Carl, sporting long locs and a yellow polyester blend tee that hugged his belly of success, picked us up from Maurice Bishop International Airport. We drove through narrow roads surrounded by thick vegetation and Hpnotiq blue water. Beige street dogs (they all looked the same) and the occasional goat sniffed roadside. Carl beeped and waved at nearly every oncoming vehicle. They returned the favor. But not in the American sense of somebody’s-bout-to-get-shot road rage. Grenada’s a small country and everyone knows each other.
We arrived at 473 Grenada Boutique Resort. The owner’s daughter led us to our villa. It was our 10th wedding anniversary and we were upgraded to the baller suite. Not on account of our celebration of swirl love…a pipe had burst in our reserved unit. They moved us into the nicest hotel/resort/Airbnb room we’ve ever stayed in.
After dinner at the resort, we hit a couple of bars. When I think of a night out in the Caribbean, I picture glistening bodies dry humping on a packed dance floor. But, as forewarned by Carl (and the internet), Grenada’s not a party place.
I mean, there were college girls dancing on top of a table at West Indies Brewing Company, but there was also a baby hanging out on Dad’s shoulder. We did our 40 and over two-step to a few songs and then went next door to Junction.
Junction was more of our speed. We watched a dancehall band and ate chicken wings. Amber was finishing up a white rum when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was our other driver, Weno, a friendly guy who had shown us his house and the BMW he uses for luxury pickups. But it was almost 1 a.m. (bar closing time) and he was ready to peace out. Time to go!
We spent our entire Sunday on and around Grand Anes beach. White sand, no litter, and surprisingly not very crowded for an 80 degree day. Thanks to a sun allergy, I hid under sea grape trees while Amber had that donk donking in the ocean. I did get in the water for a quick dip, but that was to show off my lush chest mane, which had yet to be revealed in the Caribbean.
It rained for about an hour and we found shelter at Grand Anse Craft and Spice Market. We ate lambi (fried sea snails) and drank with locals and their chickens. It got dark around 5:30. We grabbed groceries from IGA and caught a ride back to 473.
We’ve traveled a fair amount, but I don’t think we’ve ever done an actual tour. We explore by getting in 20,000 steps a day and/or landing wherever public transit or a rental car takes us. But as mentioned, driving in Grenada takes some getting used to. They drive on the left side and I wasn’t about to learn in four days.
So we booked a full-day group tour across the island with Henry Safari. We swam under Concord Falls, bought a grip of candy bars at Diamond Chocolate Factory, sampled 75% ABV rum at River Antoine Rum Distillery, got a history lesson of the island from my distant uncle/tour leader Michael, ate barracuda near the ocean, and saw mona monkeys in Grand Etang National Park.
We were exhausted after the tour and returned to the resort for Netflix and wine. Like most 40-somethings, we talked about going out the next day but ended up lounging at 473 until it was time to catch our flight. And once I got on that flight…knocked out.
It’s not often that we visit the same place twice, but we’re going back to far too underrated Grenada with the kids. It’s safe (strict gun laws), colorful, its people are welcoming, the weather’s perfect, and from what I’ve seen, tied with San Sebastian for best beaches in the world. You might wanna check it out.
-Dewan Gibson