Some time ago I wrote about how an expat can become connected to the chosen community in which they live. Many will make the effort, but some will not. I belong to the former group.

When we decided to make Grenada our permanent home, I started to find ways to become involved in the life of the island. Many ideas were examined and many discarded. Eventually, I became involved with the Grenada Association of Retired Persons, I started working on an oral history of the island and I also began work on compiling information on folk medicine. Then I joined the Grenada Green Group and a few months later the Willie Redhead Foundation, a historic preservation group. Some things worked, I met wonderful people, other things did not, so I narrowed my activities down to what I could realistically manage.
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Not only do I enjoy the work of the Grenada Green Group and now my presidency of the Willie Redhead Foundation, but I now run into people I know all the time. More than that, I have learned of their families, their lives, some come and help me celebrate my holidays.
Grenada is a small island and everyone knows everyone else or is related to everyone.

I now find myself being in some way connected to many people and these connections place you in the minds of people. When mentioning someone, you are often asked “who was she?” or “is he from Mt. Moritz?” Since I do not have such connections, I am often identified by how people know me. The market vendors from whom I buy regularly, just call me the “white lady.” Since not too many white people shop at the market, that description immediately identifies me. The butcher from whom I buy my meat, just calls me “mummy,” an endearing way to identify me. Conversely, if a name comes up in a social context, I can identify that person by the family they belong to or where they live.

These connections make me feel that I truly belong here now and am accepted as part of the island.

After living in Grenada in for almost five years, we have learned to avoid Carnival. It's a bright, colorful and raucous celebration that is very crowded and festive. If you plan to travel to this region during that time, please be warned that it is hard to avoid.  Please enjoy some photos of the multi-day celebration.  

I did not see an ocean or sea until the summer before my 17th birthday. It was not an auspicious introduction.
We had boarded the MS. Berlin, a passenger liner which had regularly ferried people between the Old World and the New. Though by today’s standards she would be subpar, for 1958, she was luxurious.  Once all luggage was stowed, cabin assignments sorted out, on board rules & regulations explained, drawings of the various parts of the ship, stores, eating facilities, library, bars, swimming pool, etc, I immediately went below to our cabin & lay down. I don’t now remember where the rest of my family members were, but I was the only one in our cabin. After about 15 minutes, a knock came & one of the ship’s officers told me to get up & get on deck, no matter how terrible I felt. He assured me that if I did not do this, I would spend the rest of the crossing in my bed. I heeded his advice & the scene on deck was not pretty. Many were leaning over the railing, doing what my mother called “feeding the fish”.

However, the officer turned out to be right & the nausea slowly subsided & as the clouds cleared & the sky brightened, I felt much better. I could now marvel at the vastness of the sea, the gulls that followed us, the hum of the engines & all was well with the world.

The passage took 12 days with a stop in Halifax, Nova Scotia. On-board life was wonderful, with any number of activities, shuffle board, swimming, dancing at night, lounging in the cool sun on deck chairs, with drinks being served by stewards.

​There was one other storm to weather but by then I had my sea legs & could only be amused by the storm’s effect. I was swimming & suddenly all the water sloshed out of the pool, overflowing the surrounding tiles & I was on my stomach in an empty pool.

​The arrival in New York was suitably impressive with Lady Liberty on guard.

We settled in Chicago & it was another 7 years before I saw the sea again. For my second encounter it was the Pacific Ocean in Acapulco, Mexico where a friend & I had gone on vacation. This sea was magnificent with deep colors, a white, sand beach & a great variety of sea birds to watch. Swimming was so easy, the salt water so much more buoyant, the water warm, compared to Lake Michigan waters. I couldn’t get enough of it.

The next year, another friend & I went to Mexico again, this time to Puerto Vallarta, which then was just a sleepy village with 2 hotels. By now I was truly in love with the sea.

  Two years after this trip, in 1968, I went on a Windjammer cruise to the West Indies & saw the Atlantic as well as the Caribbean Sea. It was pure magic, with snorkeling over pristine coral reefs, lazing on powdery white beaches & I was hooked for life.
In 1971 I returned to the West Indies, where my then husband & I ran a large sailing passenger boat for 8 months until it  was sold.
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Our cruises went from the south, the Grenada Grenadines to north, the St. Vincent Grenadines. The seas were kind, the colors magnificent. My crew worked hard to allow me the most time to swim & snorkel, we had lobster every week, life was grand. While negotiations were going on to sell the boat, we were anchored in Trinidad, the Gulf of Paria, with Venezuela visible on clear days. After she was sold, we went to England & I met a very different sea. The North Sea is dramatic, restless, cold, temperamental but awe inspiring to watch. Swimming was a shock to me after the warm waters of Mexico & the West Indies, but that was not the only North Sea experience. My then husband & I bought a coasting freighter to carry general cargo to the Scandinavian countries, Poland, Holland, Belgium & England. We did this for the better part of 9 months.

​The North Sea demands great respect. It can be the roughest, most frightening monster or it can be a marvel of nature, from pancake ice in the Norwegian Fjords to the placid green of the open stretches to the northern lights. When rough, you just hope to either die on the spot or pray for stepping ashore the soonest possible. I remember one particularly bad storm, sitting in my cabin, watching through the port hole, the violent peaks and valleys created by the powerful waves; the pitching of our vessel, making a mockery of the horizon line.  And yet, I loved this awesome sea.

And so, in 2013, we retired & chose Grenada as our permanent home. I now look out at the Caribbean Sea from my house. She is placid, but never the same on any given day. I sit & watch her moods through all seasons & she soothes my soul. Several times a week I go swimming. The water carries me, caresses me, restores me. The beach is ideal for a long walk, people watching, watching boats of all kinds come & go. I look at the tourists & think, they pay thousands of dollars for this & it’s mine any day of the week. I never lose sight of the fact that I’m very fortunate. The sea is my restorative medicine; my friend for the rest of my life.

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