Castries

After breakfast we walked into Castries, the island's capital, a 25 minute stroll beside the airstrip and along the harbour from our hotel. A stroll is the pace of choice of tourists and locals alike inthe heat and humidity, though there was an occasional cooling breeze.

We browsed the stalls at the colourful indoor market and ogled at the size of the huge cruise ships in harbour then headed for the place I'd wanted to visit, Derek Walcott Square.

Derek Walcott is one of the most famous Caribbean poets and was born and raised in Castries. The square named in his honour is modest but pleasant green space, next to the cathedral where what looked like an end of term service was being endured by rows and rows of squirming school students.

This is one of his poems that I used to enjoy teaching to (possibly squirming) students back in the day

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

By Derek Walcott

By the time we got back we felt we should heed his words and be gentle with ourselves, feasting more literally than he intended I'm sure and enjoying the beach and all its charms.

Extras of tonight's sunset, and the market. I didn't include the one of the notice on the wall next to the market which warned "DO NOT PISS"