Disappointment and a sting of financial reality. Time to bail out...?

We decided to leave Dominica three days early as in our original itinerary it would have meant arriving in Bequia on a Sunday; not advisable as everything is closed! We also had intentions of trying to broker a deal on a bareboat yacht charter; most of the companies were based in St.Vincent, so this was our first port of call.

We say a sad farewell to Jose, the manager of Harmony Villa












(More details coming on: www.oldgitsgapyear@blogspot.com )

I had hoped for some funny stories to tell about LIAT, the West Indian airways, which has a reputation of really knowing how to foul things up... Well, so far they have been on the ball, dead on time and managed not to lose our bags...BA take note!

We arrived at St.Vincent and we both immediately felt uneasy; nothing specific just a bad feeling about the place. We only saw a small fraction of the island during our short stay but what we did see of it, and some of its people, meant we would not be returning in a hurry. We did also receive some rather stark financial news on our arrival; which may have coloured our opinion. The taxi ripped us off for the five minute ride to a rather tired looking hotel, which lay on Indian Bay. (I’ve not mentioned it by name, yet!) The service matched the decor...minimalistic. The pool was so ‘long’ if you stretched out you touched both ends and the sea was clear but the beach had an ‘unpleasant odour’...of rotting fish. Opposite, proudly sat the very exclusive Young Island, if only the budget would allow us...

Indian Bay & the 'exclusive' Young Island





Our first priority was to establish if we could charter a yacht. A local company ‘Barefoot’ had been recommended and close to them were Sunsail. Despite a long walk to both establishments, follow up calls and e-mails, we never received any reply. The manager of Barefoot was as elusive as a ‘British Bobby’ on the beat. We had been told that boats were available, but could we obtain a quote..., they must have viewed the old gits as incapable...wrong mate, we’re English and have sea water cascading through our veins!

MOG gazes enviously at some of the yachts; a means to get away from St.Vincent?












Our only experience of our hotel's cuisine was lunch on the first day. We asked for a snack and we were told the only dish available was Samosas at a price that would be more appropriate in a top London hotel. The six overcooked triangles arrived just as the only other residents were shown the menu of fresh fish salads etc, at roughly the same price! Disappointed, we finally tracked down a small shop and bought bread, ham and processed cheese. Frustration mounted as we tried to link to the hotel’s Wi-Fi ... When we did finally connect to the internet we were presented with our 2009 1st quarter’s financial statement. We knew it was not going to make pleasant reading but..., for those of us who have saved and tried to be prudent, it still came as a shock how badly our income had fared. Thank you Gordon Brown for ensuring that those of us, who have put some cash away, not only live in fear of our savings disappearing into a bankruptcy black hole, but we now see little return.

Furthermore those who have tried to invest in the stock market we see that due to the banks’ unregulated greed, encouraged by the Government, our portfolio is now a shadow of its former self... I am glad any pension statements are still laying un-opened back in the UK; we dread to think what state they are in. A silence envelopes the Old Gits as the financial implications sink in. We sat in our room chewing on tough ham and stale bread when the inevitable happened... a row ensued. We eventually retired to the thumping beat of the $1 taxis screeching round bends on the road just above us. The warm cloak of the Caribbean evaporated replaced by the more familiar ‘fret and worry’.

We awoke tired; the thick atmosphere of tension still surrounding us. So what do we do? We take one of the music thumping $1 taxis to Kingstown. It was a strange decision but brought the Old Gits rapidly closer together again. If we had been in Dominica or St.Kitts when we entered the taxi, there would have been smiles and some banter, naturally about cricket. (Well we did finally win the one day series...well done lads!). The suspicious sideways glances and lack of communication from the locals was to say the least, a little intimidating. Kingstown was another disappointment. However what was more worrying was to experience, for the first time in the Caribbean, ‘the stare’; the head remains still but the eyes follow you menacingly: you don’t actually know what people are thinking, but we had a b****y good idea..., I don’t think it involved a friendly chat and cold beer... come back St.Kitts, Nevis and Dominica...

Kingstown market









So then what do we do next? We return in another $1 taxi...well money is tight... (Things are that bad MOG is contemplating becoming ‘T’ total...hey, now that’s a saving!) The music was so loud FOG had her fingers in her ears and MOG was experiencing palpitations. In our travels the driving in Naples had to be the worst we’d seen until, that is, we visited Beijing... well now we have a new champion. The eleven seater ‘taxi’ had 21occupants and the driver clearly thought he was in the F1 at Monte Carlo. He would even have made the ‘nerves of steel’ Lewis Hamilton shake in his boots...

Vibrating out of the taxi we clutched to each other muttering a prayer of thanks for our ‘safe’ return and even our hotel seemed welcoming. Another night of stale bread and dry cheese was accompanied by a ‘discussion’ on whether we have to admit defeat and head for home. Plan A to charter a boat, at an advantageous rate, had back fired and we now faced the prospect of having to use hotels for the next 3 weeks. We assumed that Bequia, highly recommended by many, would be even more expensive; costs could escalate out of control... another fretful night’s sleep.

The next morning the stony faced Old Gits sat quietly at the breakfast table contemplating our options. Has the long cold tentacles of the credit crunch finally wrapped themselves around the windpipes of the Old Gits?

Is OGGY doomed...?