We had morning coffee at Sebastian's. Someone in the office called a taxi for us, and we waited for it at the corner. We told the driver nothing more specific than "Cane Garden Bay," and he took us down the coast and dropped us in front of Myett's, which we discovered was the beginning of the commercial strip in Cane Garden.

We walked through Myett's courtyard garden, lush with greenery, to the open-air dining area next to the bar. Kareem, a very friendly staff person, introduced himself and talked to us a while. He used to live in San Francisco. Kareem sounded like a continental American, with no accent obvious to Midwestern ears. We mentioned lunch, and he said to talk to Francois to order lunch.

We were the only customers there at the time and had an early lunch. We all had tasty vegetable rotis (wraps), sitting at a counter overlooking the beach. Van Morrison played on the stereo. We stared at the blue water, motionless boats, and heavy clouds. A black man floated in the shallow water, holding a baby.

Cane Garden Bay from our lunch counter at Myett's

In Olivia's, the gift shop, Beth bought a bracelet for her mother and toe rings for herself.

Then we walked back down the road to a cemetery we had passed in the taxi and wanted to look at. School children in uniforms drifted down the street. Workmen were rebuilding the partly-demolished, ancient wall around the cemetery. Liz crossed the street and asked them if it would be okay if we went into the cemetery and took some pictures. "Sure, no problem."

Beth and I followed Liz into the cemetery. Fine tiled vaults rested next to rough concrete slabs with grass growing through the cracks, or with bare iron rods sticking up, or buried under mounds of faded flowers, or inscribed by hand when the cement was wet.

Liz talks to construction workers at the cemetery

(Later Beth said she had to laugh, because while Liz very discretely snapped a few photos, I was brazenly shooting away at anything and everything.)

Back out on the street, some school children ducked into Myett's garden when they saw me raise my camera. It began to rain.

We were passing between the Elm Beach Bar and Lydia's shack, heading out onto the beach when it started raining heavily. We took shelter in the bar. The waitress was nice and didn't mind us sitting at the table while we waited out the hard rain and thunder and lightning.

Liz decided to check out Lydia's Boutique and ran the 20 feet to the shack and ducked inside. I followed. Then the heaviest rain started, and I thought, oh no, now we're trapped here. Liz wanted to take a picture of me wearing one of the rasta caps in Jamaican colors with the fake dreadlocks. Maybe later. She bought a necklace.

We waited a while, watching the rain, then ran back to the bar. Before too long, the rain let up. The three of us went on our way, over the rainwater running through the ditch in the sand that separated Elm Beach from the next bar, and continued down the beach.

Liz, Beth, and I went into a shop with overpriced, cheap-looking merchandise. We tried on "slit" sunglasses and had a laugh. Instead of translucent lenses over the eyes, they had solid black or white plastic with slits.

We walked into another souvenir shop. It was dark inside, with very dim lighting, making it hard to see the merchandise. The lady behind the counter was wearing sunglasses. I asked her if she had a migraine. "No, why?" Because it's dark in here and you're wearing sunglasses. (Later Beth said the shopkeeper was just trying to be gangsta.) In the dark, Beth was still able to notice the frilly hammock hanging in the center of the shop and called it the "girl" hammock. Liz picked up a dusty hat form and put it on. It looked like a cowboy hat, but clear plastic, with a sharply rectangular brim. We laughed!

Lydia's Boutique

When we reached the end of the commercial establishments on the beach, just past Quito's, we came to steps that led up to a dock and then up to the street. Beyond the steps, a cement wall covered with graffiti faced the beach. We got a kick out of "Jungle Mafia" and "Shakey Butcher" (sic) spray-painted on the wall. At the top of the steps was a broken, old pay phone. We joked that it was the "crack phone."

We loitered there, looked around, and took pictures. A rather short, squat, brown man in swim trunks, with a dive mask and something in a plastic grocery bag, came up from the dock and walked away down the street.

We went back down to the beach and settled on lounge chairs in front of the Big Banana Bar. It was still overcast. I went for a swim. I changed out of my wet trunks in the washroom, seeing a few people come and go in the gangway outside the open washroom window.

Liz bought us drinks: guava juice for me (the bar didn't have coffee), a Painkiller for Beth, and a banana smoothie for herself. I wanted caffeine and later asked the waitress for tea. She put a teabag in some hot water and waved me away, no charge.

Some dogs congregated around us. A large black half-poodle, "Fluffy" to the man with him, played retrieve. A sweet little dog without a collar - Beth named her "Honey" - was so friendly and docile, we thought she was trying to find a home. She seemed to want protection from the pack of three dogs that came around, but they ignored her.

Honey digs a cool nest

A dog marked each end of the row of lounge chairs we were sitting on, wetting Liz's sandals. One of the three dogs in the pack, the one without a collar, started barking. I wasn't sure who or what he was barking at, but I didn't like the sound of it. The poodle owner threw something at the barking stray and drove it away. He told us that the stray had a mean streak and had bitten people in the past.

I walked over to Quito's after the doors opened. A bartender was there. I asked him about dinner, but it was served too late for me. I reported to Beth and Liz that Quito's gift shop was closed.

We walked back down the beach toward Myett's and decided to look at some hotel rooms for future reference. Elm Beach Suites were all occupied, but a man in the office let us look at one - an efficiency with kitchenette and a bathroom. I remarked that his was the first "real" British (English) accent I'd heard here. He told us he was born in Asia, went to England and "got out as soon as possible," and has lived here in the islands for 12 years. "It's a long story," he said.

We also looked at a suite at Myett's. We asked at the office, and a man (with a New York accent?) brought us upstairs and showed us a suite with a deck out front, shaded by palm trees.

Down in the restaurant, a large, friendly group at a table started a conversation with Liz and introduced themselves to us. Some of them were from San Francisco. (Coincidence, or did they have any connection to Kareem?)

A guy with dreads at the bar tried to sell us some music CDs for $20 each. He didn't have his music player and so couldn't play us any of the CDs, but assured us they were really good. Beth asked if he played an instrument. "I'm the distributor," he said. He called himself "True Love." I think he was a bit drunk. We weren't interested in his pitch.

While Liz went back to Olivia's gift shop to buy some clothing she'd looked at earlier, Beth and I went to Bobbie's Grocery, not far from Myett's, where the road turns inland. We bought bananas and pears, and I picked up a package of flatbread.

At the checkout counter, Beth saw a small package of "Bimbo" brand cookies, which she picked up to give to Liz as a joke. I paid for the other items, and the cashier gave me change. Then Beth was going to pay for the Bimbo cookies. The cashier said to Beth, "one quarter" and then turned to me and pointed, "…you!" because I still had the change in hand and she knew I had a quarter.

"What?! I have to pay for hers?!" I protested in jest.

We met Liz back at Myett's and showed her what we bought. She looked at the bread and noticed that it was horribly moldy, except for the top piece. While she and Beth waited for the taxi, I ran back to Bobbie's to return the bread.

The cashier asked, "Do you have the receipt?" No, I just bought it a little while ago. She looked at the mold and said, "How could this get past you and me?" I had only looked at the top piece. "Are you sure you haven't had this in your refrigerator for two weeks?" She asked if there was another package and marched back to the refrigerator case. I followed her. There was another package, but I told her I didn't want it, saying it might be as old as the other loaf. Finally, she grudgingly gave me a couple bucks back.

We asked our taxi driver to stop at the Sugar Mill Restaurant on the way back to our hotel. The driver pulled in there and went into the restaurant with me. A lady showed me the menu and said dinner was served at 6:30, 7:00, and 7:30. It was a short, gourmet menu with entrées from $25 - 40. Vegetarian entrées "by request." We were too early and in a more frugal frame of mind this vacation.

We went back to the hotel. Liz and I shared a pizza from Sebastian's. Beth ate a peanut butter sandwich.

After we ate, Beth and I took a walk along the beach as the clouds turned from gold to red. We passed a young couple sitting on the beach. I said hello and asked if they were staying at Sebastian's. They were, but just overnight. They were headed to Anegada to spend the week there. We talked about Anegada for a minute - I said we were planned to make a day trip there - then Beth and I continued down the beach.

We found a labyrinth that someone had made by arranging small rocks in the sand. We walked the labyrinth to the center.

We stopped to look at the sunset for a moment, then walked back.