Tyrrel Bay, Carriacou
12.27.349N
61.29.254W

Today’s major project was locating a bank in which to withdraw some EC (Eastern Caribbean) dollars. We took the dinghy into the haul out facility where we met a couple of Canadians named Denis & Arleen off Tiger Lily II. They told us that the nearest bank was located back in Hillsborough; we’d need to take a bus. They also told us where to catch the local bus and that it would cost $3EC each to go to Hillsborough. We had just enough.

The “bus” was a bright red minivan (at least the one we got on). We asked the driver if he drove to Hillsborough on his route; he did. We asked if he knew whether the bank was open on a Friday; it was until 3:00. We had no idea what time it was or if we would have enough time to get there; he told us that it was 2:00 and that there was more than enough time to get there. So we gave him our $6EC and climbed in.

He drove the rest of the way down the “main” road in town and then through some of the smaller side streets. Some of the roads he traveled down were dead ends where he would have to turn his minivan around in the middle of the road and head back the way he came. People on the “bus” were dropped off at their doors. He tooted his horn as he passed people; some would ignore him, others would wave which would cause him to screech to a halt and wait for them to board the “bus”.

He stopped at a grocery store where there were four cases of beer stacked in front of it near the street. He loaded the cases into the back and continued our journey. He stopped in front of a group of men playing dominos. He sent one of the riders over to them with a fist full of money who would then run back to the “bus” with a slip of paper.

We made steady progress towards Hillsborough but we had many, many stops; being compulsive, I kept my eye on the clock. Eventually, we came to another grocery store where the cases of beer were off loaded. We continued on to another group of men, where the slip of paper was given to them. All the while, people were getting on and off the bus.

As we approached Hillsborough, at 2:50, I asked if he would direct us to the bank; he dropped us off in front of the bank and then told us that when we wanted to return, to go the next corner to catch another “bus”.

We crossed the street and entered the bank. Dale spotted an ATM in the corner and we were out within 3 minutes. We headed to the corner and caught the same “bus” for our return trip. Mr. Putty commented on how quickly we had completed our transaction. Dale told him that when you have no money, it makes it easy. We were directed to the back of the “bus”.

We were obviously in rush hour in Hillsborough as all of the school children in their uniforms crowded the streets with those who were apparently getting off work. Mr. Putty filled the “bus” in my estimation to capacity. Then he started adding seats between the benches and the single drop down seats and stuffed a few more in.

We wove our way back to Tyrell Bay dropping off one or two here and picking up two or three there. We stopped one time when a pack of dogs chasing a goat caught Mr. Putty’s eye. He stopped the “bus” in the middle of the road, hurriedly climbed out with another man and together they grabbed rocks, empty bottles or whatever they could to chase the dogs away from the livestock. This village not only watches over each other’s children but their livestock too. I was impressed.

As we approached our stop and then passed it, I suddenly realized, we didn’t know how to let him know we wanted to get off the bus. So I just shouted “Mr. Putty, we need to get off here, please.” It worked but later in the evening, we were told that you knock on the side panel. We were also told later that the “Mr. Putty” (clearly written on the back of his seat) was actually pronounced Pootee, not the way that I said it.

It was at the Lambi Queen, where we had gone for dinner, that we learned of our various faux pas. We had been told that on Friday evenings, the Lambi (the local word for conch) Queen had live entertainment which was well worth the trip in. We met Rick & Carolyn (two more Canadians) who were more than a little excited to be back in Carriacou. I suspect that they will eventually build a home here.

While we sat with them, they told us the backgrounds of the various entertainers. Carolyn definitely had her finger on the pulse of the town. The evening started off with a very talented acoustic guitar player and two drummers; one on a regular set of drums and the second on a large type of bongo drum. These musicians were joined by a German woman who used to belong to a drum corps in Germany but whose husband was now working here as an electrician, so she asked the bongo man to teach her how to play this type of drum. She was pretty good.

Another bass type of drum was added by a young man before Carolyn’s favorite, the stick dancer joined them. The stick dancer is a fisherman by day and by night (on the weekends), an incredible dancer/juggler/entertainer.

While the stick dancer took a break, the bongo man did his act which involved slowly folding his arms and legs into a fashion that the Circus de Ole would be proud.

All in all, very entertaining. And the barbeque chicken wasn’t bad either.