Passages

The end of an era, pour one on the curb. The epic SHAMROCKS has been torn down, sniff!

Shamrocks, place of endless revelry, closed at the beginning of last summer. It’s right on the marina, and residents of the posh houses and condos also on the marina complained about the noise. So one of the owners bought Shamrocks in order to shut it down. There are a couple other businesses in the same complex, a catamaran day-cruise place, a car rental agency and the infamous Jerk Pit. But now it’s all gone; a pile of rubble sitting on the bank.

Let me hearken back to what a great establishment Shamrocks was: There was something for everyone. It was a good-sized place. In front there were several pool tables. Inside were a dance floor and a big bar. Outside was another bar, a deck right on the water, and picnic tables. It never got too hot and sweaty in there because it was all open. I only saw it very crowded once or twice, just because there was so much space. Granted, it wasn’t fun to go there every weekend because it was always the same people. But it was also the kind of place where you could go alone and run into lots of friends. The beginning of the end was when they started to charge a cover. Luckily the guards were gullible at the beginning and I only paid it once or twice.

There hasn’t been any other establishment emerge to fill the void left by Shamrocks. Rumours is trying, but it’s a lot smaller and gets PACKED on the weekends. They also started charging a cover, hopefully that will keep out all the sketchy baby thugs. Hooters (Lucian knock-off) is ok. There is a nice patio that looks down on the road, and you get all the music of Rumours without the crowd. Since I’ve been back from holiday, a new place, Charlie’s, opened. I haven’t been there yet, but I’ve heard the drinks are expensive. Looks cool though. The Lime and The Triangle are always there, but not long on atmosphere.

Two days ago I woke up to find a dead mouse in the kitchen. Puss laid no claim to it, so I must conclude that Cheeto’s ghost visited in the night. It was a lovely specimen. Semi-decapitated.

School is out for Easter starting today. Some of the boys get to go home, but others are stuck at school, either if they are on remand, or if they are higher-risk. Megan, the other volunteer, and I are planning to take the boys to the beach for sports tomorrow.

There was some drama at school last week. I got there around 9 on Wednesday. The remedial teacher told me that the teachers and counselors were in a MEETING (that was how she said it) and that there was no class for the day. I said OH, and watched James Bond with the boys. The teachers came out of their meeting and were milling around. I went outside to talk to the guard and watch Kirby and Miguel fly their kite. The guard said that the meeting was with the union officials, and that the teachers were on strike. I thought something was up by the way the remedial teacher told me that there was a meeting. There is a precedent for strikes at school. Last year they were on strike for almost 3 weeks over the deplorable conditions; no water, rats, etc. This time, they were on strike over a leaky gas line. The kitchen has its two big tanks outside, and apparently the tubing that leads inside had a leak. The boys knew this, and would occasionally throw matches at the leak. The teachers complained to the ministry several times, to no avail. So they went on strike. The strike lasted a whole 20 minutes, no kidding. The ministry freaked at the prospect of negative publicity and sent a repairman straight away. But in that time, most of the teachers had left. So I left too, I went in town for lunch.

This weekend I was invited to a brunch at the Cuban Embassy. Deb knows a Cuban doctor, and has been to events before. I also chatted with the Ambassador at the fancy dinner I went to right after Christmas. Unfortunately, just as I was about to leave to head over there, I got really sick. I was pretty bummed, because I was really looking forward to the party, but I was in no shape to go. Deb called to check on me at one point. She said that someone else there wanted to talk to me. So she hands the phone off to the Ambassador. That’s a trip! He laid the guilt trip on thick. How they had all this food and they wouldn’t eat till I got there, and they were hungry, so he’ll send the car around. I begged off, but felt bad.

Swimming has been insane lately, a really bad vibe there. Joanna started working several weeks ago, and has been unable to coach. Another guy, Andy, was to start with the small kids. (Even as it is, I have 8 or 9 on an average day, which is too many). Andy had been the learn-to-swim coach for a different team previously, but left to a better job when they cut his pay. As a result of this, the other team is barring Andy from working at the pool at all. Our team is apparently currently seeking legal advice on the matter. After all, Andy is now coordinating the nation-wide swimming program for the ministry, and the one pool wont let him in! In the meantime, just like all the other foolishness there, the kids suffer. I get cranky because I have 9 whiny kids pulling me in all directions, and I cant supervise them as well… let alone teach them to swim. So my patience is being tried to say the least! But I usually go from there to the gym and then I feel better.

This past Friday my patience was tried also! I had to go to Vieux Fort to meet some other volunteers for a meeting. On the way to catch the bus in Castries, I planned out my seating strategy. Lately I’ve felt a bit carsick on long drives, so I wanted to make sure to get a window seat, but not a jump seat. When I walked up to the bus, I saw that another of the volunteers was already there. And that the entire front was open. I got in the passenger seat, but right then a guy came in and wanted to get in the front also (I’ll call him Ugly-Face). I got out so that he could sit in the middle. He didn’t like that. He said I should sit in the middle. I explained that I would get carsick, and that I wanted to be by the window. Then his friend (I’ll call him Ras-Hole) piped up that I was the woman, and I had to sit in the middle. I said that wasn’t going to work, I didn’t want to get sick. They said I wouldn’t get sick. I said I would. While Mr. Ugly-Face stood there befuddled at a willful white lady, Ras-Hole launched into a typical rant. He informed me, the entire bus, and half of Castries that I was a F*****g racist white b***h. Apparently the fact that I a) refused to sit in the middle, and b) refused to do what he told me, outweighed the fact that I was sitting in a bus with 14 black people, thus making me racist. Finally I gave up on Ugly-Face and Ras-Hole and went to sit at the way-back, at least by a window. They didn’t like my defiant attitude, and Ugly-Face wanted to talk about it. He came around to my window. He said I shouldn’t be vex. After all, I was so cute, and he liked to see me. When he stroked my arm, I closed the window. He said I shouldn’t close the window, he just wanted to talk to me. The whole while Ras-Hole is chanting a mantra of "F*****g Racist White B***h". Finally Ugly-Face left me alone to take his seat (by that time he did get stuck in the middle, jerk). Ras-Hole kept up his incantation most of the way out of town. An older lady in front of me leaned back to say that I was right and they were jerks. I told her in Patois that Ras-Hole should mind his own business (gade zafe-ou). She liked that. I spent half the bus ride musing on the theme of me being a FRWB. What a lame defense mechanism for a selfish and weak-minded person. By now, I’ve heard it enough that it doesn’t have the desired effect on me; I won’t bend over backwards for whatever loser in order to prove that I’m NOT racist. There’s no convincing someone who throws out accusations like that; you can only placate them by doing whatever they request. So I don’t worry myself any more.

This week is my trip to the Grenadines! I’ve been running around so much that it really snuck up on me. Today I need to run several errands to get my things together for that.