So this was my first entry on Write Around the World. I was on assignment for Skywritings, the former Air Jamaica’s in-flight magazine. Funny enough, this trip coincided with my leap of faith into a freelance writing career. I knew my job would never give me the two weeks off to take this imperative spa trip to Grenada (I mean, God forbid, passengers go without the latest Caribbean spa information), so in a move that had been coming anyway, I quit, gorged on gnocchi and fried snapper and chocolate on a tour around this sleepy Caribbean neighbour.
Ironically, my connection to Grenada is multi-faceted in a weird six degrees of separation kind-of-way. My father was part of the legal team that spent almost two years in Grenada representing the defendants in the Maurice Bishop murder trial. If you know your history, this led to a little blip in history called the Grenada Invasion. That break early in his legal career pretty much shaped my life. And St. Georges, the capital, and pretty much the entire island, looks just like Port Antonio, the town my family lived in when I was born. Visiting that place right after making such a huge spiritual and professional leap felt like a rebirth. I can’t imagine it had anything to do with how much fun I had.
La Luna – The “island haven” rooms, with their open showers, four-poster canopy beds and panorama vistas, the ensconced turquoise cove, plunge pools in each room, Giovanni Ribisi’s doppelgänger Chef Daniele, whose entrees make you want to lick your plate top to bottom, the bright blue and orange motif, the lush landscape, the on-site herb garden, the Balinese spa with matching masseuses…this is a hotel designed for sexy sex and hedonism. When you’re not in your room imitating bunnies, every sense has something to savour.
The trip involved a stay at the now closed La Source (sister to St. Lucia’s Le Sport), which was an experimentation in an adventure vacay. Archery, kayaking, yoga, snorkeling, javelin throwing, these were all on the table. La Source knew how to help you work off their all-inclusive calories. But alas, they closed, so if you’re heading to the Spice Isle, La Luna is the only hotel I recommend. It was the ultimate high before my crash back to my I’m-going-to-be-poor-for-a-while reality.
But I digress. On to the photographic evidence of the bliss that is possible.
The horizon pool and La Luna restaurant by dusk (but really all I see is Daniele’s risotto).
Conch shell on La Luna beach.
Tanning options by the La Luna yoga pavilion. Ommmmmmmmmm……….
Oh, the deck at Mount Cinnamon. We passed through one day for lunch.
Yummy, fruit punch, courtesy of La Luna. Below, a handful of nutmeg and a lady in waiting. Hopefully not in vain. Actually, I was sitting in a restaurant across the street and she stood there the whole time. Not sure if she was actually waiting, or just hanging out, catching up on gossip. It’s a small town. That could be what she was up to. And continuing, the luminous bar of La Source, for nighttime drinks, a waterfall whose name I forget right now, and quaint St Georges. Good times.
Like I said, a fitting high.