It seems like just yesterday I was busy being a complete nuisance to our Associate Peace Corps Director, Franka. Every time I saw her I begged her to tell me where I was going to be placed in Grenada and finally, she showed me on a map this tiny dot of a village called Sauteurs, located in the parish of St. Patrick's. Now, to be completely honest I was a little disappointed because I was placed about an hour and a half away from the capitol of St. George's where all the tourist resorts are, where the American style nightclubs are, and where any sense of familiarity might be achieved in times of homesickness. I immediately began to wonder, will I make friends? Am I going to live in a shack? Will I have to draw my water from a well? Forunately for me, all of the these worries were just that; worries. I live more comfortably than I did in Seattle, (aside from the constant beads of sweat rolling down my every unmentionable area,) with my high speed internet, cable, and guaranteed money in the bank on the first of every month. Once the economy started to take a nose dive, I knew that there was no place I would rather been then here.
To give you an idea, Sauteurs is what people refer to as a "historical" village which is located on the very northernmost tip of the island. The population remains at around 1300 in Sauteurs alone but there are numerous smaller villages surrounding Sauteurs. One of the main tourist attractions is called "Carib's Leap," and it marks the spot in which the Carib natives jumped off a cliff to their deaths rather then surrender to the French back in the 1600's. Although the brain matter, blood, and guts have been washed away, there now remains a museum and lookout point. (Romantic, huh?) Sauteurs is referred to by locals as "the country," or "Behind God's Back," but even so it is not completely desolate. There are a couple of nice bars, a few rum shops, clothing stores, internet cafe, and even a nightclub which is not like any nightclub you'd find in America. It is more like the basement of a frat house, sticky floor and all. On most days you will find street vendors selling anything from produce, to clothes, to freshly butchered "street meat." The decapitated head and limbs of the animal will usually be sitting on the cement staring up at you while you contemplate the various health code violations that are being broken. One of the best things about Sauteurs is that it is located right on the water. There are beautiful beaches within minutes of my house although it is rare that I ever spend time on them.
If you know me at all, then you know that living in Sauteurs was a huge change from my fast paced lifestyle back in Seattle. Here, I found that I had way too much time on my hands and I usually occupied myself by overanalyzing various aspects of my life. Once I began to integrate and make friends I was able to comfortably go out to the club or go kick some ass on the pool table and I am proud to say that I have made a name for myself in Sauteurs by being virtually the only girl who can beat the men at pool. Sometimes though, the men don't appreciate my mad skills. :) I have tried every brand of local rum, even the "under the counter" which is a local homemade rum made from various herbs and spices. Sometimes you will also find scorpions and cockroaches floating around in the mixture to add that little special something. Needless to say, the rum here is not my friend. It is about 80% alcohol which is uh. .. something like 160 proof? On most nights, I stay far away from the local rum.
As for the people who inhabit this village, they are wonderful. It has been difficult to live in this sort of "fishbowl" environment, and if anything, it has solidified the fact that I do not want to ever be famous. People I've never spoken to know exactly where I live and what I do, and God forbid I let a man into my house! If I let more than a couple men into my house within a given period of time. . .the eyebrows start to raise. I will say though, that the people here are refreshingly hospitable. Once when I was cleaning my shower, my big ass broke the pipe and water was spraying everywhere. My neighbors, whom I'd never spoken to, came right over with their tools and had it glued back together within the hour. Who in the United States would do that for a complete stranger unless they were getting paid?
I am woken up by sheep, chickens, loud music blaring from my neighbor's industrial sized speakers, or the blowing of a conch shell by someone selling fish out of a wheelbarrow. . .and to me, these have become the sounds of home.
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