Showing posts with label odd names. Show all posts
Showing posts with label odd names. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 22, 2023

Desperately Seeking Sunshine # 5: When an Island Becomes a Village

Due to unexpected technical difficulties, I was unable to carry on blogging while I was on the ship. Now that I am back in Canada, the blogging has begun and will continue until I’m all caught up.
 
 
During the night, our ship sailed – idled, really – northwards from Amber Cove on the short leg of 97 nautical miles to the cruise ship pier at the southwest corner of Grand Turk Island. Here are a couple of pictures taken from the ship to show what Grand Turk looked like later in the day. In the morning, there were a lot of clouds about and the odd scattered shower.
 


Despite the short distance of the voyage, we had a time change. Puerto Plata was our only port of call in a different time zone from Florida. We changed time on the night we left Nassau, giving us the sea day and our day ashore in Puerto Plata in that time zone. Now, even though we were sailing not far off due north, we had to change the time back before landing in Grand Turk.
 
 
The Turks and Caicos Islands were for many years left behind in the rush to establish tourism facilities all up and down the Caribbean. Geologically and geographically, these limestone islands mark the southeastern end of the Lucayan Archipelago, the rest of which is the home of the Bahamas. Historically, the Turks and Caicos were operated as a separate British overseas territory. Still a British overseas territory today, although now self-governing in most respects, the Turks and Caicos have more recently come to the attention of the tourist world.
 
To start with, much of the attention was lavished on the island of Providenciales (“Provo” for short). There, you can find all manner of elaborate resort hotels, especially the kind that I can only dream of affording to stay in, as well as the territory’s largest full-size airport capable of handling long-range and overseas airliners. A quick look revealed room rates in the fashionable Kingstown area on the north shore of Provo ranging from CA$474 to CA$2,037 per night.
 
To a large extent, the rampant development on the island of Provo has left the smaller islands behind. The cruise port in Grand Turk is another very recent development. The island, despite its big name, hosts a small community of just 5,000 people, basically a village which occupies an entire island. The local people are often outnumbered by the passenger crowds pouring ashore from the two ships a day which the terminal can accommodate.
 
To get to Grand Turk by air, you would most likely have to fly into Provo and then take one of the short daily island-hopper flights in small aircraft to J.A.G.S. McCartney International Airport on Grand Turk. This airport can handle single-aisle jet aircraft at medium range but there’s not a lot of demand on that scale because of the small population and the relatively intimate size of tourism facilities on the island.
 
J.A.G.S. McCartney was the first elected Chief Minister or premier when the Turks and Caicos became a partially self-governing entity with their own elected assembly, and yes, he really did have a clutch of given names to go with all those initials: James Alexander George Smith McCartney. However, the locals commonly and, I think, affectionately refer to him as “Jags.” He assumed office in 1976, at the age of 31, and died four years later in a private plane crash in New Jersey. Here's a monument to him in the “middle” of town.
 
 
I put the “middle” in quotation marks because the population is both small and well spread out, so that there is really no visible start or end to a town or neighbourhood – unless you see a clear sign like this one.
 

Holland America Line reassured us that we would dock “in the center of town” but there really isn’t one – just areas which are a little more populated than other areas.
 
Despite the visible economic imbalance in favour of Provo, it is Grand Turk which is the official capital of the territory, housing the Assembly, the Supreme Court the government ministries, and the official residence of the British-appointed Governor.
 
 
All of this and a good deal more we learned from the personable guide of our tour on the “Rainbow Tram.” This was an open-sided tourist vehicle with rows of seats stretching side-to side, reached via steps on the left or right. Actually, it was a pair of them linked together, with the driver and engine up front and the second vehicle a trailer.
 

One thing we did had to wait until we were a fair distance away from the cruise terminal, and past the airport. Then, we stopped on Front Street on the west shore, in Cockburn Town, to visit a cluster of shops and kiosks run by local residents, far from the influence of the inevitable Effy’s, Tanzanite International, Ron Jon Surf Shop, and Starbucks back at the terminal. The picture of the tram was taken at this stop, as was this one.


After the shopping stop, we continued north, passing from the west side to the east side to detour around the largest of the salt ponds. There are a number of these large ponds in Grand Turk, and in the 1800s when commercial fish catches were packed in salt for preservation, the drying and collecting of salt from these ponds was a major commercial enterprise. That all came to an end with the invention of refrigerators.
 
 
After leaving the more populated areas behind, we began climbing a long gradual slope towards the landmark lighthouse near the island’s northern tip. On the way up, we got a grandstand view of the ocean on the east side of the island, showing the brilliant colour changes from the turquoise of the shallow waters to the rich blue of the deep areas beyond the coral reefs.
 

In this area, there are still relatively few houses, but much of this land has been purchased by corporations for possible future development.
 

 
Finally we reached the literal end of the road at the lighthouse. This prefabricated steel structure was shipped out from England in pieces and assembled here on the highest point of the island, 165 feet above sea level (about 50 metres) to provide guidance to ships approaching the dangerous reefs. It’s no longer used, satellite navigation aids having taken its place, and in fact is not open to the public now as the steel staircase inside is dangerously corroded. Pity.
 

The former light-keeper’s house is now a gift shop and snack bar.
 

It was here on the parking lot at the lighthouse that we had our chance to get up close and personal with some of the island’s most famous inhabitants.
 
 
These donkeys’ ancestors were imported from Bermuda in the 1800s to assist in the hauling work of the salt industry. They were, of course, an “exotic” or imported animal, not a part of the natural ecosystem of Grand Turk – but the same was equally true of their presence in Bermuda!
 
Today, there are a hundred or so of them roaming freely around the island, and they are officially a protected species here. Our guide told us that it's mandatory to lock the gate in front of your home when you go out if you want to still have a garden when you get back. The government even provides veterinary care for them as needed! Look at this first picture and you’ll see a single donkey.
 

 
Within a few minutes, that single donkey had become three…
 
 
…and after another few minutes the three had become…
 
 
…oh, well, I’ll let you have the fun of seeing how many you can find in that picture! This miraculous multiplication of donkeys was all due to the owner of the silver car you see in the photos. This shrewd entrepreneur had bought a box of carrots and was selling them at $1.00 per carrot to visitors who wanted to feed a donkey. We all got a great laugh at the woman who walked across the parking lot, holding a carrot, and trying to catch her husband’s attention to take a picture, with the donkey nipping at the carrot right behind her all the way. Our guide had solemnly warned us not to stand behind a donkey. There was one fellow who skipped out of the danger zone just in time as one of the animals raised its tail.
 
With that visit to the lighthouse done, we turned back towards the pier. On the way back, we took a quick break to view this sign, with an artist’s impression in the middle of the so-called “Turk’s Head Cactus” which gave the island its odd name.
 
 
Back at the harbour, we got a good look from the pier at the one tourist attraction which was absolutely as far as many of the ship’s passengers (and likely some of the crew) ever got on their visit to Grand Turk.
 
 
Grand Turk, with its unique small-community vibe, was like no other island I’ve ever visited in the Caribbean. I don’t know if I could keep myself occupied while staying there for a solid week, but I’d love to visit again for a day or two.
 
 
 

Desperately Seeking Sunshine # 4: Amber and Silver

Due to unexpected technical difficulties, I was unable to carry on blogging while I was on the ship. Now that I am back in Canada, the blogging has begun and will continue until I’m all caught up.
 
 
The second port of call for this cruise was at Amber Cove in the Dominican Republic. It was a first-ever visit to the D.R. for me. Amber Cove is a fairly new cruise terminal and event/entertainment centre, purpose-developed by Carnival Corp. to supplement the limited docking facilities in the harbour of Puerto Plata (“Port of Silver”), some 15 or so kilometres to the east. Probably the best viewpoint for the mountain scenery around Amber Cove would be an outdoor upper deck of a cruise ship docked here.


Given the location, the tours the ship offered were a mixture of varying experiences in Puerto Plata itself, or trips to various beach locations nearby. I opted for a traditional sightseeing tour by coach, with one extended stop in the city centre and one shorter stop on the waterfront.
 
After the usual lengthy hike along the pier and through the obligatory duty free shop, we were greeted by this colourful sculpture of sea life on the seaward side of the cruise terminal.
 

 A good tour is made or broken by the quality of the guide. Maria, who quickly asked us to call her “Mama,” was one of the better ones in my experience. She had plenty of historic detail about the country and the city at her fingertips, and shared it during the drive in. 
 
One detail which I certainly absorbed (and it surprised me) was that the Dominican Republic, unlike many of the Spanish-language countries in and around the Caribbean basin, did not win its independence from Spain. In this case, the colonizing power was the aggressively-minded Haiti, which shares the same large island, taking the western end. 
 

 More than one ruler of Haiti styled himself as "Emperor" due to large egos and larger expansive ambitions.
 
As we approached the city centre, we drove along one section of the waterfront drive to let us view the 1500s-vintage Fortaleza San Felipe. It was a reminder that the city's rarely-used official full name is San Felipe de Puerto Plata.
 

By the time we arrived at the main plaza in the centre of town, we’d absorbed enough to be ready for a colonial city with almost no colonial buildings left – this due to a catastrophic burning and destruction during an attempted recolonization by Spain which took place in 1863-65. 


What was definitely still colonial about Puerto Plata was the narrow streets, and their total inability to cope with waves of modern traffic. A traffic policeman on control duty at the intersection on the plaza was blowing his whistle continually throughout our entire visit. 
 
The plaza was dominated by the city hall on the east side, decked with long banners employing the colours and crest of the national flag….
 
 
…and the Cathedral of San Felipe on the south, dating from the 1930s, and presenting a simple, stylish Art Deco interpretation of a traditional Spanish church. 
 

 
The cathedral’s interior carries out the relatively plain promise of the exterior – not ornate, not encrusted with gold and gems, but attractive in its own quieter, less frantic way.
 


Over on the west side, the white wooden building with the shady front porch is the one surviving building from before the destruction of the 1860s to be found on the plaza.
 
 
Also on the square was this small outdoor stage, which Mama told us was the setting for popular shows enjoyed by whole families after mass on Sundays.
 

Nearby to the plaza, we walked into this narrow, crowded pedestrian street, colloquially known as the Umbrella Street. 
 
 
Like many other tour guides I've met, Mama was more than happy to take a picture on request.


Here we visited a gift shop where we were enticed by a small taster cup of hot chocolate (very tasty and chocolatey, not just all sugar as in Canada), and where I bought a bag of Dominican coffee. Can’t wait to get home and try that out!
 
We then crossed back over to the other side of the main east-west street and into another shop where we were softened up for the sales pitch by a sampler of locally-made rum (day drinking before 11 am again!). From there we made our way back to the plaza, where we had a rather lengthy wait for our bus driver to make his way back through the madhouse traffic with the coach – which he had been forced to park well outside the centre.
 
From there, we drove down to the waterfront, where we saw this elegant sign…
 
 
… and a whole string of waterfront bar/eateries like this one. 
 

Mama explained that these beach bars along the miles of beaches were popular with local families to grab lunch on beach outings since no plastic or glass is allowed on the beaches -- which makes bringing your own picnic much more of a challenge.
 
We took one more quick stop at a spot where a number of vendors were set up roadside, and there was a good view out to the statue of Neptune poised on a rocky outcrop in the ocean. No more shopping for me, but plenty of others on the tour dived in with a will.
 

 
From there we drove back out to Amber Cove after an interesting, informative, and very cramped and crowded experience. It was the crowding in the streets and sidewalks more than anything else which persuaded me that, colourful and exciting as the city can be, one visit to the old central area of Puerto Plata was quite enough.