Oh, the Places You'll Go!: A Carnival Welcome

The First 24 Hours

Leaving SFO at 6am.

There are no direct flights to Grenada from the US except from Houston and Miami. My Dad and I flew from SFO to MIA and MIA to GND. When we landed in Miami we had to make a mad dash to the next gate to make our next flight. Once on the plane, the captain announced that the plane was 1700lbs. overweight for take off and that we needed to take 50% of the bags off the plane or 9 people needed to volunteer to take a later flight. No one volunteered so they began unloading bags. My Dad and I happened to be sitting right above where they loaded and unloaded the plane, so we watched in horror as they unloaded all three of the bags I had checked all while students gathered around our row of seats, gasping and moaning. We ended up leaving 2.5 hours late due to a bad rainstorm and the overloaded plane dilemma.

The students watching in horror as their lives get taken off the plane.

11 hours and 36 minutes after leaving our house in Alamo, we landed in Grenada, West Indies. The flight had been bumpy and my Dad and I had slept through the snack and beverage service on both planes. We scurried off the plane but still managed to be some of the last people to disembark. It was about 85 degrees and sticky even at 11pm when we arrived. We clamored down a rickety staircase to the tarmac due to the fact that this teeny tiny little airport didn't have a single terminal. We were greeted by a live band playing fun tropical music and it wasn't long before my Dad and I spotted people passing out rum libations and appetizers. At this point, we had been flying for 10 hours and hadn't eaten a single morsel of food. We waited what seemed like hours but the lady with the food never came our way.

Painfully fake smile to hide the effects of hours of starvation

The line to get our passport stamped was about 300 people long and took about an hour to get through. Once our passports were finally stamped and they decided we weren't terrorists, we proceeded into the baggage claim area where we discovered that not one of the three bags I had checked had arrived. Onto line number 2 which took another hour and a half to get through. In line, we met my first friend on the island, Carrie, who was an outgoing first term veterinary student. Luckily, Carrie had anticipated a situation like this and had packed a stash of junk food in her carry-on. My Dad let her use her phone to let her Mother know she had arrived safely in exchange for the GREATEST PEANUT BUTTER CRACKERS ON THE PLANET.

The line to get our passport stamped.

The people in the lost baggage office were surprisingly friendly even though were were the VERY last people in the line. They were all hyped up about the National Holiday that began at 3am (exactly 2 hours from then) and insisted that we all stay awake and participate. We unanimously decided that this opportunity was only going to come around once a year so we should tough it out and go exploring.

Finally, it was time to go through customs which in Grenadian terms means "We are going to tax you for bringing in your previously purchased and taxed electronics just to be raging assholes." $50 later, (since I brought two laptops), we were greeted by students who wrote down our dorm assignments on a little sliver of paper and shoved us into a taxi.

Enter: Keith. Keith is a Grenada native and was assigned by SGU employees to take Carrie and I back to the dorms. He was very friendly and gave us our own private tour of campus as well as a brief summary of Grenadian history and culture. We stopped by my dorm Suite first, where we met my Resident Assistant, Gracine. There are nine girls in each Suite split up into three rooms. All of the girls in her Suite were anxiously waiting for us all to arrive so they could go pre-game at Bananas, the local student bar/club, before indulging in the early morning Carnival festivities. She led us up to the third floor and explained that I was the first of the nine girls to arrive so I had my choice of beds. I chose the single bed in one of the rooms since I am anxious enough about having to move back into a dorm room after having lived in my own studio apartment for the last few years. The view out my bedroom window is of the only actual beach on campus, with beautiful black sand and palm trees about 30 yards away. It's out of this world. Below is a video tour of my dorms my Dad took the next morning.

After dropping Carrie's bags off at her dorm, (which is all the way on the opposite end of campus, by the way) we all went exploring. It was roughly 2am and Carnival hadn't quite kicked off yet. People were blaring music in the streets and you could feel the excitement as it got closer and closer to dusk. Keith graciously drove us around telling us where he would drop us off and pick us up in the morning. It was a blast seeing the whole community out and about so late (or... er... early). After a 28 hour day, we had Keith drop us off for a few hours of shuteye - I stayed with my Dad in his hotel because my bedding was packed in my luggage which wouldn't be arriving until Wednesday and there was no way in hell I would be sleeping on that "gently used" dorm mattress without some serious layers between us. The airplane blanket I stole from the airlines just wouldn't suffice.

Passing out cups of paint

Bright and early at 7am, Keith picked us up and took us back to join what was now a full blown celebration. Thousands of people filled the streets, dancing to loud, techno/reggae fusion painted in all sorts of vibrant colors from head to toe. Some had even doused themselves in motor oil which gave them an eery, devilish look. The vibe was fun-loving and good-spirited, not like one I have ever experienced. EVERYONE was having a good time - except, of course, the token white guy who had over-indulged and was making obscene gestures at all the cars in the middle of the road followed by bouts of weeping in child's pose. For those of you unfamiliar with Yoga terms, it looks a little something like this: