Which is the best place in the world to live? 

Mayreau, Mustique, Bequia, three out of 31 Grenadines had since long stirred my dreams of exotic island life. In 2014 a small ferry from Carriacou, second island of Grenada, brought my wife and me to Mayreau. We swam at Carnash Bay, beheaded coconuts at the „Last Bar before the Jungle“, watched a pink Caribbean sunset from the wonderful “Hlltop Bar“, consisting of not more than a bulb-lit room, some ramshackle sitting options and a museum-like fridge full of cold Hairoun beer. Later we had a night of rum and laughter with Tony, our fast-drinking host, whose spirit almost overwhelmed us. Finally we danced the night away to wild reggae at “Robert’s VIP Bar“ where everybody looked like a twin of Bob Marley. I never had been, maybe apart from Rio, at such an intense place where locals were so fraternising when foreigners joined their party. From Mayreau we had to hire a private sailing yacht, befitting our rank, as there was no other appropriate means to arrive at the private island of Mustique. The hills of Mustique were crowned by neo-Palladian mansions, the beaches below were unfathomably beautiful. No better place to portray our actor skills as millionaires. We booked a day at Macaroni beach, probably my Champions League leader of all beaches worldwide I happen to have set my barefoot on. We had all sand for ourselves. At our hideaway in the green hills of Mustique, emptied korks of champagne bottles were the only statistics which seemed to matter. After two days we sailed on to the Grenadine island of Bequia, a strong Champions League contender but more suitable for the mere mortals we had again turned into, Finally we were ferried to the main island of St Vincent. The sizeable boat was equipped with voluptuous leather chairs and was full with vans supplying the outer islands and musicians supplying St. Vincent’s great live music scene. Soon upon arrival we went to Kingston Market, a paradise of tropical fruit, before lunching at at a great Chinese restaurant. Come afternoon we cruised through lush valleys where small rivers were flowing, towered by the fertile flanks of St. Vincent’s only active volcano. Sunday in Kingston proved to be a fantastic day for people watching as cool Caribbean families, all dressed with colourful feathers and hats to their finest, were using the botanical gardens as a kind of catwalk.

All inhabitants of the Grenadines I talked to were convinced that they were living in the best place in the world. After all, I thought, the Vincies might just be right.