I Live

So I finally realized that maybe I left some of you folks in the lurch; Internet lurchers, lurching about. There was something very un-final like with this blog, with this part of my life in general. Before arriving in/on Grenada we scoured blogs looking for information and the general pace and patter of life. One interesting blog I found interesting was one that suddenly stopped. One's left to think that most likely all of their fingers got busy. Maybe they are having an affair with the piano -who knows, the point is it will forever remain a mystery to me.

It's time to close the chapter. There's nothing like reading a good book and then finding that key pages have been torn out or the author simply gave up and somehow the whole thing went to press anyway. Some of you may have caught my trip to New Zealand. That's really where this blog lead into -from swashbuckling pirates to fantastical hobbits and a ridiculous number of sheep. Wow, I finally just figured out why I slept so well there. You can catch my epic journey across that countryside on "Full of Zeal", but I digress.

Grenada will always be a special place for me that opened my eyes up to a lot of things. Those reading this in hesitation of going, all I can say is -do it. Life is too short to worry about what may come of it; and I can tell you what will come of it, Life. Go with eyes wide open. It's not the cushy western world you may be used to but the people, the environment, and the lifestyle will move you if you let it. It made me realize the things I take for granted and also all the things I frankly can do without.

"But wait, this is your final chapter, and you are no longer there" you say. Well Life happened as it always does. If you're not wearing your boots you'll have to side step a puddle here or there and change your route. Rain metaphors. That's right, I am back in Vancouver now. I guess my writing style does reflect my environment. I'm hoping this blog's return wet your appetite and the clouds have cleared in your idea of my whereabouts. There's so much more to say, this really is just a drop in the bucket. Okay, enough with the puns, when it rains it pours.

That's all he wrote.
Fini.

Getting Gourmet

You're probably intensely interested in what we eat and cook here in Grenada. It's really not all that intriguing or spectacular, but for blogging's sake, I'll build the suspense just a little more. It is a blend of fanciful gourmet delights for the most discerning of connoisseurs of all things delicious. Sometimes it's just macaroni or take out pizza...gourmet macaroni and gourmet take out pizza. That's a marketing trick for you that I am growing wise of. Throw gourmet in front of anything and it sounds amazing. There aren't any governing bodies to decide once something passes into the realm of gourmet. Even the definition seems a bit subjective. I suppose the trick doesn't work for everything though. I don't think we will see Nike selling gourmet sneakers any time soon - they'd probably still smell like a stinky blue cheese though.

Last week was soup week. That has nothing to do with Grenada, just our apparent eating habits. We made broccoli soup, which was fantastic, with a side of quesadillas. We had that probably 3 nights in a row. Then I made carrot soup, with guidance from the gourmet chef I live with, and we had that for 3 more days (also with quesadillas). It was at the end of the week when we realized that yes, we like soup, but really, we were just using it as our excuse to eat quesadillas. There’s something to be said about cheese melted in a tortilla. I don’t know what it is; maybe it’s “I like quesadillas”?

I’ve been experimenting with our dessert options as well. I got a popsicle maker for Christmas and it really seems to fit the bill here in Grenada. That probably doesn’t sound all that exciting if all you are picturing is a plastic mold you fill up with grape drink and throw in the freezer. No, what I have is the future. It is a technological advancement in the way home popsicles will be made from now on. It’s a game changer. It’s Zoku! I mean gourmet Zoku! It allows you to make frozen treats in about 7-10 minutes. The reason that is so great is because it allows you to make multi-layered popsicles or what I have been making, creamsicles. Wow, how much can one person write about popsicles? Let’s find out.  Here are my tools:

Elaborate Pen Holder

Paper Weights

Gourmet Ingredients

And here’s how it’s done:

Creamy looking sicles

The idea is, you freeze the bathtub shaped Zoku thing for a day and then fill it up with whatever you want. For creamsicles I just had to fill the thing up for a minute, then suck out the excess juice so all I had was a thin shell. Then I poured some melted ice cream inside, and bada bing bada boom, mango creamsicles.

Contracted Model

Deliciousness 

If you’re following my blog for some insight into Grenada, sorry about the soup and popsicle bit. Oil down is a traditional dish that I haven’t actually tried yet. It involves a lot of local ingredients and is supposedly quite tasty. I haven’t seen it served at any restaurants I have been to as of yet. We may have to find ourselves a recipe.

You’d think we would be getting to be chunky monkeys with all the cheese and popsicles we’ve been eating.  Our walks with the dogs have been counteracting the process. Walking at sunset is really quite phenomenal here. Every view seems to be a good one. The island feels like an elaborate botanical garden. One that I hadn't even begun to appreciate enough until we starting strolling through it and exploring our neighbourhood. Flowers seem to bloom year round. As much as we love the walks, the dogs, and us for that matter, have been having a lot of fun at quick dip beach. Each dog has his or her strengths. C-Dog (Sea dog) loves the water and excels at nautical retrieving. K-Dog(…Kinder) can’t be bested on the surf. He hasn’t figured out that he needs to raise his ball filled mouth while swimming or he’s in for a muzzle full of water.

Caribbean Sea Otters

Kinder's figured out you have to run before the ball is thrown. Cammy—not so much.

I’ve mentioned all the things we have been making lately. The dogs have been working on a thing or two also:

Why??

You may have been confused by my usage of  “TIG” at the end of my last post. Or you may not have been. I haven’t had anyone question me on it.  TIG is an acronym of unknown origins to me, but I think it stemmed from students. It stands for “This is Grenada”.  I think it began as a way to complain about life here and perhaps the oddities of the island. Most of the time it just seems like a way to complain because most of their complaints could happen anywhere else on the planet. Like “The store ran out of milk, TIG”, or “I stubbed my toe on a mango tree, TIG”, or “There are too many people on this amazingly nice beach where there is likely to be lots of people, TIG”.  I prefer to go the other way with it. “It’s sunny every day, TIG”. “I have a variety of fruit trees growing outside my window, TIG”. “My farmer’s tan is really turning out nicely, TIG”.  I guess that’s one thing I am noticing more. People tend to notice all the things they don’t have more than what they do. I’m often surprised by how eager some students are to leave this Caribbean island.  I am perfectly content right now with my gourmet popsicles and a view of some palm trees, TIG.

Getting Here Again

It's 2012 now. I guess it's the time for resolutions. I thought one of mine would be to write more blog posts. I think a resolution implies a problem though. Writing often is more of a desire than the means to solving a particular problem in my case. After about ten minutes of pondering what a resolution really is and means I realized my real problem is over-thinking. Maybe my second resolution will be to minimize over-thinking when it's unnecessary. So without further adieu I am just going to kill 2 resolutions with one stone and start writing.

The day we left Vancouver was the only day it snowed for the entire month we were home. I hear it has been a number of degrees subzero since we left. At first I was disappointed about missing the snow on our way out, but there sure ain't (I know it isn't a word, but ain't colloquialisms grand?) anything wrong with thawing out in Grenada. Getting here was a scheduled 22 hours, an estimate that wasn't exactly accurate.

YVR was our first hiccup. This trip we planned to bring our dogs with us. Their paperwork had all its i's dotted, t's crossed, and was thrice checked. We were worried something might go wrong and we wouldn't be able to bring them; it turns out they could get on the plane, but they almost had to leave without me. Overly dramatic pause... It wasn't actually that big of a deal, it came down to space. Sorry, I mean a space. The airline's computer somewhere along the way combined my middle and last name to create one super name. This little space was just enough to refuse me from checking in. Panic! We called the airline and explained the situation and after half an hour we had the ticket reissued and were back in line to check in. When we got there they advised us that yes, in fact my name was changed but now my middle name was my last name and my last name vice versa. Subdued Panic! We were in line at the first class desk this time though. She let us through no problem. They must save the grumpy attendants for us regular folk. We rushed out, dropped our luggage on the conveyor belt, and checked the time—we were still 2 hours early. Good thing we were paranoid enough to come 4 hours ahead.

YVR to LAX was pretty uneventful. It was smooth sailing (sky sailing). We had a full row to ourselves and the flight attendants paid no notice of the dogs on our laps. When we landed we thought the pups might be full to bursting. We went in search for a spot they could go. It seems that the policy is no dogs on the tarmac. Workers at the airport suggested newspaper in the bathroom. I took Kinder, because he is a boy, and my female accomplice took Cammy, because she is a girl. We didn't want to get any strange looks from anyone else in the washroom. Kinder wasn't very much interested in the paper. He preferred kissing the ankles of the guy in the next stall. It was unfortunate that his affection was not returned so kindly. I had no luck with Kinder, so I picked up my paper, and gave a nod to the janitor waiting at the door. We briefly thought that maybe if we went on the paper first, the dogs would take their cue (by the way, we had no luck with Cammy as well). We abandoned that idea pretty quickly though. We were MIA bound and I was just hoping that the pressure difference would have no effect on their bladders.

We had about 9 hours in Miami so we headed to Miami Beach. We've never been and have heard good things. It was pretty desolate at 7AM and we expected it to be a lot warmer than it was, but it was beautiful just the same. Just in case you haven't been or seen it in CSI, I took a couple snaps.

Miami Beach and woman in pink.

Grenada's sand is nicer.

What I didn't get photos of was the public workout equipment. I thought that was a pretty good initiative for keeping fit. At the same time, it seemed to me that ripped muscle bound guys were the only ones glistening in the sun flexing their biceps and showing off. Fair is fair though, girls in their smallest bikinis were playing beach volleyball right next door. There isn't anything wrong with that. But I did find it pretty gosh darn creepy that at least a dozen middle-aged men were taking photos from the sidelines.

After a bit of a walk, both of the dogs were still pretty restless and we took the opportunity to run them out. Being younger, Kinder's energy is pretty bountiful. We took turns chasing and being chased by him.

K-Dog and A Human

He stole my wallet.

When we got tired he went after an unsuspecting Cammy.

"I'm too old for this shtick"

It was a spot of luck that the weekend we were travelling was also an auto show on Ocean Drive. There were plenty of old dolled up cars to ogle over. It was pretty neat to see these old cars from the 50's against the art deco style buildings lining the street. To balance it out they had no less than 80 homemade jewelry booths littered up and down the drive. After a few hours at Miami Beach, we headed back to MIA for our next flight to GND.

We sat in the plane for an extra 2 hours before taking off. The aircraft was overweight by 300 pounds of mail apparently. Considering each one of our suitcases was about 50lbs each, it seemed like it took an awful long time to move the mail. One can only assume the packages must have been a mixed bag of both sphere and pyramid shapes. That's all to say, we got into Grenada a little later than anticipated and we were getting pretty tired.

Things had a large overtone of familiarity to them. From the customs office to cab ride to our rickety gate (sorry to our new neighbours for the racket), it felt nice to come back to our Caribbean home. What wasn't so familiar were the lights that wouldn't turn on and the lack of electricity. Even less recognizable was the oversized petri dish that was our refrigerator. We opted to leave it closed for the night for fear of whatever had evolved in there might escape.

When the sun came up and I was out and about the familiarity returned. The guys from Grenlec (the electric company) came out fairly quickly and remedied our issue post-haste and were very friendly all the while. It was good to hear the Soca on the bus and feel the sun on my shoulders again. I probably should have worn sunscreen.

We've been taking the dogs for sunset walks every night. And more so than ever, we are appreciating the island. T.I.G.

Getting Thirsty?

Let me quench your thirst with a tall glass of blog. The title of this blog is brought to you by my lovely's new catch phrase. Keeping hydrated greatly affects our mood and I am not exaggerating when I say that the words "I'm thirsty" come out of her mouth more than routinely.

I was fairly misleading at the end of my last post by promising a new entry shortly after. I got busy! I'm going to try to get back on track here though. I hope I haven't lost too many of you frequent visitors. My apologies.

What I really wanted to talk about was our island tour with the significant others group. At the time it was probably our favourite day thus far. The goal was to circumnavigate the island and hit some of the hotspots along the way. We did something very similar when our parents were here but in the reverse direction. I wouldn't hesitate to say that this was our new favourite day. And just because I really want to induce some confusion, I am going to attempt to tackle some of the overlapping events at the same time.

All the forts on the island are quite fascinating. We visited Fort Frederick, Fort Matthew, and Fort George. It stretches one's imagination to picture the time and circumstance that they were built. I often forget that people have stood where I am standing and had an entirely different experience. We were lucky on our first visit to Fort Frederick to have a great tour guide who refers to herself as "Alice in Wonderland".

Alice In Wonderland

When the French took over from the British, they were able to do so by attacking from inland, rather than the expected naval assault. This is why Fort Frederick, cunningly built by the French, has all of its cannons pointed inland and was also given the nickname the "Backwards Facing Fort". Even more interesting than that, Alice in Wonderland told us her story of hurricane Ivan (as a quick recap, hurricane Ivan in 2004 practically obliterated the island. It was the worst since hurricane Janet in 1955). The winds were treacherous. She took her bed sheets and tied her children to her body and furthermore,  to the top of their roof to keep it from blowing off. Wisely, she had a knife at the ready should she need to cut them free. Her story had a bit more impact because of the tremendous wind we felt up there that day.

A lot of hairspray was needed in the making of this shot

Fort Matthew, the friendly neighbour of Fort Fred, has its own stories to tell. From the perspective of tourism, Fort Frederick is far more popular. If you are asking me, I think Matt has the edge. At one point it was a mental hospital. After seeing some of the wreckage and the intricate tunnels here, I'd wonder what a place like this would do to someone's psyche, let alone someone's whose is already delicate. This Fort is not as well preserved as its kin, but I think it has a lot of charm. One of the reasons it is in rougher shape is the US intervention in 1983 (they came in to extract American SGU students and to put the kibosh on a violent revolution involving Cuban and Russian communists). Unfortunately, a US bomb meant for Frederick hit Matthew instead, leaving much of it in a more ruined state. One could go on an on about the place, but I suggest you visit the bar that it now houses.

I hope she's taking a better shot than this one

Fort number three is Fort George. As I just recently read, the French originally named it Fort Royal. As with the other forts, there is a great deal of history here. One tid-bit I'd like to mention is that apparently there were connecting tunnels between all three of these forts. Given that two, Fred and Matt, are on the hill, and George down at sea level, it seems like a pretty astonishing distance to me to have a tunnel. Fort George is where Maurice Bishop, the prime minister at the time of the revolution in 1983, met his demise in the way of execution at the hands of the revolutionaries from his own government. This would be the straw that broke the camels back when the US decided it was time to intervene. For a somewhat B movie recommendation, watch Heartbreak Ridge—it's a Clint Eastwood flick with a dash of Operation Urgent Fury attached to the end (actually, don't waste your time).

Atop Fort George

Next up, Carib's Leap in the town of Sauteurs. Sauteurs in French means "jumpers". No, the people in this town did not wear cozy little pullovers—it was named by the French not the British, remember. It was when the French decided to try and colonize the island that the aboriginal Caribs became hostile to the idea, and rightly so. Unfortunately, the French fortified and killed nearly all of the Caribs on the island. The survivors were cornered to what is now known as Carib's Leap. An estimated 40 Caribs jumped to their deaths to avoid surrender and enslavement.

Leapers Hill Monument

Belmont Estate is part of what they call the Agro-Tourism business. Currently, it is cocoa plantation. We learned a whole heck of a lot about the process of harvesting cocoa, a process that I guess I had absolutely know prior knowledge about. First of all, did you know that this where the cocoa bean comes from?

A Cocoa Pod

Inside the beans are covered in a white flesh that is sweet. Part of our tour here let us try sucking on a bean. Depending on your tour group size, it may be off-putting to see a dozen different dirty hands in one cocoa pod fumbling around for a white gooey bean. I thought it tasted good regardless. They take all the beans from the pods and cover them up in banana leaves and burlap and let them ferment for 8 days. From there, they dry them in the sun thoroughly and every half hour someone needs to walk the cocoa to turn the beans over. What I mean by that is this:

Walking the Cocoa

I think if they can get a new tour group every half hour they'd have it made. For those that are concerned about the possible toe jam in their Butterfinger, the actual cocoa comes from inside the bean after they crack it open. But you can take pause and think of our sweaty feet next time you sip a hot chocolate. Before cocoa, the estate also was a sugar cane plantation and a cotton plantation and was an estate run by the labour of slaves. Interestingly enough, here remains the slave bell they would call them with.

Belmont Slave Bell

For me something seemed slightly awry when all the tourists (white skin in nature) rang this bell. I can see keeping the bell for tourism's sake, but am not too sure why the Grenadian people didn't choose to destroy it instead. I guess it is possible that such a bell's role was reversed and sounded to mark freedom as well.

Belmont has cocoa, history, oh, and of course a petting zoo.

Who is petting who?

On to Pearl's Airport i.e. an eerie abandoned runway that they sometimes do drag racing on. It was built on Amerindian remnants. Later my lovely's father and I attended a talk by a US Marine that was part of the US intervention. He mentioned to us this airstrip was partially funded by the Russians to increase tourism to the island, however, the strip was just wide enough for Russian military aircrafts and not the typical passenger flying aircraft of the time. If there is truth in this, I have absolutely no idea. There is a couple of old planes still sitting on the side of the strip. They apparently have a bull guarding them (this is likely happenstance because there are cattle and goats along the entire strip). During our time there with the SOs some of us played matador so others could get photos of themselves with the plane. I think he just wanted some attention.

See, I wasn't bull-shtuffing

This is where most of the overlap finishes. If you want more info on any of the places we went to, I'd highly recommend coming for a visit. I think my idle banter and photos can only do so much justice to the place.

Again, I am left with enough material to write another blog post and so you will be spared until the next post. No promises on when that will be this time. But I truthfully really want to have it done sooner rather than later. We may be four hours ahead of many of you (daylight savings doesn't affect us), but I think the Grenada pace is really starting to take hold.

For the new mothers out there, I will leave you with this...

Behind a fish store in Grenville

Getting over the hill

That's it! Midterms are over. It's an accomplishment that marks the halfway point of the semester. For those counting the days, Wednesday the 12th was the actual halfway point. It looks like we both came out alive. It was dicey for a little while there. Every morsel of snack food slowly vanished from the corners of our cupboards as study fodder. An emergency trip for Sun Chips had to be made to fuel the study-machine. She arrived out of the book-laden trenches victorious on her first of many battles.

We celebrated by going to a dinner for a fellow student and friend at a restaurant near our place. We had a table of ten. At SGU they have a photography club that recently started up. Apparently this means when a group of five or more students show up in a given location, a photographer materializes and then dematerializes with captured photos of you with which you have no idea what they will do. I decided to join the club. Dinner was good and fun. There are few significant others of first term veterinary medicine students, and at this dinner I was the only one. Being the night of their final, and toughest, midterm they were fairly inclined to talk shop. I was mostly pretty lost, I'll admit, but it was a fun night regardless. They clearly had something on their minds.

On Saturday we went for a relaxing day at Grand Anse. The beach was littered with SGU students. Some were still stuck in study mode. One student created an enormous sand sculpture of a dog's scapula with all its intricacies. Everyone was taking guesses at what they thought it was. What worries me is that all the future doctor, current HUMAN medicine student folk apparently guessed it was a penis. I fear for all the poor men who may endure botched vasectomies or knee surgery. I think we spent a solid four hours soaking in the sea and the sun. Feeling fairly waterlogged we made our way to the IGA to pick up a couple things. We got way more than we thought, so it made more sense to catch a cab than a free bus that is overcrowded. We were left somewhat stranded though because I tried to talk the driver down by 5 EC. My bargaining skills need some work. It was extra embarrassing when the next cab that came by twenty minutes later was the same one and I had to eat my words and pony up the extra coins.

We have been doing more research on transferring back to a Canadian school. Grenada and the school are fantastic. But we have been thinking about the transfer option because it means we are closer to family, it's way lighter on the wallet, and I would be able to work more easily. There are only five veterinary medicine schools in Canada and only three will accept transfer students. In some cases it makes no sense to transfer—the Quebec school is a 5-year program, and you need to redo a year of schooling. This essentially adds an additional two years to your program, compared to continuing studies here in Grenada.  In Saskatchewan the program is 4 years, but you need to redo a year. And finally in PEI, it is not certain, but you may not have to redo anything. The main setback on all of them though is getting in. Spots only become available if their class isn't at capacity. At PEI, for instance, they have been plum full for the last 4 years, and this year they were even over their normal maximum. The process seams daunting and a long shot, but we're crossing our fingers and snorkeling in the meantime.

That's what we did this Thanksgiving. We took an eco-tour by boat around some of the island. The guide provided some great information on some of the species we might see and some background on Grenadian culture. More on that later. Our first stop was snorkeling. We spotted an iguana and some pelicans en-route which was a bonus.

Pelican, briefly.

Under the sea we saw a school of squid drifting along near the coast. These were pretty easily the coolest things I had seen that day. Although, it took me quite sometime to even understand what kind of creature I was looking at. Their eyes being at their back perplexed me and the way their tentacles undulated was fascinating. When we pulled our heads from the water we realized we were a ways from our group. Granted we may have been a bit more advanced in our snorkeling skills, those with a life vest, a pool noodle, and a life preserver seemed a bit overkill. Any more floatation devices on a single person and I think one might take flight. We actually didn't stop in this bay just to see squid and a plethora of colourful fish. The prime reason was to see the sculpture park. Local artisans have created fifty or sixty different under the sea attractions. Some are objects like a bike, or a desk that as articles and information laminated to it. Others are sculptures and statues actually based on locals of Grenada. Coral and corrosion has taken to them largely, adding to their intrigue. We'd forgotten our underwater disposable camera, but here is a shot from National Geographic:

National Geographic photo of the underwater sculpture park.

Our second stop was in the Carenage, a naturally formed volcanic bay ideal for a harbour. Historically, it was where large ships would dock and have their hulls cleaned. They physically roped their boat and pulled it nearly horizontal to clean each side of the bottom. Now the Carenage is part of St. Georges where restaurants and storefronts and a great deal of colourful buildings are scattered along the waterside.

Carenage

It's from here we were able to see the prison. There are approximately 400 inmates and in Grenada apparently there is no chance for parole; however, I think having one of the best views on the island from the hillside might significantly lessen the dejection of their stay. The prison is entirely self-sustained, even rearing their own cattle. After hurricane Ivan all of the prisoners escaped the prison. A number of them incarcerated for drug trafficking were able to hijack small boats and brave the short 150-200km Ocean back to South America. Others, native to the island, either voluntarily came back, or were very quickly rounded up. Being that the island is so small, there are very few places to hide and word travels rapidly.

Grenada Prison

Oh yeah, the fiancée also made us a delicious Thanksgiving pumpkin pie. The pre-made graham wafer crust we were going to use expired last January. I find this strange, because I thought I bought it a couple weeks ago. We had to come up with an alternative and we had none of the usual ingredients to create a crust. We did have chocolate chip cookie dough though. Somewhat surprisingly, it worked out very well and the pie was über tasty. We managed to forget about cranberry sauce and stuffing and the other Thanksgiving fixin's  all together (But I'll admit that now I am looking forward to Christmas for these things). Instead we had cocoa ball tea, a Grenadian specialty. They use cocoa and a variety of spices, often including nutmeg, to create a hard little ball. They smell edible, and the fellow shopper we asked laughed at us when we asked if we could. We were lucky that she was there to explain to us that you boil them in water. What you are left with is a sort of a spiced up hot chocolate that I would definitely recommend trying.

Cocoa Balls

The other thing we tried was the lumpy looking Atemoya I took a photo of in one of my previous posts. They are commonly known as sugar apples. They look disgusting when you crack them open:

Disgusting looking Atemoya

Yum!

 It turns out the flesh that encapsulates the seeds is sweet and somewhat custard like in texture. You should try one, but try it for the first time blindfolded or in the dark.

It's been far too long since my last my post and I have enough material for another already so I'll cut this one off here. Stay tuned.

Getting Curious?

For those waiting with bated breath, de-bate. We still have frogs. Not much has changed on that front. Although I think we have finally gotten the concept across to our landlady. I guess the confusion was somewhere between frogs living with us and frogs living at us. I think the former being our issue. The irony I find is in the herpetology club. They go on walks and are routinely amazed by the frogs they discover. I am thinking about inviting them over as a field trip. But hopping along…

Our landlady does not actually reside in Grenada at present, and so we've been dealing with her proxy. I think I have mentioned her a couple times. She's a very nice lady. We were told not long ago that a new 'official' bill-taker etcetera type person would be coming. She just landed back on the island the other day. We ran into her. She introduced herself as the landlady's name and so we were confused. I assume she knew that we knew that she wasn't exactly who she said she was. She was someone else. It certainly was pretty plainly obvious to us as she drove away from the house—the same house the landlady resides while she is here. It all got sorted today when the first proxy outted the second by introducing her as her actual name. The peculiar bit is that I feel she had no real motive to be someone else. She seems pleasant. I guess it's possible she doesn't like her name. Or perhaps she has always been jealous of our landlady. Perhaps she is stealing her identity. Maybe we are at the very root of a giant Grenadian conspiracy tree. Did I mention we watched the Bourne Ultimatum the other day—it was a good flick. And that lady actually is nice.

We feel pretty secure in our home. We are in one of the nicest neighbourhoods on the island, Lance Aux Epines. SGU has security driving by frequently to deter any unrest or suspicious activity. And lastly, we have an entirely fenced yard with a gate that is locked at all times. By the way, we only have one key to this gate. Typically my student (I don't teach, she just happens to be mine) gives me a quick ring or text as the bus arrives at our stop. I meet her at the gate and let her in. She left her phone at home and today she was left straddling the fence. I can't really surmise how long because I was grooving to my music when I was suddenly disturbed by a rapping at the door. She made it over; she's the only one that can attest to how long I may or may not have left her stranded. I can only imagine what security thought as they passed by. I am guessing she didn't seem too threatening jumping into someone’s yard with a computer, unless of course she was hacking our wireless network in an attempt to unleash a dangerous new computer virus under her hacker alias orca_4219. No, we haven't watched Hackers, or The Net, or basically any movie where the Internet is the focus of the plot recently.

During the summers in BC, one would have to be sure to mow their lawn frequently. Leaving it for a week or two meant a little extra work. Your grass was a little shaggy. I've mentioned the grass here before. I honestly thought it was long at the time. It had been chopped down since. Our field now reminds us of flowing wheat in the prairies. One gets pretty hypnotized staring into it as the wind tosses it back and forth, rippling it like waves on the ocean. It has been about a week and a half since its last buzz cut:

Trade a wood for a wheat?

On the subject of pictures, I think I want to put it into my daily schedule to be overlooking the beach with my camera at sunset. I was a hair late here, but you can see the tail end of what was an amazing sky:

A typical sunset in Grenada.

Midterms are upon us. Students are studying like mad. You know what they say about medical students though. The more they study, the more they think they have what they are studying. I've felt this first hand whenever I look up my own symptoms online. By my count, I have had lupus at least five times in my life. Fair enough, it happens. I am beginning to find it a little odd when certain veterinary students start diagnosing themselves though. Ninety-nine percent of the time I am sure she just has a hairball or is adjusting to her new food.

Please feel free to comment if there is anything of particular interest you'd like to see featured in any of my posts. I'm not likely to describe the texture of off-brand Cheetos, or driving on the left. This would probably only happen if I were eating said faux-eezies while making illegal right turns at stop signs. I would be happy to talk about pretty well anything else. Often I wonder if readers like to hear about some of the more mundane things like our 1/2 ply toilet paper.

Getting Older

Today is the first of a few birthdays I will likely be having on the island. It's a bit surreal to be on a Caribbean island on your birthday. Of course being apart from family, and especially my sister on our birthday (we are twins 4 years apart; my mother had an extremely long labour) is a bit tough. We've spent the majority, if not all of them together. But as I said, we are on a Caribbean island, and that does tend to be a good cure for many ails. My pulchritudinous fiancée made my day an amazing one. She tried to have me killed.

The day was a surprise. I didn't know where we would be going or what we would be doing. We took a stroll along our quick dip beach, of which a hotel is attached. The hotel also has a dive shop that caters to tourists and guests of the hotel. We didn't go diving. To keep a long story short, I have a temporary filling that I need to have fixed before hand. Instead she had us booked for some water sports. We were going out tubing. They have one big triangular tube that the both of us were able to clamour onto. Look at us here all clamoured up:

That fish skeleton looks ominous

Contrary to the photo, we were actually laying the other direction on our stomachs for the ride. You pay per quarter hour. I figured we'd end up going at least twice. I've done quite a bit of tubing in the inlet back home and at Ruby Lake. At least I thought I had. Prior experience had not prepared me for the extreme gauntlet this 3-400 horsepower behemoth would whip us through. The air we must have had on any single bump must have been between five and ten feet. On a number of occasions I felt my body perpendicular to the tube. On others the tube was perpendicular to the ocean as well. Fortunately we managed to somehow stay on. I guess our primal instincts must have kicked in. Had we let go, I think we might have landed on campus somewhere. We should have had an inkling beforehand when he said, "Keep your tongue in… No, seriously". It was awesome; but the muscles in our arms are pretty sore and 15 minutes was enough for the week. Typing never seemed so taxing. After the tubing we made our way to a new beach. Getting there on a Sunday proved to be far more difficult than any other day. Even the busses that constantly honk at you, convincing you to ride them, were nowhere to be seen (I can't tell you how many times they almost had me with their honking and I would have been on my way to Grenville). A friend finally drove by, picked us up, and dropped us on the main road. It was smooth sailing to Magazine Beach from there. They didn't have any selections of Macleans or People, but I wouldn't put it past anyone to bring books and magazines here. It is yet another phenomenal beach I could see spending hours on. We took to the sea for a short jaunt around the reef with our snorkels. We spotted a small school of squid, and some trumpet fish. We were without our flippers and not as mobile as we otherwise would be. Our future sessions look to show some promise though. The real reason for coming here was the great restaurant called Aquarium. Not that they need one, given that they are on the ocean, but the aquarium they had did look a little sad with just 2 fish. They had live music, good food, and they gave me a free piece of cake. They've won me over on all three accounts. It was a fantastic day. But now I am going back in time for some other news…

Accreditation. The AVMA this week announced that SGU is now accredited. This is absolutely huge news. For all veterinary students, including fiancée. This means there is no need to write any foreign graduate exams after completion of their program. This is a real boon for them in terms of cost and stress of such an exam. What the accreditation really speaks volumes of, however, is the quality of the program here at SGU. You can check out an article on the announcement here: AVMA Article. There looks to be some mighty happy folks in their photo.

People that are also happy are us. We found another perfect scenario in which to capture our amphibian acquaintance. Back into frog hunter mode, we sealed every hole the room, including the last one. That frog would not escape. Had we been in there too long, we'd have asphyxiated. We had gained a lot of knowledge from our past foray into frog hunting. This time we managed to capture him within moments. It was then when our conscience finally spoke to us. Jiminy helped us as we debated whether we should turn him loose to the cruel bitter outside world or if we should seriously just let him go back under our tub. Fiancée felt a little worse for him than I did. She is the veterinary student. I assured her he would make lots of friends and would find himself assimilated into the croaking community in no time flat. We let him go…with a little water dish filled with water, should he ever be homesick and wish to visit. She was pleased (that may be the wrong word) to hear more chirping the next morning. He had roommates. To make matters worse, I found there were children in the mix yesterday. Perhaps we separated him from his family. Perhaps his however many kids he has, now think of him as a deadbeat dad. Frog culture is so complicated. Fiancée is game to evict them all now, including Jiminy.

P.S. - Those with commenting issues, I have opened it up to everyone now. The flood gates are open.