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Grenadines and More, Part
Two
After our Bequia
fiasco, we are hoping for adventure on another island. The kids have grown tired
of the dilapidated water toys, and we are ready for some more exploring.
Sometimes a five star hotel turns out to be a three star hotel. This is one of
those. We are dismayed to find that all the good press was for naught on this
beautiful tranquil island. Our villa stands upon the appropriately-named Windy
Hill. This really is the name of the location. The first night is great for the
boys in their temporary room with its beautiful vista of the Caribbean, and a
private patio enjoying a full expanse of sun. But Craig and I are stuck on Windy
Hill the entire time. Gale force winds howl through the shutters each night,
resulting in a fierce racket. Attempted to quiet the din with earplugs with no
success.. Lexi sleeps peacefully, blissfully unaware of the hurricane exposure
on the top of the hill.
The boys are required to relocate, Craig and I were aware of this moving of
quarters and thusly did not take the lodgings that they had enjoyed, albeit only
for a brief time. They too are now on Windy Hill, with no view except for the
jungle in front of their porch. Their private beach is replaced by a
dog-pen-like area surrounded by a picket fence. Although dismayed and rather
surprised to have been moved from their luxury surroundings, they accept their
new location with good grace. Conner asks Austin to apply sunscreen to his back.
Austin readily agrees, but with some stipulations. First Conner must bow to
Austin ten times and then break five sticks over his (Conner’s) head. Must say
that I am slightly amused, as this brings back fond memories of torture
treatments that I concocted for my little sister.
We assemble for breakfast. The wait staff are marvelous; they are friendly and
want the boys and Lexi to play soccer with them that evening. Bored with us, the
kids readily acquiesce. Spend that day entertaining ourselves with Scrabble,
reading and, of course, a rousing game of tennis: all things non-electronic as
there is no Internet, television or phone on the island. We are forced to talk
to each other, which is a novel experience with three teenagers. Conner actually
removes his sweatshirt hood from his head to join in some conversation. Usually
he looks like some kind of gangster wannabe with no skin exposure and hair
hanging down to his nose.
Craig and I settle ourselves on the expansive deck to watch our three diligent
soccer players take on the locals. Austin seems to be playing “bareback”. Later
when we question him about this, he replies; “I must get my sweat glands used to
this climate”. Have no idea where he came up with this nonsense; he is not
helping us make a good impression as the visiting players, as I am sure he
leaves a tremendous odor during his short running bursts after the ball.
When later asked about this at dinner, he ignores us and attempts explanations
to hapless waiter and possible friend on “off sides.” Conner hides his head in
his hands. Austin then laments that his team had to run uphill. Conner sighs
loudly and wonders if Austin has any social graces. Was just having similar
thoughts about my firstborn. He seems to be blissfully unaware of this. We
finish dinner, contemplating what adventures the next day may hold..........to
be continued
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