The Ship
Club Med had come to town overnight: a five-mast sail-cruiser floated serenely in the middle of the bay. A guy in the street told me that there were over 300 people aboard. This should have brought big business to the village, although apparently it’s not a patch on the usual. Charlotteville is a busy place.
I saw surprisingly few passengers on the street, despite the small flotilla of orange lifeboats that ferried them to-and-fro.
The sun peeked out half-way through the clouds and I went back to pick up the camera. There was no sign of Mathio or his friends. Even so I felt rushed and became careless with shooting. An old lady muttered about having her picture taken without permission. I tried to appease her by handing her my card, but she snorted and handed it back. It was the silly one with the lorikeet on my head. Damn, I usually make a point of asking permission.
By the time I had joined the queue behind some stupid Germans in the internet café, I was almost in tears. It’s my own fault; I should never have come here.
The heavens opened and it was well after lunch before the sun came out once again. Almost the entire morning had been wasted waiting to get online. What was worse was that there was a free LAN cable. I thought of getting the EeePC, but the thought of Mathio waiting for me kept me firmly away. However, he would hardly be sitting out in the rain, so I sneaked back with a tin of chicken Viennas, some crackers and a carton of Chocnut. Thus refreshed, I decided to head out to Pirate’s Bay before the liming crowd got back out of their shelters.
Jimmy had gotten up with the roosters too this morning, but not to write. He went for a four mile swim and told me that the viz was great and the water was calm. So it proved to be, but there was no sign of the mask. It must long since have been found by someone, probably one of the rich cruise ship passengers.
The family that I met on my first day was there again, and the man enquired politely about the mask—which took away my hope that they may have found it. Otherwise the beach was nearly deserted. A man was lying on a towel, reading a book and a couple had taken over the secluded spot near the cove. The ship’s passengers had disappeared without a trace, and I saw why when the cruiser glided silently past us and out of the bay, unfurling three of its great sails.
If it wasn’t for the passengers, I would have loved to be on board.
Tags: Americas, Charlotteville, Tobago, Tag Index
Denni
December 22nd, 2008 at 05:11
I had a similar experience while living in a little town in Alaska – the cruise ship’s little zodiacs ferried them in, they bought a few things (thought not as many as they could have) and they left. It was an interesting mix of fairly cool older folks and some really strange younger ones. Our cruiseship wasn’t nearly that pretty – no sails.
January 3rd, 2009 at 21:06
Most of them are less than pretty, like floating towns!
I’ve seen the same in Greenland. One of the passengers was actually complaining about prices in the local supermarket!
They’re strangely tight-fisted after paying so much for the voyage.