Water water everywhere...

  What kind of person would complain about temporary bowel problems when they are sitting in paradise? Crystal clear waters, swimming pool blue, navy patches in the distance, fluffy clouds in the robin’s egg blue sky beyond. Turtles bob up and down past the boat, along with elegant sting rays, smoothly cutting through the water with their black slick cape wings.

 Well yesterday was a write off. There I lay, in a wooden cabin, turquoise bedsheets no substitute for what beckoned through the cabin window. Watching old episodes of House at noon as the sun swapped with tiny rain squalls through the hatch above my head.

I couldn’t move more than a few feet from the head (toilet).

Last night, as JW and I both leapt up and headed to a head each, we figured we better deduce the cause of our suffering.

Boat life involves a lot of conservation and compromise. One of the taken for granted amenities is water. Not the endless ocean around us, but the safe potable kind.

A few bays ago, (well bays and days ago) in a place aptly called Saline Bay, we found a cheap source of water to fill our jugs. Precisely it was free. An abandoned dock had a hose and water pressure. We couldn’t believe our luck. We hauled all our 20 and 25 litre jugs back and forth a few times and replenished our onboard tank.

But then we realised that it was somewhat contaminated. It tasted a bit salty. We decided to use it only for washing bodies, clothes, dishes.

And then days went by, and in the Tobago Cays, an uninhabited paradise that is also a nature reserve, where you must store your rubbish bags onboard and really dig into your stored foods (had you provisioned properly), we forgot the golden water rule.

I was making tea, coffee, boiling noodles and potatoes all in the contaminated water.

And then it all caught up to me. And then JW.

So a day of cream crackers, flat coke, gingerale, teaspoons of honey, plain yogurt (all suggestions courtesy of Google results), and we’re both up and ready once more.

Ready to acknowledge both how fragile we are as humans, and how lucky we are as individuals. Lucky to be experiencing a little patch of this earth that has kept it’s beauty intact. Where flounder fish with both eyes on one side of their bodies, line the white sand, a testament to evolution, and iguanas prowl the little islands, their armour reminiscent of prehistoric ages.

 Where the children today have decided to make floating rafts on the beach with only natural materials, and there is not a television or video game in sight or mind.

I am off to witness turtles with their kaleidoscope shells, snacking on bits of seagrass on the shallow seabed and then gliding swiftly up for air, unbothered by the clunky goggled swimmers around them. 

 I will handwash the laundry and dump our disturbingly accumulating garbage bags another day, in another place.

And I will respect the water in all it’s forms and acknowledge what it does for us every day.

Chocolate and rum - touring like a tourist in Grenada

It's been a hectic week - lots of cappuccinos, island tours and beach cafes. Rough rough.

Art Fabrik - a sensory delight and store I wanted to live in. All hand made in house batiks.

This has been a 'get to know Grenada' through the eyes of a tourist week. We visited quaint, delicious little curio and clothing shops.  I tried to take more photos, breathe in the colours, the rich emeralds and shocking fuschias. My senses were sharp, raw.

We finally made it to the organic chocolate factory. The universe willed it to happen and we easily gathered a group of cruisers, hired a driver and a van, and set off on a chocolate/rum road trip.

Our driver Cosmus is 78. He's been driving on the island forever. He is pretty much the only driver who takes the sharp mountain turns at a reasonable speed. He doesn't have a death wish, and we don't either, so it worked out well. It took us two hours of hills and valleys, clouds and sun patches, close calls around bends to arrive, but we made it to the Belmont Estate in one piece.

We pre-empted the whole tour protocol by visiting, buying and eating the treats from the gift shop before taking the tour, but it was worth the sin. Dark chocolate cashew clusters, melted in our mouths, on our fingers, and down our chins as we were called over to learn the process.

Sadly, like most agricultural industry in the Caribbean, the Belmont Estate first ran on the sweat of slavery. The big tree at the entrance was a gathering point, where slaves were called using the huge bell that still sits on the bottom branches. For punishment, slaves were hung from it's branches.

After this eery and unsettling story, we are led into the huge barn to see how the chocolate is made, as it has been for centuries.

Chocolate starts as beans inside the white fruit of these cocoa pods:

The beans are dried for seven days and then are laid out in the sun, where they are trampled on from time to time, to spread and turn them.

Walking on the beans.

The beans begin to lose the smell of fermentation and feet as they dry, and begin to take on the rich smell of chocolate.

Cocoa cocoa everywhere! Beans drying in the sun.

The Belmont Estate is fully certified organic and all product is processed completely in-house, no beans are sold or exported before they become cocoa powder or chocolate.

Some of the cocoa beans, ready to be sent down the road to the chocolate factory.

When the dried beans are cracked open, the little nibs inside can be eaten raw or roasted. The Grenada Chocolate Company makes a bar with the crunchy roasted nibs - it's absolutely amazing.

Needless to say, we bought and munched a few of these.

The Estate has recently stopped tours from visiting the actual chocolate factory, so we couldn't see the beans being roasted and blanded into the paste that makes the rich dark chocolate that I've fallen head over heels in love with. Maybe it's better. I might have wanted to stay forever.

Instead, we bought more chocolate and visited their restaurant on the hill above the estate. We watched the magnificent sky turn in seconds from sunny and hot to windy and grey and then open the taps from above. I was actually chilly for one of the first times since arriving in Grenada.

From Belmont we headed to the oldest, traditional method rum factory in the Western hemisphere - at River Rums.

The wheel that crushes the sugar cane has been in operation since the 1700's and was imported from Scotland (JW loved that little piece of trivia).

Sugar cane being fed up the wheel where the liquid is removed.

The waste material is then used for the fire to boil the rum.

Workers moving the sugar cane waste into wagons to be brought down below.

We were led through ancient stinking rooms, where vats of a brownish red muddy looking liquid is hand spooned along, boiling like a giant witches brew. Spiders and cockroach carcasses lie drunk and dead around the vats. I wondered how it was possible that I loved the end product of this filthy process!

From here, the distillation and purification process began.

The end product, a clear white elixir, was offered to us in tiny quarter ounce cups. I still remember the simultaneous burn internally and shiver on my extremities. We were asked if we'd like to buy a bottle but we all declined. I don't think any of us could have survived a whole shot of that!

We ended the tour with an impromptu visit to a roadside fruit and veggie seller. The place called to us as we drove past, and Cosmus happily stopped for us to snap a few photos and buy some fresh fragrant fruit.

Cosmus and Andrea

We arrived back at the marina exhausted and full of chocolate and bananas. Our eyes dozed from sensory overload. Our noses sensing the familiar water life smells, leaving all the tropical red earth and the pungency of it's fruits behind.

We closed our tourist eyes and rum-lined nerves calmed. We slept well, rocked by the waves and wind of spring time in Grenada.

Water water - learning how to conserve

We’ve been away from shore power and a water supply for three days. When we explained to some seasoned cruisers that we’ve used over 120 litres of fresh water in this time, they were horrified. They explained they use 400 litres in more than a month.

One of the many lessons we’re learning is how to conserve. To be conscious of exactly what we consume and just how precious and rare both power and water really are.

And we really thought we were ‘being good’. We have been showering off the back of the boat, first rinsing and lathering up with salt water, then rinsing off with the fresh water. I’ve been only washing dishes once a day and we’ve been washing just the clothes we wore the day before, each morning. This was apparently a big mistake. In hindsight, I’m sure that we’ve gone through 20 litres of water for each shower and another 20 for each clothes wash. Daily. At this rate, we’d never be able to stay away from shore, or be dependent on amenities on land for more than a couple weeks. Though we have two 400 litre tanks aboard Shiloh, and that seems like a lot, we will have to completely curtail our water usage.

It is wonderful to meet people who have been living aboard for years. I sometimes wish I could take out a pad and pen to capture all their knowledge. Last night, standing around with rum punches in hand, we got the insiders’ scoop about the importance of wind generators, about rigging up a tarp to catch rain water, and the need for large jerry cans, to gather water with the dinghy to avoid heading into a marina with the boat.

We also found out why all the cruisers make use of onshore laundry facilities – it doesn’t deplete your water supply!

It really brings to light just how many hundreds of litres of water we spill, waste, pour away every day on land!! It seems almost obscene from this perspective.

Water is a scarce commodity when at sea – I now truly understand the saying, “there’s water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”

 

Chocolate!

Wherever I am living, one of the first things I seek out is the availability of chocolate. Over the past few years I’ve outgrown my love for commercial milk chocolate – of the sugar and wax tasting variety. I have discovered the complex flavour of dark chocolate. It goes so well with red wine! 

In Ghana, I indulged from time to time on Kingsbite, the local chocolate, and marveled that the majority of cocoa beans that left the shores, went out as just that – dried beans. All the processing and profits went into the factories in Europe.

So I was pleased to discover in Grenada that A) there is an abundance of rich dark chocolate, and B) that the entire process is completely organic and local, from cocoa pods, to commercial bars.  And the packaging is just so adorable. It is professional, yet screams homemade with love and care. AND it’s delicious.

You can read all about the completely organic ingredients and processes here. They even have a carbon neutral delivery system to the USA, using only sailboats!!!

Another local delicacy made with the cocoa beans, is hand rolled chocolate balls. They are infused with many herbs and spices from pimento to bay leaf. I bought a package at the Easter Bazaar and we tried two gorgeous cups of fresh Grenada cocoa the other morning. Simple to prepare – one ball per cup, boil in water until melted. Add milk and sugar or honey to taste.

It is like nothing I’ve had before. Though there are hints of chocolate, it is much more like a complex chai. It’s amazing. I’ll be gifting some of those on my next trip to Canada for sure.

Signing off for the day with a decision to make – keep my second bar of chocolate for another day or indulge now? I think the answer is brown. And rich.