After a morning walking around Castries and scoring big with local fruit at Castries Market yesterday, we dropped off our massive fruit haul at the hotel before continuing on to Pigeon Island. Just a short drive from our hotel in Rodney Bay, Pigeon Island is an islet on the northern part of St. Lucia. Once upon a time it was a separate piece of land from St. Lucia, but it was artificially joined to the western coast of the mainland in 1972 by a manmade causeway built from dirt excavated to form what is now the modern-day Rodney Bay Marina. Pigeon Island is beloved by locals for offering a calm, clear, and less tourist-infested beach (versus Reduit Beach nearby). It is also known for having two peaks that you can hike, as well as Fort Rodney on top of one of those peaks, which was once used by the British to spy on French ships from the nearby island Martinique.
We had lunch at a local restaurant (which included a delicious breadfruit mash!) on the quiet beach before heading over to the National Landmark side of the island to hike up to Fort Rodney. From this peak where Fort Rodney sits, you can see stunning views of Rodney Bay and the marina, the Caribbean Sea and Atlantic Ocean, and the northwest coastline of the island country. On very clear days, you can also see the island of Martinique, which is about 25 miles away. What we noticed a lot in St. Lucia is how contrasting the views are of the calm, clear turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea to the west and rougher deep blue, at times even near-black waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The hike up to Fort Rodney was much shorter than I’d read online, so I was pleasantly surprised when we reached the top of the fort and were quickly rewarded with such stunning 360-degree views. When viewing some parts of the beach from this peak, the water was so clear that you could see the ocean floor!
After we made our descent, we parked ourselves on a shady spot on the local beach to enjoy the crystal clear, calm waters. Kaia had been waiting (impatiently) for beach time, so she was revved up and ready to go. She dragged me all the way across the beach, to where she met a 9-year-old friend and her mother and encircled them until they finally gave her direct attention and started talking to her. The 9-year-old girl, S, doted on her and immediately took Kaia under her wing, showing her different moves in the water and also building sand castles with her. I started chatting with S’s mother, K, who was really personable and friendly, as well. I quickly found out she was not a tourist but actually a local. She had spent some time living in the U.S. and was married to an American who had served in the military. With him, she had two kids, the second of whom was waiting in the car for them to go home. K said she was thinking about moving to the U.S., specifically New York City given how diverse and progressive it is (and the fact that she doesn’t want to own a car ever again because she hates driving and thinks the cost of maintenance is ridiculous). We talked a lot about cultural differences between St. Lucia and the U.S., a (very understandable) fear of guns and gun violence, and how unacceptable it is that some New Yorkers/tri-state people actually think that Coney Island’s “beach” is a real beach. “That water is not any shade of blue…. it’s grey-black, and you can’t see anything in it,” K said incredulously. “If you put your feet in the ocean and you cannot see your feet, that is not a real beach! You should be able to see the bottom of the ocean floor. That is just not right!”
I told her that if she ever decides to move forward with moving to New York or simply visiting, I’d love to see her again and help her out. We exchanged contact details, and as I told her we were getting ready to go back to our hotel, she said it was also time for them to leave, as well. And then, out of nowhere, she insisted that she drive us all back to the hotel. “It’s so close — it’s just right there!” K said. “I will take you. Go tell your husband!”
As this conversation was happening, I saw Chris on the other side of the beach packing up all our belongings and heading over to us. I told him about our new friend’s offer, and he was in shock. But he went along with it. We all got into K’s car, introduced ourselves to her son J. S continued to engage and play with Kaia in the car, which made Kaia so attached to her. And in the end, we got dropped off at our hotel — no Uber ride, just a free ride from a kind, local stranger.
In the last 14-plus years of our relationship (which includes LOTS of travel), this is the very first time that a complete stranger has offered and given us a ride. K said they lived just a two-minute drive from Pigeon Island, but in the opposite direction of our hotel. And given we left during rush hour, K not only was going out of her way given the opposite direction, but she also was adding time to her commute. It was beyond thoughtful, kind, and generous. I thanked her profusely over Whatspp after and also apologized for the inevitable sand we tracked into her car.
In these moments, I am yet again reminded of the famous Blanche DuBois quote at the end of The Streetcar Named Desire when she’s led away to be institutionalized: “Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” I would actually change this to: “I have always believed in the kindness of strangers.”
And Chris, while very grateful, exclaimed, “She saved us $18-20 USD!”