found him."  Great start.  He then told me that there is no vaccine on the Island, but a shipment is expected next week and he will come with it.  I hung up, happy, surprised, and feeling victorious.

The tourist season has been very slow. Shops, street vendors, bars and restaurants, guest houses, and tour guides are struggling. We have managed reasonably well.  I believe this because McDowell does not rely on the tourist trade. McDowell's patrons are local folk.  He cooks an inexpensive, thick, tasty, generous, savory broth (fish or chicken or vegetable) filled with rice, lentils or kidney beans,  green bananas, plantain, dasheen, breadfruit or noodles, and, of course, rum and beer.  He will also make a filling egg and cheese sandwich for you.  Fish in his coconut sauce with trimmings and side dishes and a garden salad is a specialty and a little more expensive (not enough, I say) No fancy lobster dinners.

It has been cold 27 degrees C during the day and 22 C degrees at night. Rainy, Rain and cool temperatures are good for the rum trade!  Portsmouth is dark and quiet at night.  Nothing is open, no one is on the street.  Quite odd.

Note.  I have been using the word 'easy' to describe life in Dominica.  That is the wrong word,  It is not easy to live here.  First of all, this is an island.  If you didn't bring it, it isn't here,  If it is here it rusts, corrodes, tears, won't work, or you have to go to several different shops to get what you need.  Exhausting.  A much more appropriate word would be 'simple'.  Simple, because there is very little choice or it is just not available.