Dateline: February 8, 2014

Every once in a while the universe will send you a gratifying confirmation that you are not a complete idiot, (or at least that you have taken the right fork in the road, just this one time). We got one of these delightful cosmic messages at the airport in Antigua upon departure to St. Kitts-Nevis when we learned that our fellow Dominica-bound LIAT passengers were still holed up at El Cheapo Airport Hotel waiting for the weather to calm. Three days later! (Thank you, Jesus! for giving us the good sense to stuff Dominica entirely and loll about at our final destos an extra day each instead.) Note: everything you will hear about Dominica is positive, and fans of the island border on fanaticism when describing the pristine, unspoiled natural beauty of the place. Unfortunately we were told that it is a fairly common occurrence that you can’t get there due to prohibitive wind conditions, so bear that in mind when making your travel plans. (It remains the least developed of all the Caribbean isles, perhaps for good reason.)

Feeling smug (because we managed to retain our wheelies again as carry-ons) we approached the gate (now very, very, very early for our flight to St. Kitts-Nevis) where a gorgeous young man in a starched white shirt and creased black trousers approached and inquired politely if we were Mr. and Mrs. Soandso. Not one to miss out on an opportunity I replied, “That depends. Would we want to be them?” Yes, it turns out, we would. The Soandsos were meeting their private jet captain (the handsome child who looked a lot like Justin Timberlake, now that I think about it) for their charter flight. Ah, so that is how the “other half” lives (and avoids the inconveniences of public transit and Economy class). Oh well. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s private Learjet, eh?

The final leg of our Caribbean adventure, the dual-island nation of St. Kitts-Nevis is the smallest country in the Americas, both in terms of size and population. Together about 53,000 inhabitants populate these tiny islands which are separated by a narrow – two mile – ocean channel that takes about 45 minutes to cross by public ferry. (I’m sure the Soansos take the chopper over – five minutes, tops.) The rest of us will need to know that the international airport is on St. Kitts and it has daily service in and out to both Miami and New York. British Air also flies in a couple times a week from London. (Probably why a goodly percentage of our fellow tourist types on St. Kitts were from England.)

Like the other Caribbean countries we visited this one has the archeological remnants of an early “archaic” people who never got around to making ceramic eating utensils or planting crops. These primativos disappeared, nobody knows why, but eventually a more “evolved” society of agriculturalists moved in about the same time Christianity was getting going on the other side of the globe. As elsewhere in these parts, these guys (Arawak Indians) were ousted rather violently by the Caribs who themselves got a “hi-bye” from the Spanish in the late 1400s. (Columbus claimed the islands for Spain without any kind of permanent settlement. St. Kitts is actually the short form of St. Christopher.) Next up the French and British passed St. Kitts-Nevis back and forth for several centuries.

The colonial period of course meant slavery in a very big way, first, for St. Kitts’ brief and unsuccessful foray into tobacco exportation. (Tobacco was an instant failure; they simply couldn’t compete with Virginia in the States, even WITH slaves!) When tobacco cultivation gave way to sugar, the island became a monoculture producing nothing else for more than 350 years and dominating the agricultural picture until 2005 when the government owned Sugar Corp finally gave up the ghost. Today tourism is the economic mainstay. The majority of the current population on St. Kitts and Nevis are descendants of those early African slaves.

You can still circumnavigate the island on the centuries-old train tracks that moved the sugar cane from the fields, if that’s your thing, and, because a lot of the old plantation manors were bought and renovated as Inns and Hotels, you can opt for the luxury of staying at one of those instead of the big resorts like Marriott on St. Kitts or the Four Seasons on Nevis. We chose the former and we were really glad we did.

A little bit about our digs: Ottley’s Plantation Inn is owned and operated by an extended family of Americans who originally hail from somewhere in the Northeast. Perhaps they consult the January/February weather temperatures from “home” each morning and that is why they are so relentlessly cheerful, but a nicer more welcoming bunch of expat Yanks will be hard to locate anywhere. They had me at the “welcoming fresh fruit punch” at check in. Once an 18th century sugar plantation, the inn currently sits at the heart of 35 acres of sloping mountainside, completely surrounded by rain forest. A network of nature trails immediately adjacent to the main house offer glimpses of monkeys and more flora than would please a world class botanist. Marty, one of the principles, leads daily afternoon hikes and provides informative lectures to any comers. Like the love child of Carl Sagan and Bill Nye, the science guy, Marty’s love of all things Ottley’s Plantation make a simple walk through the forest a highlight of your day. I would say, to my utter amazement, I was captivated by his guided tour. (But, do put on the deet. Mosquitos galore.)

The main house is restored but not in a fussy way that inhibits your comfort. You don’t get the sense that the joint is a museum, it’s more like a step back in time to a truly gracious and welcoming hospitality. Our spacious room on the first floor looked out over the sweeping lawn down to the pool and restaurant pavilion and beyond that all the way to the sea. Just past the restaurant there are a number of newer stand-alone bungalows, each with its own private plunge pool and nothing but forest to interrupt your view down to the ocean. (These were obviously newer construction and beautiful and private but we wanted the “old plantation” factor that the main house provided.) Honeymooners might opt for privacy, though.

You are a good shuttle ride (provided once each day) down to the nearest beach, or into the town of Basseterre (where the ferry will take you over to Nevis) and there is rumored to be decent golf on the island. We somehow never felt the need to chase a tiny white ball around on acres of green manicured lawn, so on this we cannot accurately comment. Lots of our fellow tourists rented cars but, be forewarned, this is a place of dicey mountain roads and citizens who insist on driving on the wrong side of the road. Driving here is not an enterprise for the faint of heart.

Up at Ottley’s, other than the nature trails, there isn’t much to do other than bask in the sloth of utter relaxation, lie by the (quite nice and big enough to do laps) swimming pool, or get a massage up in the rainforest “spa” pavilion. The website boasts a tennis court, but, you wouldn’t see Roger Federer playing on it. And, we did have some laughs using the croquet set that you can check out from reception, but, I suspect that nobody goes to Ottley’s for the lawn sports. It looked as if there were some evidence of a nightlife in Basseterre, and there’s none at the inn, so be ready to pay for a taxi or manage the drive if you must do karaoke.

Otherwise, the restaurant on the premises suited us fine for 3 dinners, one lunch, and 3 brekkies. I would even say it was some of the best food in all of our Caribbean travels and definitely the nicest ambience. A perfectly decent wine selection and not outrageous, too. The only downer was the big table of loud, obnoxious Americans who had come up for dinner (on a junket) from the Marriott, on our last night there. (But you can hardly hold the establishment responsible for them. It did make us really happy that we hadn’t STAYED at the big M though. That much I will say.) I’d go back in a heartbeat to St. Kitts and Ottley’s but maybe next time I’d spend a night or two over on Nevis and I’d have Justin Timberlake fly me over.

Dateline: February 3, 2014

Bound for the relatively unspoiled island of Dominica on another, (delayed by several hours) LIAT flight, we learned first hand the true meaning of the location, “Windward Islands”. What it means is, you will not be served any beverages, either alcoholic or non, (no matter how much you beg), you WILL stay in your seat and keep your seatbelt firmly snugged against your tummy, no trips to the tiny potty closet, (no matter how badly you have to go), and you will never actually get to Dominica, (although not for lack of trying on the part of the intrepid cockpit crew). You have to give them points for persistence. Three aborted attempts to land the aircraft before at last throwing in the towel and heading to Antigua instead makes for a truly thrilling late afternoon and evening. (As close as I have ever come to actually using the airsick bag.)

At the airport we avoided waiting in the long queue for the vouchers provided by LIAT for accommodations by just going directly to our lodgings at the Admirals Inn at Nelson’s Dockyard a couple days early. (I’m sure the “free” hotel was lovely, and I’m sure the “complimentary” meals were scrumptious, and I do have some regrets about missing out on Dominica, but, I can be decisive when fate tells me to be.)

Antigua is the main island of the nation of two islands known collectively as Antigua and Barbuda. Antigua means “ancient” and Christopher Columbus gets credit for bestowing this name on the place. (He also named Dominica, Spanish for “Sunday” because it was a Sunday when he first caught sight of the place, or so the story goes.) There is evidence that the Native Arawak people populated Antigua from as early as 1100 AD and the usual struggles between this native group and the Caribs from Venezuela dominate the island’s history until the Europeans arrived in the fifteenth century. The first significant settlement of Europeans didn’t take hold until the mid 1600s when the British moved in and started cultivating sugar. The Brits of course needed labor but the native population succumbed pretty early on to diseases that they had no immunity from so the plantation types had to import slaves from Africa. It is an interesting little factoid that at one point on Antigua a majority of the slave labor force was imported from Ireland. True. The history of the colonization of Antigua is pretty similar to most of the other Caribbean island nations except for a particularly gruesome period of torture and mayhem, even murder on the part of the slave owners. We could detect not even a smidgeon of racial tension or lingering hostility. I guess all is forgiven and folks have moved on. (Oddly, the very ground upon which dozens upon dozens of slaves were burned at the stake is now the Antiguan Recreation Grounds. Say, what?!) Eventually, as everybody knows, the notion that human beings should be bought and sold as chattel and executed at whim, became increasingly unpopular, (even in England) and by the mid 1800s slavery was completely abolished.

I was kind of amazed at the naval museum in the area known as Nelson’s Dockyard, (a shout out to Horatio Lord Nelson who was rumored to be kind of a prissy dick) which houses a lot of artifacts from the period when the British used this harbor to repair sailing vessels. The entire boatyard is remarkably well preserved and currently houses a lot of quaint shops, and restaurants including the Inn itself (where we stayed) and a great bakery just steps away out the back door.

Today the restaurant in the Admirals Inn commands the torch lit patio space in between the Inn proper and the harbor. The lobby and bar occupy the first level and the second level houses the rooms. Ours looked down on the patio and the harbor beyond. As soon as we arrived, we chucked our bags into the room, splashed a little water on our travel-weary faces and ran down to catch a late dinner. The food was great. Fresh fish and perfectly steamed vegies. Good warm bread and a nice bottle of vino. The cares of the day rapidly receded and became, (obviously) just another amusing story in our LIAT Airlines collection.

We took a daylong tour which covered the entire island (87km in circumference), and visited the site of another significant historical locale, the fort where the Brits watched the American rebel supply ships sail past during the Revolutionary War. Also on the day’s itinerary was a cliff top view down to the drug and alcohol rehab facility owned (in part) by Eric Clapton, The Crossroads Centre. Can I make it known here and now that if I ever do need rehab, THAT is where I want to go? It looks like a mighty fine location to get sober. They say that old Slowhand, (when he’s on the island), bumps about like any old geezer and even sometimes shows up at local pubs to “sit in”. We did not see him, nor were we invited to tea at the clinic. Next, time, E.

There’s a great gallery full of island-made art and kitschy souvenirs just a couple blocks down the main road from the hotel and there’s a super little diner in the “mall” on the same road. The owner has “rooms to let” for the itinerant little army that moves about the Caribbean to crew on the gorgeous yachts that are attracted to English Harbor. In my next life that looks like it could be a fun way to kill a decade as long as I can get the patch for seasickness. It’s easy to kill an afternoon just gawking at the rich people and their boats.

Be aware that there’s no usable beach at the Inn; you have to get shuttled over by one of the hotel’s staff to the beach across the harbor in a little tiny dinghy, but that was actually a fun excursion. Don’t miss the hike (easy but wear shoes not flip flops) past the yacht harbor up the hill to the remainders of the fort. Miraculously, we had the whole place to ourselves. (I guess only the plebes partake of the sweat inducing exercise. Nary a yachty was spotted even though we could have literally thrown a rock onto a half dozen one-percenter decks from the top of the climb, (had we been spiteful).

We had a spectacular dinner (with a great bottle of wine from a stunning wine collection) at Hamilton’s Bistro while pretending to be rich and famous.

The only advice I might extend to others regarding Antigua is, you’re going to hear a LOT about some place called OJ’s, supposedly a “must do” kind of place. I found it to be over priced and over hyped and I was really sorry that we wasted our money and our time finding it and eating there. There’s better. But, then again, the beach there was spectacular, so if you’re a location/view-over-food kind of traveler, forget everything I just said.

Next desto: St. Kitts and Nevis. Two islands, one country.