Sunday Morning, Huntum's Ghut

Huntum's Ghut refers to many things. At its most basic, it refers to the watercourse that handles most of the drainage from Great Mountain. "Ghut", after all, is just another word for "ditch", and there are many ghuts throughout the island.

Huntum's Ghut also refers to a street. Huntum's Ghut Road parallels huntum's ghut, the ditch, and connects Great Mountain and other points in the mountains with downtown Road Town. It's one of only two roads going out of Road Town into the mountains. HB and I drive it every day, as it's the easiest way from our house to Road Town.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Huntum's Ghut refers to the community that lines Huntum's Ghut Road. The busyness of the road and the barrier of the ghut create a cohesive, vibrant community. 

During the morning and evening rush-hours, Huntum's Ghut Road is lined with pedestrians and parked cars. Traffic tries to maneuver through them, and often comes to a standstill when a driver sees an acquaintance walking and stops to have a chat. Friday nights, especially, Huntum's Ghut Road becomes nearly impassable from all the people out and about. 

The pictures below were taken on Sunday morning, an exceptionally quiet time for Huntum's Ghut.

There are always a few folks limin' on the porch of the laundromat/ice store. The laundromat, combined with the One-Mart across the street and the gas station next door, forms the core of social life in Huntum's Ghut.

Many of the women in HG wash their clothes at home, and use the dryers at the laundromat.

Where does the water come from for a washing machine installed on an outdoor balcony?

Animals are prolific along Huntum's Ghut. There is a rash of feral dogs, and pet dogs that are allowed to roam free. 

One family keeps goats and chickens in their front yard, although there are plenty of roosters and chickens on the streets, too.

Near the laundromat is a popular local restaurant that HB and I keep meaning to try (hopefully in the next week or two)

And just next door is my favorite sign in all Tortola:

It makes me laugh every time I drive by. 

Daily Commute

It's been a little difficult since I've been back to get used to having a daily commute again. My "commute" in Florida was about 5 minutes, and the three months or so without work or a commute of any sort have made me a little soft.

Still, I don't have a whole lot to complain about, because while my morning drive to work is long -- about 17 kilometers and 45 minutes --  it only nominally counts as a commute, as it is pretty relaxing driving.

Here's a map of the drive I make every morning:

The drive starts up on Great Mountain, near the words "Lower Estate". HB and I leave around 8:05 in the morning, and head down Great Mountain Road, through Huntum's Ghut (more on which tomorrow), and into Road Town. I drop HB at his work, in the heart of Road Town, at about 8:15, and then head to my work.

Through downtown Road Town, past the ferry terminal and the old government house museum. Suddenly, I round a corner, and the view tells me that I've left the city behind.

After a few kilometers along the coast, the numerous speedbumps and potholes on the coastal road in the various communities that line Sea Cow's Bay slow me down for a little while. After Sea Cow's though, it's pretty much a free-for-all. I hit about 60kph (38mph), my top speed, during the stretch between Sea Cow's Bay and the incinerator (near the area marked as Pockwood Pond on the map above).

The radio stops receiving when I hit the slightly industrial area near the incinerator, which consists of a petrol station, some large warehouses, and a mine, but this lasts for only half a kilometer, and then it's back to open coastal road and winding turns at 60, until I have to turn right on Zion Hill Road to cross the island to the north coast.

The two or three minutes spent on Zion Hill Road are some of the most enjoyable of my commute, as the homes and business along Zion Hill are especially neat, and the views of the North Coast after cresting the summit are spectacular.

Zion Hill dead-ends into the North Coast Road at Cappoon's Bay. I like to take my time cruising past the brave folks surfing on the swells in Cappoon's.

I usually pull into the parking lot at work around 8:45 or 8:50, and since I don't have to be in the office until 9:00, I get a few blissful minutes to myself to read, or enjoy my surroundings.

Despite the odd inconvenience, like the speedbumps in Sea Cow's, and the lack of radio for the last ten minutes, I certainly couldn't wish for a better 45-minute commute. I get to see nearly the entirety of Tortola, and hardly have any traffic to contend with.

Spirit

I've been having difficulty getting in the Christmas spirit so far this year. I'm sure most people don't even think about that until a few days after Thanksgiving, but for me, Thanksgiving is kind of part of Christmas, and I'm usually ready to go shortly after Halloween. In an effort to stimulate my Christmas spirit, I've been listening to lots of Christmas carols, and watching lots of Disney movies.

Still, the tropical sunshine, green vegetation, and complete lack of any sort of nip in the air have stymied me, until yesterday. On the drive home, the band at the youth center in Huntum's Ghut was practicing. They were playing "Carol of the Bells". On the steel drums. Christmas spirit, achieved!

Tortola Thanksgiving

As most of you know, yesterday was the US holiday of Thanksgiving. I hope all of you in the States had a satisfying feast and enjoyed the football, and that you're getting all the shopping deals you want today. 

Since Thanksgiving is a US holiday, it is only partially celebrated in the BVIs. There is a sizable American ex-pat population, and of course some Americans may be visiting during the holiday. In response to this American presence, many restaurants do a set Thanksgiving menu, while others accommodate the holiday by adding a traditional Thanksgiving dinner special to their regular menu. 

Most of the Americans who have been on island for an extended period have potluck Thanksgiving dinners with friends in groups of 8 to 12 or so. The small size of kitchens in most apartments and the likelihood that recent arrivals won't have much equipment for roasting and baking and boiling makes the potluck a practical approach to Thanksgiving.

Having only been here for three months, HB and I have made friends with a few folks, but no Americans. As a result, we were left to our own devices for Thanksgiving. Since Thanksgiving is not an official holiday here, both HB and I had to work. That, combined with the fact that I have exactly one baking dish, made for a slightly truncated Thanksgiving dinner for us. 

No turkey or stuffing or mashed potatoes for us. Instead, we resorted to the one-pot, semi-traditional (for HB anyway) solution to Thanksgiving: Chicken and Dumplings. And since I don't have a pie plate yet, instead of pumpkin pie, we had pumpkin cake. In all, a satisfying first Thanksgiving in a foreign locale.

Silence of the Donkeys

Last night, around 10:00, HB and I were startled by a noise outside that sounded very much like a woman screaming at the top of her lungs. When the noise was repeated twice more in the course of a few minutes, we went outside to try to make sure that no one was in trouble.

Staring into the dark, hearing this loud, high-pitched scream coming from well over a kilometer away, echoing off the mountains, gave both HB and I the chills, especially as our concern that someone was being injured grew. After a few more repetitions of the noise, though, we began to hear a slight snort at the end that definitely couldn’t be human.

We slowly realized that what we were hearing was not a woman screaming, but rather a donkey. I sincerely wish, again, to have recording capacity on my computer, as words cannot describe the eeriness of this sound. The intensity and desperation in the noise coming from the donkey across the hill made us think of scenes in movies where horses are attacked by wolves or bears.

But there are no large mammals on Tortola. It’s possible that the donkey was being threatened by wild dogs, but this possibility seems somehow unlikely to us. What caused this donkey to scream so hauntingly for over half an hour? Predators? Pain? Mating Season? I can only hope that the poor creature is healthy and at peace now.

Hitchhiking Etiquette

Hitchhiking constitutes a primary form of transportation for a sizable percentage of the population in the BVI. It is the way many people get to and from work everyday, or get into town to run errands. It is unusual to take a trip in the car and not see someone waiting by the side of the road for a ride.

As a driver, however, I am often flustered by how to interact with hitchhikers, both when I do pick someone up, and when I don't. When I pick someone up, does the burden of conversation fall on me? Or on my passenger? Should I turn the radio down for conversation, or up for listening pleasure? Is the A/C too cold? Where should I drop the hitchhiker off if our paths diverge?

The questions are even more intense when, for a variety of reasons, I don't pick someone up. As a rule, I don't pick up single male hitchhikers. Although the BVIs are very safe, I simply can't get over my US-instilled fears of being alone in a car with a strange man. Also, I generally don't pick up people when I'm within half a kilometer of my destination. Such a short ride is probably going to actually be counterproductive for the hitchhiker. Additionally, there are times when I'm running late for work, and simply don't have time to pick up and drop off another person.

But what do I do when I pass someone by? Shout the reason for my rudeness out the window? Smile, wave, look them in the eye, shrug? Or simply avert my gaze? I know that most hitchhikers are probably passed by several cars before they get a ride, but I still feel guilty whenever I don't stop to pick someone up.

On the whole, though, despite the minor complications that arise for me with regard to hitchhiking, it's kind of nice to live in a country that is safe enough and relaxed enough for hitchhiking to still be such a prominent form of transportation.

DeCastro Street

Although Waterfront is arguably the main drag through Road Town, the beating heart of downtown -- the street where everything gets accomplished -- is DeCastro Street. DeCastro and Waterfront run parallel to each other, so many of the buildings that front Waterfront back up against DeCastro, and vice versa. But most of the entrances and all of the parking is on DeCastro.

At the foot of DeCastro Street is the Main Administrative Complex for the Government of the BVI. This is where the Governor goes to work everyday, and other ... government ... things happen. Ok, so I'm not entirely clear on what goes on here, as I've never actually been in, but it is certainly a big, impressive structure.

Just up the street from the Administrative Complex is the intersection of DeCastro and Nibbs, the heart of the banking district. While there are lots of trust companies scattered throughout Road Town, all of the banks are within a five minute walk of this intersection. First Bank is by far the busiest. At 8:30, the parking lot was already filling up, and the bank doesn't open until 9:00

The BVI Tourist Board, a helpful resource for visitors, cohabits a building with Hezikiah Photography and Fine Art. Hezikiah's is an important landmark because it's the best place to get passport-sized photos in town, something every immigrant needs every year.

Across the street from the Tourist Board are the post office boxes. Keep in mind that the Post Office is nowhere near DeCastro Street (it's about 5km away), so if you have a package, you can't get it here. But it is a convenient place for picking up your letter mail, since you're likely already on DeCastro for some reason.

Perhaps you need some housewares, stationery or toys, or need to pop into the grocery store. Bolo's Department Store and Bobby's Market (the building with the blue trim) form a convenient corner at the top of DeCastro. Bolo's is the most convenient place in Road Town for household items, while Bobby's has the best, and least expensive produce I've seen on the island.

As long as you're on DeCastro going to the bank, picking up your mail, and doing your grocery shopping, you may as well get your car washed, too. This is the only car wash in Road Town, as far as I know. It consists of a tent, a pump truck, and a few guys who, for $10, will wash your car by hand in about half an hour. Just drop your car, run your errands, and it'll be ready to go when you come back.

Finally, at the very top of DeCastro Street is Geneva Place. I have visited this set of five buildings more times in the last two weeks than I can count. On the far left is Eureka Medical Clinic and Pharmacy, where my doctor's office is. The orange building is the headquarters of CCT, a telecom company. The pink building is the department of labor, and the dark blue building on the right is the department of immigration, where I have spent about 4 hours this week.

As I'm writing this, I realize I probably should have stopped at CCT today after I finished at immigration to pay our monthly internet bill. Oh well. It won't be long before I'm back on DeCastro again.