How many
times have I discovered something new about this island—and not just new, but
also shocking—and responded with wide-eyed dismay, hands open like I’m going to
strangle someone and asked, “How do I not
know this?”
What’s
with the secrets? It’s as if my
predecessors felt that keeping the mysteries of the island prolonged its exotic
allure. That’s all well and good for the
Sooki Stackhouse smut we all secretly love, but a little taste of that
inner-circle knowledge may have led me to more well-informed decisions. Or maybe my predecessors played Secret
Keepers to hide the biggest secret of all.
Grenada: it’s not actually paradise.
Did you
know that there are four strains of dengue fever and the prolific mosquitoes of
Grenada are carriers of all four? Did
you know that dengue fever is also referred to as break-bone fever? Should I stop with the rhetorical questions
and just state my points with a little less drippy sarcasm? Of the four strains, one in
particular—hemorrhagic dengue fever—is lethal.
It is rare to contract hemorrhagic fever the first time, but common the
second time. So the first time you get
dengue, you feel like your bones are breaking.
The second time, you maybe die in a third world hospital. Maybe.
Or maybe
you never contract dengue and just spend your days seaside with your
French-tipped toes buried in the finest white sand you’ll ever see, sucking on
a cherry skewered on the stick of a gaudy umbrella from your frosty Pina
Colada.
Homosexuality
is illegal in Grenada. The semantics of
that law, however, get a little fuzzy where money is concerned. Gay cruises, for instance, make port at St.
George, spilling forth their lawless contents onto the markets of the
capitol. Far from shunning, persecuting,
prosecuting or banning these visitors, the people of Grenada expand their arms,
displaying acceptance and shelves of merchandise. Where judgment and hatred is learned,
tolerance is apparently purchased.
I might
consider the small island-country prude; more accurately, I think, it’s
sexually awkward. Homosexuality is
illegal because, why? it’s taboo; Christianity says so; because it’s always
been that way (sort of like the flat world that is central to the solar system,
right?). Other things are illegal
too. And I’m not talking about gender
roles or sexual orientations; I’m actually referring to things. I think “marital
aid” is the PC term here, though definition and uses may vary widely.
Whatever
the term/definition/use, they are illegal.
No one ever tells you these things and, before you know it, you’re that
person at the front of the unimaginably long customs line who just had her bag
randomly searched and is now standing (or crumpling), mortified, as the customs
officer flourishes your contraband in front of everyone. That’s a moment
you probably want to avoid. So here’s
your warning: don’t bring it.
Of
course, you can always take your chances.
I’m not condoning breaking the law by knowingly bringing illegal items
to Grenada. Not really. But, I mean, if
you have to… Hide it. Take it apart and
pretend it’s a tube of lipstick. Take
the batteries out of your flashlight and hide it in there. Stuff it inside a box of latex exam gloves. Get creative.
Chances are no one’s going to search your bag that thoroughly.
If
you’re really scared about it being found by officers, just don’t bring
it. If you’re lucky enough, you might
find one here. Stranger things have been
sold on the “post.” You may run across a
“gently used” aid for sale with a half-tube of Astro-glide. Maybe.
Or maybe
you’ll go for a run one day and pass the infamous homeless gent with pink Crocs
who likes to masturbate in the middle of the road while leering at the sweaty
jogging housewives of medical students and decide you’re not going to be in the
mood for that aid again until you’re off this island.
Maybe.
Buffy
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