A Different Verve

As we distanced ourselves from the steaming ferry boat, sheer confusion found itself pockmarked across my face. My brow wrinkled and folded, as my group joyfully crossed the threshold into the dock of Port Elizabeth, on the island of Bequia. This diminutive isle is an iconic visitor’s paradise amongst all of the islands which litter the illustrious turquoise waters of the nation of St. Vincent and the Grenadines. My eyes widened at the locale of the port which seemed to be partially stuck in time. Almost every construct, each limited by two stories, was old fashioned and made of colorfully painted wooden material. The voices of my colleagues dulled to a slight murmur, as I saw a nearby shoddy cart, full to the very brim of deep green coconuts. Adjacent to the cart laid a small van of scarlet. Its spacious tray gave support to a raised metal structure covered with red and white stripped vinyl. On the inside of the tray were bench-like seats neatly padded and covered in leather. Understanding dawned as I realized that the vehicle represented public transport on the isle. The driver of the vehicle sat comfortably with one leg sprawled out on the dusty roadside, holding a stark black telephone headset to his ear and mouth in easy conversation. Drifting away from my group, with perplexity for company, I ventured closer. My proximity, coupled with a pause in his dialogue, revealed short bursts of static noise coming from his direction. While relief greeted me, I simultaneously identified his contraption as an old fashioned but portable marine radio. Simple, effective and exactly what this island needed. These aspects all represent the vital tourism sector and supports the economy of St. Vincent; a stark difference from the oil rich nation and metropolitan lifestyle of Trinidad. This experience, just a small part of many during the visit, can only be described as the phenomenological rupture that gave me insight into the verve of the Caribbean. How delightful it was.