The islands are so flat, it is difficult to imagine, that they are but the top of an eroded volcano. The wall of the volcano rises 7000 feet or more from the ocean floor, eons of battering of wind and sea eroded whatever towered above sea level, leaving a mysterious underwater world to be explored by adventurous divers, and amassing expanses of pink sand (definitely not volcanic) leading into brillant shallow waters, and forming salt lagoons inhabited by pink flamingoes.
2008 brough a devastating hurricane, destroying sea walls, buildings, roads and even part of the iconic Her Majesty's Prison in 'downtown'. Feral horses roam the streets and overgrown back yards, and obviously made the prison yard (one could sneak in via a half open gate) their home stable, judging by all the evidence distributed among the remnants of 'interpretive signs'. The prison used to be a major tourist attraction - entrance 7$, now gratis...
The Anglican church has been rebuilt, red shutters, stained glass windows and all. The beach road - as well - is cleaned up and sandy areas are meticulously raked.
Hurricanes not being enough disaster, however, on Christmas Day an arsonist burnt down the last grocery store left standing on the beach beyond the beaten tourist path. One of the local people, who stopped to talk with me when he saw me outside the ususal haunts photographing this one, that 'the owner was insured'....which opens up altogether different possibilities...The store was obviously well stocked, and the fire so recent, that meat - cooked inside cans - tempted the odd dog to dig for treats amongst the sooty destruction.
I walked along the beach towards more of a 'residential' area far from any expensive expat dwellings, but home to the born and bred residents. A couple of young men, avidly watched by a few school boys, were cleaning cow fish for an evening fry up. We started to chat...one aspires to become a chef, but there is no culinary art school anywhere on the island. The other wants to be an electrician, but there is no trade school on the island. The lived across the street from the beach and would have invited me for dinner, but - of course - the ship leaves and one must go...
Downtown, if one may call the little village such a grand name, had one 'cafe/bistro' establishment across the beach, where I went for a local Turks Head beer.
The servant girl asked: Do you want some conch fritter with it - one dollar for three fritters.
Only one answer to that: Yes, of course.
Hot and delicious. The cook joined me at my table. She spoke English, French and Spanish. Spanish turned out to be her best - and my worst, but...
She was from Haiti. She has one child in Haiti, one in the Dominican Republic and one (plus a husband) here in Turks and Caicos. She hopes to emigrate to Canada one day, after she finishes more schooling to learn desirable qualifications. She does not want to go to the USA - 'no respect for her countrymen there', she opined. 'Life on the Island is ok, but offers no real future', she said.
An absolute paradise for vacationers, unrivalled stretches of white beaches, marvellous diving opportunities, sunshine and the usual cristalline waters, safe for visitors..
We are off again towards the Cayman Islands, crossing the Cayman Trench...deepest part of the Caribbean, a cool blue black 7000 meters deep. But underwater ridges, barely visible shallows, and reefs waiting in ambush make up for all that navigable water. In years gone by, Merchants, Pirates, Privateers all faced the dangers of the high seas and the shallower ones, apart from dangers from each other .
Francis Drake, Captain Morgan, BlackBeard and a whole line up of pirates and their hordes of buccaneers (the origin of the word BBQ) flew their Jolly Rogers (Jolie Rouge - the original pirate's pennant) all took advantage of the perilous waters to chase, capture and hide in their cruel and - admittedly - extremely profitable endeavours. Most came to an inglorious end at some gallow, yard arm, shot or knifed 'on duty', or even (in the case of Blackbeard) having their severed head dangling from the bow sprit of a ship. The union of buccaneers followed a loyalty code of their own: whoever paid them the most for plundering, murdering and stealing won their services - at least until the next higher offer came along, or they succumbed to shipwreck, disease or other job-related perils.
Johnny Depp, and Captain Jack Sparrow, show that the fascination with pirates lives on, albeit somewhat romanticized. Pirate reality was all but photogenic or romantic.
