How can I be running behind already?

Wrote the post below yesterday, but stayed in because it rained buckets. We finally got the wireless problem sorted this noon, so here's the news from Wed., Feb 8.

Sitting with the first cup of coffee on the roomy covered porch of our downstairs flat at the Pink House, under a cloudy sky that apparently dumped rain last night. It’s been doing that every night, leaving the days mostly dry. It’s our second accommodation, after three nights at the Frangipani. We’re here for about two weeks, and this is the place where I’m supposed to be able to hop on the Internet with “no problem, Mon.” Evie, my upstairs neighbor from London, is trying to get us help with that. She’s long-time friends with our landlady, who is home in chilly Britain. Evie and George stay here four months a year. Until we solve the connection problem, I can walk down the hill to The Fig Tree, where they have free wireless, and I’ll be able to upload my posts from time to time.

Ah, this very moment we hear soft rain sweeping down the hill and passing us by, leaving a cool breeze behind. It’s sweet.

Yesterday we had our first visit to a yacht. We’ve been in a lot of harbors and met many yachties, but this was our first invitation aboard. We met Sue and David about four years ago, on Carriacou, and when we saw them here we shared some pictures we took at a party we were at together then. They sail six months a year, on their smallish boat -- it’s 32’ I think. Those are some close quarters! David picked us up in his dinghy at the jetty, and gave us a thorough tour of the boat, including explaining all the safety features, how compartments can be closed off watertight in case of a hole in the hull, the emergency signal system, stuff like that which I wouldn’t want to have to think about. Which is why I don’t spend a lot of time on the open sea in small boats. Sue made coffee and some yummy almond cake, which she cooks in the pressure cooker, giving it an interesting texture. Sue and David are humorous and genial -- you’d have to be, to spend half the year cooped up together like that. And courageous. And hospitable -- they’ve invited us to visit them in England when we hopefully go next fall. They live near Southhampton.

It would have been fun to stay longer in the old fashioned room upstairs at the Frangipani, the one with the bathroom down the hall, because of the entertaining neighbors. Gerhard, a friendly German about our age, comes every year. We recognized each other from past years. He was part of a literary group that convened each evening around sunset on the common balcony blue benches, where a former British professor of the classics was reading The Aeneid aloud. A gentle bookish couple from Connecticut and the wife of the professor rounded out the group.

Now we are up the hill in our amazingly roomy digs. We have no ocean view, and less breeze than down by the water, which probably accounts for the best price I’ve seen for any accommodation on Bequia. I won’t mention it here in public -- competition for a place to rent can be fierce. Here we have the spacious porch, well outfitted kitchen, comfortable living room furniture, ceiling fans, and the biggest bedroom I’ve ever slept in.

We run into Ricky and Mabel, from Toronto, when we walk around town, and usually stop to chat. We got to know them three years ago, and kept in touch some, through the Trip Advisor forum for Bequia. Rick is a social animal, and organizes parties and trips, and frequent drinking opportunities at the New York Bar, Maria’s French Cafe, The Step Down Bar, and all the other places he’s discovered in his many years coming here. He’s s retired conductor on Via Rail, and I imagine he was one of those gruff joking ones. The Canadian gang he hangs with seems to be in an ongoing congenial competition for alpha male, trading jokes and opinions, loudly. Funny, that’s not the stereotype of Canadians I was exposed to in Washington state. Maybe all those “nice polite” ones live in BC, and the middle of the country is a bit rougher. But they are fun. We’re more likely to visit in the daytime, and avoid the more serious drinking occasions.

Best food mention of the day: Yesterday we braved the endless wait for callaloo soup at The Green Boley.

Usually callaloo is swizzled into a puree, and I have no complaints about that. It’s cooked from the leaves of a taro-like plant (or maybe it's actual taro with a different name) that is a staple here, and it’s served everywhere. Sometimes it includes crab -- I even made it that way myself at home once, with spinach since it’s hard to find callaloo in the states. But at the Green Boley it’s hearty with little dumplings and bits of beef, and just as peppery as you could wish. I don’t know if they still do it, but last time we were here it was cooked over a fire out back of the restaurant. It’s just special. And next time I’ll take a book to while away the time waiting.

A cranky woman came in and asked Liston, the proprietor and bartender, if there was service out front at the picnic tables overlooking the water, and he said, “Yes, but it might take a while.” She harrumphed off, but was beginning to get the picture. Looking for fast service anywhere here is not a good approach, because you’ll be doomed to disappointment. You might even get your food in a timely manner but your next drink is a long time coming, and then the bill never arrives so you have to chase it down. At the Green Boley, when you’re ready to pay you go up to Liston at the bar, so it’s not a problem. That's Liston in the green shirt.

I’ve had a heck of a time settling down to writing. Everything takes a long time and I seem to only be able to do one thing a day. Tomorrow will be laundry, and it’s a desperate situation. Mulette, the housekeeper, said I should wait for a day when the sun comes out in the morning, and this isn’t it. (We had another little downpour while I was writing this.) Mike has been sketching and painting some in his sketchbook, and now he’s working on his one-a-day small painting (though he’s behind by six days).

Shopping when you are going to be cooking is an all day affair, and one of our days was entirely consumed with that sort of errand. Bread one place, wine another, looking everywhere for butter and discovering it’s not carried anywhere any more, for some mysterious reason. Finally finding cheese, the white cheddar from New Zealand. Trying to identify meat in the freezer case that’s not labeled -- I thought I was getting ham to go with the beans, but when I defrosted it I found I had chunks of the leg of a giant chicken. Choosing produce at several different stalls to get what you want. And stopping for lunch and a couple of Hairouns, the St. Vincent & Grenadines beer. One should be enough, but there’s that wait-for-the-food time to fill in.

I'll wait until tomorrow to get farther on this or it will never be posted. Stay tuned.