My tour in 2013 through the gorgeous Caribbean island nation of Grenada started in its capital St. George. From hibiscus to bougainvillea to frangipani everything was at full bloom. I went up and down its cute hilly streets, passed the pastel-colored buildings of the beautiful Carenage waterfront street to arrive at the horseshoe-shaped harbor. To maximize my view of the harbor I climbed up to the old Anglican Church. Hurricane Ivan had reduced it to a ruin but when I was visiting, locals were still using it intensely for their prayers. Down the hill, 

Market square was a riot of fruits, thanks to fruit trees all over the island hanging heavy with papaya and breadfruit. The air was full with the smell of delicious ripe mangoes. St. George’s bars were made out of the Caribbean dreambook: Weathered wooden furniture, a festival of colors, reggae-tunes, laid-back with cool characters lazing around as patrons. Actually it was too early to start drinking, but well, I was in the Caribbean. One Carib at Bryan’s Bar, another Stag at Arthur’s. But actually it did not need booze to agree that St. George was probably the nicest capital town in the entire Lesser Antilles

I took the small ferry from lush Grenada to its second island Carriacou which was supposed to have even better beaches than the main island. I was heading to Paradise beach. Unexpectedly, a munching cow standing on my small path to the beach through shrub proved to be my last obstacle before paradise. While I was still contemplating how to avoid another fateful cow encounter (the first being an incident on the Sunday market in Kashgar in China’s Xinjiang province, when a cow jumping from a truck compensated its fear of being slaughtered by simply shitting in my face), the lady took me on her horns and catapulted me, with just one gentle move of her head, five meters away. The rest was paradise.